HEA rs EMERSON HOUGH . — .. ,— ,. .■■■- HEART'S DESIRE *&v& He looked up — to see her standing at his dook ! Frontispiece. HEART'S DESIRE The STORY of a CONTENTED TOWN CERTAIN PECULIAR CITIZENS and TWO FORTUNATE LOVERS A NOVEL by EMERSON HOUGH AUTHOR OF THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE o o o o o THE LAW OF THE LAND o o o o THE GIRL AT THE HALF WAY HOUSE ETC ILLUSTRATED THE MACMILLAN COMPANY ^ NEW YORK MCMV1I HEART'S DESIRE 83 sel was that her complexion would brown nicely under sunburn; his second thought was that he had on over- alls, — a fact which had escaped him for more than four years. If Eve, new come within Heart's Desire, felt any surprise, or if she even experienced any pique at the calm deportment of Dan Anderson, she masked it all and put all at ease with a few words spoken in that manner of voice which is an excellent thing in woman. In a sort of dream the coach trundled on up] the street, to pause for half an instant in front of the commercial emporium of Whiteman the Jew. Whiteman came out with his hat above his head, and said, "Velgome." The girl looked backward down the street as they turned to cross the arroyo beyond which stood the house of the Kansas family, where Curly lived. The off mule limped. "Poor little fellow," she said; "I wanted them to stop. They have no pity — " "No," said Learned Counsel to her, "there is no such thing as pity in all the world." She fell silent at this, and looked back once more, unconsciously, down the street, as one who would gladly pity, or be pitied. But soon the coach was at Curly 's house, and there came out to meet it, already forewarned of her guest, the Littlest Girl, wiping her hands on her apron, which means Welcome on the frontier. The Littlest Girl, uncertain and overawed by her visitor, came forward and took a first look. Then 84 HEART'S DESIRE she suddenly held out her arms ; and Constance Ellsworth, from the East, lonely, perhaps grieved, walked straight into the outstretched arms and straight into the heart of the Littlest Girl from Kansas. CHAPTER VII TEMPTATION AT HEART'S DESIRE Showing how Paradise was lost through the Strange Performance of a Craven Adam The hotel of Uncle Jim Brothers, to which Dan Anderson led Mr. Ellsworth, was a long, low adobe, earthen roofed. The window-panes were very small, where any still remained. The interior of the hotel consisted of a long dining room, a kitchen, a room where Uncle Jim slept, and a very few other rooms, guest chambers where any man might rest if very weary from one cause or another. The front door was always open. The hotel of Uncle Jim Brothers, not being civilized but utterly barbaric, was anchor- age for the Dead Broke, in a way both hotel and bank. There was in Heart's Desire, at least before this coming of Eastern Capital, only three hundred dollars in the total and combined circulating medium. Thfct was all the money there was. No one could be richer than three hundred dollars, for that was the limit of all wealth, as was very well known. To many this may seem a restricting and narrowing feature; but, as a matter of fact, three hundred dollars is not only 85 86 HEART'S DESIRE plenty of money for one man to have, but it is plenty for a whole town to have, as any man of Heart's Desire could have told you. A stranger dropping into that hostelry, and tak- ing a glance behind the front door, might have thought that he was in an armory or some place devoted to the sale of firearms. There were many nails driven into the wooden window-facings, the door-jambs, and elsewhere, and all these nails held specimens of weapons. Excellent weapons they were, too, as good and smooth-running six-shooters as ever came out of Colt's factory; and Winchesters which, if they showed fore-ends bruised by saddle-tree and stocks dented by rough use among the hills, none the less were very clean about the barrels and the locks. At times there were dozens of these guns and rifles to be seen on the wall at Uncle Jim's hotel. The visible supply fluctuated somewhat. Any observer of indus- trial economics might have discovered it to move up or down in unison with the current amount visible of the circulating medium. Uncle Jim never asked cash or security of any man. If a man paid, very well. If he did not pay, it would have been unkind to ask him, for assuredly he would have paid if he could, as Uncle Jim very well knew. And if he could not pay, none the less he needed to eat, as Uncle Jim also knew very well. There were no printed rules or regulations in Uncle Jim's hotel. There was no hotel register. There HEART'S DESIRE 87 were no questions ever asked. Uncle Jim felt that his mission, his duty, was to feed men. For the rest, he often had to do his own cooking, for Mexicans are very undependable ; and if a man is busy in the kitchen, how can he attend to the desk? Indeed, there was no desk. The front door was always open, the tables were always spread. That any man should take advantage of this state of affairs was something never dreamed in Heart's Desire. Yet one day a sensitive young man, fresh from the States, who had blundered, God knows how, down into Heart's Desire, and who was at that time reduced to a blue shirt, a pair of overalls, one law book, one six-shooter, and one dime, slipped into the hotel of Uncle Jim Brothers, since by that time he was very hungry. He sat on the edge of the bench and dared not ask for food ; yet his eyes spoke clearly enough for Uncle Jim. The latter said naught, but presently returned with a large beefsteak which actu- ally sputtered and frizzled with butter, a thing un- dreamed! "Get 'round this," said Uncle Jim, "and you'll feel better." The young man "got 'round" the beefsteak. Perhaps it was the feeling about the butter, which of itself was a thing unusual. At any rate, as he went out, he quietly hung up his six- shooter behind the door. This act meant, of course, that for the time he was legally dead; he no longer existed. The six-shooter hung there for nearly four months, and Uncle Jim said nothing of pay, and the 88 HEART'S DESIRE meals were regular and good. The intention of every man in that little valley to do " about what was right" was silently and fully evidenced. That a man would give up his gun was proof enough of that. So this became the custom of the place, the unwritten law. When by any chance a man got hold of enough of the three hundred dollars to settle his bill with Uncle Jim, he walked in, handed over the cash, and without comment of his own or of any one else, took down his gun from behind the door, and then walked off down the street with his head and his chest much higher in the air. It is astonishing how much busi- ness, how much safe and valid business, can be done in a community with three hundred dollars and a good general supply of six-shooters. On this particular day in question, thanks to cer- tain pernicious activity of Johnny Hudgens, junior partner at the Lone Star, on the night previous, nearly all the six-shooters of Heart's Desire were hanging behind the door of Uncle Jim Brothers, pend- ing the arrival of better days. The financial situa- tion stood thus : Johnny Hudgens had all the three hundred dollars, and Uncle Jim Brothers had all the guns. Temporarily, male Heart's Desire did not exist. Certainly, there could have been no time more unhappy than this to display the charms of the com- munity to the critical eyes of the man who — as the rapid word spread to all — had come to look into AS HE WKNT OUT, HE QUIETLY HUNG UP HIS SIX-SHOOTER BEHIND THE DOOR." HEART'S DESIRE 89 the gold-mines on Baxter side of the valley, and the new coal-fields up Patos way; and who, moreover, so said swift rumor, was the real head and front of the railroad heading northward from El Paso! Humiliated, Heart's Desire stepped aside and let its chosen representative, Dan Anderson, do the talking. "I didn't know you had a militia company here, Mr. Anderson," said Ellsworth, as they entered Uncle Jim's hotel. "Lately organized?" He swept an inquiring hand toward the array behind the door. "That? Oh, that's not the arsenal," replied Dan Anderson; "that's the clearing-house. If a man's broke, he just hangs up his gun, you know. I don't know that I can just explain everything in this coun- try to you right at once, sir. You see, it's different. Now, out here, a six-shooter is part of a man's clothes. That's why the fellows stay out. They're ashamed — don't feel properly dressed, you know." "Not much law and order, eh?" "Not much law, but plenty of order, and not the least pretence about it." "The courts—" "No courts at all, or at least within sixty miles. Why, we haven't even a town organization — not a town officer. There was never even a town-site plat filed." Mr. Ellsworth turned on him suddenly. "Where's your titles?" he asked. 90 HEART'S DESIRE "We haven't needed any, so far. Now that you've come, with talk of a railroad and all that — " "Oh, well, you know, that's just talk. I'm not responsible for that." "I hope you like canned tomatoes," said Dan Anderson, "or, if you don't, that you're very fond of beefsteak. There won't be much else till Tom Osby gets back from Las Vegas with a load of freight. Tom Osby's our common carrier. I hope the new railroad will do as well." Mr. Ellsworth was a gentleman, and a very hungry one, so there was no quarrel over the tomatoes, which were Special XXX, nor over the beefsteak, which might have been worse. An hour later he went out on the street with his host, whose conduct thus far, he was forced to admit, had been irreproachable. They strolled up the rambling street, past many strag- gling buildings, and at length paused before the little building, made of sun-dried brick, and plastered with mud, where Dan Anderson had his residence and his law office. "You'll excuse me, Mr. Ellsworth," said that young gentleman, "for bringing you here, but the truth is I thought you might be thirsty and might get poisoned. You have to do these things gradually, till you get immune. Now, under my bed, I've got a bottle which never has been opened and which ought to be safe. I don't bother corks a great deal, only when we are welcoming distinguished guests." HEA&TS DESIRE 91 "It's just a little soon after dinner/' demurred Ellsworth, "but, ahem! That dust — yes, I believe I will." There was a dignity about Dan Anderson now which left Ellsworth distinctly uncomfortable. The latter felt himself in some fashion at a disadvantage before this penniless adventurer, this young man whom once he had not cared to have as a regular visitor at his own home back in the far-off East. "You don't mean to tell me, young man," he spoke after a long period of silence, "that this is the way you live?" "Certainly," said Dan Anderson. "I know I'm extravagant. I don't need a place as good as this, but I always was sort of sensuous, you know." Ells- worth looked at him without any comprehension, from him to the bed with blankets, and the bare table. "Come in," said Dan Anderson, "and sit down. Better sit on the chair, I reckon. One leg of the bed is sort of dicky." "So this is the way you live?" repeated Ellsworth to Dan Anderson, who was now on his hands and knees and searching under the bed. "Now, about my daughter — is there any hotel — are there any women?" " Three, from Kansas," said Dan Anderson. " That is, three real ones. All the female earth, Mr. Ells- worth, comes from Kansas, same as all the baled hay. Oh, yes, here she is ! " 92 HEART'S DESIRE He had been speaking with his voice somewhat muffled under the bed, but now emerged, bearing a dusty bottle in his hand. Mr. Ellsworth looked at him a bit keenly; for, after all, he was not a bad judge of men. "How long has that bottle been there?" asked he, abruptly. "Oh, a couple of years, maybe." "And you've never opened it?" "No, why should I? You hadn't come yet. Of course, I knew you'd be along some day. I kept it to drink to your very good health, Mr. Ellsworth — the health of the man who told me not to come around his house — told me I was an unsettled ne'er-do-well, and not suitable company for his — why, I don't think I have any corkscrew at all." His voice was slow, but harder now in quality. Ellsworth sat on the chair, the bottle in his hand hanging between his knees. He looked at Dan Anderson steadily. "You've got me guessing in a good many ways," he said; "I don't know why you came here — " "No?" "Nor how you live, nor what encouragement or prospects you find here. For instance, about how much did you make last year in your business?" "My law practice? Oh, you mean down at the county-seat? There is no law court here. How much did the boys pay me?" "Yes." HEART'S DESIRE 93 "Two hundred and sixty-eight dollars and seventy- five cents." "What?" "Oh, I know it's a heap of money; but I made it." "Enough for tobacco money!" "Sir," said Dan Anderson, "more. I ate frequent. Why, sir, did you ever stop to think that our total circulating medium here is only three hundred dollars? I had almost all of it one time or another. Now, not doubting your intentions in the least, did you ever come that near to corralling the whole visible supply of cash in your own town? Moreover, I am attorney for the men who own the coal-mines. I'm the lawyer for both the gold mills. We've got one or two mines here, and I'm in. Besides, I've just got the law business from Pitzer Chisum, down on the Seven Rivers. He's got maybe a hundred thousand head of cattle. Now, I'm going to rob Pitzer, because he needs it. He's got money scandalous." Mr. Ellsworth put the bottle down on the floor, and sat up on the chair with his hands in his pockets, wondering. "But why?" he demanded sternly, "why? What are you doing out here? Why have you thrown away your life ? Come — you're a bright young man, and you — " "Friend," said Dan Anderson, with a sudden cold quality in his voice, "I think that'll about do. I am no brighter than I was a few years ago." 94 HEART'S DESIRE "But this is no place to live." "Why isn't it? It takes a man to live here. Do you reckon you could qualify?" The older man raised his head with a snort, but Dan Anderson stood looking at him calmly. "Now let me tell you one thing," said he. "If you heard of our coal-mines here through me, at least I didn't ask you to come out here, and I didn't ask you to bring anybody along with you. I've played fair with you. You don't come here to do me any favor, do you?" "Oh, well," — began the other. "Then you think there might be something here, after all?" "What is there here?" "A very great deal. There's just as much here as there is anywhere else in the world." Mr. Ellsworth arose and stepped to the door. For a moment he stood looking out at the twilight. He turned suddenly to the young man. "I'll tell you," said he. "There's something to you — I don't know what. Drop all this. Come on back. I'll think it over — I'll give you a place in my office." "You'd give me what ? Did you ever stop to think that you can't give me anything?" Surprise sat on his visitor's face. "Nada!" cried Dan Anderson. "Me go back there and work on a salary for you? Me check my immortal soul on your hat-rack? Me live scared of my life, like all the rest of the slaves in that infernal system of living, HEART'S DESIRE 95 that hell? If I should do that, I'd be giving you some license for the opinion of me you once expressed, before you really knew me." "But what have you got out here?" repeated the other, stupidly. Dan Anderson made no answer, except a sweep of his hand to the mountains, and an unconscious swell of the broad chest beneath his blue shirt. "What made you come?" insisted Mr. Ellsworth, feeling around for the neck of the bottle, which had been forgotten. "You know almighty well why I came. But let that go. Let's say I came for the express purpose of handling your local interests when you buy our coal-mines and try to get a railroad somewhere near our valley if you have luck later. I'm going to be your kind and loving partner in that deal, and I'll soak you the limit in everything I do for you. You watch me. I'm going to stay here, and I'm going to work all I want to. When I don't want to, there isn't any living mortal soul that's going to crack a whip over me and tell me I've got to." "Things seem rather strange," began Mr. Ells- worth. "You talk as though I were obliged to put money into these mines." "Of course you will. You can't help it. You never saw a better opportunity for investment in all your life. But now let me tell you another thing, which I oughtn't to tell you if I served you 96 HEART'S DESIRE right. You go slow while you're here. There is plenty of gold in this valley. There isn't a fellow in this settlement who hasn't got a quart glass fruit- jar full of gold nuggets and dust under his bed, and who isn't just waiting and pining to show it to some stranger like yourself. You're Glad Tidings in this town. You couldn't walk to-morrow if you took all the free samples of solid gold the boys would offer you. You'd get dizzy looking down prospect holes. You wouldn't know where you were; and when you came to, you'd own about fifty gold-mines, with all the dips, spurs, and angles, and all the variations of the magnetic needle to wit and aforesaid. Now, I oughtn't to take care of you. I don't owe you a thing on earth. But because you brought — well, be- cause — anyhow, I'm going to take care of you, while you're here, and see that you get a square deal." "By the way, my daughter — " said Mr. Ells- worth, sitting up uneasily. "Never mind," said Dan Anderson, gently. "Miss Constance is all right. They'll take care of her just as well as I'll take care of you. Everybody will be more sociable by about noon to-morrow. The whole town's scared yet." "I don't see anything very terrible about me," said Mr. Ellsworth. "Oh, it isn't you,'' 1 said Dan Anderson, calmly. "Nobody's afraid of you. It's your daughter — it's the woman. Don't you reckon Adam was about HEARTS DESIRE 97 the scaredest thing in the wide, wide world about the time old Ma Eve set up her bakeshop under the spreading fig tree? I don't know that I make my- self right plain — you see, it's sort of funny here. We aren't used to women any more." "Oh, well, now, my dear sir, you see, my daughter — " "I know all about her," said Dan Anderson, sharply. "I don't doubt she thought I was a mere trifler. She couldn't understand that it isn't right for a man to stick to anything until he's found the right thing to stick to. I don't blame her the least bit in the world. She could only see what I wasn't doing. I knew what I was going to do, and I know it now." There was a gravity and certainty about Dan Ander- son now that went through the self-consciousness of the man before him. Ellsworth looked at him intently. "We'll be here for a day or so," said he, "and meantime, it will seem a little strange for my daughter, I suppose — " "You don't need to tell me about anything," said Dan Anderson. "Of course, her coming is a little inopportune. You see, Mr. Ellsworth, the morning stars are inopportune, and the sunrise every day, and the dew of heaven." Ellsworth looked at him half in terror, and in his discomfort murmured something about going to look up his daughter. "Now, that's mighty kind of you," said Dan 98 HEART'S DESIRE Anderson. "But I know the way over there alone, and after I have taken you back to Uncle Jim's, I am going over there — alone. Wait till I get my coat. I don't wear it very often, but we'll just show you that we can dress up for the evening here, the same as they do in the States." As Dan Anderson, his head bent down and his hands in his pockets, crossed the arroyo alone, he met Curly coming the other way. Curly's brow was wrinkled, though he expressed a certain conscious- ness of the importance of his position in society at the time. "Say, man," said he, jerking his thumb toward the house, "that new girl is the absolute limit. She dropped in just like we'd been expectin' her. I was some scared; but she's just folks!" Dan Anderson hardly heard him. He passed on into the house, where he had long ago made himself easily at home with the women of the place. It was a half hour later that he spoke directly to the girl.. "I was just thinking," said he, "that after all the dust and heat and everything you might like to walk, for just a minute or so, over to our city park. Foliage, you know; avenues, flowers; sweet- ness and light." She looked at the man quietly, as if she failed to understand the half-cynical bitterness, the half- wistfulness in his voice, yet she rose and joined him. All human beings in Heart's Desire that evening felj HEART'S DESIRE 99 in with the plans of Dan Anderson without cavil and without possible resistance. A short distance up the arroyo, toward the old abandoned stamp mill, there was a two-inch pipe of water which came down from the Patos spring, far up on the mountain side. At the end of this pipe, where the water was now going to waste, the Littlest Girl from Kansas had taken in charge the precious flow, and proposed a tiny garden of her own. Here there were divers shrubs, among these a single rose bush, now blossomless. Dan Anderson broke off a leafy twig or so, and handed them to Constance, who pinned them on her breast. "This is our park," said he, very gravely; "I hope you have enjoyed your stroll along the boulevard. I hope, also, that the entertainment of the cow gentle- man was not displeasing." "Not a word!" she answered, her cheek flush- ing ; " you shall not rail at them. These people are genuine." "I'm not apologizing," he said quickly; "there are just a few things a fellow learns out here. One is not to apologize; and another is not to beg. Sit down." There were two white boulders beside which the trickle of water rippled. Obeying him, she seated herself. Presently Dan Anderson settled himself upon the other, and for a time they sat in silence. The purple shadows had long ago deepened into half darkness, and as they looked up above 100 HEART'S DESIRE the long, slow curve of old Carrizo, there rose the burnished silver of the wondrous moon of Heart's Desire. The bare and barren valley was softened and glorified into a strange, half-ghostly beauty. The earth has few scenes more beautiful than Heart's Desire at moonlight. These two sat and gazed for a time. "And so this is your world!" the girl spoke at length, more to herself than to him. "Yes," he replied almost savagely, sweeping his hand toward the mountain-rimmed horizon. "Yes, it's mine." "It is very beautiful," she murmured softly. "Yes," said Dan Anderson, "it's beautiful. Some time there'll be a man who'll learn something in such a place as this. I don't know but I've learned a little bit myself in the last few years." "The years !" she whispered to herself. "It seems forever," said he. "The time when a fellow's taking his medicine always seems long, I reckon. I have almost forgotten my life of five years ago — almost, except a part of it. It's been another world here. Nothing matters much, does it?" Whether there was now bitterness or softness in his speech she could not tell, but she found no reproach for herself in word or tone. "Look," said she at length, pointing down at the valley of Heart's Desire, now bathed in the HEART'S DESIRE 101 full flood of the unveiled moonlight. " I^ook ! It is unspeakable." He looked at her face instead. "I've seen you right here," he said, "right at this very place, a thousand times. It's Eden. It's the Garden. It's the Beginning." "It is the world," she whispered vaguely. "Yes, yes — " Words burst from his lips beyond his power to control. "It is Eden, it is Paradise, but a vacant Eden, a Paradise incomplete. Con- stance — " The girl felt herself shiver at this sound of a voice which all too often these past five years had come to her unbidden when she found moments of self- communion in her own restless and dissatisfied life. Walls had not shut it out, music had not drowned it, gayety had not served to banish it. She had heard it in her subjective soul oft times when the shadows fell and the firelight flickered. Now, beneath a limitless sky, under a strange radiance, in a wild primeval world — in this Eden which they two alone occupied — she heard him, the man whom in her heart she loved, speaking to her once more in very person, and speaking that very thought which wa,s in her own heart that hour. Her bosom rose tumultu- ously, her throat fluttered. Instinctively she would have fled, but a hand on her shoulder pressed her back as she would have arisen, and she obeyed — as she had always obeyed him — as she always would. 102 HEART'S DESIRE "Paradise unfinished — " he whispered, his face close to hers. " You know what it is that's missing." Ah ! could not a woman also know the longing, the vacancy, the solitude of an Eden incomplete ! She turned to him trembling, her lips half open, as though to welcome a long-hoped-for draught of happiness. Alas ! it was not happiness, but misery that came; for Constance Ellsworth now got taste of those bitter waters of life which are withheld from none. There was a sound of a distant shout — the chance call of some drunken reveller — far down the street, a tawdry, unimportant incident, but enough to break a spell, to destroy an illusion, to awaken a conscience for a man, if that phrase be just. Dan Anderson turned to look down the long street of Heart's Desire. It was as though the physical act restored him to another realm, another mental world. He started, and half shivered as his hand dropped to his side. His face showed haggard even in the moonlight. "My God! what am I saying?" he murmured to himself. Then presently he drew himself up, smiling bitterly. "Some prominent citizens of the place enjoying them- selves," he said and nodded toward the street. "Don't you think you'd like Heart's Desire?" The moment of Eve — the woman's moment — the instant for her happiness was past and gone! The light of the moon lay ghostly over all the world, HEART'S DESIRE 103 but there was no radiance, no joy nor comfort in it now. The girl herself was silent. She sat looking out over the street below, instinctively following Dan Anderson's gaze. Voices came to them, clamorous, strident, coarse. There lay revealed all that was crude, all that was savage, all that was unlovable and impossible of Heart's Desire. It had been a dream, but it was a man's dream in which he had lived. For a woman — for her — for this sweet girl of a gentler world, that dream could be nothing else than hideous. "Be just! Be fair!" Dan Anderson's soul demanded of him; and as best he saw justice and fairness to the woman he loved he answered for himself. "Come," said the girl, gently, rousing herself from the lassitude which suddenly assailed her, "we must go in." His face was averted as he walked beside her. There was no word that he could say. Accord being gone from all the universe, he could not know that in her heart, humbled and shamed as it was, she understood and in some part forgave. "It has been very beautiful to-night," she said, as he turned back at length from the door of Curly's house. Choking, he left her. As he stumbled blindly back, over the arroyo, there crossed on the heavens the long red line of a shooting star. Dully he watched 104 HEART'S DESIRE it, and for him it was the flaming sword barring the gates of Eden. Hours later — for sleep was not for him — Dan Anderson stood waiting for the sun to rise over old Carrizo. Far off, along the pathway of the morn, lay his former home, the States, the East, the fight, the combat, and the grovelling. " No, not for me ; not there !" he said, conviction coming to him once more. He turned then and glanced down the single street of Heart's Desire, a street as straggling and purpose- less as his own misdirected life — a wavering lane through the poor habitations of a Land of Oblivion. Longer he looked, and stronger the conviction grew. "No, no," he said, clenching his hand; "not here for her — not here !" CHAPTER VIII THE CORPORATION AT HEART'S DESIRE This being the Story of a Parrot, Certain Twins, and a Pair of Candy Legs Time wore on at Heart's Desire, uncalendared and unclocked. The sun rose, passed through a sky impenetrably blue, and sank behind Baxter Peak at evening. These were the main eveDts of the day. All men had apparently long ago forgotten the departure of the stage-coach that had borne away at one voyaging both Eve and Eastern Capital. Eve had gone forever, as she supposed, although Capital secretly knew full well that it, at least, was coming back again. The population shifted and changed, coming and going, as was the wont of the land, but none ques- tioned the man booted and spurred who rode out of town or who came into town. Of late, however, certain booted and bearded men wandered afoot over the mountain sides, doing strange things with strange instruments. A railroad was about to cross the country somewhere. Grave and moody, Heart's Desire sat in the sun, and for two months did not mention the subject which weighed upon its mind. 105 106 HEART'S DESIRE Curly broke the silence one morning at a plebiscite of four men who gathered to bask near Whiteman's corral. "I hit the trail of them surveyors/' said he, "other side of Lone Mountain, day before yestiday. They've got a line of pegs drove in the ground. Looks like they was afraid their old railroad was goin' to git lost from 'em, unless they picketed it out right strong." Reproachful eyes were turned on Curly, but he went on. "It's goin' to run right between Carrizoso ranch and the mouth of our canon," said he. "You'll have to cross it every time you come to town, McKin- ney. When she gits to runnin' right free and general, there'll be a double row of cow corpses from here to Santa Rosa. What this here new railroad is a-goin' to do to your English stockholders, Mac, is a deep and abidin' plenty." McKinney made no reply, but looked stolidly out across the valley. "Them fellers come up into town for tobacco, Doc." Curly threw out the suggestion cheerfully. "Tobacco ain't drugs," said Doc Tomlinson, an- noyed. He was sensitive about allusions to his stock of drugs, which had been imported some years before, and under a misapprehension as to Heart's Desire's future. "We might shoot up the surveyors," said Curly, tentatively. But Dan Anderson shook his head. HEART'S DESIRE 107 "That's the worst of it," he answered. "We might shoot any one of us here, and the world wouldn't care. But if we shot even a leg off one of the least of these, them States folks would never rest content. For me, I'm goin' in with the railroad. Looks like I'd have to be corporation counsel." "Well, I reckon we won't have to drive our cows quite so far to market," apologized McKinney, striving to see the silver lining. "Oh, drop it," snapped Doc Tomlinson. "I might as well say I could get in my drugs easier. Cows can walk; and as for importin' things, everybody knows that Tom Osby can haul in everything that's needed in this valley." The members of the plebiscite fell silent for a time, willing to wait for Tom Osby's arrival, whenever that might be. "Now, we ain't downtrod none in this country," finally began Doc Tomlinson, who had made political speeches in Kansas. "Is anybody?" asked Curly, who had never lived anywhere but on the free range. "We've had three squares a day," said McKinney. "This country's just as good as the States." "States!" cried Dan Anderson. "We've got a state of our own, or did have, right here, the Free State of Heart's Desire. But it ain't good enough for us. We want to hitch our little wagon to the star of progress. I reckon we oughtn't to holler if 108 HEART'S DESIRE the star travels some fast. It was ours, the Free State of Heart's Desire ! And we — well — " "Well," said Curly, ruminatingly, "I don't see as ole Carrizo is frettin' any about these here things." He glanced up at the big mountain whose shadow lay athwart the valley. Dan Anderson gazed thither as well. McKinney sat looking quietly up the street. "No use frettin' about it, anyhow," said he, in his matter-of-fact way. "And as to Tom Osby, fellers, I'll bet a plug of tobacco that's him pullin' in at the head of town right now." "Just like I said," exclaimed Doc Tomlinson. "He's good enough railroad for any one, and he's safe! I wonder what did he bring this time." What Tom Osby brought this time, besides sundry merchandise for Whiteman the Jew, was a parrot and a pair of twins. Neither of these specialties had ever before been seen in Heart's Desire. "Twins!" exclaimed Dan Anderson, when the facts were divulged, "and a parrot!" Tom Osby, after making known the full nature of his cargo, discharged divers boxes, bales, and other packages at the store of Whiteman the Jew. The parrot was not disposed to wait for the close of these formalities. From under the white cover of the wagon there came sounds of profane speech. Tom Osby paused and filled his pipe. "Him?" said he, jerking his head toward the cover, as he scratched HEART'S DESIRE 109 a match on the side of the wagon seat. " He's a shore peach. Talked to me all the way from Vegas down." "Quork!" said the parrot. "Look out! Look out ! Brrrrrrrr — awk — awk ! Quork ! " "I told you so," said Tom. "Oh, dang it, I'm tired !" continued the bird. "This," remarked Dan Anderson, "seems to be a cultivated gentleman. But how about the twins? Where are they ? And might we — er — ask whose are they?" "Them?" said Tom. "Why, they're for Curly. They're asleep down under the seat here. Now, between the parrot and them twins, my trip down ain't been any lonesome to speak of." All eyes were turned on Curly, the newly wedded cow puncher, who blushed a bright brick red to the roots of his hair. "Wh — where did they come from?" stammered he. "I presume, Curly," said Dan Anderson, gravely, "like enough they came from somewhere over on the Brazos, your earlier home. Why didn't you tell us you were a married man?" "I ain't — I never was!" cried Curly, hotly. "I never did have no twins nowhere. Where'd you git 'em, Tom?" The freighter threw his leg across the seat. "Oh, they're yours all right, I reckon, Curly," said he. "Mother's dead. No relations. They come from Kansas, where all the twins comes from. I found 110 HEART'S DESIRE 'em waitin' up there in Vegas, billed through to you. Both dead broke, both plumb happy, and airy one of 'em worth its weight in gold. Its name is Susabella and Aryann, or somethin' like that. Shall I wake it up? It's both alike." "Now, why, my woman's folks," began Curly, " up there in Kansas — I reckon maybe that's how it happened ! She had a sister done married a Baptis' preacher, onct. Say, now, I bet a horse that's right how this here happened. Say, they was so pore they didn't have enough to eat." "Letter come with 'em," said Tom, taking out a handful of tobacco from his pocket with the missive. "I reckon that explains it. I wouldn't take a thou- sand dollars for 'em if they was mine. Here, you kids, get out of there and come and see the nice gentlemen. Here they are, fellers." He haled forth from beneath the wagon cover two solemn-eyed and sleepy little girls, perhaps five years of age, and of so close a personal resemblance to each other as impressed all as uncanny. The four men stepped to the wagon side, and in silence gazed at the curly-headed pair, who looked back, equally silent, upon the strange group confronting them. At length the twins buried their faces in Tom Osby's overalls. "Look here, friend," said Tom Osby to Curly, with asperity, "if you don't want these here twins, why, I'll take 'em off your hands mighty damn quick. They're corral broke and right well gentled now, HEART'S DESIRE 111 half good stock anyway, and is due to be right free steppers. If you don't want 'em, they're mine for the board bill." But Curly stepped up and laid an awkward hand on the head of each of the twins. "Fellers," said he, "I ain't got a whole lot of experience in this here twin game, but this goes. These here twins is mine. This is some sudden, but I expect it'll tickle the little woman about half to death. I reckon I can get enough for 'em all to eat, somehow." McKinney looked at him with anger in his gaze. "I told you, Curly," he reminded the cow puncher with undue emphasis, "that you was drawin' ten extry from day before yestiday. I reckon the stock- holders can stand that." "That'll make it about break even," Curly an- swered simply. "Now," said Doc Tomlinson, "if either of them twins should need any drugs — " "Drugs!" snorted Dan Anderson. "What would they want with drugs? After they've run around in here for two weeks, you couldn't kill 'em with an axe. If the coyotes don't catch 'em, there's nothing else can happen to 'em." "I'll give you about eight dollars for the green canary, Tom," said Doc Tomlinson. "I want to hang him in my store." "But I want to hang him in my wagon," objected Tom Osby. "He's company. You fellers plumb 112 HEART'S DESIRE rob me every time I come to town." His voice was plaintive. "The court rules," observed Dan Anderson, judi- cially, "that the parrot goes with the twins." And it was finally so decided by the referendum. Where- upon Tom Osby, grumbling and bewailing his hard lot as common carrier, drove off with Curly across the arroyo in search of a new mother for the twins. The Littlest Girl, Curly's wife, read the letter which Tom offered. Tears sprang to her eyes; and then, as might have been expected of the Littlest Girl, she reached up her arms to the homeless waifs, who stood at the wagon front, each clasping a stubby forefinger of Tom Osby's hand. "Babies!" cried she. "You poor little babies! Oh!" And so she gathered them to her breast and bore them away, even though a curly head over each shoulder gazed back longingly at the gnarled freighter on his wagon seat. Tom Osby picked up his reins and drove back across the arroyo. Thus, without unbecoming ostentation, Heart's Desire became possessed of certain features never before known in its history. Within a few weeks the parrot and the twins had so firmly established themselves in the social system of the place as to become matters of regular con- versation. Curly never appeared at the forum of Whiteman's corral without finding himself the re- cipient of many queries. HEART'S DESIRE 113 "Why, them twins," he replied one day, "they're in full charge of the rodeo. They've got me and the woman hobbled, hitched, and side-lined for keeps. Dead heat between them and Bill, the parrot. They're in on all the plays together. Wherever they go, he's right after 'em, and he night-and-day-herds 'em closer'n a Mexican shepherd dog does a bunch of sheep. Now, I blew in last night, intoe their room, and there was old Bill, settin' on the foot of the bed, watchin' of 'em, them fast asleep. 'Too late now,' says he to me. 'Too late. All over now!' I didn't know what he meant till I looked under the bedclothes; and there was a pan full of ginger cakes the woman had made for the fam'ly. You needn't tell me a parrot can't think." "It would seem," said Dan Anderson, medita- tively, "that we may report progress in civilization." "But say, fellers," remarked Curly, taking off his hat and scratching his head perplexedly, "some- times I wish Bill was a chicken hawk instead of a talker. There is rats, or mice, or something, got into this valley at last." "Do you want any drugs?" asked Doc Tomlinson, suddenly. "No, not yet," Curly shook his head. "Never did see airy rat or mouse round here, but still, things is happenin' that looks right strange. "It's this-a-way, fellers," he continued," — set down here and let me tell you." So they all sat 114 HEART'S DESIRE down and leaned back against the fence of White- man's corral. "Last Christmas/' Curly began at the beginning, "why, you see, my girl, she got a Christmas present from some of her folks back in Kansas, in the States. It was a pair of candy legs." "What's that, Curly?" said Dan Anderson, half sitting up. "Legs," said Curly, "made out of candy, about so long, or maybe a little longer. Red, and white, and blue — all made out of candy, you know. Shoes on the feet, buckles on the shoes, and heels. Sort of frill around on top. The feller that made them things could shore do candy a-plenty. They was too pretty to eat up, so the little woman, she done put 'em in the parlor, — on the table like, in the middle of the floor; tied 'em together with a blue ribbon and left 'em there. Now, you all know right well that's the only pair of candy legs in Heart's Desire." "That's legitimate distinction, Curly," Dan Ander- son decided. "It entitles your family to social prominence." "Oh, we wasn't stuck up none over that," laughed Curly, modestly, "but we always felt kind of com- fortable, thinkin' them there legs was right there on the parlor table in the other room. You can't help feelin' good to have some little ornyment like that around the place, you know, special if there's women HEART'S DESIRE 115 around. But now, fellers, what I was goin' to say is, there's mice, or rats, got in on this range some how, and they — " "Why didn't you put 'em in a box?" asked McKinney, severely. "You ain't got sense enough to know the difference between a hair rope and a can of California apricots." " Put 'em in a box ? " cried Curly. " Why ? Them was ornyments! Now you ain't got a ornyment on your whole place, except a horned toad and four tarantulas in a teacup. Now a real ornyment is somethin' you put on the parlor table, man, and show it free and open. It's sort of sacred like." "Not for rats," said McKinney. "You'd better keep your eye on that parrot," warned Doc Tomlinson. "About to-morrow, you tell us what you find out." But on the morrow the mystery remained unsolved. "One heel's plumb gone," said Curly, sighing. "And they've begun on the toe of the other foot." Bill, the parrot, remained under increasing sus- picion. "He's got a wall eye," said McKinney, "and I never seen a wall eye in a man, woman, or mustang, that it didn't mean bad. This here bird ain't no Hereford, nor yet a short-horn. He's a dogy that ain't bred right, and he ain't due to act right." All Curly could do was to shake his head, unpersuaded. Meantime, there went on in the little cabin across 116 HEART'S DESIRE the arroyo, a reproduction of an old, old drama. Should we, after all, criticise these two descendants of the first sweet human woman of the world ? Con- sider ; to their young and inexperienced eyes appealed all the fascinations of this august but tempting object, new, strange, appealing. For a time their hearts were strong, upon their souls rested the ancient mandate of denial. They gazed, short breathed, in awe, upon this radiantly bestriped, unspeakably fascinating, wholly and resplendently pulchritudinous creation. They must have known that it was a part of the family pride, a part of the parlor — a part, indeed, of the intermingled fabric of the civilization of Heart's Desire ! And yet — alas ! One morning the twins foregathered in the parlor. The hour of temptation, as is always the case, found all things well ordered for the success of evil. "Everybody's gone," whispered Suzanne. "There ain't nobody here at all." "Only Bill," said Arabella, looking at the parrot, which regarded them with a badly bored aspect. "I wonder if he'd tell?" "Oh, dang it all!" remarked Bill; "I'm tired!" "He's awful," remarked Arabella. "He swears. Folks that swears goes to the bad place. Besides, Bill wouldn't tell, would you, Bill?" "He'll go to sleep," said Suzanne. "Besides, we ain't goin' to bite off only just a little bit of a bite! Nobody '11 never notice it." HEART'S DESIRE 117 Twofold Eve edged up to the centre table. "You first," said Arabella. "No, you." "You first," insisted Arabella. "I'm afraid. Bill, he's lookin'." "I ain't afraid," Suzanne asserted boldly, and stretched out her hand. That was the time when the first heel disappeared. Even as Suzanne's white teeth closed upon it, the parrot gave a vast screech of disapproval. " Quork ! " cried he. "Look out! Look out!" At which warning both the twins fled precipitately underneath the bed; whence presently their heads peered out, with wide and frightened eyes. "I didn't have my bite," whimpered Arabella. "It's only Bill!" Suzanne was disgusted with herself for running. "Come on. Who's afraid?" Arabella chose the toe of the other foot. Thus it was that temptation, at first insidious, at length irresistible, had its way. The lustre paled and dimmed on one gaudily bepainted leg. The remaining heel disappeared. A slight nick became visible on the cap of the right knee. "Well, I'll be darned!" said Curly, scratching his head, as he observed these developments. "So'll I," remarked Bill, in frank friendship. "Ha! Ha!" Curly looked at him pugnaciously for a moment. "For one cent, Bill," said he, "I'd wring your 118 HEART'S DESIRE cussed green neck for you. I'll bet a hundred you're the feller that's been a-doin' all this devilment. Here you, — Susy — Airey, — have you seen Bill a-eatin' the ornyment?" Both the young ladies solemnly and truthfully declared that they had never noticed any such thing ; and pointed out that par- rots, in their belief, did not eat candy. The next day amputation and subtraction had proceeded yet further. Only Bill was present when Arabella broke out into tears. " What's the matter?" asked stout-hearted Suzanne. "Why, we — we — we — can't eat it but once," mourned Arabella. "Now — now — now it's most gone ! 00 — oo — oo ! " "It's good," said Suzanne. "Will we go to the bad place?" asked Arabella. Suzanne evaded this question. "How can we help it, when it looks so pretty, and tastes so good? They ought to put 'em in a box. I c-c-can't help it !" And now tears broke from her eyes also. They leaned their heads upon each other's shoulders and wept. But even as they did so, the hand of either, upon the side nearest to the table, reached out toward the disfigured remnant. A week later the last bite was taken. The parlor table was bare and vacant. Heart's Desire, in all its length and breadth, con- tained no parlor ornament ! That was the last day when Curly reported to the group at the side of Whiteman's corral. "They're HEART'S DESIRE 119 gone, up to both knees now," said he, gloomily. "The finish ain't far off. You all come on over across the arroyo with me, and if you can find a sign showin' how this thing happened, I'll make you a present of the whole shoo tin' match." It was thus that Curly, Dan Anderson, Doc Tom- linson, McKinney, and Learned Counsel rose and adjourned across the arroyo. They found Suzanne and Arabella industriously carrying in aprons full of pinon chips for the kitchen stove. The clean-swept room at which the visitors entered was the neatest one in Heart's Desire. The tall, narrow fireplace of clay in the corner of the other room was swept clean, spick and span. A chair stood exactly against the wall. The parlor table — ah, appalling spectacle! the parlor table, bare and empty, held upon its surface no object of any sort whatever ! " They're gone!" cried Curly, "plumb gone!" His hand instinctively reached toward his hip, and he cast a swift glance upon Bill, the parrot, who sat blinking at the edge of the table. "All over now!" remarked Bill. "All over! Too late! Quork!" "Rope him and throw him," urged Doc Tomlin- son. "Search his person. We got to look in his teeth." "Not necessary," said Dan Anderson. "He hasn't got any teeth," The entire party looked 120 HEART'S DESIRE with enmity at Bill, but the latter turned upon them so brave and unflinching a front that none dared question his honor. Dan Anderson, his hands in his pockets, turned and strolled alone into the other room, and thence out of the door into the sunlight, where the twins were still continuing their unwonted industry at the chip pile. He stood and looked at them, saying no word, but with a certain smile on his face. A gorner of each apron fell down, spilling the chips upon the ground. The other hand of each twin was raised as though to wipe a furtive tear. Dan Anderson put out his arms to them. "Come here, little women," he said softly, and took them in his arms. One chubby face rested against each side of his own. His long arms tightened around them protectingly. Tears now began to wet his cheeks, falling from the eyes of the twins. "You — you won't tell?" whispered Suzanne, in his right ear, and Arabella begged as much upon the left. "No," said Dan Anderson, hugging them the tighter, "I won't tell." "It's gone!" said Suzanne, vaguely. "Yes," said Dan Anderson, "it's gone." He turned at the sound of voices. Curly appeared at the door, carrying in his hand a limp, bedraggled figure. "That," said Dan Anderson, "I take to be the HEART'S DESIRE 121 remains of our late friend Bill, the parrot. What made you, Curly ?" "Well," said Curly, defensively, as he held the body of Bill suspended by the head between two fin- gers, "I was lookin' for his teeth, to see if he had any candy in 'em, and he bit my finger nigh about off. So I just wrung his neck. Do you reckon he'd be good fried?" "He'd like enough be tolerable tough," said McKinney. "Them parrots gets shore old." "You ought to have some drugs to tan his hide," Doc Tomlinson volunteered hopefully. "It'd be right stylish on a hat." Dan Anderson gazed at Curly with reproach in his eyes. "Now, I just wrung his neck," repeated the latter, protesting. "Yes," said Dan Anderson, "and you've wrung the wrong neck. Bill was innocent." "Then who done et the legs?" "That," said Dan Anderson, "brings me again to the position which I enunciated this morning. In these modern days of engineers, mining companies, parrots, and twins, the structure of our civilization is so complex as to require the services of a highly intelligent corporation counsel. You ask who ate the candy ornament, representation, or image for- merly existent on your premises. I reply that in all likelihood it was done by a corporation; but these matters must appear in court at a later time." 122 HEART'S DESIRE "Well/' said McKinney, "it looks like the joke was on us." Dan Anderson smiled gravely. "In the opinion of myself and the consolidation which I represent/' said he, and he hugged the twins, who looked down frightened from his arms, "the joke is on Bill, the prisoner at the bar." The group would have separated, had it not been for a sudden exclamation from Curly. "Ouch!" cried that worthy, and cast from him the body of Bill, supposedly defunct. "He bit me again, blame him!" said Curly, sucking his thumb. "If he bit you for true," said McKinney, who was of a practical turn of mind, "like enough he ain't been dead at all." Corroboration was not lacking. The prisoner at the bar, thrown violently upon the ground, now sat up, half leaning against a pinon log, and contem- plated those present with a cynical and unfriendly gray eye. "Now," said Doc Tomlinson, regarding him, "you get him a few drugs, and he'll be just as good as new, right soon." "All I got to say," grumbled Curly, "is, for a thing that ain't got no teeth, and that's dead, both, he can bite a leetle the hardest of anything I ever did see." "Yet it is strange," remarked Dan Anderson, "that the innocent bystander should sit up and take notice, after all. How are you feeling, friend?" HEART'S DESIRE 123 This to Bill, who was now faintly fanning a wing and ruffling up his yellow crest. "I'm mighty tired," said Bill. "I don't blame you," remarked Dan Anderson, cheerfully, turning to put down Suzanne and Ara- bella safe within the door, "but as corporation coun- sel I am bound to protect the interests of my clients. Run, you kids! "As to you, Curly," he continued, "you repre- sent, in your ignorance, ourselves and all Heart's Desire. We have intrusted to us a candy palla- dium of liberty, which, being interpreted, means a man's chance to be a grown man, with whiskers, in a free state of Heart's Desire. What do we do then ? Ask in a railroad corporation, and shut our eyes!" "And a corporation," said Curly, meditatively, "can be a shore cheerful performer." CHAPTER IX CIVILIZATION AT HEART'S DESIRE How the Men of Heart's Desire surrendered to the Soften- ing Seductions of Croquet and other Pastimes "Go on, Curly, it's your next shot. Hurry up," said McKinney, who was nervous. "Now you just hold on, Mac," replied the former. "This here croquet is a new style of shootin', and with two dollars on the game I ain't goin' to be hurried none." "It ain't a half-decent outfit, either," complained Doc Tomlinson. " Hay wire ain't any good for cro- quet arches; and as for these here balls and mallets you bought sight-unseen by mail, they're a disgrace to civilization." 11 Pronto! Pronto! Hurry up!" called Dan An- derson from his perch on the fence of Whiteman's corral, from which he was observing what was prob- ably the first game of croquet ever played between the Pecos and Rio Grande rivers. There were cer- tain features of the contest in question which were perhaps not usual. Indeed, I do not recall ever to have seen any other game of croquet in which two of the high contracting parties wore "chaps" and 124 HEART'S DESIRE 125 spurs and the other two overalls and blue shirts. But in spite of all admonition Curly stood perplexed, with his hat pushed back on his forehead and his mallet held gingerly between the ringers of one hand, while a cigarette graced those of the other. "The court rules," resumed Dan Anderson, "that this game can't wait for arguments of counsel. Curly, you are a disgrace. You and McKinney ought to skin Doc and the Learned Counsel easy if you had a bit of savvy. Can't you hit that stake ?" "I could if you'd let me take a six-shooter or a rope," said Curly. "I ain't fixed for this here tenderfoot game you-all have sprung on me. If it wasn't for that there spur, I'd have sent Doc's ball plumb over Carrizy Mountain that last carrom. You watch me when onct I get the hang of this thing." "You can't get the hang of nothing," said McKin- ney. "A cow puncher ain't got no sense except to ride mean horses and eat canned tomatoes." "Maybe you don't like your pardner," said Curly. "Now you change around next game, and I'll bet me and the lawyer can skin Doc and you to a finish. Bet you three pesos. Of course, I can't play this thing first jump like a borned tenderfoot. I won- der what my mammy'd say to me if she caught me foolin' around here with this here little wooden tack hammer." "It all comes of Mac's believin' everything he saw in an advertisement," said Dan Anderson. 126 HEART'S DESIRE "Well, you put me up to it," retorted McKinney, flushing. "Now, there you go!" exclaimed Dan Anderson. "I didn't figure on what it might do to our mortality tables. You fellows can't play the game wearin' spurs, and I'm afraid to see you try any further with your guns on. Here, all of you, come over here. The umpire decides that you've got to check your guns during the game. I don't mind bein' umpire in the ancient and honorable game of croquet, but I ain't goin' to assume no unpaid obligations as coroner." With some protests all those engaged handed their belts to Dan Anderson, who casually flung them over a projecting cedar limb of the fence. "For shame! Curly," said he. "Talk about tender- feet! Here you are, wearin' a pearl handle on your gun, just like a cheap Nebraska sheepherder with social ambitions. I thought you was a real cowman. The court fines you — " "It ain't my fault," said Curly, blushing. "The girl — the little woman — that's my wife — she done that last Christmas. She allowed it was fine — and it goes." "Yes, and put enough money into this handle to buy a whole new croquet set for the family. Ain't that awful! All this comes of takin' a daily news- paper once a month and readin' the advertisin' columns. We're going to be plumb effete, if we ain't mighty careful, down in here." HI UMPIRE DECIDES THAT YOU VE GOT TO CHECK YOUR GUNS DURING THE GAME."' HEART'S DESIRE 127 " That's so," said McKinney, scratching his head. " Times is changin'. That reminds me, I ordered a new suit of clothes by mail from Philadelphy, and they ought to be just about due when Tom Osby comes down; and that ought to be to-day." "That's so," assented Doc Tomlinson. "He's got a little bill of goods for me, too." "Oh, why, ok, why this profligacy, Doc?" said Dan Anderson. "Didn't you order two pounds of alum the last trip Tom made? What do you want of so many drugs, anyhow?" "Hush, fellers," said Curly. "Listen a minute!" Curly's ears had detected the rattle of distant wagon wheels. "That's Tom comin' now," said he. "He's a heap more regular than the Socorro stage. That's him, because I can hear him singin'." "Tom, he's stuck on music," said McKinney. Afar, but approaching steadily, might be heard the jolting vehicle coming down the canon; and presently there was borne to our ears the sound of Tom Osby's voice in his favorite melody : — " I never lo-o-oved a f oo-o-o-nd ga-a-a-z-elle ! " He proclaimed this loudly. We knew that Tom would drive up to Whiteman's store, hence we waited for him near the corral fence. As he approached and observed our occupation he arrested his salutations and gazed for a moment in silent meditation. 128 HEART'S DESIRE "Prithee, sweet sirs," said he, at length, "what in blazes you doin' ?" "These gentlemen," said Dan Anderson from the fence, "are engaged in showin' the endurin' quality of the Anglo-Saxon temperament. Wherever the Saxon goes he sets up his own peculiar institutions. What ! Shall New Mexico be behind New York, or New England? This croquet set cost eighteen dollars to get here from Chicago. Get down, Tom, you're in on the game." But Tom picked up his reins and clucked to his team. "Excuse me, fellers," said he. "That there looks too frisky for me. I got to think of my busi- ness reputation." He passed on up the street. "What's the matter with Tom?" asked Curly. "Seems like he wasn't feelin' right cheerful, some way." Dan Anderson gazed after the teamster pensively. "Methinks you are concealing something from us, Tom," said he. " Let's go find out what it is, fellows." He disengaged the respective six-shooters from their place on the fence, and thus again properly clad, we wandered over toward Whiteman's commer- cial emporium, where Tom Osby was now proceeding to discharge the cargo of his freight wagon. This done, he did not pause for a pipe and a parley, but, climbing up to the high front seat, picked up the reins and drove off; not, as was his wont, to the corral, or to Uncle Jim Brothers's restaurant, but to HEART'S DESIRE 129 his own adobe down the arroyo. We looked at each other in silence. "Something on his mind," said Dan Anderson. "He didn't bring my clothes/' said McKinney. "Nor my drugs," said Doc Tomlinson. "And yet," said Curly, who was observant, "he kep' one box in the wagon. Couldn't see the brand, but she's there all right." "Curly," said Dan Anderson, "you are appointed a committee of one to follow the accused down to his house and find out what all this means." Curly deployed as a skirmisher, and finally arrived in front of Tom Osby's adobe. The tired horses stood in the sun still hitched to the wagon, and Curly, out of pity, made it his first business to hunt under the wagon seat for the picket ropes and halters. He then began to search for the oats bag, but while so engaged his attention was attracted by something whose nature we, at a distance, could not determine. With a swift glance into the back of the wagon, and another at the door of the cabin, Curly dropped his Good Samaritan work for Tom Osby's team and came up the street at as fast a gait as any cow puncher can command on foot. When he reached us his freckled brow was wrinkled in a frown. "Fellers," said he. "I didn't think it of him! This here ain't right. Tom Osby's got a baby in there, and he's squeezin' the life out of it. Listen! 130 HEART'S DESIRE Come on now. Do you hear that? How's that? Why, I tell you — why, dang me if it ain't singirt 7" There came to our ears, as we approached, a cer- tain wailing melody, thin, quavering, distant, weird. As it rose upon the hot afternoon air it seemed absolutely strange, unimaginable, impossible. The spine of each man crawled. Dan Anderson, of the entire party, seemed to be the only one who maintained his self-possession. He smiled gently. "Now," said he, "we certainly are fixed; Heart's Desire ain't benighted any after this." "What's the matter with you?" Curly questioned. "Poor cow puncher," replied Dan Anderson, "I have to do the thinkin' for you, and I ain't paid for it. Who, if not the Learned Counsel on my right and myself, organized the social and legal system of this community? Who paved these broad boule- vards of our beauteous city? Who put up the electric lightin' and heatin' plant, and installed the forty-eight miles of continuous trolley track all under one transfer system? Who built the courthouse and the red brick schoolhouse, with nine school- teachers fresh from Connecticut? Who planned the new depot? Who got a new leather lounge for the managin' editor of our daily newspaper ? Who built the three new smelters ? Who filled our busy streets each evenin' with throngs of happy-faced laborers pacin' home at night after four hours' pleasant work each day in our elegantly upholstered quartz mines? HEART'S DESIRE 131 Was it you, Curly, who made these different and several pasears in progress? Was it you, Doc, you benighted stray from the short-grass Kansas plains, where they can't raise Kafir corn? Was it you, McKinney, you sour-dispositioned consumer of canned peas? Nay, nay. It was myself and my learned brother. You ought to send us both to Congress.'' We gazed up the long, silent street of Heart's Desire, asleep in the all-satisfying sun, and it almost seemed to us that we could indeed see all these things that he had named. The spell was broken by a renewal of the thin, high voice of this mysterious Thing in Tom Osby's house. "And now," resumed Dan Anderson, "as I re- marked, havin' turned our hands to the stable things of life, and havin' builded well the structure of an endurin', permanent society, there remained for us no need save for the softenin' and refinin' touch of a higher culture. We lacked nothing but Art. Now, here she is ! "What you're listenin' to, my countrymen, is music. It ain't a baby, Curly. Music, heavenly maid, is young in Heart's Desire, but it ain't any baby that you're listenin' to. I told Tom Osby myself to look into the phonograph business some time if he got a chance. Gentlemen, I now bid you follow me, to greet Art upon its arrival in our midst. I must confess that Tom Osby is actin' like a blamed swine over this thing, try in' to keep it all to himself." 132 HEART'S DESIRE The phonograph inside the adobe switched from one tune to another. " Don't that sound like the Plaza Major in old Chihuahua by moonlight?" cried McKinney, as a swinging band march came squealing out through the door. "That's a piece by a Mexi- can band. Can't you hear the choo-choo, and the wee-wee, and the bum-bum? They're all there, sure's you're born!" "If she plays 'La Paloma,' or that 'Golondrina' thing, I'm goin' to shoot," threatened Curly. "I've done danced to them things at more'n a thousand bailes here and in Texas, and if this is Art, she's got to do different." "Gentlemen," Dan Anderson suggested, "let us go in and watch Tom Osby gettin' his savage breast soothed." Tom Osby started as he saw shadows on the floor; but it was too late. He was discovered sitting on the bed, in rapt attention to the machine industriously grinding away upon the table. Dan Anderson, with great gravity, took up a collection of four pins from each of the newcomers and handed them to Tom. "No bent ones," said he. "It's a good show; but, tell us, what are you doin' ? This is worse than croquet. And we asked you in on our game, too. Ain't you playin' it just a little bit lonesome this way?" Tom frowned in perturbation. "Well, I was goin' to spring her on you about to-night, up at the Lone HEART'S DESIRE 133 Star," said he; "but I couldn't wait. Ain't she a yaller flower? Say, I played her every night from Vegas down for five nights — Pecos Crossin', Salt Wells, Maxwell's, Hocradle Canon, Jack's Peak — all the way. After I'd get my horses hobbled out and get my bed made down, I'd set her up on the front seat and turn her loose. Coyotes — you'd ought to heard 'em ! When you wind her up plumb tight and turn the horn the right direction, you can hear her about a mile." "That," said Dan Anderson, "must have been a gladsome journey." "For sure," said Tom Osby. "Look at the ree- cords — whole box of 'em. Some of the stylishest singers in the business are in here. Some of 'em's Dago, I reckon. Here's one, ' Ah, no Ginger.' " "That, probably," said Dan Anderson, "is 'Ah, non Giunge.' Yes, it's Dago, but not bad for a lady with a four-story voice." "Here's another," said Tom; "'Down Mobile.'" "I know that one," said Curly. "Let me see it," said the impresario in charge. "Ah, as I thought; it's 'La Donna e Mobile.' This, bein' translated, means that any lady can change her mind occasionally, whether she comes from Mobile or not." "That's no dream," said Curly. "Onct on the Brazos — " "Never mind, Curly. Just feed that 'Donna' into 134 HEART'S DESIRE the machine, Tom, and let's hear how it sounds once more." And so Tom Osby, proud in his new possession, played for his audience, there in the adobe by the arroyo; played all his records, or nearly all; played them over and over again. It was nearly night when we left the place. "Excuse me," said Dan Anderson to me, with a motion as though adjusting a cravat upon my neck, "but your white tie is slipping around under your ear again." And as we walked, I was sure that I saw an opera hat under his arm, though sober reason convinced me that we both were wearing overalls, and not evening clothes. "But did you notice," said Curly, after a while, "Tom, he's holdin' out on us. That there music, it's all tangled up in my hair." He removed his hat and ran a questioning hand through the matted tangle on his curly front. "But," he resumed, "there was one piece he didn't play. I seen him slip it under the blankets on the bed." "How could he!" said Dan Anderson. But memories sufficient came trooping upon him to cause him to forget. He fell to whistling "La Donna e Mobile" dreamily. CHAPTER X ART AT HEART'S DESIRE How Tom Osby, Common Carrier, caused Trouble with a Portable Annie Laurie The shadows of night had fallen when at length Tom Osby crept stealthily to his door and looked around. The street seemed deserted and silent, as usual. Tom Osby stepped to the side of the bed and withdrew from under the blankets the bit of gutta-percha which Curly had noticed him conceal. He adjusted the record in the machine and sprung the catch. Then he sat and listened, intent, ab- sorbed, hearkening to the wonderful voice of one of the world's great contraltos. It was an old, old melody she sang, — the song of " Annie Laurie." Tom Osby played it over again. He sat and listened, as he had, night after night, in the moon- light on the long trail from Las Vegas down. The face of a strong and self-repressed man is difficult to read. It does not change lightly under any pass- ing emotion. Tom Osby's face perhaps looked even harder than usual, as he sat there listening, his unlit pipe clenched hard between his hands. Truant to his trusts, forgetful of the box of candy which regu- 136 136 HEART'S DESIRE larly he brought down from Vegas to the Littlest Girl, Curly's wife; forgetful of many messages, commercial and social, — forgetful even of us, his sworn cronies, — Tom Osby sat and listened to a voice which sang of a Face that was the Fairest, and of a Dark blue Eye. The voice sang and sang again, until finally four conspirators once more approached Tom Osby's cabin. He had forgotten his supper. Dinner was done, in Heart's Desire, soon after noon. Dan An- derson stood thoughtful for a time. "Let him alone, fellows," said he. "I savvy. That fellow's in love! He's in love with a Voice! Ain't it awful?" Silence met this remark. Dan Anderson seated himself on a stone, and we others followed his ex- ample, going into a committee of the whole, there in the night-time, on the bank of the arroyo. "Did you notice, Curly," asked Dan Anderson — "did you get a chance to see the name on the record of the singer who — who perpetrated this?" "No," said Curly. "I couldn't get a clean look at the brand, owin' to Tom's cuttin' out the thing so sudden from the bunch. It was somethin' like Doughnuts — " " Exactly — Madame Donatelli ! I thought I rather recognized that voice my own self." "Dago!" said McKinney with scorn. "By training though not by birth," admitted HEART'S DESIRE 137 Dan Anderson. " Georgia girl originally, they tell me, and Dagoized proper, subsequent. All Yankee girls have to be Dagoized before they can learn to sing right good and strong, you know. They frequent learn a heap of things besides l Annie Laurie' — and besides singin'. Oh, I can see the Yankee Dago lady right now. Fancy works installed in the roof of her mouth, adjacent and adjoinin' to her tongue, teeth, and other vocal outfit. "Now, this here Georgia girl, accordin' to all stories, has sung herself into about a quarter of a million dollars and four or five different husbands with that voice of hers; and that same ' Annie Laurie' song was largely responsible. Now, why, why, couldn't she have taken a fellow of her size, and not gone and made trouble for Tom Osby? It wasn't fair play. "Now, Tom, he sits humped over in there, a-lookin' in that horn. What does he see ? Madame Donatelli? Does he see her show her teeth and bat her eyes when she's fetchin' one of them hand-curled trills of hers? Nay, nay. What he sees is a girl just like the one he used to know — " "Whoa! Hold on there; that'll about do," said McKinney. "This country's just as good as — " "No, let him go on," said Curly to McKinney. "Onct over on the Brazos — " "Sometimes I think you fellows are inclined to be provincial," said Dan Anderson, calmly. "Now, 138 HEART'S DESIRE I'm not goin' to talk if you don't leave me alone. Listen. What does Tom Osby see in that horn that he's lookin' into? I'll tell you. He sees a plumb angel in white clothes and a blue sash. She's got gray eyes and brown hair, and she's just a little bit shorter than will go right under my arm here when I stretch it out level." "That's about right!" said McKinney. "She's got on white," resumed Dan Anderson, casting a glance about him in the dusk of the evening. "The girl's got to have on white. There ain't no man can hold out when they come in white and have on a blue sash — it's no use tryin' then. "Now, there she is, a-settin' at the piano in there in the front parlor ; daddy's gone out into the country after a load of wood, like enough; old lady's gone to bed, after a hard day's labor. Honeysuckles bloomin' all around, because in New Jersey — " "It wasn't in New Jersey," said Learned Counsel, hastily, before he thought. "No, it was in New York," said McKinney, boldly. "You're all liars," said Curly, calmly; "it was onct on the Brazos." "Gentlemen," said Dan Anderson, "you are right. It was once on the Brazos, and in Iowa, and in New York, and in New Jersey, and in Georgia. Thank God, it was there, once upon a time, in all those places. . . . And, as I was sayin', the birds was just twitterin' in the evergreen trees along the front HEART'S DESIRE 139 walk, some sleepy, because it was just gettin' right dark. Vines, you know, hangin' over the edge of the front porch, like. Few chairs settin' around on the porch. Just a little band of moonlight layin' there on the front steps, leadin' up like a heavenly walk, like a white path to Paradise — which was there in the front parlor, with the best angel there at home. "The high angel of this here Heaven, like I told you, she's a settin' there in white," he went on; " and with a blue sash — it was blue, now, wasn't it, fellows? And she's lettin' her ringers, God bless 'em, just tra-la-loo-loo, loo-loo-la-la, up and down the keys of the piano her dad gave her when she graduated. And now she's sort of singin' to her- self — half whisperin', soft and deep — I hate a thin- voiced woman, or a bad-tempered one, same as you do — she's just singin' about as loud as you can hear easy down as far as the front gate. And — why, she's a singin' that same tune there, of ' Annie Laurie'! . . . And in your heart you know it's true, every word of it, all the time, and at any station!" said Dan Anderson. "At any station!" said Curly. "At any station!" said McKinney D "At any station!" said Learned Counsel. There were no hats on at that moment. To be sure, the evening air was a trifle warm. "And now," said Dan Anderson, after a while, "it's 140 HEART'S DESIRE got Tom. Now, why couldn't it have been a man- Dago to sing that air into the tuneful horn of the mechanical heavenly maid yonder? No reason, only it's got to be a woman to sing that man's song of 'Annie Laurie.' A man couldn't any more sing 'Annie Laurie' than you could make cocktails with- out bitters. The only way we can get either one of them here is in bulk, which we have done. It's canned Art, that's all. Owin' to our present transpor- tation facilities, everything has to come here in cans." Dan Anderson arose and stretched out his arm. "Gentlemen," said he, "I present to you Art!" He raised before him an imaginary glass, which we all saw plainly. "I present to you the cool, pink, and well-flavored combination of life and longing with a cherry at the bottom of it. Thanks to Tom Osby, we have Art ! We are not quite provincial. Listen at Madame Donatelli tearin' it off in there! . . . Shoot him up, boys!" he cried suddenly. "I'm damned if I'm going to look all my days on the picture of a girl in a blue sash! The chief end of man is to witness an ecru coyote and a few absolute human failures like you and me. Down with the heavenly maid! Shoot him up! He's a destroyer of the peace!" So we shot up Tom's adobe for a time, joyously peppering the thick walls, until at length that worthy came out annoyed, a phonograph record in one hand and a gun in the other. HEART'S DESIRE 141 " Don't, fellers/' said he. " You might break some- thing." "Come out/' said Dan Anderson. "Not even grand opera lasts all night. Besides, the price of the box seats is exorbitant. Come on. Get ready to play croquet to-morrow. It's safer." And so Tom Osby's entertainment came to an end for that evening. Our little party straggled on up the long, deserted street of Heart's Desire. Dan Anderson turned in at the post-office to see if the daily paper from El Paso had come in that month. It was something that Dan Anderson saw in the daily paper that caused him on the following day to lead Tom Osby aside. "Did you know, Tom," said he, "that that opera singer you've got in your box, the ' Annie Laurie' artist, is goin' to be down in this part of the world before long?" "I never loved a fo-o-o-nd ga-aze-11-lle ! " began Tom Osby, defensively. "Well, it's true." "What are you tellin' me?" said Tom, scornfully. "Comin' down here? Why, don't it say that them things is all sung by artists?" "So they are." "Well, now, a artist," said Tom Osby argumenta- tively, "ain't never comin' within a thousand miles of this here country. Besides, a artist is somebody that's dead." "There's something in that," admitted Dan Ander- 142 HEART'S DESIRE son. "You've got to be dead to make a really well- preserved, highly embalmed success in art, of course. It's true that in a hundred years from now that song will be just what it is to-day. That's Art. But I'm tellin' you the truth, Tom. The woman who sang into that machine is alive to-day. She belongs to a grand opera troupe under the management of a gent by the name of Blaming, who is in hot water with these stars all his life, but makes so much money out of them that he can't bear to be anything but boiled continuous. "Now, these people are bound for California, for an early season. They are goin' six hundred miles at a jump, and they stop at El Paso for a moment, to catch a little of their financial breath. The Southern Pacific raineth on the just and the unjust in the mat- ter of railroad fares. Now, as they are still goin' to be too early for the season on the coast, Monsieur Blauring has conceived in his fertile brain the idea that it will be an interestin' and inexpensive thing for him to sidetrack his whole rodeo for a few weeks up in the Sacramentos, at the Sky Top hotel, — that new railroad health resort some Yankees have just built, for lungers and other folks that have money and no pleasure in livin'." "How do you know shell be there?" asked Tom. "Well, this El Paso daily has got about four pages about it. They think it's news, and Blauring thinks it's advertising so they're both happy. And this very HEART'S DESIRE 143 lady who sang into your tin horn, yonder, will be down there at Sky Top just about ten days from Tom Osby was silent. The Sacramentos, as all men knew, lay but a hundred miles or so distant by wagon trail. "It ain't so," said Tom, at length. "A singin' artist would choke to death in El Paso. The dust's a fright." " Oh, I reckon it's so," said Dan Anderson. "Now, the bull-ring over at Juarez would be a fine place for grand opera — especially for ' Carmen' — which, I may inform you, Tom, is all about a bull-fight, any- way. Yes," he went on softly, "I hope they'll sing 'Carmen' over there. I hope, also, they won't see the name on the Guggenheim smelters and undertake to give Wagner under a misapprehension. If Blaur- ing has any judgment at all, he'll stick to ( Carmen' at El Paso. He'd have to hire a freight train to get away with the money. "But now," resumed he, "after they get done at El Paso, whatever they sing, the grub wagon will be located in the Sacramentos, while old Blauring, he goes on in advance and rides a little sign out near 'Frisco and other places, where Art is patronized copious. Yes, friend, ' Annie Laurie,' she'll be up in Sacramentos; and from all I can figure, there'll be trouble in that particular health resort." "Sometimes I think you're loco, 1 ' said Tom Osby, slowly; "then again I think you ain't, quite. The 144 HEART'S DESIRE man who allows he's any better than this country don't belong here; but I didn't think you ever did." "No!" cried Dan Anderson. "Don't ever say that of me." "Of course, I know folks is different," went on Tom Osby, presently. "They come from different places, and have lived different ways. Me, I come from Georgy. I never did have much chanct for edu- cation, along of the war breakin' out. My folks was in the fightin' some ; and so I drifted here." "You came from Georgia?" asked Dan Anderson. "I was born farther north. I had a little schooling, but the only schooling I ever had in all my life that was worth while, I got right here in Heart's Desire. The only real friends I ever had are here. "Now," he went on, "it's because I feel that way, and because you're going to punch your freight team more than a hundred miles south next week to see if you can get a look at that 'Annie Laurie' woman — it's because of those things that I want to help you if I can. And that's the truth — or something resemblin' it, maybe. "Now listen, Tom. Madame Donatelli is no Dago, and she's not dead. She was a Georgia girl herself — Alice Strowbridge was her name, and she had naturally a wonderful voice. She went to Paris and Italy to study long before I came out West. She first sang in Milan, and her appearance was a big success. She's made thousands and thousands of dollars." HEART'S DESIRE 145 "About how old is she?" asked Tom Osby "I should think about thirty-five/' said Dan An- derson. " That is, counthV years, and not experience." "I'm just about forty-five," said Tom, "countin' both." "Well, she came from Georgia — " "And so did I," observed Tom Osby, casually. Dan Anderson was troubled. His horizon was wider than Tom Osby's. "It's far, Tom," said he; "it's very far." "I everidge about twenty mile a day," said Tom, not wholly understanding. "I can make it in less'n a week." "Tom," cried Dan Anderson, "don't!" But Tom Osby only trod half a pace closer, in that vague, never formulated, never admitted friendship of one man for another in a country which held real men. "Do you know, Dan," said he, "if I could just onct in my life hear that there song right out — her- self singin', words and all — fiddles, like enough; maybe a pianny, too — if I could just hear that! If I could just hear — that!" "Tom!" They wandered on a way silently before the freighter spoke. "There is some folks," said he, "that has to do things for keeps, for the rest of the folks that can't do things for keeps. Some fellers has to just drive teams, or run a ore bucket, or play L 146 HEART'S DESIRE the cards, or something else common and useful — world's sort of fixed up that way, I reckon. But folks that can do things for keeps — I reckon they're right proud, like." "Not if they really do the things that keep. That sort ain't proud," said Dan Anderson. "Now, I can just see her a-settin' there," went on the freighter. "It sounded like there was fiddles, and horns, and piannys all around." "She was maybe standin' up." "She was a-settin' there," said Tom Osby, frown- ing; "right there at the pianny herself. Can't you see her? Don't you ever sort of imagine things yourself, man?" "God forbid!" said Dan Anderson. "No, I can't imagine things. That's fatal — I try to forget things." "Well," said Tom Osby, "I reckon I've been im- aginin' things. Now, there she's settin', right at the pianny, and sort of lettin' her fingers run up and down — " "Ira-la-loo-loo, loo-loo-la-la?" said Dan Ander- son. "Sure. That's just it. Tra-la-la-loo, loo-la-la-la, up and down the whole shootin' match. And she sings! Now what does she sing? That song about Gingerbread? That Mobile song? No, not none. It's ' Annie Laurie ' she sings, man, it's 'Annie Laurie ' ! Now, I freighted to El Paso before the railroad, and I know them boys. They'll tear up the house." HEART'S DESIRE 147 "She'll be wearin' black lace and diamonds/' said Dan Anderson, irrelevantly; "and when she breathes she'll swell up like a toy balloon. She'll bat her eyes. They got to do those things." "Man," said Tom Osby, "there's times when I don't like you." "Well, then, cut out the lace. I'll even leave off the diamonds." "She's settin' right there," said Tom Osby, wag- ging his forefinger, "and she's dressed in white — " "With a blue sash—" "Sure ! And she sings ! And it's ' Annie Laurie' ! And because I want my own share of things that's for keeps, though I ain't one of the sort that can do things for keeps, why, I want — why, you see — " "Yes, Tom," said Dan Anderson, gently, "I see. Now, as you said, it's only a few days' drive, after all. I'm goin' along with you. There's watermelons near there — " "You are loco!" "Not yet," said his friend. "I only meant to point out that the best melons these embalmed Greasers raise in their little tablecloth farmin' opera- tions is right down there in the valley at the foot of the Sacramentos. Now, you may have noticed that sometimes a fellow ought to cover up his tracks. What's to hinder you and me just takin' a little pasear down in toward the Sacramentos, on the south- east side, after a load of melons ? They're better than 148 HEART'S DESIRE cactus for the boys here. That's straight merchan- dising and, besides, it's Art. And — well, I think that's the best way. "We don't all of us always get our share, Tom," resumed Dan Anderson; "we don't always get our share of the things that are for keeps; but it's the right of every man to try. Every once in a while, by just try in' and pluggin' along on the dead square, a fellow gets something which turns out in the clean-up to be the sort that was for keeps, after all, even if it wasn't just what he thought he wanted." "Then you'll go along?" "Si, amigo! Yes, I'll go along." They parted, Dan Anderson to seek his own lonely adobe. There he closed the door, as though he feared intrusion. The old restlessness coming over him, he paced up and down the narrow, cagelike room. Presently he approached a tiny mirror that hung upon the wall, and stood looking into it intently. "Fool!" he muttered. "Liar, and fool, and coward — you, you! You'll take care of Tom, will you? But who'll take care of you f " He seated himself on the blanketed bed, and picked up the newspaper which he had brought home with him. He gazed long and steadily at it before he tore it across and flung it on the floor. It held more news than he had given to Tom Osby. In brief, there was a paragraph which announced the arrival in town of Mr. John Ellsworth, President of the new A. P. and HEART'S DESIRE 149 S. E. Railway, his legal counsel, Mr. Porter Barkley, also of New York, and Miss Constance Ellsworth. This party was bound for Sky Top, where business of importance would in all likelihood be transacted, as Mr. Ellsworth expected to meet there the engineers on the location of the road. "I ought not to go," said Dan Anderson to him- self, over and over again. " I must not go . . . But I'm going !" CHAPTER XI OPERA AT HEART'S DESIRE Telling how Two Innocent Travellers by mere Chance collided with a Side-tracked Star Many miles of sand and silence lay between Heart's Desire and Sky Top, by the winding trail over the high plateau and in among the foot-hills of the Sacra- mentos. The silence was unbroken by any music from the "heavenly maid," which lay disused be- neath the wagon seat; nor did the two occupants of Tom Osby's freight wagon often emerge from the reticence habitual in a land where spaces were vast, men infrequent, and mountains ever looking down. The team of gnarled gray horses kept on their steady walk, hour after hour, and day after day ; and bivouac after bivouac lay behind them, marked by the rude heap of brush piled up at night as an excuse for shelter against the wind or by the tiny circle of ashes where had been a small but sufficient fire. At last the line of the bivouacs ended, far up toward the crest of the heavily timbered Sacramentos, after a weary climb through miles of mountain canons. "We'll stop at the lowest spring," said Tom Osby, who knew the country of old. "That'll leave us a 150 HEART'S DESIRE 151 half mile or so from where they've built their fool log hotel. It beats the dickens how these States folks, that lives in cities, is always tryin' to imertate some other way of livin'. Why didn't they build it out of boards? They've got a saw-mill, blame 'em, and they're cuttin' off all the timber in these moun- tings; but they got to have logs to build their house with. Folks that builds real log houses, and not toys, does it because they ain't got no boards. But these States folks always was singerler." By this time Tom Osby was unhitching and feed- ing his team, and throwing out the blanket rolls upon the ground. "Go easy on the 'Annie Laurie' ma- chine there," called out Dan Anderson, hearing a suspicious rattling of brass against the wagon box. But his companion heeded him little, casting the phonograph at the foot of a tree, where the great horn swung wide, disconsolately. "A imertation," said Tom, "is like I 'was just sayin'. It ain't the real thing. "Now look here, friend," he went on a moment later, "you've got to do like you said you would. Of course, I know melons don't grow up here in tb e pine mountains, even if they was ripe yet; but you said you was comin' along to see fair play, and you got to do it." Dan Anderson looked at him queerly. "Wait," said he; "it'll be night before long. Then you go on up to the house, and prospect around a little. If 152 HEART'S DESIRE you get scared, come back, and I'll — I'll take care of you. I'll be around here somewhere, so you needn't be afraid to go right on in alone, you know. Tell her you know her preserved songs, and liked them so much you just had to come down here. Tell her about the watermelons. Tell her — " "You're actin' a leetle nervous your own self, man," said Tom Osby, keenly. "But you watch Papa. I been married four times, or maybe five, so what's a woman here or there to me ? What is there to any woman to scare a feller, anyway?" "I'm damned if I know!" replied Dan Anderson; — " there isn't — of course there isn't, of course not. You're perfectly safe. Why, just go right on up. Have your sand along !" "Sure," said Tom Osby. "All right; I'll just mosey along up the trail after a while." And after a while he did depart, alone, leaving Dan Anderson sitting on the wagon tongue. "You come up after a while, Dan," he called back. "If you don't hear nothing from me, you'd better stroll along up and view the remains." Madame Alicia Donatelli paced up and down the long room in the somewhat dismal hotel building which constituted the main edifice of Sky Top. She was in effect a prisoner. El Paso seemed like a dream, San Francisco a figment of the brain, and New York a wholly imaginary spot upon some undis- covered planet, lost in the nebulous universe of space. HEART'S DESIRE 153 She trod the uneven floor as some creature caged, on her face that which boded no good to the next comer, whoever he might be. The next comer was Signor Peruchini, the tenor. Unhappy Peruchini! He started back from the ominous swish of the Donatelli gown, the deep ca- dence of the Donatelli voice, the restless Donatelli walk, now resumed. "How dare you!" cried the diva. "How dare you intrude on me?" " The saints ! " cried Signor Peruchini. " What ser- vice is zere here? I knock, but you do not hear. Madame, what horror is zis place!" "Ah, that Blauring!" cried Madame Donatelli, in her rage. " The beast ! How dare he bring me here — me/" (she smote her bosom) — "who have sung in the grand in the best houses of the Continent — in Italy, Paris, London, St. Petersburg! I shall not survive this!" "Perfide!" cried Peruchini, in assent. "Perfide! R-r-rascal! Cochon! Pig unspikkab' ! " "But, madame," he resumed, with gestures and intonations suitable for the scene. " Behole ! It is I who have lofe you so long. To lofe — ah, it is so divine! How can you rifTuse ? " Madame Donatelli withdrew with proper operatic dignity. "Never!" she cried. "You have suffi- ciently persecuted me ere this. I bid you go. Begone!" 154 HEART'S DESIRE "Vooman, you mad meh!" cried Peruchini, rush- ing forward, his hands first extended with palms up- ward, then clenched, his hair properly tumbled, his eyes correctly rolling. " I vill not be teniet ! Your puty, it is too much! Vooman, vooman, ah, have you no harret? Py Heaven, I — " With a swift motion he grasped her wrists. Color rose to the Donatelli cheek. Her eyes flashed. She was about to sing. She checked herself in time. "Unhand me, sir !" she cried. The two wrestled back and forth, their hands inter- twined. And now the log fire, seeing the lack of better footlights, blazed up loyally to light for them this unusual stage. They did not hear the door open behind them, did not hear the click of high boot- heels on the floor, as there came toward them an unbidden spectator, who had by some slack servant been directed thither. The door did open. In it stood Tom Osby, unan- nounced. He was dressed in his best, which was not quite so picturesque as his worst, but which did not disguise him nor the region which was his home. His boots were new, sharp at toe and heel. His hat, now removed, was new, but wide and white. His coat was loose, and under it there was no waistcoat, neither did white collar confine his neck. A quick glance took in the scene before him. A little dark man was contending with a superb female of the most regally imperious beauty that he had HEART'S DESIRE 155 ever seen or dreamed. Tom Osby stepped a swift pace into the room. There had come to his ear the note of a rich, deep voice that brought an instant conviction. This — this was the Voice that he had worshipped! This was that divine being whom he had heard and seen in so many sweet imaginings in the hot days and sweet, silent nights afar in the desert lands. She was assailed. She was beset. There swept over him the swift instinct for action which was a part of life in that corner of the world. In a flash his weapon leaped from its scabbard, and an unwavering, shining silver point covered the figure of this little, dark man, now obviously guilty of sac- rilege unspeakable. " Git back, you feller ! " cried Tom Osby. " Leggo ! What are you doin' there ? Break, now, and git out. This ain't right." And that was all he ever knew of Signor Peruchini, for the latter sprang back and away into an imme- diate oblivion. Tom Osby from that instant was him- self swept on by the glory of this woman's presence. Confronting her, he stood half trembling, at once almost longing for warlike action rather than tKt now grown needful. Madame Donatelli, for the first time in years jarred from the standards of her artificial life, and so, sud- denly, become woman rather than actress, fell into a seat, turning toward the newcomer a gaze of wide- eyed astonishment. She had read in certain journals 156 HEART'S DESIRE wild stories of doings of wild men. Was that sort of thing actually true ? "Sir/' she said, "how dare you!" At this, Tom Osby stood upon one leg. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," said he, at length. "I didn't know anybody was in here. I just come in lookin' for somebody." She did not answer him, but turned upon him the full glance of a deep, dark eye, studying him curiously. "I don't live here, ma'am," resumed Tom. "I'm camped down the hill by the spring. I left my com- padre there. I — I belong to Heart's Desire, up north of here. I — I come along in here this mornin'. They said there wasn't any one in the parlor — they said there might be some one in the parlor, though, maybe. And I was — I was — ma'am, I was lookin' — I reckon I was lookin' for you!" He laid his hat and gun upon the table, and stood with one hand against its edge. " Yes, I come down from Heart's Desire," be began again. "From where?" broke in a low, sweet voice. "From Heart's Desire? What an exquisite name! Where is it ? What is it ? That sounds like heaven," she said. "It might be, ma'am," said Tom Osby, simply, "but it ain't. The water supply ain't reg'lar enough. It's just a little place up in the mountains. Heaven, ma'am, I reckon is just now located something like a hundred miles south of Heart's Desire!" And he HEART'S DESIRE 157 laughed so sudden and hearty a man's laugh at this that it jostled Alicia Donatelli out of all her artifi- ciality, and set the two at once upon a footing. It seemed to her that, after all, men were pretty much alike, no matter where one found them. "Sit down," she said, ceasing to bite at her finger- tips, as was her habit when perturbed. "Tell me about Heart's Desire." "Well, Heart's Dqsire, ma'am," said Tom Osby, "why, it ain't much. It's mostly men." " But how do you live ? What do you do f " "Well, now, I hadn't ever thought of that. But now you mention it, I can't say I really know. The fellers all seem to get along, somehow." "But yourself?" " Me ? I drive a freight wagon between Las Vegas and Heart's Desire. There is stores, you know, at Heart's Desire, and a saloon. We held a co'te there, onct. You see, along of cattle wars and killings, for a good many years back, folks has been kind of shy of that part of the country. Most of the men easy scared, they went back home to the States. Some stayed. And it's — why, I can't rightly explain it to you, ma'am — but it's — it's Heart's Desire." The face of the woman before him softened. "It's a beautiful name," said she. " Heart's Desire ! " She said it over and over again, wistfully. The cadence of her tone was the measure of an irrevocable loss. " Heart's Desire ! " she whispered — "I wonder — 158 HEART'S DESIRE "Tell me," she cried at length, arising and pacing restlessly, "what do you do at Heart's Desire?" "Nothing," said Tom Osby. "I just told you, I reckon." "Do you have any amusements? Are there ever any entertainments?" "Why, law! no, ma'am!" She threw back her head and laughed. There rose before her the picture of a primitive world, whose swift appeal clutched at her heart, saturated and sated with unreal things grown banal. "Besides," went on Tom Osby, "if we had an op'ry house, it wouldn't do no good. Why — I don't want to be imperlite, but I've heard that op'ry singers cost as high as ten dollars a night, or maybe more. We couldn't afford it. Onct we had a singin'- school teacher. Fellow by the name of Dawes come in there from Kansas, and he taught music. He used to sing a song called the ' Sword of Bunker Hill.' Used to have a daughter, and she sung, too. Her favoright song was 'Rosalie, the Prairie Flower.' They made quite a lot of money holdin' singin'-school. The gal, she got married and moved to Tularosa, and that broke up the singin'-school. There ain't been any kind of show at Heart's Desire for five years. But say, ma'am," he interrupted, "about that feller that had hold of you when I come in. Did he hurt you any?" " That's our leading tenor, Signor Peruchini ! He's a great artist. " She laughed, a ripple of soft, deli- HEART'S DESIRE 159 cious laughter. " No, don't bother him. We'll need him out on the Coast. Don't you know, we are just here in the mountains for a little while." "Don't you like these mountings, ma'am?" asked Tom Osby, sinking back into his seat. "I always did. They always remind me of the Smokies, in Car'lina, back South." "You came from the South?" "Georgy, ma'am." "Georgia ! So did I ! We should be friends," she said, and, smiling, held out her hand. Tom Osby took it. "Ma'am," said he, gravely, "I'm right glad to see you. I've not been back home for a good many years. I've been all over." "Nor have I been home," said she, sadly. "I've been all over, too. But now, what brought you here ? Tell me, did you want to see me?" "Yes!" Tom Osby answered simply. "I said that's why I come!" "You want me to come up to Heart's Desire to sing? Ah, I wish that were not impossible." "No, there's no one sent me," said Tom Osby. "Though, of course, the boys would do anything for you they could. What we want in Heart's Desire — why, sometimes I think it's nothing, and then, again, everything. Maybe we didn't want any music; and then, again, maybe we was just sick and pinin' for it, and didn't know it." 160 HEART'S DESIRE She looked at him intently as he bent his head, his face troubled. "Listen/' said he, at length. "I'll tell you all about it. Up at Vegas I heard a funny sort of singin' machine. It had voices in it. Ma'am, it had a Voice in it. It — it sung — " he choked now. "And some of the songs ?" Strangely enough, he understood the question of her eyes. She flushed like a girl as he nodded gravely. " 'Annie Laurie,' " he said. "I am very glad," said she, with a long breath. " It reconciles me to selling my art in that way. No, I'm very glad, quite outside of that." Tom Osby did not quite follow all her thoughts, but he went on. "It was ' Annie Laurie,'" said he. "I knew you sung it. Ma'am, I played her all the way from Vegas down." "But why did you come?" She was cruel; but a woman must have her toll. The renewed answer cost courage of Tom Osby. "Ma'am," said he, "I won't lie to you. I just come to see you, or to hear you, I can't rightly tell which. It must have been both." Now he arose and flung out a hand, rudely but eloquently. "Ma'am," he went on, "I knowed you come from Georgy onct, the same as me. And I knowed that a Georgy girl, someway, somewhere, somehow, would have a soft spot in her heart. I come to hear you HEART'S DESIRE 161 sing. There's things that us fellers want, some- times." The woman before him drew a deep, long breath. "I reckon you'll have to sing again/' the man went on. "You'll have to sing that there song, 'Annie Laurie,' like I heard it more than onct, before I went away from home." The soft Georgia speech came back to his tongue, and she followed it herself, unconsciously. "My friend," said she, "you're right. I reckon I'll have to sing." "When?" said Tom Osby. "Now," said Alice Strowbridge. She rose and stepped toward the piano open near the fire. The color was full on her cheek now; the jewels glanced now above a deep bosom laboring in no coun- terfeit emotion. A splendid creature, bedecked, be- jewelled, sex all over, magnificent, terrible, none the less, although the eyes of Alice Strowbridge shone sombrely, her hands twined together in embarrass- ment, as they did the first time she sang in public as a child. The very shoulders under the heavy laces caught a plaintive droop, learned in no role of Mar- guerite in any land. The red rose at her hair — the rose got from some mysterious source — half trem- bled. Fear, a great fear — the first stage fright known in years — swept over Alice Strowbridge, late artist, and now woman. There sat upon her soul a sense of unpreparedness for this new Public, this lone 162 HEART'S DESIRE man from a mysterious land called Heart's Desire — a place where men, actual men, earnest men, were living, vaguely yearning for that which was not theirs. She felt them gazing into her soul, asking how she had guarded the talents, how she had prized the jewels given her, what she had done for the heart of human- ity. Halfway across the floor she stopped, her hand at her throat. "I know this here is right funny," said Tom Osby, misunderstanding, "for me to do this-a-way. It's right embarrassin' for a lady like you to try to oblige a feller like me. But, ma'am, all I can say is, all the boys'll be mightily obliged to you." She flashed upon him a smile which had tears in it. Tom Osby grew more confident, more bold. "Ma'am," said he, clearing his throat, "I want you to forgive me; but I reckon how, when you great people sing different things, you-all sort of dress up, different like, at different times, accordin' to the things you are singin' right then. Ain't that so?" "We have many costumes," said she, simply. "We play many parts. Sometimes we hardly know we are ourselves." " And when you sung that 'Annie Laurie ' song, did you have any coschume to go along with that?" "You mean — " "Well, now, ma'am, when us fellers was talkin' it over, it always seemed to us, somehow, like the Annie Laurie coschume was right white." He blushed HEART'S DESIRE 163 and hastened to apologize. "Not sayin' anything against that dress you've got on/' he said. "I never saw one as fine as that in all my life. I never saw any woman, never in all my life, like you. I — I — ma'am" — he flushed, but went on with a Titanic simplicity — ' ' I worship you, right where you stand, in that there dress; but — could you — " "You are an artist yourself!" cried she. "Yes! Wait!" In an instant she was gone from the room, leaving Tom Osby staring at the flickering fire, now brighter in the advancing shades of evening. In perhaps half an hour Alice Strowbridge reappeared. The rich black laces, and the ripe red rose, and the blazing jewels, all were gone. She was clad in simple white — and yes ! a blue sash was there. The piled masses of her hair were replaced by two long, glossy braids. By the grace of the immortal gods all misdeeds were lifted from her that night. For once in many years she was sincere. Now she was a girl again, and back at the old home. Those were the southern mountains half hidden in the twilight; and yonder was the moon of the old days, swinging up again. There was the gallery at the window of the old Georgia home, and the gate, and the stairs, and the hedge- row, and the trailing vines, and the voices of little birds; and Youth — Youth, the unspeakable glory of Youth — it all was hers once more ! The souls of a thousand Georgia mocking-birds — the soul of 164 HEART'S DESIRE that heritage which came to her out of her environ- ment — lay in her throat that hour. And so, not to an audience, but to an auditor — nay, perhaps, after all, to the audience of Heart's Desire, an audience of unsated souls — she sang, although of visible audience there was but one man, who sat crumpled up, shaken, undone. She could not, being a woman, oblige any man by direct compliance; she could not deprive herself of her own little triumph. Or perhaps, deliberately, she sought to give this solitary listener that which it would have cost thousands of dollars for a wider public to hear. She sang first the leading arias of her more prominent operatic roles. She sang the Page's song, which had been hers in her first appearance on a critical stage. " Nobil signors," she sang, her voice lingering. And then presently there fell from her lips the sparkling measures of Coquette, inde- scribably light, indescribably brilliant in her rendi- tion. Melody after melody, score after score, product of the greatest composers of the world, she gave to a listener who never definitely realized what priv- ilege had been his. She slipped on and on, forgetting herself, revelling, dreaming; and it was proof at least of the Alice Strowbridge which might have been, that there came to her fingers and her throat that night no sound of cheap sensuous melody, no florid triviality from any land. With a voice which had mastered the world, she sang the best of the masters HEART'S DESIRE 165 of the world. So music, with all its wooing, its invitation, its challenge, its best appeal, for a time filled and thrilled this strange auditorium, until forsooth later comers might, as was the story, indeed have found jewels caught there in the chinks of the rude-hewn walls. All at once the voice of the artist, the subsidiary voice of the piano broke, dropped, and paused. And then, with no more interlude, that great instrument, a perfect human voice, in the throat of a perfect human woman, swept gently into the melody of the old song of "Annie Laurie." At the beginning of it there was a schoolgirl of Georgia, and a freighter of the Plains, and at the end of it there was a woman with bowed head, and a man silent, whose head also was bowed. Neither of the two in the great room heard the footfalls of one who approached in the dusk across the puncheon floor of the wide gallery. Dan Ander- son, for reasons of his own, had also come on up the trail to the hotel. Perhaps he intended to make certain inquiries ; but he never got even so far as the door. The voice of Donatelli caught and held him as it had her other auditor. He stopped midway of the gallery, listened to the very last note, then turned and quietly stole away, returning to the lonely bivouac beneath the pines. He started even at the whisper- ings of the trees, as he threw down his blankets beside the little fire. He could not sleep. A face looked 166 HEART'S DESIRE at him out of the dark, eyes gazed down at him, instead of stars, out of the heavens. The night, and the stars, and the pines, and the desert wind re- proached him for his faithlessness to themselves as comforters; but abjectly he admitted he could make no plea, save that he had heard once more of a Face that was the Fairest. He heard the sound of slow footsteps after a time. It was Tom Osby, who came and sat down by the fire, poking tobacco into his pipe with a crooked finger, and smoking on with no glance at the recum- bent figure on the camper's bed. Yet the outdoor sense of Tom Osby told him that his companion was not asleep. "I was just thinkin'," said Tom Osby, at length, scarce turning his head as he accosted Dan Anderson, "that since watermelons don't grow very much up here in the mountings, we might take a load of pas- sengers back home with us." 11 Passengers?" A voice came from the blankets. "Yes. Whole bunch of them railroad folks comin' up on the mornin' train from El Paso. Old man and the girl both, and a lawyer fellow, Barkley, I believe his name is. I reckon he's attoreney for the road." Deep silence greeted this. Tom reached forward and picked up a brand to light his pipe more thor- oughly. "I just want to thank you," said he, "for comin' along down here to take care of me." CHAPTER XII THE PRICE OF HEART'S DESIRE Concerning Goods, their Value, and the Delivery of the Same In the morning the travellers arose with the sun, and after breakfast Tom Osby began methodically to break camp as though preparing for the return up-country. Neither made reference to any event occurring since their arrival, or which might possibly occur in the near future. Dan Anderson silently watched his partner as he busied himself gearing up his horses. All was nearly ready for the start on their journey down the east side of the Sacramentos, when they heard afar a faint and wheezy squeak, the whistle of a railway train climbing up the opposite slope. " There's the choo-choo cars," said Tom, "comhV a-rarin' and a-pitchin'. The ingine has to side-step and back- track about eight times to get up the grade. Didn't notice my old grays a-doin' that none, when we come up, did you? I'm the railroad for our town, and I've got that one beat to a frazzle. Now listen to that thing, Dan; that's the States comin' to find us out." Dan Anderson made no reply. 167 168 HEART'S DESIRE "Well, let her come/' Tom resumed cheerfully; "I come from Georgy, and in that country, it ain't considered perlite to worry if you've got one square meal ahead. Which, by the way, reminds me that that's about all we've got ahead now. You just set here with the team a while, while I take a pasear down the canon to see if I can get a deer for supper to-night. I hope the old railroad ain't scared 'em all away. Besides, we might as well stay here for a hour or so anyway, now, and see what the news is, since the cars has got in." He tapped the muzzle of his old rifle against the wagon wheel to shake out the dust, and then took a squint into the barrel. "I can see through her," he said, "or any ways, halfway through, and I reckon she'll go off." Next he poked the magazine full of cartridges, and so tramped off down the mountain side. Dan Anderson sat down on a bundle of bedding, and fell into a half dream in the warm morning sun. There was time even yet for him to escape, he re- flected. He had but to step into the wagon, and drive on down the canon. Constance Ellsworth — if indeed it were true that she had come again so near to him — need never know that he had been there. How could he learn if she had indeed come ? How could he ever face her now ? Surely she could never understand. She could only despise him. Dan Anderson sat, irresolute, staring at the HEART'S DESIRE 169 breakfast dishes piled near the mess-box ready for packing. Meantime, in the dining room at Sky Top hotel, there was a certain flutter of excitement as there entered, just from the train, the party of Mr. Ells- worth, president of the new railway company now building northward. Ellsworth beckoned Porter Barkley to him for talk of business nature, so that Constance sat well-nigh alone when Madame Alicia Donatelli came sweeping in, tall, comely, sombre, and, it must be confessed, hungry. Donatelli hesi- tated politely, and Constance made room for her with a smile and gesture, which disarmed the Dona- telli hostility for all well-garbed and well-poised young women of class other than her own. "And you're going up the country still farther?" asked Donatelli, catching a remark made by one of the men. "I wish I could go as well. You go by buckboard?" Constance nodded. "I like it," said she. "I am sure we shall enjoy the ride up to Heart's Desire." "Heart's Desire?" repeated the diva, with an odd smile. Constance saw the smile and challenged it. " Yes," she replied briefly, "I was there once before." "What is it like?" asked Donatelli. "Like nothing in the world — yet it's just a little valley shut in by the mountains." "A man was here from Heart's Desire last night," 170 HEART'S DESIRE began Donatelli. "You know, I am a singer. He had heard in some way. My faith ! He came more than a hundred miles, and he said from Heart's Desire. I've wondered what the place was like." The Donatelli face flushed hotly in spite of herself. A queer expression suddenly crossed that of Con- stance Ellsworth as well. She wondered who this man could be ! "It was just a couple of campers who travelled down by wagon," explained the diva. "Only one of them came up to the house. Their camp is by the springs, a half mile or so down the east side. He told me they had no music at Heart's Desire." In the heart of Constance Ellsworth there went on jealous questionings. Who was this man from Heart's Desire, who had come a hundred miles to hear a bit of music ? What other could it be than one ? And as to this opera singer, surely she was beautiful, she had charm. So then — Constance excused herself and returned to her room. She did not even descend to say farewell to Donatelli and her bedraggled company, who steamed away from Sky Top slopes in the little train whose whistlings came back triumphantly. She admitted herself guilty of ignoble joy that this woman — a singer, an artist, a beautiful and dangerous woman as she felt sure — was now gone out of her presence, as indeed she was gone out of her life. But as to this man from Heart's Desire, how came it that he HEART'S DESIRE 171 was not here at the hotel, near to his operatic divinity ? Why did he not appear to say farewell ? Ellsworth and Barkley betook themselves to the gallery after breakfast, and paced up and down, each with his cigar. "I ordered our head engineer, Grayson, to meet us/ 7 said Ellsworth, "and he ought to be camped not far away. I told him not to crowd the location so that those Heart's Desire folks would get wind of our plans. For that matter, we don't want to take those men for granted, either. Some- how, Barkley, I believe we've got trouble ahead." " Nonsense !" said Barkley. "The whole thing's so easy I'm almost ashamed of it." "That last isn't usually the case with the Hon. Porter Barkley," Ellsworth observed grimly. Barkley laughed a strong, unctuous laugh. He was a sturdy, thick-set man, florid, confident, masterful, with projecting eyebrows and a chin now beginning its first threat of doubling. Well known in Eastern corporation life as a good handler of difficult situa- tions, Ellsworth valued his aid; nor could he dis- abuse himself of the belief that there would be need of it. "If I don't put it through, Ellsworth," reiterated Barkley, biting a new cigar, "I'll eat the whole town without sugar. If I failed, I'd be losing more than you know about." He turned a half glance in Ells- worth's way, to see whether his covert thought was caught by the suspicion of the other. The older man 172 HEART'S DESIRE turned upon him in challenge, and Barkley retreated from this tentative position. " Maybe you can do it," said Ellsworth, presently, "but I want to say, if I'm any judge, you've got to be mighty careful. Besides, you've never been out here before. We'll have to go slow." "Why'll we have to? I tell you, we can go in and take what we want of their blasted valley, and they can't help themselves a step in the road." "I don't know," demurred Ellsworth. "They're there, and in possession." "Nonsense!" snorted Barkley. "How much title have they got? You say yourself they've never filed a town-site plat. We can go in there and take the town away from under their feet, and they can't help themselves. More than that, I'll bet there's not one mining claim out of fifty that we can't ' adverse ' in the courts and take away from its dinky locater. These fellows don't work assessments. They never complete legal title to a claim. There never was a mine in the Rocky Mountains that was located and proved up on without a fight, if it was worth fighting for. Bah! we just walk in and see what we want, and take it, that's all." "Well," said Ellsworth, "it's the best-looking deal I've seen for a long while, that's sure, and I don't see how it's been covered up so long. And yet if you come to talk of law-suits, I've noticed it a dozen times that when Eastern men have gone against HEART'S DESIRE 173 these Western propositions, they've got the worst of it. They're a funny lot, these natives. They'll live in a shirt and overalls, without a sou marque to bless 'emselves with. They'll holler for Eastern Capital, and promise Eastern Capital the time of its life, if it'll only come; and when Eastern Capital does come — why, then they give it the time of its fife!" "Nonsense," rejoined Barkley, walking up and down with his hands under the tails of his coat. "We'll eat 'em up. I'm not afraid of this thing for a minute. What I want to do now is to get in touch with that Grayson fellow, the head engineer." "I'm not so sure about that," commented Ells- worth, seating himself in the sun at the edge of the gallery. "If you want to see the real head engineer of this whole Heart's Desire situation, the man you want isn't Grayson, but a young fellow by the name of Anderson, a lawyer up there." "Lawyer?" "Yes, and I shouldn't wonder if he was a pretty goodish one, too. Oh, don't think these people are all easy, Barkley, I tell you. This isn't my own first trip out here." "What about this lawyer of yours?" "Well, he's a young man that I knew something about before he went West. He knows every foot of the ground up there, and every man that lives there, and I want to tell you, he's got the whole 174 HEART'S DESIRE situation by the ear. That gang will do pretty near what he tells them to do. He's got nerve, too. He's the most influential man in that town." "Oh, ho! Well, that's different. I'm always right after the man who's got the goods in his pocket. We'll trade with Mr. Anderson mighty quick, if he can deliver the goods. What does he hold out for? What does he want ? " "Well, I don't know. He talked to me rather stiff, up there, and we didn't hitch very well. He sort of drifted off, and I didn't see him at all the day I left, when I'd laid out to talk to him. He's the fellow that put me on to this deal, too. It was through him I got word there was coal in that valley." "How would it do to charter him for our local counsel? Is he strong enough man for that?" "Strong enough ! I'm only afraid he's too strong." "Well, now, let's not take everything for granted, you know. Let's go at this thing a little at a time. There's got to be a system of courts established in here, and we've got to know our judiciary, as a matter of course. Then we've got to know our own lawyers, as another matter of course. Did you say you knew him before, that is, to get a line on him, before he came out here?" Ellsworth colored just a trifle. "Well, yes," he admitted. "He's a Princeton man. He comes of good family — maybe a little wild and headstrong — wouldn't settle down, you know. Why, I offered HEART'S DESIRE 175 him a place in my office once, and he — well, he refused it. He started out West some five years ago. Of course — well, you know, in a good many cases of this sort, there's a girl at the bottom of the Western emigration." "What girl?" asked Porter Barkley, sharply. "One back East somewhere," said Ellsworth, evasively. Porter Barkley came and seated himself beside the older man, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, meditatively crumbling a bit of bark in his hands. "I was just going to say, Mr. Ellsworth," said he, "that a girl in a case like this — always provided that this man is as influential as you think — may be a mighty useful thing. Maybe you couldn't buy the man for himself, but you could buy him for the girl. Do you see ? " Ellsworth did not answer. "He wants to make good, we'll say," went on Barkley. "He wants to go back East with a little roll. Now, we give him a chance to make good. We give him more money than he ever saw before in his life, and set him up as leading citizen, all that son of thing. For the sake of going back and making a front before that girl, he'll be willing to do a heap of things for us. You've seen it a thousand times yourself. A woman can do more than cash, in a real hard bit of work. Now, Ellsworth, you furnish the 176 HEART'S DESIRE girl, and leave the rest to me. I'll deliver Heart's Desire in a hand-bag to you, if the man's half as able as you seem to think he is." Porter Barkley never quite understood why Mr. Ellsworth arose suddenly and walked to the far end of the gallery, leaving him alone, crumbling his bits of bark in the sunshine. CHAPTER XIII BUSINESS AT HEART'S DESIRE This Describing Porter Barkley's Method with a Man, and Tom Osby's Way with a Maid Dan Anderson sat for a long time on his blanket roll, looking at the dribbling smoke from the ends of the charred pifion sticks. So deep was his pre- occupation that he did not at first hear the shuffle of feet approaching over the carpet of pine needles; and when the sound came to his consciousness, he wondered merely how Tom Osby had gotten around the camp and come in on that side of the mountain. Then he looked up. It was to see the face that had dwelt in his dreams by night, his reveries by day, the face that he had seen but now — the " face that was the fairest"! He sat stupid, staring, conscious that Fate had chided him once more for his unreadi- ness. Then he sprang up and stared the harder — stared at Constance Ellsworth coming down the slope between her father and a well-groomed stranger. The girl looked up, their eyes met; and in that moment Porter Barkley discovered that , Constance Ellsworth could gaze with brightening eye and height- ened color upon another man. n 177 178 HEART'S DESIRE When Ellsworth and Barkley had started from the hotel in search of the engineer's camp, Constance had joined them ostensibly for the sake of a walk in the morning's sun. If it had been in her mind to discover the mystery of this man from Heart's Desire, she had kept it to herself. But now as they ap- proached the dying fire, she gained the secret of this stranger who had travelled a week by wagon to listen to a bedizened diva of the stage! The con- sciousness flashed upon her sharply. Despite her traitorous coloring, she greeted him but coolly. Porter Barkley, noticing some things and suspect- ing others, drew a breath of sudden conviction. With swift jealousy he guessed that this could be none other than the man to whom Ellsworth had referred, — Anderson, the lawyer of Heart's Desire. Why had not Ellsworth told him that Constance also knew him ? Porter Barkley ran his eye over the tall strong figure, the clean brown jaw, the level eyes, sizing up his man with professional keenness. He instantly rated him as an enemy dangerous in more ways than one. After the first jumbled speeches of surprise, Ells- worth introduced the two. Maugre his coatless costume, Dan Anderson was Princeton man upon the moment, and Barkley promptly hated him for it, feeling that in the nature of things the stranger should have been awkward and constrained. Yet this man must, for business reasons, be handled carefully. HEART'S DESIRE 179 He must be the business friend, if the personal enemy, of Hon. Porter Barkley, general counsel for the A. P. and S. E. Railway. The States had come to Sky Top, as Tom Osby had said, and this group, gathered around a moun- tain fireside, became suddenly as conventional as though they had met in a drawing-room. "Who could have suspected that you were here, of all places, Mr. Anderson?" Constance remarked with polite surprise. "Why, now, Dolly," blundered Mr. Ellsworth, "didn't the hotel fellow tell you that some one had come down from Heart's Desire to hear the latest from grand opera — private session — chartered the hall, eh? You might have guessed it would be Mr. Anderson, for I'll warrant he's the only man in Heart's Desire that ever heard an opera singer before, or who would ride a hundred miles — that is — anyhow, Mr. Anderson, you are precisely the man we want to see." He finished his sentence lamely, for he understood in some mysterious fashion that he had not said quite the right thing. "I am very glad to hear that," replied Dan Ander- son, gravely, "I was just sitting here waiting for you to come along." "Now, Mr. Anderson," resumed Ellsworth, "Mr. Barkley, here, is our general counsel for the railroad. He's going up to Heart's Desire with us in a day or so to look into several matters. We want to take 180 HEART'S DESIRE up the question of running our line into the town, if proper arrangements can be made." "Take chairs, gentlemen/' said Dan Anderson, motioning to a log that lay near by. He had already seated Constance upon the corded blanket roll from which he himself had arisen. "I will get you some breakfast," he added. "No, no," Mr. Ellsworth declined courteously. "We just came from breakfast. We were moving around trying to find our engineer's camp; Grayson, our chief of location, was to have been here before this. By the way, how did you happen to come down here, after all, Anderson?" Dan Anderson was conscious that this question drew upon him the gaze of a pair of searching eyes, yet none the less he met the issue. He glanced at the battered phonograph which leaned dejectedly against a tree. "As near as I can figure," said he, "I made this pilgrimage to hear a woman's voice." Saying which he leaned over and deliberately kicked the phono- graph down the side of the hill. "I hope you enjoyed it," commented Constance, viciously, her cheeks reddening. "Very much," replied Dan Anderson, calmly, and he looked squarely at her. Porter Barkley, quiet and alert, once more saw the glance which passed between these two. Into his mind, ever bent upon the business phase of any HEART'S DESIRE 181 problem, there flashed a swift conviction. This was the girl! Here, miraculously at hand, was the girl whom Dan Anderson had known back in the East, the girl who had sent him West, perhaps the same girl to whom her father had referred! If so, there was certainly a solution for the riddle of Heart's Desire. Piqued as he was, his heart exulted. For the time his own jealousy must be suppressed. His accounting with Dan Anderson on this phase of the matter would come later; meanwhile he must handle the situation carefully — literally for what it is worth. "As I was saying," continued Dan Anderson, "what's a breakfast or two among friends?" "If it is among friends," replied Ellsworth, "and if you'll remember that, we'll eat with you." In answer Dan Anderson began to kick together the embers of the fire and to busy himself with dishes. He was resolved to humiliate himself before this girl, to show her how absolutely unfit was the life of this land for such as herself. Suddenly he stopped and listened, as there came to his ear the distant thin report of a rifle. Ellsworth looked inquiringly at his host. "That's my friend, Tom Osby," explained Dan Anderson. "He went out after a deer. Tom and I came down together from the town." "I presume you do have some sort of friends in here," began Barkley, patronizingly. 182 HEART'S DESIRE "I have never found any in the world worth having except here/' replied Dan Anderson, quietly. "Oh, now, don't say that. Mr. Ellsworth tells me that he has known you for a long time, and has the greatest admiration for you as a lawyer." "Yes, Mr. Ellsworth is very fond of me. He's one of the most passionate admirers I ever had in my life," said Dan Anderson. Barkley looked at him again keenly, realizing that he had to do with a quantity not yet wholly known and gauged. Socially the situation was strained, and he sought to ease it after his own fashion. "You see," he resumed, "Mr. Ellsworth seems to think that he can put you in a way of doing something for yourself up at Heart's Desire." It was an ugly thing for him to do under the cir- cumstances, but if he had intended to humiliate the other, he met his just rebuke. "I don't often talk business at breakfast in my own house," said Dan Anderson. "Do you use tabasco with your frijoles?" " Oh, we'll get together, we'll get together," Barkley laughed, with an assumed cordiality which did not quite ring true. "Thank you," Dan Anderson remarked curtly; "you bring me joy this morning." He did not relish this sort of talk in the presence of Constance Ellsworth. Disgusted with himself and HEART'S DESIRE 183 with all things, he arose and made a pretence of searching in the wagon. Rummaging about, his hand struck one of the round, gutta-percha plates which had accompanied the phonograph. With silent vigor he cast it far above the tree tops below him on the mountain side. "That/' he explained to Constance as he turned, "is the 'Annie Laurie' record of the Heart's Desire grand opera. The season is now over." The girl did not understand, but he lost the hurt look in her eyes. Irritated, he did not hear her soul call out to him. "It's the luckiest thing in the world that you happen to be here." Mr. Ellsworth took up again the idea that was foremost in his mind. "You fit in like the wheels in a clock. We're going to run our railroad up into your town — I don't mind saying that right here — and we're going to give you plenty of law business, Mr. Anderson ; that is to say, if you want it, and will take it." "Thank you," said Dan Anderson, quietly. But now in spite of himself he felt his heart leap sud- denly in hope. Suppose, after all, there should be for him, stranded in this out-of-the-way corner of the world, a chance for some sort of business success? Suppose that there should be, after all, some work for him to do? Suppose that, after all, he should succeed — that, after all, life might yet unfold before him as he had dreamed and planned ! Unconsciously 184 HEART'S DESIRE he stole a glance at the gray-clad figure on the blanket roll. Constance sat cool, sweet, delicate but vital, re- freshing to look upon, her gray skirt folded across her knees, the patent-leather tips of her little shoes buried in the carpet spread by the forest conifers. He could just catch the curve of her cheek and chin, the droop of the long lashes which he knew so well. Ah, if he could only go to her and tell her the abso- lute truth — if only it could be right for him, all his life, to tell her the truth, to tell her of his reverence, his loyalty, his love, through all these years! If, indeed, this opportunity should come to him, might not all of this one day be possible ? He set his mind to his work, even as the girl held her heart to its waiting. There came the sound of a distant whistle approach- ing up the trail, and ere long Tom Osby appeared, stumbling along in his pigeon-toed way, his rifle in the crook of his arm. Tom saluted the strangers briefly, and leaned his rifle against the wagon wheel. Dan Anderson made known the names of the visitors, and Tom immediately put in action his own notions of hospitality. Stepping to the wagon side he fished out a kerosene can, stoppered with a potato stuck on the spout. He removed the potato, picked up a tin cup, and proceeded calmly to pour out a gener- ous portion. "I always carry my liquor this way, gentlemen," HEART'S DESIRE 185 said he, " because it's convenient to pour in the dark, and ain't so apt to get spilled. This here liquor some- times makes folks forget their geogerphy. 'Missin' me one place, search another,' as Walt Whitman says. If a fellow gets a drink of this, he may take to the tall trees, or he may run straight on out of the country. You never can tell. Drink hearty." Ellsworth and Barkley, for the sake of complacency, complied with such show of pleasure as they could muster. "Now," said Tom, "I'll cook you a real breakfast. My compadre, here, can't drink and he can't cook." "Three breakfasts before ten o'clock?" protested Constance. But Tom was inexorable. "Eat when you get a chanct," he insisted. "That's a good rule." Barkley drew Ellsworth to one side. "I can't figure these people out," he complained. Ellsworth chuckled. "I told you you'd need help, Barkley," he said. "They've got ways of their own. You can't come in here and take that whole town without reckoning with the people that live there. Now suppose we get Anderson to himself and talk things over with him a little? We may not have another chance so good." Ellsworth beckoned to Dan Anderson, and he readily joined them. The three walked a little way apart; which left Constance to the tender mercy of Tom Osby. 186 HEART'S DESIRE "That's all right, ma'am/' said he, when she objected to his cleaning the knives by sticking them into the sand. "I don't reckon you do that way back home, but it's the only way you can get a knife plumb clean." "So this is the way men live out here?" mused Constance, half to herself. "Mostly. You ought to see him" — he nodded toward Dan Anderson — " cook flap-jacks. The woman who marries him will shore have a happy home. We're goin' to send him to Congress some day, maybe." Constance missed the irrelevance of this. "I wonder," said she, gently, "how he happened to come out here — how any one happened to come out here?" "In his case," replied Tom, "it was probably because he wanted to get as far away from Washing- ton as he could — his mileage will amount to more. This is one of the best places in America, ma'am, for a man to go to Congress from." Constance smiled, though the answer did not satisfy her. "There are folks, ma'am," Tom Osby continued, " that says that every feller come out here because of a girl somewheres. They allow that a woman sent most of us out here. For me, it was my fifth wife, or my fourth, I don't remember which. She never did treat me right, and her eyes didn't track. Yes, I'll bet, ma'am, without knowing anything about it, HEART'S DESIRE 187 there was a girl back somewhere in Dan Anderson's early ree-cords, though whether it was his third or fourth wife, I don't know. We don't ask no ques- tions about such things out here." He went on rubbing sand around in the bottom of the frying-pan, but none the less caught, with side- long glance, the flush upon the brown cheek visible beneath its veil. "I'm mighty glad to see you this mornin', ma'am," he went on ; "I am, for a fact. It more'n pays me — it more'n pays him — " and he nodded again toward Dan Anderson, "for our trip down here. We wasn't expectin' to meet you." "How did you happen to come?" asked Constance, feeling as she did so that she was guilty of treachery. Tom Osby again looked her straight in the face. "Just because we was naturally so blamed lonesome," said he. " That is to say, I was. I allowed I wanted to hear a woman sing. It wasn't him, it was me. He come along to take care of me, like, because he's used to that sort of thing, and I ain't. He's, my chaperoon. He didn't know, you know — didn't either of us know — but what I might be took advan- tage of, and stole by some gipsy queen." "But — but the phonograph — " Tom looked around. "Where is it?" he asked. "Mr. Anderson kicked it down the hill." "Did he? Good for him! I was goin' to do it my own self. You see, ma'am, I come down here 188 HEART'S DESIRE to hear a song about Annie Laurie. I done so. Ma'am, I heard about a 'face that was the fairest.' Him? Was he surprised to see you-all this morn- ing? Was, eh? Well, he didn't seem so almighty surprised, to my way of thinkin', last night when I told him you was comin' up here from El Paso. I don't know how he knowed it, and I ain't sayin' a word." A strange lightening came to Constance Ellsworth's heart. The droop at the corners of her mouth faded away. She slid down off the blanket roll and edged along across the ground until she sat at his side. She reached out her hand for the skillet. "That spider isn't clean in the least," said she. "Oh, weZZ," apologized Tom Osby, leaning back against the wagon wheel and beginning to fill a pipe. "I suppose there might be just a leetle sand left in it, but that don't hurt. Do you want a dish towel? Here's one that I've used for two years, freightin' from Vegas to Heart's Desire. Me and it's old friends." "Let your dishes dry in the sun if you can't do better than that," reproved Constance. "Ah, you men!" "You're right hard to get along with, ma'am. Us gettin' you two breakfasts, too!" They looked into each other's faces and Constance laughed. "The air is delightful — isn't it a beauti- ful world?" she exclaimed joyously. HEART'S DESIRE 189 "It shore is, ma'am/' rejoined Tom Osby, "if you think so. It's all in the way you look at things." "I came out here for my health, you know," said she, carefully explanatory. "Yes, I know. You ain't any healthier than a three-year-old deer on good pasture. Ma'am, I'm sorry for you, but I wouldn't really have picked you out for a lunger. You know, I don't believe Dan Anderson's health is very good, either. He's needin' a little Sky Top air, too." She froze at this. "I don't care to intrude into Mr. Anderson's affairs," she replied, "nor to have him intrude into my own." "Who done the intrudin'?" asked Tom Osby, calmly. "Here's me and him have flew down here as a bird to our mountings. We was wantin' to hear about a ' face that was the fairest.' Us a-settin' here, calm and peaceful, eating frijoles, who intruded ? Was it us ? Or, what made us intrude ? " He looked at her keenly, his eyes narrowed in the sunlight. Constance abandoned the skillet and returned to the blanket roll. "Now," went on Tom Osby, "things happens fast out here. If I come and set in your parlor in New York, it takes me eight years to learn the name of your pet dog. Lady comes out and sets in my par- lor for eight minutes, and I ain't such a fool but what I can learn a heap of things in that time. That don't mean necessary that I'm goin' to tell any 190 HEART'S DESIRE other fellow what I may think. It does mean that I'm goin' to see fair play." The girl could make no protest at this enigmatic speech, and the even voice went on. "How I know things is easy/' he continued. "If you think he" — once more nodding his head toward the group beyond — "come down here to hear a op'ry singer sing, I want to tell you he didn't. That was me. He come to give me fair play in regards to a 'face that was the fairest.' I'm here to see that he gets fair play in them same circumstances — " "I just came down with my father," Constance interrupted hotly, suddenly thrown upon the defen- sive, she knew not why. "He's been ill a great deal. I've been alarmed about him. I always go with him." "Of course. I noticed that. Your dad's goin' to run the railroad into Heart's Desire, and we'll all live happy ever after. You come along just to see that your dad didn't get sun stroke, or Saint Vitus dance, or cerebrus meningittus, or something else. I understood all that perfectly, ma'am. And I understand too, perfectly, ma'am," he continued, tapping his pipe on a wagon wheel, " that back yonder in the States, somewhere, Dan Anderson knowed a 'face that was the fairest'; I reckon he allowed it was 'the fairest that e'er the sun shone on.' Now, I'm old and ugly, and I don't even know whether I'm a widower any or not; so I know, ma'am, you won't HEART'S DESIRE 191 take no offence if I tell you it's a straight case of reasoning for yore own face, ma'am, — and I ain't sayin' this with any sort of disrespect to any of my wives, — is about the fairest that Dan Anderson ever did or could see — or me either. I don't reckon, ma'am, that he's lookin' for one that's any fairer." Constance Ellsworth turned squarely and gazed hard into the eyes of the man before her. She drew a breath in sharply between her lips, but it was a sigh of content. She felt herself safe in this man's hands. Again she broke into laughter and flung herself upon the convenient frying-pan, which she proceeded to scrub with sudden vigor. Tom Osby's eyes twinkled. " Whenever you think that skillet's clean enough, us two will set up and cook ourselves some break- fast right comf'terble. As for them fellers over there, they don't deserve none." So presently they two did cook and eat yet again. A strange sense of peace and content came to Constance, albeit mingled with remorse. She had suspected Dan Anderson of worshipping at the shrine of an operatic star, whereas he had made the long journey from Heart's Desire to see herself ! She knew it now. "I'm goin' to take you up to the hotel, ma'am," said Tom Osby, after Constance had finished her third breakfast, "and then, after that, I'm goin' to take Dan Anderson back home to Heart's Desire. We'll see you up there after a while. 192 HEART'S DESIRE "One thing I want to tell you, ma'am, is this. We've got along without a railroad, all right, and we ain't tearin' our clothes to have one now. If that railroad does get into our town, it's more'n half likely that it'll be because the boys has took a notion to you. I never did see you before this mornin' ; but the folks has told me about you — Curly's wife, you know, and the rest. We'd like to have you live there, if only we thought the town was good enough for you. It's been mostly for men, so far." CHAPTER XIV THE GROUND FLOOR AT HEART'S DESIRE Proposing Certain Wonders of Modern Progress, as wrought by Eastern Capital and Able Corporation Counsel Tom Osby and Constance walked up the trail toward the hotel, and Dan Anderson from a distance saw them pass. He watched the gray gown move through sun and shadow, until it was lost beyond the thickening boles of mountain pines. She turned once and looked back, but he dared not appropriate the glance to himself, although it seemed to him that he must rise and follow, that he must call out to her. She had been there, close to him. He had felt the very warmth of her hand near to his own. There flamed up in his soul the fierce male jealousy. He turned to this newcomer, this man of the States, successful, strong, fortunate. In his soul was ready the ancient challenge. But — the earth being as it is to-day, a compromise, and love being dependent upon property, and chas- tity upon chattels, and the stars of the Universe upon farthing dips — though aching to rise and fol- low the gray gown, to snatch its wearer afar and away into a sweet wild forest all their own, Dan o 193 194 HEART'S DESIRE Anderson must sit silent, and plan material ways to bring the gray gown back again to his eyes accord- ing to the mandates of our society. Because the gray gown was made in the States, he must forget the lesson of Curly and the Littlest Girl. Because the wearer of the gown lived in the States, he must pull down in ruins the temple of Heart's Desire. Such is the sweet logic of these days of modern progress, that independence, friendship, faith, all must yield if need be; even though, and after all, man but demands that himself and the woman whom he has sought out from all the world may one day be savage and sweet, ancient and primitive, even as have been all others who have loved indeed, in city or in forest, from the beginning of the world. "As Mr. Ellsworth has told me," went on Porter Barkley, "you are an able man, Mr. Anderson, — far too able to be buried down here in a mountain mining town." "Thank you," said Dan Anderson, sweetly; "that's very nice of you." "Now, I don't know what induced you to hide yourself out here — " went on Barkley, affably. "No," replied Dan Anderson, "you don't. As for myself personally, it's no one's damned business. I may say in a general way, however, that the pre- vailing high prices of sealskins and breakfast food in the Eastern States have had a great deal to do with our Western civilization. The edge of the West is HEART'S DESIRE 195 mostly inhabited by fools and philosophers, all mostly broke." "I think I follow you," assented Barkley; "but I'd rather classify you as a philosopher." "Perhaps. At least I am not fool enough to talk about my own affairs. You say you are here to talk business. It is your belief that I understand some of the chemical constituents of the population of Heart's Desire. Now, in what way can we be useful to each other?" Ellsworth broke in, "It's as Barkley says; I've been watching you, Mr. Anderson, and I've had an interest in you for quite a while." "Indeed?" "Yes, I have. I want to see you win out. Now, if you won't go to the mountain, the mountain will have to come to you. If you won't go back and live in the States, we will have to bring the States to you ; and they'll follow mighty quick when the railroad comes, as you know very well." "My friend Tom Osby used those very words this morning, when he heard the whistle of your esteemed railroad train." "Precisely," Ellsworth went on. "We'll give you a town to live in. We'll give you professional work to do." "So you'll build me a town, in order to get me work? That's very nice of you, indeed." "Now, there you go with your infernal priggish- 196 HEART'S DESIRE ness," protested Ellsworth, testily. "Have we asked you to do anything but straight business?" "Exactly," said Barkley. They were playing now with Dan Anderson's heartstrings, but his face did not show it. They were putting him in the balance against Heart's Desire, but his speech offered no evidence of it. They were making Constance Ellsworth the price of Heart's Desire, but Dan Anderson did not divulge it, as he sat and looked at them. "Gentlemen," said he, at length, "I am a lawyer, the best one in Heart's Desire. The law here is com- plex in practice. The titles are very much involved. Between Chitty on Pleading and the land grants of the Spanish crown, the law may be a very slow and deliberate matter in this country. Now, I understand the practice. I speak the language — I don't need an interpreter — so that I am probably as good as any lawyer you can secure at this time. In straight matters of business I am open for employment." "Now you are beginning to talk," said Barkley. "And just to get right down to business, and show you we're not all talk, I want to give you a little retainer fee. I'm sorry it isn't larger, but it'll grow, I hope." He drew a goodly wallet from his breast pocket, and counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills, which he threw down carelessly on the pine needles in front of Dan Anderson. "Is that satis- factory?" he asked HEART'S DESIRE 197 "Yes," said the latter; but he did not take up the money. "Oh, there'll be more," suggested Mr. Ellsworth. " This business ought to net you between five and ten thousand dollars this year. It might mean more than that if we got into town without a fight." " That would be about the only way you would get in at all," and Dan Anderson smiled incomprehen- sibly. " Exactly ! And now, since you are our counsel — " Barkley spoke with an increased firmness — "we want to know your idea on the right-of-way question. What's the nature of the titles in that town, anyhow ?" "As near as I can tell," replied Dan Anderson, "since you retain me and ask my legal opinion, the fundamental title to the valley of Heart's Desire lies in the ability of every fellow there to hit a tin can at forty yards with a six-shooter. There's hardly a tin can in the street that you could cook a meal in," he added plaintively. "I see," said Barkley, his laughter a little forced. "But now, I heard there never was a town site filed on." "There was a story," replied Dan Anderson, ru- minatingly, " that Jack Wilson laid out a town there soon after he made the Homestake strike. He had McDonald, the deputy surveyor, plat it out on a piece of brown paper, — which was the only sort they had, — and Jack started over with the plat to 198 HEART'S DESIRE file at the county seat. He got caught in a rain and used the paper to start a fire with. After that he forgot about it, and after that again, he died; so there never was any town site. The boys just built their houses where they felt like it; and since then they have been so busy about other things — cro- quet, music, embroidery, antelope hunting, and the like — that they haven't had time to think about town lots or town sites, or anything of that sort." Barkley's eyes gleamed. "That will simplify matters very much," said he. "You really do need local counsel," Dan Anderson observed. "On the contrary of that, it will compli- cate matters very much." "Well, we'll see about that," rejoined Barkley, grimly. "We'll see if a little mining camp can hold up a railroad corporation the size of this ! But why don't you put your money in your pocket? It's yours, man." Dan Anderson slowly picked up the bills, folded them, and tucked them into a pocket. "This," said he, "is a great deal more than the entire circulating medium of Heart's Desire. I'm likely to become a disturbing factor up there." "That's what we want you to become," said Bark- ley. " We know there're a lot of good mining claims in there, especially the coal lands on the east side of the valley. It isn't the freight and passenger traffic that we're after — we want to get hold of those mines. HEART'S DESIRE 199 Why, the inside gang of the Southern Pacific — you'll keep this a professional secret, of course — has told us that they'll take coal from us for their whole sys- tem west of Houston. In a couple of years there'll be a town there of eight or ten thousand people. Why, man, it's the chance of your life. And here's Mr. Ellsworth putting you in on the ground floor.' 7 Dan Anderson looked at him queerly. "By the way," began Ellsworth, taking from his pocket an engineer's blue-print map, " one of the first things we want to settle is the question of our depot site. The only place we can lay out our side tracks is just at the head of the canon, and at the lower end of the valley. Do you know anything about this house here? It's the first. one as you go into town from the lower end of the valley." Dan Anderson bent over the map. "Yes, I know it perfectly," said he. "That's the adobe of our friend Tom Osby here, the man who came down with me from Heart's Desire. He just went up the trail with your daughter, sir." "The yards'll wipe him out," said Barkley. "The valley is so narrow," went on Ellsworth, "according to what our engineers say, that we've got to clean out the whole lower part of the town, in order to lay out the station grounds." Dan Anderson started. The money in his pocket suddenly burned him. "The trouble with your whole gang," resumed 200 HEART'S DESIRE Barkley, striking a match on a log, "has been that you've been trying to stop the world. You can't do that." Dan Anderson, silent, grim, listened to what he had not heard for many months, the crack of the whip of modern progress. Yet, before his eyes he still saw passing the vision of a tall, round figure, sweet in the beauty of young womanhood, even as he was strong in the strength of his young manhood. "I'll help you all I can honorably, gentlemen," said he, at length, rising; "we'll talk it over up at the town itself. I don't know just what we can do in the way of recognizing existing rights, but in my opinion force isn't the way to go about it." " Well, we'll use force if need be ; you can depend on that ! " said Barkley, harshly. " I've got to get back home before long, and it will be up to you after that." He and Ellsworth also arose and brushed from their clothing the clinging dust and pine needles. The three turned towards the trail and walked slowly up to the edge of the open space in which stood the Sky Top edifice. "Quite a house, isn't it?" said Ellsworth, admir- ingly. Dan Anderson did not look at the building. Con- stance was sitting alone at the edge of the gallery. Wishing nothing so much in the world as to go for- ward, Dan Anderson turned back at the edge of the grounds. HEART'S DESIRE 201 Some jangling mountain jays flitted from tree to tree about him. They seemed to call out to him to pause, to return. The whispering of the pines called over and over to him ; " Constance! Constance !" Once more he turned, and retraced his steps, the trees still whispering. At the edge of the opening he paused unseen. He saw the girl, with one hand each on the arm of her father and of Barkley, laughing gayly and walking across the gallery. Each had offered her an arm to assist her in arising, and her act was, in fact, the most natural one in the world. Yet to Dan Anderson, remote, morose, solitary, his soul out of all perspective, this sight seemed the very end of all the world. CHAPTER XV SCIENCE AT HEART'S DESIRE This being the Story of a Cow Puncher, an Osteopath, and a Gross-eyed Horse "That old railroad'll shore bust me up a heap. if it ever does git in here," remarked Tom Osby one morning in the forum of Whiteman's corral, where the accustomed group was sitting in the sun, waiting for some one to volunteer as Homer for the day. There was little to do but listen to story telling, for Tom Osby dwelt in the tents of Kedar, delaying departure on his accustomed trip to Vegas. "A feller down there to Sky Top," he went on, arousing only the most indolent interest, "one of them spy-glass ingineers — tenderfoot, with his six- shooter belt buckled so tight he couldn't get his feet to the ground — he says to me I might as well trade my old grays for a nice new checkerboard, or a deck of author cards, for I won't have nothing to do but just amuse myself when the railroad cars gets here." No one spoke. All present were trying to imagine how Heart's Desire would seem with a railroad train each day. "Things'll be some different in them days, mebbe 202 HEART'S DESIRE 203 so." Tom recrossed his legs with well-considered deliberation. "There's a heap of things different already from what they used to be when I first hit the cow range," said Curly. "The whole country's changed, and it ain't changed for the better, either. Grass is longer, and horns is shorter, and men is triflin'er. Since the Yankees has got west of the Missouri River a ranch foreman ain't allowed to run his own brandin' iron any more, and that takes more'n half the poetry out of the cow business, don't it, Mac?" This to McKinney, who was nearly asleep. "Everything else is changin', too," Curly continued, gathering fluency as memories began to crowd upon him. "Look at the lawyers and doctors there is in the Territory now — and this country used to be respectable. Why, when I first come here there wasn't a doctor within a thousand miles, and no need for one. If one of the boys got shot up much, we always found some way to laundry him and sew him together again without no need of a diplomy. No one ever got sick ; and, of course, no one ever did die of his own accord, the way they do back in the States." "What's it all about, Curly?" drawled Dan An- derson. "You can't tell a story worth a cent." Curly paid no attention to him. "The first doctor that ever come out here for to alleviate us fellers," he went on, "why, he settled over on the Sweetwater. He was a allopath from 204 HEART'S DESIRE Bitter Creek. What medicine that feller did give! He gradual drifted into the vet'inary line. " Then there come a homeopath — that was after a good many women folks had settled in along the railroad over west. Still, there wasn't much sick- ness, and I don't reckon the homeopath ever did winter through. I was livin' with the Bar T outfit on the Oscura range, at that time. "Next doctor that come along was a ostypath." Curly took a chew of tobacco, and paused a moment reflectively. "I said the first feller drifted into vet'inary lines, didn't I?" he resumed. "Well, the ostypath did, too. Didn't you never hear about that? Why, he ostypathed a horse ! " "Did what?" asked Tom Osby sitting up; for hitherto there had seemed no need to listen atten- tively. "Yes, sir," he went on, "he ostypathed a horse for us. The boys they gambled about two thousand dollars on that horse over at Socorro. It was a cross-eyed horse, too." " What's that ? " Doc Tomlinson objected. " There never was such a thing as a cross-eyed horse." "Oh, there wasn't, wasn't there?" said Curly. " Well, now, my friend, when you talk that-a-way, you simply show me how much you don't know about horses. This here Bar T horse was as cross-eyed as a saw-horse, until we got him ostypathed. But, HEART'S DESIRE 205 of course, if you don't believe what I say, there's no use tellin' you this story at all." "Oh, go on, go on," McKinney spoke up, "don't pay no attention to Doc." "Well," Curly resumed, "that there horse was knowed constant on this range for over three years. He was a outlaw, with cream mane and tail, and a pinto map of Europe, Asia, and Africa wrote all over his ribs. Run? Why, that horse could run down a coyote as a moral pastime. We used him to catch jack rabbits with between meals. It wasn't no trouble for him to run. The trouble was to tell when he was goin' to stop runnin'. Sometimes it was a good while before the feller ridin' him could get him around to where he begun to run. He run in curves natural, and he handed out a right curve or a left one, just as he happened to feel, same as the feller dealin' faro, and just as easy. "Tom Redmond, on the Bar T, he got this horse from a feller by the name of Hasenberg, that brought in a bunch of has-beens and outlaws, and allowed to distribute 'em in this country. Hasenberg was a foreign gent that looked a good deal like Whiteman, our distinguished feller-citizen here. He was cross- eyed hisself, body and soul. There wasn't a straight thing about him. We allowed that maybe this Pinto caballo got cross-eyed from associatin' with old Hasenberg, who was strictly on the bias, any way you figured." 206 HEART'S DESIRE "You ain't so bad, after all, Curly," said Dan Anderson, sitting up. "You're beginning now to hit the human interest part. You ought to be a reg'lar contributor." "Shut up!" said Curly. "Now Tom Redmond, he took to this here Pinto horse from havin' seen him jump the corral fence several times, and start floatin' off across the country for a eight or ten mile sasshay without no special encourage- ment. He hired three Castilian busters to operate on Pinto, and he got so he could be rode occasional, but every one allowed they never did see any horse just like him. He was the most aggravatinest thing we ever did have on this range. He had a sort of odd-lookin' white eye, but a heap of them pintos has got glass eyes, and so no one thought to examine his lookers very close, though it was noticed early in the game that Pinto might be lookin' one way and goin' the other, at the same time. He'd be goin' on a keen lope, and then something or other might get on his mind, and he'd stop and untangle hisself from all kinds of ridin'. Sometimes he'd jump and snort like he was seein' ghosts. A feller on that horse could have roped antelopes as easy as yearlin' calves, if he could just have told which way Mr. Pinto was goin' ; but he was a shore hard one to estermate. "At last Tom, why, he suspected somethin' wasn't right with Pinto's lamps. If you stuck out a bunch of hay at him, he couldn't bite it by about five feet. HEART'S DESIRE 207 When you led him down to water, you had to go side- ways; and if you wanted to get him in through the corral gate, you had to push him in backward. We discovered right soon that he was born with his parallax or something out of gear. His graduated scale of seem' things was different from our'n. I don't reckon anybody ever will know what all Pinto saw with them glass lamps of his, but all the time we knowed that if we could ever onct get his lookin' outfit tuned up proper, we had the whole country skinned in a horse race; for he could shore run copious. "That was why he had the whole Bar T outfit guessin' all the time. We all wanted to bet on him, and we was all scared to. Sometimes we'd make up a purse among us, and we'd go over to some social getherin' or other, and win a thousand dollars. Old Pinto could run all day ; he can yet, for that matter. Didn't make no difference to him how often we raced him ; and natural, after we'd won one hatful of money with him, we'd want to win another. That was where our judgment was weak. "You never could tell whether Pinto was goin' to finish under the wire, or out in the landscape. His eyes seemed to be sort of moverble, but like enough they'd get sot when he went to runnin'. Then he'd run whichever way he was lookin' at the time, or happened to think he was lookin' ; and dependin' additional on what he thought he saw. 208 HEART'S DESIRE And law ! A whole board of supervisors and school commissioners couldn't have looked that horse in the face, and guessed on their sacred honor whether he was goin' to jump the fence to the left, or take to the high sage on the outside of the track. "Onct in a while we'd git Pinto's left eye set at a angle, and he'd come around the track and under the wire before she wobbled out of place. On them occasions we made money a heap easier than I ever did a-gettin' it from home. But, owin' to the loose- ness of them eyes, I don't reckon there never was no horse racin' as uncertain as this here ; and like enough you may have observed it's uncertain enough even when things is fixed in the most comf'terble way possible." A deep sigh greeted this, which showed that Curly's audience was in full sympathy. "You always felt like put tin' the saddle on to Pinto hind end to, he was so cross-eyed," he resumed ruminatingly, "but still you couldn't help feelin' sorry for him, neither. Now, he had a right pained and grieved look in his face all the time. I reckon he thought this was a hard sort of a world to get along in. It is. A cross-eyed man has a hard enough time, but a cross-eyed horse — well, you don't know how much trouble he can be for hisself, and every one else around him. "Now, here we was, fixed up like I told you. Mr. Allopath is over on Sweetwater creek, Mr. Homeo- HEART'S DESIRE 209 path is maybe in the last stages of starvation. Old Pinto looks plumb hopeless, and all us fellers is mostly hopeless too, owin' to his uncertain habits in a horse race, yet knowin' that it ain't perfessional for us not to back a Bar T horse that can run as fast as this one can. "About then along comes Mr. Ostypath. This was just about thirty days before the county fair at Socorro, and there was money hung up for horse races over there that made us feel sick to think of. We knew we could go out of the cow-punchin' business for good if we could just only onct get Pinto over there, and get him to run the right way for a few brief moments. "Was he game? I don't know. There never was no horse ever got clost enough to him in a horse race to tell whether he was game or not. He might not get back home in time for supper, but he would shore run industrious. Say, I talked in a telyphome onct. The book hung on the box said the telyphome was instantaneous. It ain't. But now this Pinto, he was a heap more instantaneous than a tely- phome. " As I was savin', it was long about now Mr. Osty- path comes in. He talks with the boss about locatin' around in here. Boss studies him over a while, and as there ain't been anybody sick for over ten years he tries to break it to Mr. Ostypath gentle that the Bar T ain't a good place for a doctor. They have 210 HEART'S DESIRE some conversation along in there, that-a-way, and Mr. Ostypath before long gets the boss interested deep and plenty. He says there ain't no such a thing as gettin' sick. We all knew that before; but he certainly floors the lot when he allows that the reason a feller don't feel good, so as he can eat tenpenny nails, and make a million dollars a year, is always because there is something wrong with his osshus structure. "He says the only thing that makes a feller have rheumatism, or dyspepsia, or headache, or nosebleed, or red hair, or any other sickness, is that something is wrong with his nervous system. Now, it's this-a- way. He allows them nerves is like a bunch of gar- den hose. If you put your foot on the hose, the water can't run right free. If you take it off, every- thing's lovely. 'Now,' says Mr. Ostypath, 'if, owin' to some luxation, some leeshun, some temporary mechanical disarrangement of your osshus structure, due to a oversight of a All-wise Providence, or may- be a fall off'n a buckin' horse, one of them bones of yours gets to pressin' on a nerve, why, it ain't natural you ought to feel good. Now, is it?' says he. "He goes on and shows how all up and down a feller's backbone there is plenty of soft spots, and he shows likewise that there is scattered around in dif- ferent parts of a feller's territory something like two hundred and four and a half bones, any one of which is likely any minute to jar loose and go to pressin* HEART'S DESIRE 211 on a soft spot; 'In which case/ says he, 'there is need of a ostypath immediate. ' "'For instance/ he says to me, 'I could make quite a man out of you in a couple of years if I had the chanct.' I ast him what his price would be for that, and he said he was willin' to tackle it for about fifty dollars a month. That bein' just five dollars a month more than the boss was allowin' me at the time, and me seein' I'd have to go about two years without anything to wear or eat — let alone anything to drink — I had to let this chanct go by. I been strugglin' along, as you know, ever since, just like this, some shopworn, but so's to set up. There was one while, I admit, when the Doc made me some nervous, when I thought of all them soft spots in my spine, and all them bones liable to get loose any minute and go to pressin' on them. But I had to take my chances, like any other cow puncher at forty- five a month." "You ought to raise his wages, Mac," said Doc Tomlinson to McKinney, the ranch foreman, but the latter only grunted. " Mr. Ostypath, he stayed around the Bar T quite a while," began Curly again, "and we got to talkin' to him a heap about modern science. Says he, one evenin', this-a-way to us fellers, says he, 'Why, a great many things goes wrong because the nervous system is interfered with, along of your osshus struc- ture. You think your stomach is out of whack/ says 212 HEART'S DESIRE he. 'It ain't. All it needs is more nerve supply. I git that by loosenin' up the bones in your back. Why, I've cured a heap of rheumatism, and paralysis, and cross eyes, and — ' "' What's that?' says Tom Redmond, right sud- den. "'You heard me, sir/ says the Doc, severe. " Tom, he couldn't hardly wait, he was so bad struck with the idea he had. 'Come here, Doc,' says he. And then him and Doc walked off a little ways and begun to talk. When they come up toward us again, we heard the Doc sayin' : ' Of course I could cure him. Straybismus is dead easy. I never did oper- ate on no horse, but I've got to eat, and if this here is the only patient in this whole blamed country, why I'll have to go you, if it's only for the sake of science/ says he. Then we all bunched in together and drifted off toward the corral, where old Pinto was standin', lookin' hopeless and thoughtful. 'Is this the patient?' says the Doc, sort of sighin'. "'It are,' says Tom Redmond. " Doc he walks up to old Pinto, and has a look at him, frontways, sideways, and all around. Pinto raises his head up, snorts, and looks Doc full in the face; leastwise, if he'd 'a' been any other horse, he'd 'a' been lookin' him full in the face. Doc he stands thoughtful for quite a while, and then he goes and kind of runs his hand up and down along Pinto's spine. He growed plumb enthusiastic then. 'Beau- HEART'S DESIRE 213 tiful subject/ says he. ' Be-yoo-tif ul ostypathic sub- ject! Whole osshus structure exposed ! ' And Pinto shore was a dream if bones was needful in the game." Curly paused for another chew of tobacco, then went on again. "Well, it's like this, you see; the backbone of a man or a horse is full of little humps — you can see that easy in the springtime. Now old Pinto's back, it looked like a topygraphical survey of the whole Rocky Mountain range. " Doc he runs his hand up and down along this high divide, and says he, 'Just like I thought/ says he. 'The patient has suffered a distinct leeshun in the immediate vicinity of his vaseline motor centres.' " " You mean the vaso-motor centres," suggested Dan Anderson. "That's what I said," said Curly, aggressively. "Now, when we all heard Doc say them words we knowed he was shore scientific, and we come up clost while the examination was progressin'. "'Most extraordinary/ says Doc, feelin' some more. ' Now, here is a distant luxation in the lumber regions. ' He talked like Pinto had a wooden leg. " ' I should diagnose great cerebral excitation, along with pernounced ocular hesitation/ says Doc at last. "'Now look here, Doc/ says Tom Redmond to him then. 'You go careful. We all know there's something strange about this here horse; but now, 214 HEART'S DESIRE if he's got any bone pressin' on him anywhere that makes him run the way he does, why, you be blamed careful not to monkey with that there particular bone. Don't you touch his runnin 1 bone, because that's all right the way it is.' "' Don't you worry any/ says the Doc. 'All I should do would only be to increase his nerve supply. In time I could remedy his ocular defecks, too,' says he. He allows that if we will give him time, he can make Pinto's eyes straighten out so's he'll look like a new rockin' horse Christmas mornin' at a church festerval. Incidentally he suggests that we get a tall leather blinder and run it down Pinto's nose, right between his eyes. "This last was what caught us most of all. "This here blinder idea,' says Tom Redmond, 'is plumb scientific. The trouble with us cow punchers is we ain't got no brains — or we wouldn't be cow punch- ers! Now look here, Pinto's right eye looks off to the left, and his left eye looks off to the right. Like enough he sees all sorts of things on both sides of him, and gets 'em mixed. Now, you put this here harness leather between his eyes, and his right eye looks plumb into it on one side, and his left eye looks into it on the other. Result is, he can't see nothing at all! Now, if he'll only run when he's blind, why, we can skin them Socorro people till it seems like a shame.' " Well, right then we all felt money in our pockets. HEART'S DESIRE 215 We seemed most too good to be out ridin' sign, or pullin' old cows out of mudholes. 'You leave all that to me/ says Doc. ' By the time I've worked on this patient's nerve centres for a while, I'll make a new horse out of him. You watch me,' says he. That made us all feel cheerful. We thought this wasn't such a bad world, after all. "We passed the hat in the interest of modern sci- ence, and we fenced off a place in the corral and set up a school of ostypathy in our midst. Doc, he done some things that seemed to us right strange at first. He gets Pinto up in one corner and takes him by the ear, and tries to break his neck, with his foot in the middle of his back. Then he goes around on the other side and does the same thing. He hammers him up one side and down the other, and works him and wiggles him till us cow punchers thought he was goin' to scatter him around worse than Cassybianca on the burnin' deck after the exploshun. My expe- rience, though, is that it's right hard to shake a horse to pieces. Pinto, he stood it all right. And say, he got so gentle, with that tall blinder between his eyes, that he'd V followed off a sheepherder. "All this time we was throwin' oats a-plenty into Pinto, rubbin' his legs down, and gettin' him used to a saddle a little bit lighter than a regular cow saddle. Doc, he allows he can see his eyes straightenin' out every day. 'I ought to have a year on this job/ says he; 'but these here is urgent times/ 216 HEART'S DESIRE "I should say they was urgent. The time for the county fair at Socorro was comin' right clost. "At last we takes the old Hasenberg Pinto over to Socorro to the fair, and there we enters him in every- thing from the front to the back of the racin' book. My friends, you would 'a' shed tears of pity to see them folks fall down over theirselves tryin' to hand us their money against old Pinto. There was horses there from Montanny to Arizony, all kinds of fancy riders, and money — oh, law ! Us Bar T fellers, we took everything offered — put up everything we had, down to our spurs. Then we'd go off by ourselves and look at each other solemn. We was gettin' rich so quick we felt almost scared. " There come nigh to bein' a little shootin' just before the horses was gettin' ready for the first race, which was for a mile and a half. We led old Pinto out, and some feller standin' by, he says, sarcastic like, ' What's that I see comin'; a snow-plough?' Him alludin' to the single blinder on Pinto's nose. "'I reckon you'll think it's been snowin' when we get through,' says Tom Redmond to him, scornful. 1 The best thing you can do is to shut up, unless you've got a little money you want to contribute to the Bar T festerval.' But about then they hollered for the horses to go to the post, and there wasn't no more talk. " Pinto he acted meek and humble, just like a glass- eyed angel, and the starter didn't have no trouble with him at all. At last he got them all off, so clost HEART'S DESIRE 217 together one saddle blanket would have done for the whole bunch. Say, man, that was a fine start. "Along with oats and ostypathy, old Pinto he'd come out on the track that day just standin' on the edges of his feet, he was feelin' that fine. We put Jose Santa Maria Trujillo, one of our lightest boys, up on Pinto for to ride him. Now a Greaser ain't got no sense. It was that fool boy Jose that busted up modern science on the Bar T. "I was tellin' you that there horse was ostypathed, so to speak, plumb to a razor edge, and I was sayin' that he went off on a even start. Then what did he do? Run? No, he didn't run. He just sort of passed away from the place where he started at. Our Greaser, he sees the race is all over, and like any fool cow puncher, he must get frisky. Comin' down the homestretch, only needin' about one more jump — for it ain't above a quarter of a mile — Jose, he stands up in his stirrups and pulls off his hat, and just whangs old Pinto over the head with it, friendly like, to show him there ain't no coldness. " We never did rightly know what happened at that time. The Greaser admits he may have busted off the fastenin' of that single blinder down Pinto's nose. Anyhow, Pinto runs a few short jumps, and then stops, lookin' troubled. The next minute he hides his face on the Greaser and there is a glimpse of bright, glad sunlight on the bottom of Jose's moc- casins. Next minute after that Pinto is up in the 218 HEART'S DESIRE grandstand among the ladies, and there he sits down in the lap of the Governor's wife, which was among them present. " There was time, even then, to lead him down and over the line, but before we could think of that he falls to buckin' sincere and conscientious, up there among the benches, and if he didn't jar his osshus structure a heap then, it wasn't no fault of his'n. We all run up in front of the grandstand, and stood lookin' up at Pinto, and him the maddest, scaredest, cross- eyedest horse I ever did see in all my life. His single blinder was swingin' loose under his neck. His eyes was right mean and white, and the Mexican saints only knows which way he was a-lookin'. "So there we was," went on Curly, with another sigh, "all Socorro sayin' bright and cheerful things to the Bar T, and us plumb broke, and far, far from home. "We roped Pinto, and led him home behind the wagon, forty miles over the sand, by the soft, silver light of the moon. There wasn't a horse or saddle left in our rodeo, and we had to ride on the grub wagon, which you know is a disgrace to any gentleman that wears spurs. Pinto, he was the gayest one in the lot. I reckon he allowed he'd been Queen of the May. Every time he saw a jack rabbit or a bunch of sage brush, he'd snort and take a pasear sideways as far as the rope would let him go. " ' The patient seems to be still laborin' under great And just whangs old Pinto over the head with it show him there ain't no coldness.'" HEART'S DESIRE 219 cerebral excitation/ says the Doc, which was like- wise on the wagon. 'I ought to have had a year on him/ says he, despondent like. "'Shut up/ says Tom Redmond to the Doc. 'I'd shoot up your own osshus structure plenty/ says he, 'if I hadn't bet my gun on that horse race.' "Well, we got home, the wagon-load of us, in the mornin' sometime, every one of us ashamed to look the cook in the face, and hopin' the boss was away from home. But he wasn't. He looks at us, and says he: — " ' Is this a sheep outfit I see before me, or is it the remnants of the former cow camp on the Bar T?' He was right sarcastic. 'Doc/ says he, 'explain this here to me.' But the Doc, he couldn't. Says the boss to him at last, ' The right time to do the explainin' is before the hoss race is over, and not after/ says he. 'That's the only kind of science that goes hereafter on the Bar T/ says he. "I reckon the boss was feelin' a little riled, because he had two hundred on Pinto hisself. A cross-eyed horse shore can make a sight of trouble," Curly sighed in conclusion; "yet I bought Pinto for four dollars, and — sometimes, anyway — he's the best horse in my string down at Carrizosy, ain't he, Mac ?" In the thoughtful silence following this tale, Tom Osby knocked his pipe reflectively against a cedar log. "That's the way with the railroad," he said. "It'sgoin' to come in herewith one eye on the gold- 220 HEART'S DESIRE mines and the other on the town — and there won't be no blind-bridle up in front of old Mr. Ingine, neither. If we got as much sense as the Bar T feller, we'll do our explainin' before, and not after the hoss race is over. Before I leave for Vegas, I want to see one of you ostypothetic lawyers about that there railroad outfit." CHAPTER XVI THE PARTITION OF HEART'S DESIRE Concerning Real Estate, Love, Friendship, and Other Good and Valuable Considerations "You see, it's just this-a-way," began Tom Osby, the morning after Curly's osteopathic horse saga; "I've got to go on up to Vegas after a load of stuff, and I'll be gone a couple of weeks. Now, you know, from what we heard down at Sky Top about this railroad, a heap of things can happen in two weeks. Them fellers ain't showin' their hands any, but for all we know their ingineers may come in any day, and start in to doin' things." "They've got to make arrangements first," replied Dan Anderson. "That's all right ; and so ought we to make arrange- ments. We seen this place first. Now, Dan — " and he extended a gnarled and hairy hand — "you've always done like you said you would. You took care of me down there to Sky Top. I want you to keep on a-takin' care of me, whether I'm here or not. Now, there's my house and yard, right at the head of the canon, where they've got to come if they get in. That little old place, and my little old team, is about all I've 221 222 HEART'S DESIRE got in the world. If old Mr. Railroad comes up this arroyo, what happens to me? You tell 'em to go somewheres else, because I seen this place first, and I like it. Ain't that the law in this country ? Ain't it always been the law ? " Dan Anderson nodded. He held out his hand to Tom Osby and looked him straight in the eye. "I'll take care of you, Tom," he promised. "Then that'll be about all," said Tom; "giddup, boys!" In some way news of the early advent of the rail- road had gotten about in Heart's Desire, and Dan Anderson found talk of it on every tongue, talk very similar to that of Tom Osby. Uncle Jim Brothers, owner of the one-story hotel and restaurant, the father and the feeder of all Heart's Desire when the latter was in financial stress, was the next to come to him; and Uncle Jim was grave of face. "See here, man," said he, "how about this here new railroad? Do we want it, or do we? Seems to me like we always got along here pretty well the way things was." Dan Anderson nodded again. Uncle Jim shifted from one large foot to the other, and thrust a great hand into the pocket of one trouser leg. "All I was going to say to you, Dan," he went on, "is, if it comes to takin' any sides, we all know which side you're on. You're with us. Now, there's my place down there, where you've et many a time with HEART'S DESIRE 223 the rest of the boys. You've helped me build the tables in the dining room — done a lot of things which makes me feel obliged to you." (Ah ! lovable liar, Uncle Jim, who could feed a man broke and hungry, and still let him feel that the operation was a favor to the feeder!) "Now, I just wanted to say, Dan, I was sure, in case any railroad ever did come cavortin' around here, you'd sort of look after the old place. Will you do that?" "Of course he will," broke in Doc Tomlinson, who had strolled down the street and overheard the con- versation. "Dan Anderson, he's our lawyer. We've got him retained permanent, ain't we, Dan? Now, there's my old drug store — ain't much in it, but it's where I settled when I first driv into the valley, and I like the place. Ain't no railroad going to boost me out without a scrap." Dan Anderson turned away, sick at heart. For three days he kept to his cabin on the far side of the arroyo. But if hesitation sat on the soul of any man of the community, if doubt or questionings harassed the minds of any, there was no uncertainty on the par f of the management of the railroad, whose coming was causing this uneasiness. One day Dan Anderson was startled to hear a knock at his door, and to see the dusty figure of Porter Barkley, general counsel of the A. P. and S. E., just from a long buckboard ride from the head of the rails. With him came 224 HEART'S DESIRE Grayson, chief engineer. Dan Anderson invited them in. "Well, Mr. Anderson/' said Barkley, "here we are, close after you. We're following up the right-of- way matters sharp and hard now. We can't hold back our graders, and before the line gets abreast of this canon, we've got to know what we can do here. Now, what can you tell us by this time?" "I can tell you, as I said, the status of every town lot and every mining claim in this valley," replied Dan Anderson. "It's all simple so far as that is concerned." "How about that town site? Grayson, here, is ready to go ahead with the new plat. If you never had any town site filed, how were real-estate transfers made?" "There never were any transfers made. There has not been a town lot sold in ten years." "Real estate just a little dull?" laughed Barkley, sarcastically. "We hadn't noticed it," said Dan Anderson, simply. "But how about your courts? Next thing you'll be telling me there wasn't any court." "There never was, except when we acquitted a man for shooting a pig. I was his counsel, by the way." "Nor any town election?" "Why should there be?" "No government — no nothing, for five years?" HEART'S DESIRE 225 "Over twelve years altogether, to be exact. I'm rather a newcomer myself." "No organization — no government — " Barkley summed it up. "Good God! what kind of a place is this?" "It's Heart's Desire," said Dan Anderson. No man of that valley was ever able to say more, or indeed thought it needful to say more. Porter Barkley gave a contemptuous whistle, as he turned on his heel, hands in pockets, his bulky form filling the doorway as he looked out. "So you were a lawyer here," he said. "You must have had rather more leisure than law practice, I should think." "It left me all the more time for my reading," said Dan Anderson, gravely. "You've no idea how much a law practice interferes with one's legal stud- ies." Barkley looked at him, but could discover no sign of levity. "Well, there is one thing mighty sure," said he, shutting his heavy jaws tight; "this valley is, or was, open to settlement under the United States land laws." "Certainly," assented Dan Anderson. "The first men in here were mining men from every corner of the Rockies, and they knew their business. All these mountains were platted, and ' adversed/ and litigated. Then, before the second discoveries, and before any coal veins were located on the other side of the valley, the gold veins pinched out. Everybody got broke, and nearly everybody got up and walked away. 226 HEART'S DESIRE Meantime, the courts had only been sitting over at Lincoln once in a while — when Billy the Kid allowed it. I'll have to admit that things were a trifle tangled as to title." "Well, I should say so!" Barkley was irritable, Grayson, the engineer, silent and smiling. "There was so much room after the mining boom broke, that nobody cared for a town lot. Every fellow just picked out the place he liked, built where he liked, and went in as his own butler, chamber- maid, and cook. "You are seeing this country now, gentlemen," he went on, "pretty much as God made it, and as Coro- nado saw it three hundred years ago. I deprecate any undue haste on your part. We've been three hundred years in getting this far along. We've done very well without either a town site or a city council." Barkley was utterly unable to comprehend either Dan Anderson or Heart's Desire. "This is the abso- lute limit!" he rapped out. "At least we'll end this now. Come on, Grayson, we three'll go out and have a look at the place, and see what is the best way to lay out the streets. I suppose, Anderson, you can tell us how we can get title under government patent — mineral lands — coal lands — desert lands — home- stead — whatever we can dig out the quickest?" "Oh, yes," said Dan Anderson, "but don't dig too deep, or you may run against a land grant from Ferdi- nand and Isabella to some well-beloved hidalgo HEART'S DESIRE 227 whose descendants may now be herding sheep on the Pecos, or owning the earth along the Rio Grande. Cabeza de Vaca may own this valley, for all I know. Maybe Coronado owns it. Quien sabef We only borrowed the place. We thought that probably Charles IV, or Philip II, or whoever it was, wouldn't mind very much, seeing that he's dead anyhow, in case we returned the valley in good condition, rea- sonable wear and tear excepted, after we were dead ourselves. Of course, this railroad coming in com- plicates matters a good deal. Do I make all this clear to you, gentlemen ? I never did see a place just like this, myself." "No?" snapped Barkley. "So we called it Heart's Desire." "We'll call it Coalville now," retorted Barkley. They passed out into the bright sunlit street of Heart's Desire. Stern-browed Carrizo, guardian through centuries of calm and secrecy, gazed down on them unwinking. Dan Anderson looked up at the grim sentinel of the valley, and mockery left his speech. He looked about at the wide and vacant spaces of the little settlement, lying content, secure, and set apart, and a horror came upon his soul. He was about to be a traitor, a traitor to Heart's Desire ! Law — title — security — what more of these could these men bring to Heart's Desire than it had long had already? What wrong here had ever been left unrighted? Truth, and justice, and fairness, and 228 HEART'S DESIRE sincerity, those priceless things — why, he had known them here for years. Were they now to be made more obvious, or more strong? He had believed his friends, had had friends to believe ; would these walk- ing at his side be better friends? These men of Heart's Desire, these simple children who had left the smother of civilization to seek out for themselves a place of strength and simplicity, these strong and fearless giants, these friends of his — had he not promised them that they would be safe in his hands ? Hitherto there had never been a traitor among all the men of Heart's Desire. Was he, their accepted friend, to be the first? Dan Anderson passed his hand over a forehead suddenly grown moist. He dared not look up at the chiding front of old Carrizo. "I was saying," said Porter Barkley, turning from the taciturn engineer as they walked along the hill- side, "that this place seems to have been laid off with a circular saw. I can't see any idea of streets at all." "There is a sort of a street along the arroyo" said Dan Anderson, dully. "There never were any cross streets. The boys just built where they felt like it." "And great builders they were! I didn't know men ever lived in such places. What's that joint there?" He pointed out a ruined jacal of upright mud-chinked logs, now leaning slantwise far to one side. "Was that a house, too? It hasn't even a chimney." HEART'S DESIRE 229 " That was the residence and law office of a former supreme judge of the State of Kansas/' replied Dan Anderson. " He didn't need any chimney. You've no idea how useless a chimney really is. He never stopped to cut any wood, but just fed a log in through the front door into the fire, and let the smoke go out the window. He had a pet wildcat that shared his legal studies — oh, I admit that some of our ways may seem strange to you, just fresh from New York." "But didn't you live in New York once yourself?" "Yes, once." "What made you come away?" "Objected to, as irrelevant, immaterial, and in- competent; and objection sustained," replied Dan Anderson. " The first thing I learned in this country was not to inquire about any man's past. That's a useful thing for you to learn, too." Porter Barkley, accustomed to dominating those around him, flushed red, but managed to suppress his rising choler for the time. " And by the way, what's that old shell over there, across the ditch ?" he asked. "I regret your irreverence," said Dan Anderson. " That's the New Jersey Gold Mills. Eighty thousand of Eastern Capital went in there at one time. They didn't understand the ways of the country." " Humph ! Well, it's a more practical layout you've got in here this time. You can gamble that Ells- worth and our gang are not going to sink their roll here, by a long ways, unless they get something for it." 230 HEART'S DESIRE " You'll get a run for your money, in all likelihood," remarked Dan Anderson. " As I said, now, Grayson, don't pay any attention to this gully here," went on Barkley. "We'll fill this ditch and put in drains at the crossings, and run the main street north and south. We'll take the ramshorn crooks out of this town in about two days, when we get started." "I see no reason why we could not run the cross streets at right angles," said Grayson, the construc- tive. "Of course, we'll catch a good many of these buildings — " he hesitated, pointing at the time to Doc Tomlinson's drug store. "The corner of this fence would be inside the line of the main street," he went on, sighting along his lead pencil to the angle of Whiteman's corral. It was the very spot where Dan Anderson had sat in council with his cronies many a time. He bit his lip now as he followed the gaze of the engineer. "How about the stone house down the arroyo?" asked he of Grayson. This was Uncle Jim Brothers' s hotel, sanctuary for the homeless of Heart's Desire, a temple of refuge, a place where the word "Friend- ship," unspoken, never written, was known and under- stood among men gathered from all corners of this unfriendly world. "That would have to go," replied Grayson. " As to that shanty down below, at the head of the canon," growled Barkley, pointing to Tom Osby's HEART'S DESIRE 231 adobe, " that's going to be the first thing we'll tear down, street or no street. We need that place for our depot yard, and we're going to take it. Besides, there was something about that Osby fellow I didn't like when we met him over at Sky Top. He's too damned independent to suit me." Dan Anderson straightened up as though smitten, his face a dull red. The dancing heat mist blurred before his eyes. He said nothing. They turned pres- ently and strolled down toward the foot of the arroyo. Barkley pushed his hat back on his furrowed forehead. " There is a lot in this thing for me, Anderson," said he, "and there'll be a lot in it for you. Have you got any claims of your own in here? Mineral, I mean?" " Of course," Dan Anderson replied. " We all have claims. This is the only valley in the West, so far as I know, where there is good coal on one side, and paying gold quartz on the other. But that's the case here. We haven't overlooked it." Barkley whistled. "I wouldn't ask a better show than you'll have here," said he, contemplatively. "The only wonder to me is that some one hasn't broken into this long ago." "There might be some few difficulties," suggested Dan Anderson. "Difficulties! What do you care about that? We'll wear 'em out, pound 'em out, break 'em up, I tell you. We're the first ones to find this country — " 232 HEART'S DESIRE "Except maybe Coronado, De Vaca and Company." "Who were they?" "The same as you and me/' replied Dan Anderson, enigmatically. "Ask the mountains." "Oh, rot!" said Barkley. "I'll tell you, once for all, I'm not interested in dreams or foolishness. Now, if you want to go in with us, that's one thing. If you don't, we want to find it out mighty quick." "You might do worse," said Dan Anderson. "The other lawyer is worse than myself. At times I sus- pect him of being lazy." "Well, well, let's get together," urged Barkley, im- patiently. "Now, Grayson thinks it will take about three hundred and fifty acres for the first plat, with- out additions; we'll supersede the old Jack Wilson patent. He's dead, you say? Never left a will, or any heirs? Never did get his town site platted and filed ? Well, he never will, now. You go with Gray- son to-morrow and run out these lines quietly, and help him get an idea of the best mining claims on both sides of the valley, too. There'll be plenty for you to do." Dan Anderson nodded, but made no comment. Many things were revolving in his mind. "Meantime," concluded Barkley, "I've got to get back down the line to meet Mr. Ellsworth. We'll come up again. You can readily see that we've got to have a town meeting before very long. Get things in line for it. Will you attend to this ?" HEART'S DESIRE 233 "Yes," replied Dan Anderson, slowly and musingly; "yes, I'll attend to it." Barkley looked once more upon the impassive face of his local counsel, and departed more than ever puzzled and exasperated. He liked Dan Anderson as little as he understood him. "I'll handle him, though/' he muttered to himself. "There's a way to handle every man, and I rather think that this one'll come to his feed before we get done with him." CHAPTER XVII TREASON AT HEART'S DESIRE Showing the Dilemma of Dan Anderson, the Doubt of Leading Citizens, and the Artless Performance of a Pastoral Prevaricator "Learned Counsel/' said Dan Anderson on the morning following the preliminary survey of Heart's Desire, "I want you to take my case." "What's up?" asked Learned Counsel. Dan An- derson pointed down the street, where a group stood talking among themselves, casting occasional side- long glances in his direction. "They're milling like a bunch of scared longhorns," he said. "Something's wrong, and I know it mighty well. I want you to take my case. Come along." Contrary to the ancient custom of the forum at Whiteman's corral, the group did not move apart to admit them to the circle. " The gentleman from Kansas was addressing the meeting," said Dan Anderson. Doc Tomlinson continued speaking, but still the circle made no move. "Say it !" burst out Dan Anderson. "Tell it out ! What's on your minds, you fellows?" "We don't like to believe it," McKinney began, facing toward him. "We hope it ain't true." 234 HEART'S DESIRE 235 "What's not true?" he demanded, looking from one averted face to another. At length Doc Tom- linson resumed his office as spokesman. "They say you've sold us out. They say you're bought by the railroad to clean us out; that the scheme is to steal the town, and you're in the steal. Is that so?" "Is it true?" asked McKinney. "We want to know if it's true," insisted Doc Tom- linson. "You was all over town with them fellers. Now they've let it out they're goin' to grab the town site and make a re-survey." "We know there wasn't ever any town site here," added Uncle Jim Brothers, " but what need was there ? Wasn't there plenty of room for everybody?" "You can't try any hurrah game on us fellers here," said McKinney, facing Dan Anderson squarely. "Nor you with me," retorted Dan Anderson. "Don't any of you undertake that." "Hold on there," called Learned Counsel, lifting his hand for attention. "This man is my client! You're not hearing both sides." " Tell the other side, Dan," said Uncle Jim Brothers. Dan Anderson shook his head. "Why can't you?" asked Uncle Jim. "I can't!" broke from Dan Anderson's dry lips. "If you knew, you wouldn't ask me to." "That's no argument," exclaimed Doc Tomlinson. "What we do know is that you were figurin' to run the street right past here, maybe through my store 236 HEART'S DESIRE and Uncle Jim's place, maybe takin' Tom's place for depot yards. That outfit's been all over the hills lookin' for claims to jump. It's a case of gobble and steal. They say you're hired to help it on, and are gettin' a share of the steal. Now, if that's so, what would you do if you was in our place?" "I'd run the fellow out of town," said Dan Ander- son. "If there was that sort of a traitor here, by God! I'd kill him." "We never did have no man go back on us here," Uncle Jim Brothers remarked. " Don't say that to me ! " Dan Anderson's voice was shaken. "You've fed me, Uncle Jim. Don't say that to me." "Then what shall we say, man?" replied Uncle Jim. "We want to be fair with you. But let me tell you, you don't own this valley. We own it. There's other places in the world besides the States, and don't you forget that. We didn't think you'd ever try to bring States ways in here." "To hell with the States !" said McKinney, tersely. "And States ways with them!" added Doc Tom- linson. "I'd like to see any railroad, or any States, or any United States government, try to run this place." Unconsciously he slapped his hand upon the worn scabbard at his hip, and without thought others in the group eased their pistol belts. It was the Free State of Heart's Desire. "Well, by God !" said Uncle Jim Brothers, snapping HEART'S DESIRE 237 and throwing away the pinon twig which he had been fumbling, "if we don't want no railroad, we don't have it, and that goes!" "Of course," broke in Learned Counsel. "We all know that. That's a small thing. The big question is whether or not we've been fair to my client. I've not had time yet to go fully into his case. We'll have to continue this trial. We've got to have fair play." "That's right enough," assented McKinney, and the others nodded. "Then wait a while. You can't settle this thing until my client has had time to talk with me. I'll find out what he ought to tell." " All right for that, too," agreed Uncle Jim Brothers. " But about that railroad, we'll hold court right here. We'll send out a summons to them folks, and have a meetin' here, and we'll see which is which and what is what in this town." "That's fair enough," assented Learned Counsel. "We'll try the railroad, and we'll try my client at the same time." "Write out the summons," said Doc Tomlinson "Send word down to them railroad folks to come up here and be tried. It's time we knew who was boss, them or us. Go ahead, you're a lawyer; fix it up." They ignored Dan Anderson, their long-time leader in all matters of public interest ! Eventually it was Doc Tomlinson himself who drafted the document, 238 HEART'S DESIRE one of the most interesting of the Territorial records — a summons whereby civilization was called before the bar of primitive man. These presents being signed and sealed, a messenger was sought for their delivery. None better offered than a half-witted sheepherder commonly known as Willie, who chanced to be in town by buckboard from the lower country. This much accomplished, the meeting at Whiteman's corral broke up. Learned Counsel took his client by the arm and led him away. "You need not say much to your lawyer," he remarked; "but while I don't ask you to incriminate yourself even with your counsel, I only want to say that a Girl is, in a great many deci- sions of the upper courts, held to be an extenuating circumstance." He watched the twitch of Dan Anderson's face, but the latter would not speak. "I don't know just where the girl exists now in this case," went on Learned Counsel, "or how; but she's somewhere. It is not wholly necessary that you should specify." "My God!" broke out Dan Anderson. "I wanted — I hoped so much ! It was my opportunity, my first — " "That's enough," said Learned Counsel. "You needn't say any more. Every fellow has something of that sort in his life. What brought McKinney here, and Doc Tomlinson, and all the rest?" "Ribbons!" said Dan Anderson. "Tintypes!" HEART'S DESIRE 239 " Precisely. And who shall cast the first stone? If the boys knew — " "But they don't know, they can't know. Do you think I'd uncover her name, even among my friends — make her affairs public ? No." "Then your only defence cannot be brought into court." "No. So what do you advise?" "What do you advise your counsel to advise you?" asked Learned Counsel, bitterly. "Nothing. I'm done for, either way it goes." Dan Anderson turned a drawn face. "What shall I do?" he asked at length again. For once Learned Counsel was wise. "In this sort of crisis," said he, "one does not consult a lawyer. He decides for himself, and he lives or dies, succeeds or fails, wins or loses forever, for himself and by him- self, without aid of counsel or benefit of clergy." He stood and watched the iron go home into the soul of a game man. Dan Anderson was white, but his reply came sharp and stern. "You're right! Leave me alone. I'll take the case now myself." They shook hands and separated, not to meet again for days ; for Dan Anderson shut himself up in his cabin and denied himself to all. Gloom and uncertainty reigned among his friends. That a crisis of some sort was imminent now became gener- ally understood. At length the crisis came. 240 HEART'S DESIRE There arrived in town, obedient to the summons of Heart's Desire, the dusty buckboard driven by Willie the sheepherder. Upon the front seat with him was Mr. Ellsworth ; on the back seat sat Porter Barkley and Constance. The chief actors in the impending drama were now upon the stage, and all Heart's Desire knew that action of some sort must presently follow. With due decorum, however, all Heart's Desire stood apart, while the three travellers, dusty and weary, buried themselves in the privacy of Uncle Jim Brothers's best spare rooms. Then Heart's Desire sought out Willie the sheepherder. "Now, Willie," said Doc Tomlinson, "look here — you tell us the truth for once. There's a heap of trouble goin' on here, and we want to get at the bottom of it. Maybe you heard something. Now, say, is this here railroad figurin' on comin' in here, or not?" "Shore it'll come," said Willie, sagely. "Them folks has got money to do just what they want. Railroad'll be here in a few days if they feel like it." "Maybe we don't feel like it," said Doc Tomlinson, grimly. "We'll see about that to-night." "The girl, she's the one," said Willie, vaguely. "What's that you mean?" commanded Doc Tomlinson. "The funniest thing," said Willie, "is how things HEART'S DESIRE 241 is mixed. Lord John, he rides on the front seat ; and Lord Peter Berkeley, — that's the lawyer for the railroad, — he rides on the back seat with her, and he sues for her hand, he does, all the way up from the Sacramentos. Says he to Lord John, says he, 'Gimme the hand of this fair daughter of thine, and the treasure shall be yours/ says he." " Ah, ha !" said Doc Tomlinson. "I shore thought that girl was mixed up in this somehow. But I didn't understand. Wonder if Dan Anderson told us everything he knew?" "They set on the back seat," continued Willie, glancing importantly at the listeners to his romance, "a-lookin' into each other's eyes. And says the bold juke, to her, says he, 'Constance!' like that. 'Constance,' says he, 'I've loved you these many years agone.'" " What did she say then ?" "I didn't ketch what she said. But by'm by the proud earl — " "You said the bold juke." "It's the same thing. The proud earl laughs, scornful of restraint, like earls always is, and says he agin, 'Lord John, the treasure shall be thine, but the proudest treasure of me life is this fair daughter of thine that sets here by me side, Lord John,' says he. From that I thought maybe the Lady Con- stance had said something I didn't ketch. Of course, I was busy drivin' the coach." 242 HEART'S DESIRE The men of Heart's Desire looked from one to the other. "Well, I'll be damned!" said Doc Tomlin- son. Curly chewed tobacco vigorously. "To me," he said, "it looks like Dan was throwed down. That girl was over to my house, too; and I didn't think that of her." "Throwed down hard," affirmed Uncle Jim Brothers ; " but now, hold on till we get all this straight. Maybe Dan wouldn't work for this outfit if he knew all that's goin' on. Seems to me like, one way or another, the girl's kind of up at auction. If she's part of the railroad's comin' into Heart's Desire, why, then, we want to know about it. I wish 't Dan Anderson was here." But Dan Anderson was not there, neither was he to be found at his casita across the arroyo. As fate would have it, he had caught Willie in his wanderings and had done some questioning on his own account. Willie escaped alive, and presently left town. Where- after Dan Anderson, half dazed, walked out into the foot-hills, seeking the court of old Carrizo, to try there his own case, as he had promised; and that of the woman as well. At first his fairness, his fatal fairness, had its way with him. Resolutely he slurred over in his own mind the consequences to himself, and set himself to the old, old task of renunciation. Then, in his loneli- ness and bitterness, there came to him thoughts HEART'S DESIRE 243 unworthy of him, conclusions unsupported by fair evidence. Far up on the flank of Carrizo he sat and looked down upon the little straggling town in the valley below. These hills, he thought, with all their treas- ures, were to be sold and purchased for a price, for a treasure greater than all their worth, — the hand of the woman whom he loved. She had consented to the bargain. She had been true to the States, and not to Heart's Desire. She had been true to her class, and not to him, who had left her class. She had been true to her sex, and not to him, her unready lover. Ah, he had not deserved her remem- brance ; but still she ought to have remembered him ! He had not been worthy of her, but still she ought to have loved him! He had offered her nothing, he had evaded her, shunned her, slighted her — but in spite of that she ought to have waited for him, and to have loved him through all, and believed in him in spite of all ! He sat, befooled and befuddled, arguing, accusing, denying, doubting, until he knew not where treachery began or faith had ended. It was late when he de- scended the mountain and walked dully down the street. All this time Constance, in ignorance of everything except the absolute truth, sat in the meagre room of the little stone hotel. She wondered if there would ever be any change in her manner of life, if there 244 HEART'S DESIRE would ever be anything but this continuous following of her father from one commercial battle into another. She wondered why Dan Anderson did not come. Surely he was here. Surely his business was with his employers ; and more surely than all, and in spite of all, his place was here with her ; because her heart cried out for him. In spite of all, he was her heart's desire. Why did he not come ? She arose, her hands clenched; she hated him, as much as she had longed for him. CHAPTER XVIII THE MEETING AT HEART'S DESIRE How Benevolent Assimilation was checked by Unexpected Events There are two problems in life, and only two : food and love. Civilization offers us no more, nor indeed does barbarism; for civilization and barbarism are not far apart. The great metropolis which sent its emissaries out to the little mountain hamlet never held within its teeming confines any greater or graver questions than those which were now to come before the town meeting of Heart's Desire. Down at the stone hotel of Uncle Jim Brothers the tables had been cleared away to make room for this event, the first of its kind ever known in that valley. Heretofore there had been no covenant among these men, no law save that which lay in leather on each man's thigh. It was a land of the individual ; and a sweeter land than that for a man was never known in all the world. Now these men were coming together to debate what we call a great question, but what is really a small question — that of an organiza- tion under the laws of what is denominated civiliza- tion ; that compact which the world devised long ago, 246 246 HEART'S DESIRE when first man's flocks and herds became of value, and against which the world has since then rebelled, and ever will rebel, until there is no longer any world remaining, nor any worth the name of man. The long room, low and bare, was rilled with silent, bearded men. Two or three smoky little lamps but served to emphasize the gloom. At the farther end, on chairs raised a few inches above the level of the floor, sat John Ellsworth and Porter Barkley. The latter was the first to address the meeting, and he made what might have been called an able effort. Ignoring the fact that civilization had been sum- moned to the bar of Heart's Desire for trial, and assuming that barbarism was put upon its defensive, he pointed out to the men of Heart's Desire that they had long been living in a state of semi-savagery. To be sure, they had not yet had among them men of executive and organizing minds, but the fulness of years had now brought this latter privilege. He paused, waiting a space for applause, but no applause came. He felt upon him scores of straight- forward eyes, unwavering, steady. The town, in its new shape, he hurried on to explain, ought, of course, to wipe out and forget its past. Even the name, " Heart's Desire," was an absurd one, awkward, silly, meaning nothing. They had tremendous coal-fields directly at their doors. He suggested the name of Coalville as an eminently practical one for the reconstructed community. His HEART'S DESIRE 247 suggestion brought out a stir, a shuffle, a sigh; but no more. Mr. Barkley declared that there must be a funda- mental revolution as to the old ideas of Heart's Desire. There had been no courts. There had been no government, no society. It was time that the old days of the mining camp and cow town were done, time that miner's law and no law at all should give way to the laws of the Territory, to the laws of the United States government, and to the greater law of industrial progress. He additionally, and with a hardening of his voice, pointed out that, under the provisions of the laws of society and civilization, property belonged only to the man who held the legal title to it. The gentle- men representing this new railroad were the first to assume legal title to this town site; they had taken all necessary steps, and intended to hold this town site in the courts as their own. Their expenses would be very large, and they proposed to be repaid. They felt that their holdings in the valley would warrant them in going ahead rapidly with their plans of de- velopment. They had bought some few claims in the coal-fields, had filed on others for themselves, and had taken over other and abandoned claims on both sides of the valley. Their disposition was not to be hostile. They hoped, after the preliminary organization of the town government should have been completed, to have the unanimous ratification 248 HEART'S DESIRE of all their actions. They felt most friendly, most friendly indeed, toward the hardy citizens of this remote community. They proposed to help them all they could. He felt it a distinguished privilege for himself to be the man to take the first steps for the organization of the new commercial metropolis of Coalville. But it was distinctly to be understood by all that the gentlemen whom he represented did not propose to entertain, and would not tolerate, any interfer- ence with their plans. He begged, in conclusion, to present to them, with the request for a respectful and intelligent hearing, that able, that distinguished, that benevolent gentleman, well known in financial circles of the East, Mr. John Ellsworth of New York, who would now address them. Barkley sat down, and, with customary gesture of the orator, passed his handkerchief across his brow. Then he gazed up, surprised. The applause was long in coming. He straightened in his chair. The applause did not come at all. The men of Heart's Desire sat hard and grim, each silent, each looking straight ahead, nor asking any counsel. Ellsworth felt the chill which lay upon the audience, and understood its meaning. He stood before them, a rather portly figure, clean, ruddy, well clad, fully self-possessed, and now, by intent, conciliatory. With hands behind his back, he told a certain funny little story with which he had been wont to conquer, HEART'S DESIRE 249 at least in social gatherings. No ripple came in response. The eyes of the men of Heart's Desire looked as intolerably keen and straight at him as they had at his predecessor. He could feel them plainly in the gloom beyond. Unconsciously on the defensive now, he explained in detail the undeniable advantages which would accrue to Heart's Desire on the advent of this rail- road and the carrying out of the plans that had been outlined. He did not deny that he considered the opinion of his counsel valid; that the valley was in effect open to settlement; that they had taken steps to put the first legal possession in their own names. Yet, he stated, although they had taken over a number of claims to which there seemed to be no legal title, they did not propose to interfere, if it could be avoided, with the holdings of any man then living in Heart's Desire. The re-survey of the town would naturally make some changes, but these should sit as lightly as possible upon those affected. Of course, the railroad company could condemn and confiscate, but it did not wish to confiscate. It desired to take the attitude of justice and fairnesp. The gentlemen should bear in mind that all these improvements ran into very considerable sums of money. A hundred miles of the railroad below them must pass over a barren plain, a cattle country and not an agricultural region, and hence offering relatively small support to a railroad enterprise. As 250 HEARTS DESIRE yet, artesian water was unknown in that country, and might remain always a problem. No natural streams crossed that great dry table land which lay to the west, or the similar plateau to the east. All their hopes lay in this one valley and its resources, and while without doubt those resources were great, while the coal-fields upon the one side of the valley and the gold claims upon the other had been proved beyond a peradventure to be of value, the gentlemen should nevertheless remember that all this road building and mine developing cost money, a great deal of money. Of course, no capital could be invested except under the protection of a stable and adequate system of the law. These gentlemen before him, Ellsworth said in conclusion, had chosen for their habitation one of the most delightful localities he had ever seen in all his travels. He congratulated them. He looked forward to seeing a prosperous city built up in this happy valley. The country was changing, and it must change, the line of the frontier passing steadily from the east to the west across the continent. They could not forever escape civilization. Indeed, it had now come to them. He hoped that they would receive it, and that they would receive him as their friend. As he closed, Ellsworth found himself not dictating, but almost pleading. The stern gravity of his audi- ence removed the edge of any arrogance he might HEART'S DESIRE 251 have felt. He sat down and in turn passed his hand across his forehead, as perplexed as had been Bark- ley before him. Both grew uneasy. There was a shifting in the seats out in the half-lighted interior before them, but there came no sound of applause or comment. Ellsworth leaned over and whispered to his associate. "There's something up," said he. "We haven't got them going. What's on their minds? Where's Anderson ? He ought to be here. Get him, and let's nominate him for mayor, or something. This thing's going to split!" "I'll go out and find him," whispered Barkley, and so slipped out of the room. He did find him, aloof, alone, pacing slowly up and down the street, the one man needed by both divergent interests, and the one man absent. " Good God ! Anderson," protested Barkley. "What are you do- ing out here by yourself? We need you in there. They're like bumps on a log. We can't get them started at all." "That's funny," said Dan Anderson. "Funny! I don't think it's very funny. You ar^ the one supposed to understand these men, and we want you now to deliver the goods." "If you will pardon me, sir," said Dan Anderson, facing him with his hands in his pockets, "I don't exactly like that expression." "Like it or not," retorted Barkley, hotly. "You 252 HEART'S DESIRE belong in there, and not out here in the moonlight studying over your maiden speech. What are you afraid of?" "Of nothing," said Dan Anderson, simply. "Or, of nothing but myself." " But we need another strong talk to stir them up." " Go make it, then." "What's that !" cried Barkley, sharply; "you'll not come in." "No, I'm done with it." " Why, damn your soul ! man, you don't mean to tell me that you've flunked — that you've gone back onus?" Dan Anderson bit his lip, but continued silent. "You've taken our money!" exclaimed Barkley. "We've hired you, bought you! We won't stand for any foolishness, and we won't put up with any treachery, I want you to understand that. Your place is in there, at the meeting — and here you are standing around as though you were mooning over some girl." "I hadn't noticed the moonlight," said Dan Ander- son. " As to the rest of it, the street of this town has usually been free for a man to think as he pleased." "You're a traitor and a squealer!" cried Barkley. "You're a damned cad!" retorted Dan Anderson, calmly. He stepped close to the other now, although his hands remained in his pockets. "I dislike to make these remarks to an oiled and curled Assyrian HEART'S DESIRE 253 ass," he went on, smiling, "but under the circum- stances, I do; and it goes." Porter Barkley, dominant, arrogant, aggressive, for years accustomed to having his own way with men, felt a queer sensation now — a replica, fourfold intensified, of that he had experienced before the silent audience he had left within. He was afraid. Dan Anderson stepped still closer to him, his face lowered, his lips smiling, his eyes looking straight into his own. "It's just what I said," began Barkley, desperately, "I told Constance — " The wonder was that Barkley lived, for the resort to weapons was the only remedy known in that land, and Dan Anderson knew the creed, as Barkley should have known it. His weapon leaped out in his hand as he drew back, his lean body bent in the curve of the fanged rattler about to strike. He did strike, but not with the point of flame. The heavy revolver came to a level, but the hooked finger did not press the trigger. Instead, the cylinder smote Porter Barkley full upon the temple, and he fell like a log. Dan Anderson checked himself, seeing the utter un- consciousness of the fallen man. For a moment he looked down upon him, then walked a few steps aside, standing as does the wild stag by its prostrate rival. The fierce heats of that land, still primitive, now flamed in his soul, gone swiftly and utterly savage. It was some moments before he thrust the 254 HEART'S DESIRE heavy weapon back into its scabbard, and, turning, strode toward the door. As he entered the crowded room he was recognized, and heard his name called again and again. The audience had wakened, was alive ! Ellsworth, sitting alone and anxious, looked up hopefully and beckoned Dan Anderson to his side. The latter seemed scarce to know him, as he walked to the end of the hall and, without preliminary, began to speak. " Gentlemen," said he, — "boys — I am glad to answer you. I have twice been invited to speak at this meeting. Rather I should say that I am now invited by you. A moment ago I was commanded, ordered to speak, by a man who seemed to think he was my owner. " He thought himself my owner by reason of this !" He drew from his pocket the roll of bills which had been untouched since he had received them at Sky Top. "Here's my first fee as a lawyer. It's a thousand dollars. I wanted the money. My busi- ness is that of the law. I am open to employment. You ought not to blame me — you shall not blame me." He held the money in his hand above his head. The silent audience looked at him gravely, with eyes level and straight, as it had regarded the speakers preceding him. "But — " and here he stiffened — "I did not know I was asked to help steal this town, to help rob HEART'S DESIRE 255 my friends. These men have proposed to take what was not theirs. They have wanted no methods but their own. They have not asked, but ordered. If this is their way, they'll have to get some other man." The men of Heart's Desire still looked at him gravely, silently. "Now," said Dan Anderson, "I've had my chance to choose, and I've chosen. The choice has cost me much, but that has been my personal cost, with which you have nothing to do. I am throwing away my chance, my future, but I do throw them away!" As he spoke he flung at Mr. Ellsworth's feet the roll of bills. "Sir," said he, "it is the sense of this meeting that the railroad shall not come into Heart's Desire. Is it so?" he asked of the eyes and the darkness; and a deep murmur said that it was so. Dan Anderson stepped down from the little plat- form out into the room. Hands were thrust out to him, but he seemed not to see them. He pushed on out, haggard ; and presently the assemblage followed, breaking apart awkwardly, and leaving Ellsworth standing alone at the rear of the room. Ellsworth was now wondering what had become of Barkley, and in his discomfiture was turning around in search, when he heard a voice behind him, and passing back encountered Barkley, staggering and bloody, as he entered through a side door of the building. 256 HEART'S DESIRE "Great God! man, what's the matter?" exclaimed Ellsworth. "What's happened to you?" "That fellow struck me with a gun. Let me in! Let me get fixed for him ! By God ! I'll kill him." "Kill whom? Who did it? Wait ! Wait, now ! " expostulated Ellsworth, following him toward his room; but Barkley still fumed and threatened. "That fellow Anderson — " Ellsworth caught. The sound of their voices reached other ears. Con- stance came running from her own room, questioning. "Barkley's been hurt," explained her father, motioning her away. "Some mistake. He and Anderson have had trouble over this railroad business, some way." " By God ! I'll kill him ! " shrieked Barkley again, in spite of her presence, perhaps because of it. "Where can I get a gun?" " You forget — my daughter — " began Ellsworth. But Constance avenged the discourtesy for herself. "Never mind, papa," she said coldly. "Mr. Barkley, you look ridiculous. Go wash your face; and then, if you want a gun, go get one in the front room. The wall's full of them." A glint of scorn was in her eyes, which carried no mercy for the vanquished, nor any concern for the victor. She drew her father with her into her own room. "By the Lord! girl," exclaimed he, "things have come out different from what we expected. I never thought — " HEART'S DESIRE 257 "No," said Constance, "you never thought. You didn't know." She spoke bitterly. Ellsworth sank down in a chair, his hands in his pockets. "Well, we're whipped," said he. "The game's up. That fellow Anderson did us up, after all, — and look here, here's the money he threw back, almost in my face. They went with him like so many lambs. Confound it all, I don't more'n half believe I ever understood that fellow." "No, you never did," said Constance, slowly. She was sitting upon the edge of the bed, gazing at her father quietly. " And so he threw away his chance ?" "Just what he did. Said it meant a lot for him to throw away his future, but he was going to do it." "Did he say that?" asked the girl. "Sure he said it! There's not going to be any railroad at Heart's Desire; and incidentally Mr. Daniel Anderson isn't going to be mayor, or division counsel with a salary of ten thousand dollars a year. Oh, well, to-morrow we'll pull out of here." Constance was deliberate with her reply. "One thing, dad, is sure," said she; "when we go, you and I go together. Let Porter Barkley take the stage to-morrow if he likes. You and I'll go back by way of Sky Top; and we'll go alone." Ellsworth pursed his lips into a whistle, many things perplexing him. "He's lucky to get away at all," he remarked at length. "From what he said, it looks like there'd be more trouble." 258 HEART'S DESIRE "Trouble!" She flung out her hand in contempt. " There'll be no trouble if it waits for him to make it. If I know Porter Barkley, he'll know enough to stay right there in his room. If he does not — " "By Jinks ! Dolly," exclaimed her father, "you re- mind me all the time of your mother. I never could fool that woman; and no one ever could scare her !" She looked at him without reply, and though he stroked her hair softly, he departed in discontent, his own head bowed in reflection. Meanwhile, out in the long street of Heart's Desire, little groups of men gathered; but they held to the sides of the street, within the shelter of angles and doorways. In the centre of the street there paced slowly up and down, his hands behind his back and not fumbling his weapon, a tall figure, with head bent slightly forward as in thought, although with eyes keenly watching the door of the hotel. Uncle Jim Brothers himself had brought out word of Barkley's threatenings, and according to the only known creed there was but one issue possible. That issue was now awaited decently and in order. The street was free and fair. Let those concerned settle it for themselves. Incidentally, Heart's Desire was willing that its question should be settled at the same time. Here was its champion, waiting. The watchers in the street grew restless, but noth- ing happened to interrupt their waiting. Upon the side of the house nearest them, lights shone from HEART'S DESIRE 259 three windows. Presently one of these, that in the room of Constance Ellsworth, was extinguished. A second window blackened; Mr. Ellsworth had retired. The third light disappeared. Porter Bark- ley, not yet exactly of the proper drunkenness to find courage for his recently declared purpose, had concluded to go to sleep instead. In the street Heart's Desire waited patiently, gazing at the darkened house, at the shaded door. Half an hour passed, an hour. Dan Anderson, with- out speech to any one, walked slowly up the street and across the arroyo. The light in his own casita flickered briefly and then vanished. "I told you all along he was game!" said Curly, emerging from the corner of Whiteman's store and offering everybody a chew from his plug of tobacco. "They ain't runnin' him any, I reckon. Huh?" "Shucks!" remarked Uncle Jim, disgustedly. " From the way that feller Barkley roared around, I shore thought he was a-goin' to tear up the earth. He's so yellow that in the mornin' I'm goin' to tell him to move on out of town. I've always kep' a respectable house before now, and I never did harbor a man who wouldn't shoot some ! " "In the mornin'," added Doc Tomlinson, as the group broke up, "I'm goin' to take Dan Anderson that saddle of mine that's layin' around in my store. Why, what does a man want of a saddle in a drug store ? I just want to give the boy something." CHAPTER XIX COMMERCE AT HEART'S DESIRE Showing Wonders of the Thirst of McGinnis, and the Faith of Whiteman the Jew There was a barber at Heart's Desire, a patient though forgotten man, who had waited some years in the belief that eventually a patron would come into his shop in search of professional services. No one did come, but still the barber hoped. He was one of those who had clamored most loudly for Eastern Capital. After the town meeting the courage of the barber failed him. He declared himself as at length ready to abandon his faith in Heart's Desire, and to depart in search of a community offering conditions more encouraging. In this determination he was joined by Billy Hudgens of the Lone Star, a man also patient through long years of adversity, who now admitted that he might be obliged to close up and move to Arizona. The news of these impending blows fell upon a community already gloomy and despondent. Some vague, intangible change had come over Heart's Desire. The illusion of the past was destroyed. Men rubbed their eyes, realizing that they had been 260 HEART'S DESIRE 261 asleep, that they had been dreaming. There dawned upon them the conviction that perhaps, after all, the old scheme of life had not been sufficient. The lotus plant was robbed of its potency. It was at this time that McGinnis came to town. His advent was the most fortunate thing that could have happened. Certainly it was hailed with joy and accepted as an omen; for, as was known of all men over a thousand miles of mining country in the Rockies, McGinnis was the image and emblem of good luck. Not that this meant prosperity for McGinnis him- self, for that gentleman continued in a very even condition as to wordly goods, being steadily and consistently broke, — a sad state of affairs for one who had brought so much happiness to others. History proved to the point of proverb that whenever McGin- nis visited a camp, — and he had followed scores of strikes and stampedes in all the corners of the metal- liferous world, — that camp was destined to witness a boom at no distant day. McGinnis was not actually a newcomer at Heart's Desire, but upon the contrary one of the autoch- thones of that now decadent community. He was a friend and former bunk- mate of old Jack Wilson, discoverer of the Homestake mine. Five years ago, however, at the breaking of the Heart's Desire boom, he had silently stolen away, whether for Alaska or the Andes no one knew nor asked. Returning now as 262 HEART'S DESIRE though from temporary absence, he punched an ancient and subdued burro into town, and unrolled his blankets behind Whiteman's corral, treating his return, as did every one else, entirely as a matter of course. Seeing these things, a renewed cheerful- ness came to the lately despondent. Whiteman the Jew, ever a Greatheart, openly exulted, and voiced again his perennial confession of commercial faith in Heart's Desire. "Keep your eye on Viteman," said he. "Der railroat may go, der barber may go, der saloon may go, but not Viteman. My chudgment is like it vas eight years ago. Dis stock of goots is right vere I put it. If no one don't buy it, I keeps it. I know my pizness. Should I put in twenty thousand dollars' vort of goots, and make a mistake of der blace vere a town should be? I guess not! Vite- man stays. By and by der railroat comes to Viteman. You vatch. Keep your eye on Viteman." He stood in the door of his long log store building, squat, stocky, bristling, blue shirted like the rest, and cast his eye down counters and shelves piled with clothing and hats, boots and gloves, pick-axes, long-handled shovels, saddles, spurs, wagon bows, flour, bacon, and all manner of things which come in tin cans. Dust was over all; but above the dust was expectancy and not despair. The Goddess of Progress had her choicest temple in the frontier store. HEART'S DESIRE 263 "I tolt you poys years ago," Whiteman went on, " you should blat der town. Ve blat it oursellufs now. Ve don't act like childrens no more. Ve meet again. Ve holt a election. Ve make Viteman gounty dreasurer. Dan Anderson should be mayor, and McGinney glerk. Ve make a town gouncil, and ve go to vork like ve should ought to did. Ve move Nogales City over here and make dis der gounty seat. Ve bedition for a new gounty — ve don't vant to belong to dot Becos River gow outfit. Ve make a town for oursellufs. Viteman didn't put in dis stock of goots for noddings. You vatch Viteman." This speech turned the tide, coming as it did with the arrival of McGinnis. Billy Hudgens decided to wait for a few more days, although for the time he was out of business for lack of liquids. It was for- tunate that McGinnis did not know this latter fact. The capital of McGinnis, aside from his freckles and his thirst, was somewhat limited. His blankets were thin and ragged, his pistol minus the most im- portant portion of a revolver — to wit, the cylinder — and withal so rusted that even had it boasted all the component parts of a six-shooter, it could not have been fired by any human agency. He had a shovel, a skillet, and a quart tin cup. He had likewise a steel-headed and long-handled hammer, in good condition; this being, indeed, the only item of his outfit which seemed normal and in perfect repair. 264 HEART'S DESIRE McGinnis was a skilled mechanic and a millwright, and could use a hammer as could but few other men. On the morning after his arrival McGinnis rolled early out of his blankets, ate his breakfast of flap- jacks and water, and put his hammer in his hip pocket, where some men put a gun who do not know how to carry a gun. McGinnis spoke to no one in particular, but headed up into the mouth of the curving valley where stood the silent works of the New Jersey Gold Mills Company. He was not cast down because he found no one whom he could ask for work. He whistled as he walked through the open and barn- like building, looking about him with the eye of a man who had seen gold mills before that time. "They've got their plates fixed at a lovely angle!" said he; "and there's about enough mercury on 'em to make calomel for a sick cat. There's been talent in this mill, me boy!" He crawled up the ore chute into the bin, and cast a critical gaze upon the rock heaped up close to the crusher. Then he examined the battery of stamps with silent awe. "This," said McGinnis, softly to himself, "is the end of the whole and in tire earth! Is it a confectionery shop they've got, I wonder? They do well to mash sugar with them lemon squeez- ers, to say nothing of the Homestake refractories." He passed on about the mill in his tour of inspec- tion, still whistling and still critical, until he came to the patent labor-saving ore crusher, which some HEART'S DESIRE 265 inventor had sold to the former manager of the New Jersey Gold Mills Company, along with other things. McGinnis drifted to this instinctively, as does the born mechanician to the gist of any problem in mechanics. "Take shame to ye fer this, me man, whoiwer ye were," said McGinnis, and the blood shot up under his freckles in indignation. "This is so bad it's not only unmechanical and unprofissional — it's abso- lutely unsportsmanlike!" His ardor overcame him, and, hammer in hand, he swung down into the ore bin underneath the crusher. "Here's where it is," said he to himself. "With the jaw screwed that tight, how cud ye hope to handle this stuff — especially since the intilligent and discriminatin' mine-boss was sendin' down quartz that's more'n half porphyry! Yer little donkey injin, and yer little sugar mashers, and yer little lemon squeezer of a crusher — yah ! It's a grocery store ye've got, and not a stamp mill. Loose off yer nut on the lower jaw, man; loose her off !" McGinnis was a man of action. In a moment he was tapping at the clenched bolt with the head of his bright steel hammer. Slowly at first, and sullenly, for it had long been used to treatment that Mc- Ginnis called "unsportsmanlike"; then gently and kindly as it felt the hand of the master, the head of the bolt began to turn, until at length the workman was satisfied. Then he turned also the corresponding 266 HEART'S DESIRE nut on the opposite face of the jaw, swung the great steel jaw back to the place where he fancied it, and made all fast again. "She's but a rat-trap," said he to himself, "but it's only fair to give the rat-trap its show." McGinnis went out and sat down upon a pile of ore. It was a bright and cloudless morning, such as may be seen nowhere in the world but in Heart's Desire. The Patos Mountains, across the valley, seemed so close that one might lay his hand upon them. The sun was bright and unwinking, and all the air so golden sweet that McGinnis pushed back his hat and gloried simply that he was alive. He did not even note the cottontail that came out from behind a bush to peer at him, nor mark the sweeping shadow of a passing eagle that swung high above the little valley. His eye now and again fell upon the aban- doned mill, gaunt, idle and silent; yet he regarded it lazily, the spell of the spot and the languor of the air rilling all his soul. But at last the sun grew more ardent, and McGin- nis, knowing the secret of the dry Southwest, sought shade in order that he might be cool. He rose and strolled again into the mill, looking about him as before, idly and critically. "Av ye was all me own, it's quite a coffee mill I cud make of ye, me dear," said he, familiarly. And at this moment a thought seemed to strike him. "It has always been me dream to be a captain HEART'S DESIRE 267 of industhry," soliloquized McGinnis. "I've always longed to hear the busy hum of me own wheels, and to feel that I was the employer and not merely the employ eed." He mused for a few moments, too lazy to think far at one flight. "It wud be nice," he resumed later, "to see the smoke of your own facthory ascendin' to the sky, and to feel that yerself 'uz the whole affair, cook and captain bold, ore shoveller, head ingineer, amalgama- tor and main squeeze." "All capital," continued McGinnis, "is too much depindent upon labor. The only real solution — " he paused to feel his pockets for a match — "the only real solution is to be both capital and labor. Then, av yeVe anny kick, take it to yourself, and settle it fair fer both !" He paused again, and again the light of his idea showed upon his countenance. "This," said McGinnis, "is Accajyun!" He wandered over to the little boiler which drove the engine, and took inventory of the pile of crooked pifion wood that lay heaped up near by. He sounded the tank on top of the engine house, and found that it was half full. Then, calmly and methodically, he took off his coat, folded it, and laid it across a bench. He picked up a piece of board, whittled a little pile of shavings, thrust them into the ashy grate, and piled some wood above them. Then he scraped a match, and turning a cock or so to satisfy himself that the boiler would not go out through the 268 HEART'S DESIRE roof in case he did get up steam, sat down to await developments. " She'll steam for sure," he rumi- nated. " She'll steam as much as wud do for a peanut wagon, av ye give her time." Before the morning was gone the little boiler began to thump and churn and threaten. McGinnis ran the belt on to the stamp shaft. He went up and con- nected the crusher and shovelled a few barrows of ore into the hopper. Not long afterwards there was a dull and creaking rumble. The shaft of the stamps turned half around, slipped and stopped with a rusty squeak. Then came further creaks, groans, and rumbles. McGinnis walked calmly from place to place, tightening, loosening, shaking, testing, shovel- ling, and watching. "It's wonderful," said he to himself, softly. "It's just wonderful what human bein's can do! If I hadn't ever seen this mill, I wuddn't have believed it ! But I'll say at this point meself, that I'm not looking a gift mill in the mouth. Moreover, this runnin' of your own mill, not bein' beholden to any sordid capi- talist, nor yet depindent on anny inefficient labor, is what I may call a truly ijeel situation in life. I'll stay here till the wood runs out. Not that I'll cut wood for annybody. Capital must draw the line somewhere!" No one noticed the smoke from the abandoned gold mill. McGinnis ran it by himself and undis- turbed until his woodpile waned. Then he discon- HEART'S DESIRE 269 nected, blew off, and set to work to scrape his plates, whereon to his experienced eye there now appeared a gratifying roughness in the coating. He got off a lump of amalgam as big as his fist, and was content. "It's ojus there's no retort here," said he, "but like enough I'll find some way to vollitilize this mercury." He crossed the arroyo, and went to the cabin which had once been the office of the assayer. The latter was now an emigri, but he had left his crucibles and his furnace behind him; because it is not con- venient to carry such things when one is afoot. McGinnis found a retort, adjusted it, set it going, volatilized the mercury from his amalgam, and in time had his button of dirty but quite valid gold. It lay heavy in his hand and rested heavy in his pocket. "As a captain of industhry," said he, "I must see what I can do for poor sufferin' humanity." He chuckled, and passed out into the street. "As capital," said McGinnis to himself, walking on in the moonlight, "I am entitled to the first drink meself, and after that to one or two as a laborer. Then, if there's anny left, after treatin' all round, I'll buy the town a public liberry, pervidin' the town'll make it sufficiently and generally understood that I'm a leadin' and public-minded citizen that has reached success by the grace of God and a extraor- dinary brain." But McGinnis in his philanthropic intentions met difficulty. He wandered into the Lone Star, and 270 HEART'S DESIRE placing his crude bullion upon the counter, swept about him a comprehensive hand. To his wonder there was no response. A few of the assembled populace shifted uneasily in their seats, but none arose. "Do you take this for a low-down placer camp?" asked Billy Hudgens, with a dull show of pride, when McGinnis demanded the gold scales. "No," said McGinnis, "it's a quartz camp right enough, and all it needs is developin'. At this speakin', I'm capital and labor both, and crew of the Nancy Brig. What's the matter?" A sigh escaped from the audience, as Billy Hudgens made reply. "Not a drop," said he; "all gone. Nothing till Tom Osby gets back from Vegas, and maybe not then. I owe Gross & Blackwell over two hundred now." McGinnis' s voice dropped into a low, intent whisper. "Do you mean to tell me that?" he said. "Me, with my thirst ? " He laid a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Friend," said he, "I've walked two hundred miles. I've developed your place. I'm in a position to give this town a public liberry worth maybe forty dollars. Now, do you mean to say to me — do you mean — " He gulped, unable to proceed. Hudgens nodded. McGinnis let fall his hand from the counter, turned and silently left the place. He moved up the street to the adobe where the barber had his shop. The barber was gloomily sit- ting inside, waiting. McGinnis entered, and looked HEART'S DESIRE 271 about him with the ease of one revisiting familiar scenes. In a case upon the wall were rows of shaving mugs, now dusty and abandoned, mute witnesses of a former era of glory. Indeed, they remained an historical record of earlier life in Heart's Desire. Once there had been rivalry between McGinnis and Tom Redmond for the affections of a widow who kept a boarding-house in Heart's Desire, the same long since departed. There came by express one day, addressed to Tom Redmond, a shaving mug of great beauty and considerable size, whereon the name of Tom Redmond, handsomely emblazoned, led all the rest. The fame of this work of art so spread abroad that Tom Redmond, as befitted one who had attained social distinction, became the recipient of increased smiles from the widow aforesaid. McGinnis bided his time. Thirty days later, there arrived by stage for him a shaving mug of such stature and such exceeding art as cast that of Tom Redmond com- pletely in the shade ! Thenceforth the widow smiled upon McGinnis. Tom Redmond, unable to endure this humiliation, and in the limitation of thing? wholly unable to raise the McGinnis ante in shaving mugs, was obliged to leave the town. McGinnis hung upon the handle of the Redmond mug a goodly card bearing the legend, "Gone, but not forgotten." Shortly after that McGinnis himself left town. Alas ! at the instance of the widow the barber hung upon 272 HEART'S DESIRE the McGinnis mug a similar card ; it having appeared that McGinnis had emigrated without paying either his board bill or his barber's bill. This evidence of his early delinquency now con- fronted McGinnis as he stepped into the shop for the first time in these years. He regarded it with dis- pleasure. "Take it off," said he to the barber, sternly. (f t paid the widdy in Butte, two years ago. As for yourself, I have come six hundred miles to pay my bill to you. Take it out of that." He pre- sented his heavy button of gold. The barber protested that he could not make change on this basis, but cheerfully extended the credit. He was glad to see McGinnis back again, for he was most promisingly hairy. "I am back, but I'll not be stayin' long," said McGinnis. "Have ye annything to drink?" The barber mournfully shook his head, even as had Billy Hudgens. McGinnis, refusing to believe such heavy news, walked up to the mantle, picked up a tall bottle labelled " Hair tonic," smelled of it, and without asking leave, raised it to his lips and drained it to the bottom. "For industhrial purposes, friend," said he. In twenty minutes he was lying in a deep and dreamless sleep. "In some ways this fellow has talent," said Billy Hudgens, as he looked in on McGinnis later; "but like enough he's come to a show-down now." HEART'S DESIRE 273 Until noon the next day McGinnis slept soundly. Then he sat up on the floor. "How're you feelin' now, man?" asked Billy Hudgens. "Friend," said McGinnis, "I'm feelin' some dark and hairy inwardly ; but I'm a livin' example of how a man can thriumph over circumstances." Where- with he smiled gently, sank back, and slept again till dark. "It wud have been too bad," said McGinnis to the barber when he awoke, "if you had left this town before I came. What ye've all been needin' is some one to give ye a lesson in not gettin' discouraged. "As for combinin' hair tonic and strong drink into one ingradyint, if anny one tells you it's a good thing, you may say for me the report lacks confirmashun. But we'll not despair. Aside from the proverb about the will and the way, 'tis well known that no disgrace can come to a real captain of industhry through a timporary change in the industhrial conditions. I'm sayin' to you, get in a new chair, and get ready for the boom." CHAPTER XX MEDICINE AT HEART'S DESIRE How the Girl from the States kept the Set of Twins from being broken Even as the stouter-hearted captains of Heart's Desire began to voice their confidence, a sudden sense of helplessness, of personal inadequacy, came upon Porter Barkley, erstwhile leader of the forces of the A. P. and S. E. Railway Company. With emotions of chagrin and humiliation he found himself obliged wholly to readjust his estimate of himself and his powers. He had come hither full of confidence, accustomed to success, animated by a genial conde- scension toward these benighted men ; and now, how quickly had the situation been reversed! Nay, worse than reversed. He, Porter Barkley, a man who had bought a legislature in his time, was ignored, forgotten by these strangers, as though he did not exist! More than that, Ellsworth was reticent with him ; and worst of all, when he met Constance at the table she gave him no more than a curt nod and a polite forgetfulness of his presence. Porter Barkley wished nothing so much as speedily to get away from the scene of his twofold defeat, 274 HEART'S DESIRE 275 although he knew that farewell meant dismissal. He knew also that he could restore himself to the respect of Heart's Desire in only one way; but he did not go out on the street in search of that way, although the Socorro stage was a full day late in its departure, and he was obliged to remain a prisoner indoors. Indeed, Constance and her father were little better than prisoners as well, for no possible means of loco- motion offered whereby they could get out of town; and all Heart's Desire remained aloof from them, not even the Littlest Girl coming across the arroyo to call on Constance at the hotel. "I'd like to have her come over to see the twins," said Curly to his spouse, "but I reckon like enough she's sore." "I'd be mighty glad to have a good square talk with some woman from the States," rejoined the Littlest Girl, hesitatingly. "I'd sort of like to know what folks is wearin' back there now. Besides that—" "Besides what?" "I don't more'n half believe her and Dan Anderson is gettin' along very well, someway." "That so? Well, I don't see how they can, the way he throwed the spurs into her pa the other night." "He just worships the ground that girl walks on." "You oughtn't to talk so much. That ain't our business — but how do you know?" "Well, because I do know," responded the Littlest 276 HEART'S DESIRE Girl, warmly. " Don't you suppose I can see ? I've talked with Dan every time he come up here to buy a pie — talked about that girl. He buys mere pies now than he used to. I reckon I know." "That may all be. Question is, how's she a-feelin' toward him these days?" " Curly," after a little silence, "I'm going to put on my bonnet and go over there and see that girl. She's all alone. I'll take her a pie. I always did think she was nice." "Well, all right. There's Bill Godfrey drivin' the stage out of his barn now. I'll go over to the post-office and help the old man with the mail. May ride out as far as the ranch with Bill and see if Mac has anything special to do. There was talk of that Nogal sheep outfit gettin' in on the lower end of our range. If they do, something'll pop for sure. You go on over to the hotel if you want to. Ma'll take care of the twins." The departure of the stage for Socorro occurred once a week or so, if all went well, and the event was always one of importance. Even Mr. Ellsworth and Constance found themselves joining the groups which wandered now toward the post-office, next door to Whiteman's store, in front of which Bill Godfrey regularly made his first stop preparatory to leaving town. As they two passed up the street from the hotel, they missed the Littlest Girl, who crossed the arroyo above them by a quarter of a mile ; Heart's HEART'S DESIRE 277 Desire being, in view of its population, a city of mag- nificent distances. The man from Leavenworth, postmaster} had nearly finished the solemn performance of locking up the emaciated mail-bag for Socorro, and Bill Godfrey was looking intently at his watch — which had not gone for six months — when all at once the assem- blage in and around the post-office was startled by shrieks, screams, and calls of the most alarming nature. These rapidly approached from the direc- tion of the arroyo, beyond which lay the residence portion of Heart's Desire. Presently there was to be distinguished the voice of a woman, raised in ter- rified lamentations, accompanied with the broken screams of a child in evident distress. There ap- peared, hastening toward the group in front of the store, Curly's mother-in-law, wife of the postmaster of Heart's Desire, and guardian as well of the twins of Heart's Desire. It was one of these twins, Ara- bella, whom she now hurried along with her, at such speed that the child's feet scarce touched the ground. When this latter did happen, Arabella seemed syn- chronously to catch her breath, becoming thus able to emit one more spasmodic wail. There was pain and fright in the cries, and the whole attitude of the woman from Kansas was such that all knew some tragedy had occurred or was impending. "Good Lord!" cried Curly, 'Til bet a thousand dollars the kid's got my strychnine bottle this time ! 278 HEART'S DESIRE I left it in the window. There was enough to poison a thousand coyotes!" He sprang forward to catch the other arm of the sobbing child. The man from Kansas, postmaster of Heart's Desire, hastened to join his wife in the street, wagging his gray beard in wild queries. In half a moment all the population was massed in front of Whiteman's store, incoherent, frightened, utterly helpless. " She's dyin' ! " cried the woman from Kansas. " Poison! Oh, Willyam, what shall we do?" But the postmaster was unable to offer any aid or counsel. "I just left it there in the window," explained Curly, excitedly; "I was goin' to put out some baits around a water hole, about to-morrow." "Oh, it's awful !" sobbed the woman from Kansas. "What shall we do? What shall we do?" "Doc," said Curly to Doc Tomlinson, "you run the drug store — ain't you got no anecdote for this?" Doc Tomlinson could only shake his head mournfully. A ring of bearded, beweaponed men gathered about the little sufferer, hopeless, at their wits' end. Constance and her father, hurrying to learn the cause of the commotion, received but incoherent answers to their questions. "Good Lord! girl, that child's hurt!" cried Ellsworth, helpless as the others. "What'll we do?" Constance did not even reply to him. Without his assistance, indeed without looking to right or left, HEART'S DESIRE 279 she made straight through the circle of men, who gave way to admit her. " What's the trouble here? What's wrong ?" she demanded sharply, catching the weeping woman by the arm, even as she reached out a hand toward the suffering Arabella. "Poison!" wailed the woman from Kansas again. " She's goin' to die ! There ain't no way to help it." "What poison — what has the child taken?" asked Constance. "It was strychnine, ma'am, like enough," ven- tured Curly. "There was some — " "Nonsense! It's not strychnine," cried the girl. In an instant her eye had caught what every other individual present had overlooked, although it was certainly the most obvious object in all the landscape, — the half -empty can which still remained tightly clutched in Arabella's free hand. "Why, here it is!" she exclaimed. "The child has eaten concentrated lye. Quick! Get her in somewhere. What are you standing around here for — get out of the way, you men !" They scattered, and Constance glanced about her. "Where's some grease — some lard? Quick!" she called out to Whiteman, who was looking on. "In here, lady — dis vay," he answered eagerly; but she outfooted him to the rear of the store, carrying Arabella in her arms. Spying a lard tin, she thrust off the cover, and plunged in a hand. Immediately 280 HEART'S DESIRE the sobs of Arabella changed to sputterings, for the physician in charge had covered her face, lips, and a goodly portion of the interior of her mouth and throat with the ameliorating unguent! At this act of first aid, the wails of the woman from Kansas ceased also, and a vast sigh of relief arose from the confederated helplessness of Heart's Desire. "Is she going to die?" gasped the woman from Kansas. " No," said Constance, scornfully. " I've seen much worse burns. The lye has perhaps lost a little of its strength, too. The burns are all well in the front of the mouth and tongue, and I don't think she swallowed any of it. Lard is as good as anything to stop the burn. Why didn't you think of it?" "I don't know, ma'am," confessed the woman from Kansas. A sudden loquacity now seized upon all those recently perturbed and silent. "Now," said Curly, "it's this-a-way; the women they must have left that can of lye settin' around. It's mighty careless of 'em. I needed my strychnine, but there ain't no sense in leavin' lye settin' around. Them twins was due to eat it, shore. Why, they was broke to eat anything that comes in tin cans!" Constance gathered Arabella in her arms. The tailored gown was ruined now. One hand remained gloved, but both were grease-laden to the wrists. She was unconscious of all this. Her gaze, frowning, HEART'S DESIRE 281 solicitous, maternal, bent itself upon the face of her patient. The men of Heart's Desire looked on, silent, relieved, adoring. A few began to edge toward the open air. "You ain't no kind of a drug-store man," said the postmaster, scornfully, to Tomlinson. " Why ain't I ? " retorted the latter, hotly. " What chance does a merchant get in this town? What do I get for carrying a full line of drugs here for years? Now, lard ain't drugs. It ain't in the pharmacopy." "I don't know but it's a good thing for that kid," said Curly. "She ought to be plumb soft-spoken all her life, after all that lard in her frontispiece. But it won't do 'em no good, — they'll eat my strychnine next. This here stage-coach — with her along," jerking his thumb towards the physician in charge, "won't be any more'n out of sight before that twin corporation will be fryin' dynamite on the kitchen stove. I shore thought that set of twins was busted this time for keeps. Unless there's two of 'em, twins ain't no good !" "Ma'am, your dress is just ruined," said the woman from Kansas; "you are lard clean from head to foot!" "I know it," cried Constance, gayly, the color coming to her cheeks; "but never mind, the baby's all right now." "Well, you've got to come over to our house and get fixed up. Was you goin' out on the stage ? You 282 HEART'S DESIRE stay here for a day or so and watch that child ; we'd like it mighty well if you would." It was a flag of truce from Heart's Desire. Never- theless, Constance seemed to hesitate. Ah! wily Constance. A great many things might happen which had not yet happened, but which ought to happen. And in all that group Dan Anderson was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps after a time he might come! Constance hesitated just long enough. The dignity of Bill Godfrey had to be sustained. His stage- coach had not started on the appointed and stipu- lated time any day these many months ; yet for that stage, ready equipped for its journey, to stand wait- ing idly upon the convenience of any mortal after the "mails" had been brought out from the post-office and placed safely in the boot, was mortal affront to any stage-driver's reputation. Bill Godfrey again looked solemnly at his watch and gathered up the reins. " All aboard!" he cried. "Git up!" and so swung a wide circle and headed down the street to the hotel. Presently he departed. He carried a solitary passenger. Constance and her father were still prisoners, or guests, in Heart's Desire for an indefinite time! And in an indefinite time many things may occur. In his house across the arroyo Dan Anderson en- dured the silence and loneliness as long as he could, turning over and over again in his mind the old ques- HEART'S DESIRE 283 tions to which he had found no answer. Most of all, one question was insistent. Had he been just to her, to Constance, in allowing himself to accept her alleged conduct as a motive for his own actual conduct ? He had taken for granted much — all — and upon what manner of testimony? The babblings of a half- witted herder! He had asked the men of Heart's Desire to hear both sides of his own case. The men of Heart's Desire had heard both sides of the rail- road's case. But he had condemned without trial the woman whom he loved — her — Constance ! It was impossible, unbelievable of any man. When the horror of this thought broke upon him fully, Dan Anderson sprang up, caught his hat, and started fast as he might for the hotel. He crossed the arroyo below the post-office, and so did not know, at the time, of the peril and rescue of Arabella. Nor did he know that all of Heart's Desire was penitent regarding her and her father ; nor that both were to remain for yet a little time. Dan Anderson approached the stone hotel in time to watch the stage depart, himself unobserved. Then he stepped farther toward the hotel door. He met the Littlest Girl just emerging from the building, whither she had gone upon the same errand as his own. "She ain't here, Mr. Anderson," explained the Littlest Girl; "her and her pa has just went to the post-office. " 284 HEART'S DESIRE He looked at her silently. " Oh, I know who you come to see," asserted the Littlest Girl, "and I don't blame you. It's time you did, too." Without a word he turned and walked with her up the street, there to miss Constance by three moments, which, potentially, might have been a life-time. CHAPTER XXI JUSTICE AT HEART'S DESIRE The Story of a Sheriff and Some Bad Men ; showing also a Day's Work, and a Man's Medicine "Dad, you've been drinking!" burst out Con- stance as her father met her at the door of Curly 's house. She had heard footsteps, and hastened to meet the visitor. Perhaps it was disappointment, perhaps indignation with herself that she had listened, that she had waited, which caused her to greet her parent with such asperity. "You wrong me, daughter!" protested Mr. Ells- worth, solemnly; "only took one or two little ones, to celebrate the saving of the twin. You've made a great hit with those people over there. They'd all celebrate, if there was anything to drink. I had to stock the Lone Star myself out of my valise. They won't have anything in till Tom Osby comes. "I say," he resumed, taking his daughter's arm with genial gallantry as they stepped out into the sunlight together, "these people are not so bad. They're warming up right along now. If you and I could stay here awhile, we'd get along with 'em all right — better understanding all around." 285 286 HEART'S DESIRE Her face brightened. "Then you don't give up the railroad?" "No; by no means. I never give up a thing I want. Besides, I wouldn't mind coming here to live for a while. The climate's glorious." "You live here? You'd look well in a wide hat and a blue shirt, wouldn't you, dad?" "More irreverence ! Of course I'd look well. And it's worth something to eat the way I do here. I'm getting better every day. Why, they tell me no one has died out here in a hundred years. A man can eat anything from cactus to sole leather, and keep hearty. I saw a lot of fellows over there just now, sitting flat on the ground in the sun out in the middle of the street, eating dried beef and canned tomatoes, and they looked so happy that I sat down and took a bite with them. They are just travelling through, — sheriff's party from somewhere, going somewhere after somebody." "What's that, Mr. Ellsworth?" the woman from Kansas came out and inquired; for she knew better than he what that meant. "Sheriff? Was he a tall, slim man, longish mustache, sorter thin?" Ellsworth nodded; the woman wiped her hands on her blue-checked apron. Constance glanced at her serious face, and wondered. "Then it's Ben Stillson," the woman from Kansas said, "the sheriff of Blanco. He's after somebody. Did he summons any of our men along?" HEART'S DESIRE 287 "I don't know, madam/' answered Ellsworth. The woman said no more; she only watched and listened. It was this posse, headed by the sheriff of Blanco, that Dan Anderson and the Littlest Girl saw when they reached a point midway between Uncle Jim Brothers's hotel and the post-office. The little group of riders, dusty and travel-stained, had come at a steady trot down the street. Stillson, tall, grim- featured, and bronzed, looked neither to the right nor to the left. He stopped, and ordered his men to dismount and eat. They swung out of their saddles without a word, loosening the cinches to breathe their horses. The men of Heart's Desire began to gather around them. " What's up, Ben?" asked McKinney, the one most apt to be concerned ; for cow men had borne the brunt of outlawry in that land for more than a genera- tion. "Has Chacon come across from Arizona, or has the Kid broke out again?" The sheriff looked at him gravely. "The Kid's out," said he. "We had him and two others at Seven Rivers, but he broke out four days ago. He killed the jailer and a couple of Mexicans farther up the river. There's four in his bunch now, and we've trailed them this far. They're likely headed for Sumner. We dropped in here, across the Patos, to get a couple of men or so. How are you fixed here?" 288 HEART'S DESIRE "Wait till I get a Winchester/' said McKinney, briefly, and started down the street. "Whiteman," Doc Tomlinson volunteered, "you 'tend to my drug store while I'm away, and if any- body wants any drugs, you go get 'em." "You all hold on a minute," said Curly, hurrying forward, "while I run over home and git saddled up." He did not see the Littlest Girl approaching, but the sheriff did. "Never mind, Curly," said the sheriff, quietly, pointing to her, "I want one more man, a single man." "You, Curly!" interrupted his spouse, "you stay right where you are. You get some one else, Mr. Stillson. He's got a family, and besides, he's such a fool." Curly flushed. "Was it my fault I got married?" he began hotly. "And them twins, was they mine, real? Now look here — " But the sheriff shook his head. He looked at Dan Anderson inquiringly. " Certainly I'll go," said he. " Wait till I get fixed." " That's as many as I'll need," said Stillson. " Hurry up, all of you." Dan Anderson hastened across the arroyo to his house, first asking Curly to get him a horse. Curly departed to his own home with the Littlest Girl; so that Constance presently got fuller news of the arrival of the sheriff's party, and learned also that Dan Anderson was to join them. HEART'S DESIRE 289 "But, Curly," cried Constance, "isn't it dangerous? Won't some one get hurt?" She winced. The steady flame of her own brave heart flickered at this new terror. "Kin savvy?" grinned Curly. "The Kid's gang shore'll fight. A good many fellers has got hurt goin' after him. But what you goin' to do ? Let 'em steal all the cows they want, and kill everybody they feel like?" "That's work for the officers," insisted Constance. "There ain't no police out here," Curly replied, "and not sherfs enough to go around; so a feller sorter has to go when he's asked. They won't let me, because I got twins — though they ain't mine. But, now, I've got to take this here horse over to Dan Anderson." He mounted and rode away. It was Dan Anderson himself who presently came at a gallop across the arroyo. A heavy revolver swung at his hip, a rifle rested in the scabbard under his leg, and a coat was rolled behind his saddle, plainsman fashion. Constance noted these details, but passed them in her eagerness and pleasure that he should come at least to say good-by. Something of the joy faded from her eyes as he approached. She had seen his face wear this same expression before, — fierce, eager, forgetful of all but a purpose. He did not smile. He stooped from his saddle and grasped her hand. He looked squarely into her eyes, but said no word of salutation or farewell. He 290 HEART'S DESIRE did not look back, as upon the instant he whirled and galloped away! For her there were to be yet more days of waiting; for him the relief of action and of danger. That afternoon Tom Osby drove into town from the northern trail. Mr. Ellsworth welcomed him and his rude vehicle as the first feasible means of getting back to Sky Top. By noon of the following day they were well upon their way, leaving behind them problems enough unsolved, and breaking touch with pending events which might cut short all problems for at least one loyal heart. It was a sad and silent Constance who looked back and said good-by to the rambling street of Heart's Desire, lying in the sun empty, empty! As for the sheriff of Blanco and his men, they trotted on steadily toward the northeast, hour after hour. They crossed the Patos divide, and a few miles beyond took up the trail of their quarry, at the point where Stillson had earlier left it. This they followed rapidly, crossing wide plains of sage brush and cactus throughout the day. They slept in their saddle-blankets that night, and were up and off again by dawn for the second day of steady travel. There were seven men in the posse, three besides Stillson from the Seven Rivers country, employees of the cow men on the Pecos, — slim, brown, thin-featured fellows, who talked little either in the saddle or at the bivouac fire by night. HEART'S DESIRE 291 The second night out they spent by a water hole in the desert ; and on the morning of the third day they ran into their game, earlier than they had ex- pected. The sheriff, riding in advance, suddenly pulled up at the crest of a low ridge which they were ascending, and came back motioning to his men to remain under cover. "That's the Pifios Altos ranch house just ahead," he explained, "and there's smoke coming out of it. Old Frazee's friendly enough with the Kid, and more'n likely the bunch has stopped in there to get something to eat. Hold on a little till I have a look." He took a pair of field-glasses from his saddle, and crawling to the top of the ridge lay examining the situation. "It's them, all right," he said when he returned. "I know some of the horses. It's the Kid and about three others. They are all saddled up — probably stopped in to cook a meal. We'll get 'em sure. Now, all of you hitch back here, and crawl around to the arroyo below, there. That'll put us within a hundred yards or so of the house." Each man, dismounting, hitched his horse, then quietly ran over the cylinder of his revolver, blew the dust out of the rear sight of his Winchester, tested the magazine, and cleared the breech action. This done, each crept to the place assigned to him. Dan Anderson found himself moving mechanically, dully, with a strange absence of excitement. He almost 292 HEART'S DESIRE felt himself looker-on at what other men were doing. For some time Stillson lay behind a little bush at the edge of the gully, peering critically at the house, from which came nothing to indicate that their ap- proach had been discovered. At length, without a word, he slowly raised his short-barrelled rifle and fired. One of the horses hitched to the beam above the door stumbled forward and sank across the opening, blocking it. The bullet had caught it at the butt of the ear, and it fell stone dead, its neck bent up by the shortened rein. In response, without a word of parley, a thin cloud of smoke gushed out of the only window facing the attack. Puffs of sand arose along the front of the arroyo, searching out each little bush top which might possibly offer cover. Stillson heard a smoth- ered spat and a short sound, and turned his head quickly. He saw Jim Harbin, one of the boys from the lower range, turn over with a sigh, and lie with arms spread out. He had been shot straight through the neck. Dan Anderson, the man nearest to him, drew him back. He would have raised the head of the wounded man, but the choking warned him. Harbin lay out on his back, looking up, his breath giirgling in his throat. "No use," he whispered thickly. "Leave me alone. I've got to take my medicine. 7 ' In ten minutes he was dead. The day's work went on. The sheriff fired three HEART'S DESIRE 293 or four more deliberate shots, but finally turned around. At each shot, the other horse tied to the beam sprang baqk. "Can't you hit it?" grinned McKinney. "I don't want to kill the horse," said Stillson; "I know that horse, and it's a good one. I want to turn it loose. Here you, Anderson, can you see that rope from where you are? Shoot it off, if you can, close up to the beam." Dan Anderson, in spite of Stillson's hasty warning to keep down, rose at full height at the edge of the cover, and took a deliberate off-hand shot. They saw him whirl half around, and look down at his left arm ; but as he dropped lower, he rested his rifle on a bit of sage brush, and fired once more. With a snort the horse, which had been pulling back wildly on its lariat, now broke free and went off, saddled as it was. "Good shot!" commented the sheriff. "That'll about put 'em on foot. What, did they get you?" Dan Anderson drew back from the crest and rolled up his shirt-sleeve above an arm now wet with blood. A bullet had cut through the upper arm above the elbow. "Serves you mighty near right," called McKinney to him, "standing up, like a blamed fool! You suppose them fellers can't shoot, same as us ? " Doc Tomlinson crawled over to him and examined the hurt. "It's all right," said he. "Bone ain't touched. Let me tie her up." 294 HEART'S DESIRE A half hour passed without further firing. Stillson edged around to the point nearest the house. " Here you, Kid/' he called out. "Come on out. We've got you on foot, and you might as well give up." A dirty rag was thrust out of a window at the end of a rifle-barrel. "That you, Ben?" called a muffled voice from the adobe. "You know it is, Kid. Drop it, and come on out. We've got you sure." The day's work was over. Dan Anderson remem- bered afterward how matter of fact and methodical it all had seemed. A few moments later a short, dirty young man appeared at the door, crawling over the prostrate horse. He held up his hands, grinning. He was followed by two others, both chewing tobacco calmly. The sheriff ordered down his men to meet them. McKinney unbuckled the belts. The captives seated themselves a few feet apart on the ground. "This all the men you've got?" asked the Kid. The sheriff nodded. "You've killed Jim Harbin," he added, jerking a thumb toward the arroyo. "Why didn't he stay home, then?" said the Kid, peevishly. No one seemed disposed again to mention an unpleasant subject. "Where you goin' to take us?" the Kid inquired. " Vegas. It's a United States warrant, and you go dead or alive, either way you want." " Oh, that's all right, Ben. We'll take the chance of stay in' alive a while." HEART'S DESIRE 295 Stillson now appeared to experience his first con- cern in regard to his casualties. "Doc," said he, "you take the ranch wagon here and carry Jim back to the settlements. You go along, Anderson. Doc, you drive.' ' "You busted up our breakfast," said the Kid, in an aggrieved tone. "Don't we eat?" He spoke complainingly. The day's work was thus concluded. It was a long ride back for Dan Anderson, lying part of the time himself prone at the bottom of the wagon, too faint to sit with comfort on the narrow, jolting seat. The long, muffled body of the dead man, wrapped tightly in its blankets, at times rolled against him as the wagon tilted, and he pushed it back gently. The day's work had been savage, stern, and simple. The lesson of the landscape, the lesson of life, came to him as he had never felt it before. He saw now how little a thing is life, how easy to lay down — gayly, bitterly, lightly, or quietly perhaps ; but not cheaply. He remembered the last words of the boy who now lay there, shrouded and silent, — " I've got to take my medicine. " "It's not a question of being happy," thought Dar Anderson, "but of doing your work, and taking your medicine." CHAPTER XXII ADVENTURE AT HEART'S DESIRE The Strange Story of the King of Gee- Whiz, and his Unusual Experience in Foreign Parts In the absence of McKinney with the sheriff's posse, Curly became, by virtue of seniority, acting foreman on the Carrizoso ranch. Grieving over the edict which held him home from sheriffing, and dis- consolate now that Ellsworth and Constance had departed, he sought an outlet for his feelings. "I'll show folks what a real cow foreman is like," he asserted, and forthwith began plans which, in his opinion, had been too long deferred by the more conservative McKinney. The wagons of the Carrizoso cow outfit came into town one morning, with a requisition for all the loose .44-caliber ammunition that could be bought, begged, or commandeered under the plea of urgent necessity. Whiteman burrowed through his stock from top to bottom, but still the new foreman growled at the insufficiency. " There's more'n five thousand sheep in that bunch that has just crossed the Nogales," said he, "and we've got to kill 'em, every one. Do you suppose my men is goin' to take to clubs, like Digger Injuns?" 296 HEART'S DESIRE 297 Whiteman could only shrug. There had always been ammunition in Heart's Desire sufficient for all benevolent and social purposes. No one had sus- pected sheep. The Carrizoso plateau had been sacred ground, and it was unsupposable that it could ever be desecrated by the trampling hoofs and scissor noses of these woolly abominations. Grumbling, Curly rode away with his wagons, surrounded by a group of be-Winchestered cow punchers, not unlike that which had accompanied Stillson out at the other end of the town. It was two days before they returned. When they did so, two of the men were not in their saddles, but at the bottom of a wagon. Beside them, bucked up and bound, lay a strange and long-haired figure, at which the new foreman occasionally looked back with a gaze of mingled curiosity and respect. It appeared that Carrizoso cow honor had been maintained. The five thousand sheep had been rounded up in a box canon, and scrupulously killed to the last item, while two herders went flying west- ward in fright such as might have warranted euchre upon their stiffly extended coat-tails. Willie, the half-wit, one of the sheep outfit, had read- ily taken the oath of allegiance; beyond that, how- ever, there had been a hitch in the proceedings. The man causing this hitch — the long-haired figure at the bottom of the wagon — had been presump- tuous enough to make a stand against the lords of 298 HEART'S DESIRE the earth! The men of Heart's Desire, confident that the new foreman understood his business, asked few questions as they gathered about the wagon and gazed at the silent captive. He was a singular-looking man, tall, lean, sinewy, with a high, thin nose and a square chin which seemed not in keeping with his calling. His left nostril was indented by a scar which ran across his cheek, and one ear was notched well-nigh as deeply as that of a calf at a spring branding. "This feller," said Uncle Jim Brothers, " looks like he come from Arkansaw." "Maj'be so," answered Curly. "Anyhow, he shot up two of the boys and killed a horse for us before we got at him. We was out of ammunition — I told you we didn't have enough. After we killed the woollies, and run off them two herders, we rid up the canon. There was him, a-settin' in the door of his ole Kentucky home, with a Winchester that'd go off — which it stands to reason couldn't have happened if he was a real sheepherder. I can't figure that out." Curly scratched his head dubiously, and looked again at his prisoner. "He ain't saying a vort alretty," said Whiteman. "He's happy enough without. He was livin' like a lord there, in his shack — four hundred paper- back novels, a keg of whiskey and a tin cup, and some kind of 'hop' that we brung along, and which was the only thing he hollered over." HEART'S DESIRE 299 The prisoner sat up in the wagon. "If you'd be so good as to give me the packet you've in your pocket," said he to Curly, "I'd be awfully obliged to you, old fellow, I would indeed." Curly drew a paper package from his pocket and passed it to the speaker, who opened it with eager fingers. " Thanks, my good man," he remarked, "thank you awfully." They led him into the deserted Lone Star for further deliberations. "That's the snuff he's been takin'," Curly ex- plained aside. "I know. It's ' hop.' Sheep, ' hop,' and whiskey! With that for a life and them for a steady diet, I don't believe our friend here'd last more'n about thirty years more." He turned to the captive, who by this time was leaning back against the wall in his chair, the central figure of present affairs, but apparently quite unconcerned. "How you feelin' now?" Curly asked. "Much better," replied the prisoner. "Thank you awfully. I was beginning to feel deucedly seedy, you know." "I'd like to know," inquired Curly, bluntly, "what in merry-hell you're doing down in here, anyhow Where'd you come from? Where've you been?" A half -humorous smile came to the face of the cap- tive. " You seem not to know a Sandhurst man, gentlemen, when you see one," said he. "I said he was from Arkansaw," remarked Uncle Jim. 300 HEART'S DESIRE "No foolin' now, young feller," said Curly, frown- ing. "You may have more trouble than you're lookin' for. What's your name?" "I really forget my first name," replied the prisoner, blandly, but not discourteously. "Of late I have been customarily addressed as the King of Gee- Whiz." "Well, King," suggested the acting foreman, grimly, "you'd better turn loose and tell us your story, about as soon as you know how." "Very gladly," responded the other, "very gladly. You seem a good sort, and you fought fair. I'll tell you the absolute truth. "I came from England originally, and not from Arkansaw, as my friend supposes, although I don't know where Arkansaw is, I'm sure. I was long in the British Army, or Navy, I cawn't remember which. I'm quite sure it was one or the other, possibly both." "I wouldn't kid too much, friend," said Curly, warningly. "I beg pardon?" "Drop the foolishness!" " You misunderstand me, I'm sure," said the King of Gee- Whiz. "At that time it was quite customary, indeed very fashionable, for young gentlemen to belong both to the Army and the Navy. Now, I remember with perfect distinctness that I shipped before the mast on her Majesty's submarine, the Equator." HEART'S DESIRE 301 Uncle Jim drew a long breath. "A submarine ain't got no mast," said he. "It crawls, on the bottom of the ocean." "Don't mind him, friend," interrupted Curly. " He come from the short-grass country of Kansas, and he don't know a submarine from a muley cow. Go on, King." "As I was saying," continued the latter, some- what annoyed, "I shipped before the mast on her Majesty's submarine, the Equator, Captain Harry Oglethorpe commanding, — a great friend of mine, and a very brave and clever fellow. I knew him well before I got so deucedly down on my luck. But what was I saying?" "About submarines — " "Ah, yes, I remember; we left Portsmouth Harbor the 12th of August, 1357. It seemed a gruelling hard thing to us to sail just on the opening of the shooting season, but the wuzzies were troubling a bit. "One day, as Sir Harry and I were sitting on deck before the mast, having a cigarette — " "At the bottom of the sea — on deck!" gasped Uncle Jim Brothers. "Pray don't interrupt me, or I'll never get on," chided the King of Gee-Whiz, politely. "We were smoking, as I said, awfter dinner. I was remarking to Sir Harry that we were having a very good voyage over, when, as he turned to reply, an orderly rode up to us and saluted." 302 HEART'S DESIRE "Rode — rode — rode up!" murmured Curly. "How could he?" "Let him alone/' said Uncle Jim. "Didn't he say he couldn't remember whether he was in the Army or the Navy? The horse goes." "The orderly saluted," resumed the King of Gee- Whiz, "and said he, 'I beg pardon, but the officer of the day presents his compliments, and begs to report that the ship's a-fire, and upon the point of exploding.' "Sir Harry looked at his watch. ' Thanks,' said he. ' Present my compliments to the officer of the day, and ask how long it will be before the explosion occurs.' "'I beg pardon,' replied the orderly, 'but the officer of the day presents his compliments, and begs to say that the explosion will occur in about three minutes.' "'Very well,' said Sir Harry, 'you may go.' — 'That will give us time to finish our cigarettes,' said he to me. The orderly saluted and rode away. We never saw him again. "The officer of the day was a very accurate man, very accurate indeed. In three minutes to the dot the explosion did occur. We never knew what caused it. No doubt the Admiralty Board deter- mined that, but we were not present at the session. "The explosion was most violent, and no doubt the submarine was quite destroyed by it. Sir Harry and I were blown to an extraordinary distance from HEART'S DESIRE 303 the spot. I remember saying to him, as we reached the surface and started upward, that it seemed quite too bad that we'd not had time to get together our personal kit for the journey. "It's no use my mentioning how long we travelled thus, for I'm not in the least clear about it myself. All I can say is that in course of time we descended, and that we found ourselves on solid ground, on the island of Gee- Whiz. That, you will understand, was an uncharted and hitherto undiscovered land, lying near the 400th parallel west of London and somewhere below Sumatra — several weeks' march from Calcutta, I should say. We'd never seen the place nor heard of it, but were jolly well pleased to alight upon it, under the circumstances. Of the rest of the ship's company we never heard. "It was a baddish fix, I must say, for to be marooned on a desert island is serious; and it's still more serious to lose one's ship in the British Army. Presently, however, we composed ourselves. 'I say,' said Sir Harry, ' this is a great go, isn't it ? Here I am with no luggage whatever except one bar of soap ! ' "Presently I saw approaching a band of natives headed by a large person, who was apparently their leader or king." "Then that was the real King of Gee-Whiz ?" asked Doc Tomlinson. "At that time, but not permanently, as I shall presently show you." 304 HEART'S DESIRE " I explained the situation to the King, who turned out to be a very good sort. 'God bless my soul ! ' said he. ' My dear sir, there's not the slightest occasion for uneasiness, there really isn't, indeed.' "You may fawncy the situation! As it was, Sir Harry and I were obliged to make the best of it. We concluded to remain and to take possession of the region in the name of her Britannic Majesty." "That's the most natural part of your story!" affirmed Uncle Jim, with conviction. "Thank you. But I must tell you of the complica- tions which now arose. You will see that all these people were sun-worshippers, or something of the sort, and they'd a beastly unpleasant habit, you know, of offering up a sacrifice now and again to appease the spirits, or the like. We learned they'd a valley of gold hidden away somewhere back in the island, and from this the King got all his gold, though even under these circumstances not so much as he wanted at all times. He'd the trouble of most royal families. u The ruler of this golden valley was some sort of a princess, and she was downright niggardly with her money, as some of these heiresses are, you know. She'd promise the King to bring him an apronful of gold if he'd give her a sacrifice to offer up, but he had no way of providing an offering. No one had come for years in the line of a sacrifice, excepting ourselves. You can imagine the awkwardness this created. The HEART'S DESIRE 305 King wanted to sacrifice us, one or both, directly. The princess, who by the by was a regular ripper in her way, was quite gone on Sir Harry, and he on her as well. At this point my own personal fortunes were much involved, as you may understand. "Sir Harry explained that while he wished to be quite the gentleman about it, and accord me every courtesy, he'd be obliged if I'd be the sacrifice, and leave him to represent her Majesty in the new terri- tory. We talked it over a bit, but came to no con- clusion about the matter. It was at this time that one of the most remarkable portions of our experience occurred. "One morning Sir Harry and I were standing in front of our residence, in our part of the island, talking over matters. Sir Harry was taking a bawth in a wash-hand basin — " "What's that?" asked Uncle Jim. "I reckon he means a wash-pan," explained Billy Hudgens. "At least, Sir Harry was making a deuce of a row with the soap, and he'd the wash-hand basin quite full of bubbles. Just then the King of Gee-Wfrz came by, and chawnced to notice the bubbles. You should have seen his expression! "You must remember he'd never seen a bit of soap in all his life ; and no one who has been without it — like the King and myself — can tell what that means. He was deucedly infatuated with the bubbles. In 306 HEART'S DESIRE short, he valued them at once far more than all the gold in the valley; and he wound up by telling us flat, that so long as we could make bubbles for him, there would be no sacrifice. He commanded us to appear before him every day and make these bubbles — Sir Harry showed him how to do it with his pipe — every morning and awf ternoon. "Awfter he'd gone, Sir Harry and I looked at each other. 'It's death or bubbles,' said he to me. I pointed out to him that it was either death or no bawth. He was much shocked. Evidently the thing could not go on, for our soap was already very near exhausted. Sir Harry was a sad dog. Said he to me, ' While there is soap there is life,' meaning to say, you see, that while there was life there was hope. Ha, ha!" " Leave that out," admonished Curly. "Go on." "About now there went ashore on the island the private yacht of a gentleman whom we found to be Sir Isaac Morgenstern. He was a retired soap-maker, of wealth and station, and was on a voyage to Samoa with his daughter, his household servants, and the like. He'd with him, as chaplain, a missionary, William Cook, a person of very fat habit of body. u When the boat went ashore, Sir Isaac, his daughter, Lady Sophie, her maid, a Miss Eckerstrom, Mr. Cook, and one or two others were saved, together with certain of their effects — an auto car or so, a piano, a harp, some books, pictures, and a number HEART'S DESIRE 307 of other items which made our life much pleasanter. We all settled down together in a bit of colony, and we got on well enough. "The King by this time was becoming most un- pleasant again about his sacrifice. Sir Harry was a sad dog. 'Sacrifice Morgenstern/ suggested he, 'he's used to sacrifice.' You see, in the retail busi- ness — " "Never mind dot," said Whiteman. "Tell vot happenet ! " "A great many things happened. For one thing, the death of Sir Isaac." "How come that?" asked Billy Hudgens. "One day Sir Harry met Sir Isaac in the woods, and they'd a bit of talk. Without thinking much about it, Sir Harry explained that he was called on to blow soap bubbles for the King, and that he was in great need of soap, which at that time was worth far more than gold." "Unt Morgenstern a retiret soap-mager!" ex- claimed Whiteman, involuntarily. "Now that was shore hard luck for /lira," added Uncle Jim. "You may quite believe so," said the teller of the story, gently. "And the saddest part of it, he'd nearly solved our problem before he left us. At once Sir Harry began talking of soap, Sir Isaac began won- dering how he could make soap. Ere long he thought of Mr. Cook, the missionary. ' Soap making is simple/ 308 HEART'S DESIRE said he, 'if one has fat and a bit of alkali.' The water there was most alkaline, I may add. 'Now there is Mr. Cook?' "'You cawn't have the missionary/ interrupted Sir Harry, 'until after he has married me and the princess. Then I don't mind.' "I've every reason to believe that Mr. Cook was made over into soap. But for once Sir Isaac was wrong. He oversold the market, and that was his mistake. As soon as the King of Gee- Whiz found that there was abundance of soap he lost his fawncy for bubbles. The shock of this lost opportunity prostrated Sir Isaac, and he presently passed away. We mourned him for a time, but presently other events occurred which deadened the loss. "You will understand that the King of Gee- Whiz was a deucedly good sort. He'd take a nip now and again, of course. The only thing he had to drink was palm wine, which he got by chopping a notch in a tree and catching the juice in a cup." "That sounds like wood alcohol," said Billy Hudg- ens, in a professional tone of voice. " It ain't safe." "Quite right. It wasn't safe. The palm wine itself caused the King to cut a pretty caper now and then ; but awf ter his mistake, he was far worse — far, far worse. He never got over that, never." "What happened to him?" "A most extraordinary thing. I never knew of anything like it in all the world. HEART'S DESIRE 309 "You see, there were two trees which grew close together near the royal palace. One of these was his Majesty's private drinking tree. The other, as it chawnced, was a rubber tree." Curly deliberately removed his hat and placed it on his knee, wiping, as he did so, a brow dotted thick with moisture. No one broke the silence. "You will easily understand," resumed the speaker, " that when the King of Gee- Whiz had chopped into the rubber tree with his little gold axe, drinking awfterwards a cupful of pure caoutchouc, it did not take him long to repent of his inadvertence. The results were what I may call most extraordinary. I should judge the rubber juice to have been of very high proof indeed. "To be brief, I give you my word of honor, the King was turned into an absolutely elastic person on the spot! When he stamped his foot he bounded into the air. 'He's a regular bounder, anyway/ said Sir Harry, who would always have his joke. 'And,' said he to me, as I remember distinctly, 'if his conscience becomes elastic, we're gone, the same as Cook and Morgenstern.' Sir Harry was a great wit. " Now, the more furious the King became, the more helpless he became as well. He simply bounced up and down and around and about. Reigning mon- arch, too — lack of dignity — all that sort of thing — must have been most annoying to him. We could 310 HEART'S DESIRE do nothing to calm him. In all my travels, I have never seen such a state of affairs; I haven't, really." "Nor me neither," said Billy Hudgens, sighing, "and I've kept bar from Butte to El Paso." "Then what happened?" demanded Curly. "Everything that could happen," said the other, bitterly. "Lady Sophie and her maid, Sir Harry and the princess — the entire household suite of the King of Gee- Whiz — were mad enough to taste also of the juice of this rubber tree. It had the same effect upon them ! I say to you, positively and truthfully, that then and there the island of Gee- Whiz was inhabited by the maddest population ever known in any pos- session of her Britannic Majesty." "Reckon they was a pretty lively bunch to hold," suggested Curly; "but what happened next?" " I am not quite clear as to all that transpired awf ter that. I know that I was the only sane man left on the island." "Then," remarked Curly, with conviction, taking a huge chew off his plug, "then that must shore have been one hell of a island !" But the narrator went on unmoved: "I reproved the others, and they resented it. There was a great battle with the natives one day, of which I remember but little. I seem to have been left insensible on the field. When I recovered, I saw dawncing off across the sea the figures of all these different persons except Sir Harry — who, of course, was with me in HEART'S DESIRE 311 the battle. Sir Harry was still with me, quite sober at lawst, and quite dead, I do not know from what cause. I was left alone. " It was thus, gentlemen, that I acquired, by right, as I think, my title which I assumed — awfter acting for a time as Viceroy for her Britannic Majesty — as the King of Gee- Whiz. For a while I lived there alone. Awfter wards, in some way, which I do not quite call to mind at present, I appear to have been discovered. It was shortly awfter that I received my decoration — I beg your pardon.'' He flushed a dull red. "It was nothing, of course," said he. "As to saving Sir Harry, it was only what any other fellow would have done in the Army or the Navy — I don't remember which. "So, gentlemen, I've told you my story as a gen- tleman should. I've been deucedly down on my luck ever since then, and I cawn't tell you, really I cawn't, how I happened to be here and in this business as you found me. There's many a younger son, in the Army or the Navy, who knocks about and gets a bit to the bad. I hope you'll not lay it up against me, I do indeed!" His head dropped forward on his chest. "I was stone broke," he whispered, "and I'd not a friend on earth." "And so you drifted here," said Curly. " Well, it's about the right place. Heart's Desire's wide open." "It wasn't so bad," resumed the stranger, wearily, passing his hand across his forehead; "it wasn't so 312 HEART'S DESIRE bad down here for a time. I didn't mind it, being alone, that sort of thing, for you see I was alone on the island for so long. But the trouble was that I was followed all the time — have been for more than a year now — by that cursed King — that damned fiend that I thought I'd left long ago! I'd go out into the sunshine, and there he'd be, walking, and bounding, and jumping along, anyway I'd look ! He'd follow me like a — look ! look ! there he is now. See ! " He raised a trembling finger and pointed to a spot in front of the open door. A black shadow was cast upon the floor by the strong sunlight which shone upon the figure of a leaning spectator. "Look!" cried the King of Gee-Whiz. "He's there! He's there!" He slipped and sank to the floor, rolling over into an utter insensibility. Curly put on his hat and stood looking down at him. "Sand, sunshine, and sheep herdin'," said he, "will do up any man in time. I'd 'a' made a good cow puncher out of this fellow, too, if I'd got him in time. By Golly ! I'll do it anyhow. I'll have Mac get him a horse and saddle and put him to work. Any feller that kin shoot and lie as good as him has got the makin' of a good cow puncher in him." They turned over the King of Gee- Whiz gently, that he might rest more easily where he lay. His coat and waistcoat fell open. Underneath them, upon the left side of his chest, appeared a small, dull- colored cross of metal. HEART'S DESIRE 313 "For Valor "; Curly read the inscription with diffi- culty. "I knowed it; I knowed he'd been a cow puncher sometime, and just went wrong." "Great Scott!" exclaimed Uncle Jim Brothers, "that's the Victoria Cross! This here's a V. C. man!" "I don't know that brand. It ain't registered for this range," said Curly. "Well," said Billy Hudgens, philosophically gazing at the sleeper, "I reckon 'D. T.' would be easier to understand, all things considered." "If he ever comes to," said Curly, as he cast away through the open door the contents of the pockets of the King of Gee- Whiz, " we'll try to get him through the D. T. stage as well as the V. C, whatever that is, and I reckon he's good for a job on the Carrizoso range. This country can't afford to be too damned particu- lar about a feller's past." CHAPTER XXIII PHILOSOPHY AT HEART'S DESIRE Showing further the Uncertainty of Human Events, and the Exceeding Resourcefulness of Mr. Tliomas Osby Tom Osby's freight wagon made not so bad a con- veyance after all. The first fifty miles of the journey were passed in comparative silence, Constance and her father for the most part keeping to the shelter of the wagon tilt. Tom Osby grew restless under soli- tude ere long, and made friendly advances. "You come up here and set by me on the seat/' said he to Constance, "and let the sun shine on you. The old man can stay back there on the blankets with my kerosene can of whiskey if he still thinks his health ain't good. Like enough he'll learn to get the potato off'n the snoot of the can before long. "You see," he went on, "I don't make no extry charge for whiskey or conversation to my patients. Far's I know, I'm the only railroad that don't. I got a box of aigs back there in the wagon, too. Ever see ary railroad back in the States that throwed in ham and aigs? I reckon not." "Twenty dollars extra!" remarked Ellsworth. "You've made the girl laugh." 314 HEART'S DESIRE 315 "Man, hush!" said Tom Osby. "Go on to sleep, and don't offer me money, or I'll make you get out and walk." This with a twinkle which robbed his threat of terror, though Ellsworth took the advice presently and lay down under the wagon cover. "Don't mind him, Miss Constance," apologized Tom Osby. "He's only your father, anyhow, if it comes to the worst. But now tell me, what ails you? Say, now, you ain't sick, are you?" He caught the plaintive droop of the girl's mouth; but, receiving no answer, he himself evaded the question, and began to point out antelope and wolves, difficult for the uneducated eye to distinguish upon the gray plains that now swept about them. It was an hour before he returned to the subject really upon his mind. " I was hear in' a little about Ben Stillson, the sherf , goin' out with a feller or so of ours after a boy that's broke jail down below," he began tentatively. "You folks hustled me out of town so soon, I didn't have more'n half time enough to git the news." From the corner of his eye he watched the face of his passenger. "A great way to do, wasn't it!" exclaimed Con- stance, in sudden indignation. " I asked them why they didn't hire men to do such work." "Ma'am," said Tom Osby, "I used to think you had some sense. You ain't." "Why?" "You can't think of no way but States ways, can 316 HEART'S DESIRE you? I s'pose you think the police ought to catch a bad man, don't you?" "Well, it's officer's work, going after a dangerous man. Wasn't this man dangerous?" He noted her eagerness, and hastened to qualify. "Him? The Kid? No, I don't mean him. He's plumb gentle. I mean a real bad man — if there was any out here, you know. Now, not havin' any police, out here, the feJiers that believes in law and order, why, onct in a while, they kind of help go after the fellers that don't. It works out all right. Now I don't seem to just remember which ones it was of our fellers that Stillson took with him the other day, along of your hurrying me out of town so soon after I got in." "It was Mr. Tomlinson, and Mr. McKinney from the ranch, you know; and Curly wanted to go, but they wouldn't let him." "Why wouldn't they?" "Because he was a married man, they said. And yet you say this criminal is not dangerous?" "He'd ought to been glad to go, him a married man. I've been married a good deal myself. But was them two the only ones that went?" "They two — and Mr. Anderson." Tom smoked on quietly. "Well, I don't see why they'd take a tenderfoot like him," he remarked at length, "while there was men like Curly standin' around." HEART'S DESIRE 317 "I thought you were his friend!" blazed the girl, her cheeks reddening. Tom Osby grinned at the success of his subterfuge. "If he wasn't a good man, Ben Stillson wouldn't 'a' took him along," admitted he. "Then it is dangerous?" "Ma'am," said Tom Osby, tapping his pipe against the side of the wagon seat, "they're about even, a half dozen good ones against about that many bad ones. They're game on both sides, and got to be. And we all know well enough that Dan Anderson's game as the next one. The boys figured that out the other night. Why, he'll come back all right in a few days; don't worry none about that" He looked straight ahead of him, pretending not to notice the little gloved hand that stole toward his sleeve. In her own way, Constance had discovered that she might depend upon this rough man of the plains. "Ma'am," he went on after a while, "not apropy of nothing, as they say in the novels, I wish you and your dad would hurry and get your old railroad through here. Us folks may some of us want to go back to the States sometime, and it's a long way to ride from Heart's Desire to any railroad the way it is, unless you've got mighty good company, like I have this trip. I get awful lonesome sometimes, drivin' between here and Vegas. I had a parrot onct, and a phonygraph, as you may remember, but the fellers took 'em both away from me, you know. 318 HEART'S DESIRE I'm thinkin' of makin' up to that oldest girl from Kansas and settlin' down. She makes fine pies. I've knew one of her pies to last two hundred miles — all the way up to Vegas — they're that permernent. She reminds me a heap of my third wife. Now, allowin' I did take one more chanct, and make up to that oldest girl, we'd look fine, wouldn't we, takin' a weddin' trip in this here wagon, and not on no railroad !" Constance was smiling now. "I've got her gentled and comin' along right easy now," thought Tom Osby to himself. "I knowed a feller up in Vegas onct," he went on, "got married and went plumb to New York, towering around. He got lost on a ferry-boat down there somewhere, and rode back and forrard all day; and says he to me, 'Blamed if every man in that town didn't get his boots blacked every day.' That's foolish." The girl laughed outright, rolling the veil back from her face now, and taking a full look up at the sky, with more enjoyment in life than she had felt for days. Further conversation, however, was interrupted by a deep snore from the rear of the wagon. "That," said Tom Osby, "sounds like the old man had got the potato loose." "I'm ashamed of him," declared Constance. "Natural," said Tom; "but why special?" "He oughtn't to touch that whiskey. I hate it." HEART'S DESIRE 319 "So do I, when it ain't good. That in the can is good. It's only fair your dad should break even for some of the whiskey he give the Lone Star. They didn't have a drop when I got in. Now, that's another reason why we ought to have a railroad at Heart's Desire. It might prevent a awful stringency, sometime. There's Dick McGinnis, why, he nearly — n "But it's not coming. It will not be built. They wouldn't let us in. We couldn't get the right of way." "Now listen at you! You mean your daddy couldn't, nor his lawyer couldn't. Of course not. But you haven't tried it your own self yet." "How could I?" "Well, you'd a heap more sense than to size up things the way your pa did. The boys told me all about what happened. A man out here don't holler if you beat him fair, but if you stack the cards on him, that's different. Dan Anderson done just right." "He broke up all our plans," Constance retDrted hotly ; and at once flushed at her own speech. "What was he to do? Sell out? Turn the whole town over to you folks? Soon as he knows what's up, he throws back the money and tells the road to go to hell. He kept his promise to me, and to all the other fellers that had spoke to him about lookin' after their places. He done right." Constance looked for a moment at the far shim- mering horizon. At length she faced about and bravely met Tom Osby's eyes. "Yes, he was right," 320 HEART'S DESIRE she said. "He did what was right." But she drew a long breath as she spoke. "Ma'am/' said Tom Osby, regarding her keenly, "not referrin' to the fact that you're squarer than your men folks, I want to say that, speakin' of game folks, you're just as game as any man I ever saw. Lots of women is. Seems like they have to be game by just not lettin' on, sometimes." She felt his eyes upon her, and this time turned away her own. For a time they were silent, as the well-worn wagon rolled along behind the long-step- ping grays; but Tom Osby was patient. "A while ago," he resumed after a time, "you said 'we,' and 'our railroad.' That's mighty near right. You two folks right here in this wagon, yourself par- ticular, can save that there railroad, and save Heart's Desire, both at the same time. And that's some- thing, even if them was all that was saved." "I don't quite see what you mean," answered Con- stance. "Oh, now, look here," said Tom, filling another pipe, "I ain't so foolish. I ain't goin' to say that the old days'll last forever. We all know better'n that when it comes right down to straight reasonin'. A country'll sleep about so long, same as a man ; and then it'll wake up. I've seen the States come West for forty years. They're comin' swifter 'n ever now." "When we first came here," said Constance, "I thought this was the very end of all the world." HEART'S DESIRE 321 "It has been. And the finest place in all the world, ma'am, is right at the end of the world. That's where a man can feel right independent. A woman can't understand that, no way on earth. A man's a right funny thing, ma'am. He's all the time hankerin' to git into some country out at the end of the world, where there ain't a woman within a thousand miles; and then as quick as he gets there, he begins to holler for some woman to come out and save his life!" She turned upon him again, smiling in spite of herself. "The boys have been mighty slow to let go of the old days," he went on. "In some ways there won't never be no better days. We never had a thief in our valley, until your pa come in here last summer. There ain't been a lock on a door in four hundred miles of this country in the last twenty years. When the railroad comes the first thing it'll bring will be locks and bolts. At the same time, it's got to come — I know that. We've about had our sleep and our dream out, ma'am." " It was beautiful," Constance murmured vaguely; and he caught her meaning. "Yes, plumb beautiful. Folks that hasn't tried it don't know. A man that's lived the old life here, with a real gun on him as regular as pants, why, in about three years he gets what we call galvanized. He'll never be the same after that. He'll never go 322 HEART'S DESIRE back to the States no more. That's hard for you to understand, ain't it? And yet that sort of feelin' catches almost any man out here, sooner or later, if he's any good. It's the country, ma'am." A strange spell seemed now to fall upon Constance herself, as she sat gazing out in the sunlight. She felt the fatalism, the unconcern of a child, of a young creature. She understood perfectly all that she had heard, and was ready to listen further. "Of course," continued Tom, "this, bein' South, and bein' West, it ain't really a part of the United States; so I can't save the whole country. But, such as this part of the country is, I reckon I'll have to save it. You'll see my name wrote on tablets in marble halls some day; because I've got a hard job. I've got to reconcile these folks to your dad ! And yet I'm going to make 'em say, 'Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son-of-a- gun from New York/ You didn't know I read Shakespeare? Why, I read him constant, even if I do have to wear specs now for fine print." Constance, in spite of herself, laughed outright with so merry a peal that she wakened her father from his slumber. "What's that? What's that?" broke in Mr. Ellsworth, suddenly sitting up on his blankets. "Never mind, friend," said Tom Osby, "you go back to sleep again ; me and Miss Constance is savin' things. I was just talkin' to her about her rail- road." HEART'S DESIRE 323 Ellsworth rubbed his eyes. "By Jove!" he ex- claimed suddenly, " that's a good idea. It shall be hers if she says so. I'll give her every share I own if that road ever runs into the valley." "Now you are beginnin' to talk/ 7 said Tom Osby, calmly. "Not that you'd be givin' her much; for you and your lawyer wouldn't be able to get the rail- road in there in a thousand years. The girl can play a heap stronger game than both of you." "Well, if she can," responded Ellsworth, "she's going to have a good chance to do it. We're going to build the railroad on north, and we don't feel like hauling coal down that canon by wagon." Tom Osby seemed to have pursued his game as far as he cared to do at this time. "S'pose we stop along somewhere in here," he suggested, "and eat a little lunch? My horses gets hungry, and thirsty, the same as you, Mr. Ellsworth. Whoa, boys!" Descending from his high seat, he now unhitched his team and strapped on their heads the nose-bags with the precious oats, after a pail of not less precious water from the cask at the wagon's side. Methodi- cally he kicked together a little pile of greasewood roots. "We're to have some tea, you know," he remarked. "I don't charge nothin' extry for tea, whiskey, or advice on this railroad of mine. Get down now, ma'am," he added, reaching up his arms to assist Constance from her place. "Come along, set right 324 HEART'S DESIRE down here on the ground in the sun. It's good for you. Ain't it nice ? "There's the back of old Carrizy just beginnin' to show," he explained; "and there's the Bonitos comin' up below. That's Blanco Peak beyond, the tallest in the Territory; and them mountings close in is the Nogales. There ain't a soul within many and many a mile of here. And now, with them old mountings a-lookin' down at us on the strict cuidado, not botherin' us if we don't. bother them, why, ain't it comfertable? This country'll take hold of you after a while, ma'am. It's the oldest in the world; but somehow it seems to me onct in a while as if it was about the youngest, too." Constance took the counsel offered her, and seated herself in full glare of the Southwestern sun. She looked about her and felt an unwonted sense of peace, as though she were rocked in some great cradle and under some watchful eye. "Dad," said she, quietly, "I'm not going home. I'm going to spend a month at Sky Top." "Has it caught you, ma'am?" asked Tom Osby, simply. "She talks as though there were no business interests anywhere to be taken care of," grumbled her father. "Oh, now, interests ain't exclusive for the States," said Tom Osby. "You come all the way out here to steal a town, and you couldn't do it. Give the girl a month, an' she'll just about have the town — or HEART'S DESIRE 325 her and me together will. You settin' there talkin' about goin' home ! Go on home if you feel like it. Me and Miss Constance will stay out here, and take care of the business interests ourselves." " We're personally conducted, dad/' laughed Con- stance. " Listen," said their personal conductor, balancing a cup of tea upon his knee. "Now, you folks has got money behind you that's painful. You don't have to steal, Mr. Ellsworth. It's only a habit with you. Now s'pose Miss Constance comes along, allowin' that God can plat a town as well as a surveyor, and allowin' that the first fellers that finds it has as good a right to it as the last ones — which she does allow, and know. Now, here's what she says. Says she, 'We'll go in with this outfit, and we won't try to steal the landscape. We'll pay for every foot of ground that's claimed by anybody that seen it first. We won't try to move no ancient landmarks, like log houses that dates back to Jack Wilson. We'll put in the yard at the lower end of the town, pro- vided that Mr. Thomas Osby, Esquire, gives his per- mission — always admittin' there may be just as good places for Mr. Thomas Osby, Esquire, a little farther back in the foot-hills, if he feels like goin' there. Now I reckon Miss Constance makes Mr. Thomas Osby, Esquire, yardmaster at the new deepot/ "Of course," assented Constance; and her father nodded. 326 HEART'S DESIRE "That'd be fair, and it'd be easy/' went on Tom. " We'll fix it up that-a-way, me and Miss Constance — not you. And as soon as we get to a telegraft office, we fire the general counsel, Mr. Barkley; don't we, Miss Constance?" The girl nodded grimly. "He's fired," said Tom. "You can take care of that the first thing you do, Mr. Ellsworth. Then you can make out my papers as yardmaster and gen- eral boss of the deepot. You can be clerk. "Now here we go, the railroad cars a choo-chooin' up our canon, same as down here at Sky Top. In the front car is the president, which is Miss Constance, with me clost along, the new yardmaster. Your pa is somewhere back on the train, Miss Constance, with the money to pay off the hands. He's useful, but not inderspensible." "Go on!" applauded Constance. "Who besides us and poor old dad?" Tom Osby turned and looked at her gravely. "And there comes down to meet us at the station," he concluded, "the only man we needed to help us put this thing through." Tom Osby finished his tea in silence. Constance herself made no comment. Her gaze was on the far-off mountains. "That there man," he resumed, shaking out the grounds from his tea-cup, "is the new division coun- sel for the road, the first mayor of Heart's Desire, — after Miss Constance, — and mighty likely the next •• • Something has got to bk did, and did miohty blame quick. HEART'S DESIRE 327 Congressional delergate from this Territory. Now can you both guess who that man is?" "I'll admit he's a bigger man than Barkley," said Ellsworth, slowly. "That boy would make a grand trial lawyer. They couldn't beat him." "No," said Tom Osby, "they'd think he was square, and that means a lot. They do think he's square; and the boys are goin' to do something for him if they can. Now if he gets back — " Constance turned upon him with a glance of swift appeal. "As I was sayin', when he gets back," resumed Tom, "some of us fellers may perhaps take it up with him, and tell him wiiat Miss Constance wants to have done." This was too much. The girl sprang to her feet. "You'll tell him nothing!" she cried. Ellsworth turned to Tom Osby with a sober face. "Young Anderson rode away from us the other morn- ing," said he, "and he hardly troubled himself to say good-by. We used to know him back East; and he needn't have taken that affair of the railroad meeting so much to heart." "Come!" called Constance, "get ready and let's be going. I'm sick of this country!" She walked rapidly away from the others. "A woman can change some sudden, can't she, Mr. Ellsworth?" remarked Tom Osby, slowly. "Look here, Miss Constance," said he, presently, 328 HEART'S DESIRE when he came nearer to her, standing apart from the wagon, "there's been mistakes and busted plans enough in here already. Now don't get on no high horse and break up my scheme." " Don't talk to me!" She stamped her foot. "Ma'am! ain't you ashamed to say them words?" She did not answer, and Tom Osby took the step for which he had been preparing throughout the entire morning. "Ma'am," said he, "one word from you would bring that feller to you on the keen lope. He'd fix the railroad all right mighty soon. Then besides — " She turned away. " The question of the railroad is a business one, and nothing else ; talk to my father about it." Tom went silently about his preparations for re- suming the journey. When he came to put the horses to the wagon tongue, he found Constance sitting there, staring with misty eyes at the distant hills beyond which lay Heart's Desire. Tom Osby paused at the shelter of the wagon cover and backed away. "Something has got to be did," he muttered to himself, "and did mighty blame quick. If we don't get some kind of hobbles on that girl, she's goin' to jump the fence and go back home." CHAPTER XXIV THE CONSPIRACY AT HEART'S DESIRE Tliis being the Story of a Sheepherder, Two Warm Per- sonal Friends, and their Love-letter to a Beautiful Queen When Tom Osby came back to Heart's Desire, he drew Curly to one side, and the two walked over to a shady spot at the side of Whiteman's corral, seating themselves for what was evidently to be an execu- tive session. Tom Osby continued to stuff tobacco into his pipe with a stubby' forefinger, and Curly 's hat was pushed back from a forehead wrinkled in deep thought. "It's a good deal like you say, Tom," he assented; "I know that. Unless we can get Dan Anderson and that girl to some sort of an understanding the jig's up, and there ain't a-goin' to be no railroad at Heart's Desire. But how're you a-goin' to do that ? " "Well, I done told you what I thought," said Tom Osby. "I'm a married man, been married seven times, or maybe six. There's just two things I under- stand, and them is horses and women, which I ought to, from associatin' with them constant. Now, I tell you, if I'm any judge of women, that girl thinks a 329 330 HEART'S DESIRE heap of Dan Anderson, no matter what she lets on. It's her that's got the railroad up her sleeve. The old man just thinks she's a tin angel with fresh paint. Why, he's done give her the whole railroad. He don't want it. He's got money now that's sinful. Now, I say, she's got the railroad. Dan Anderson's chances, they go with the railroad. If she could just get him to go with the business chances, that'd about fix things ; and I more'n half believe she'd drop into line right free and gentle." "Well, why don't she say so, then," grumbled Curly, "and stop this foolishness?" "Now there you go!" replied Tom. "Can't you see that any woman on earth, even a married woman, is four-thirds foolishness and the rest human ? With girls it's still worse'n that. If I'm any judge, she's wishin' a certain feller' d come along and shake the tree. But she ain't goin' to fall off until the tree's done shook. Consequently, there she is, still up the tree, and our railroad with her." "Looks like he ought to make the first break," observed Curly, sagely. "Of course he ought. But mil he, that's the question." "No, he won't," admitted Curly, pushing his hat still farther back on his head. "He's took his stand, and done what he allowed was right. After that, he ain't built to crawfish. He's passed up the girl, and the railroad, too, and I reckon that settles it." HEART'S DESIRE 331 " And yet he thinks a heap of the girl." " Natural! Of course he does. How can he help it? That's where the trouble is. I tell you, Tom, these here things is sort of personal. If these two folks is havin' trouble of their own, why, it's their trouble, and it ain't for us to square it, railroad or no railroad." "When two people is damn fools," commented Tom Osby, gravely, "it's all right for foreign powers to mediate a-plenty." "But what you goin' to do? She won't bat a eye at him, and he ain't goin' to send for her." "Oh, yes he is," corrected Tom Osby; and the forefinger, crowding tobacco into his pipe, worked vigorously. "He's got to send for her." "Looks to me like we can't do nothin'," replied his friend, pessimistically. "I like that girl, too. Say, I'll braid her a nice hair rope and take it down to her. Maybe that'll kind o' square things with her for losin' out with Dan." "Yes," scoffed Tom Osby, "that's all the brains a fool cow puncher has got. Do you reckon a hair lariat, or a new pair of spurs, is any decent remedy for a girl's wownded affections? No, sir, not none. No, you go on down and take your old hair rope with you, and give it to the girl. That's all right; but you're goin' to take something else along with you at the same time." "What's that?" 332 HEART'S DESIRE "Why, you're goin' to take a letter to her, — a letter from Dan Anderson's death-bed." "Who— me? Death-bed? Why, he ain't on no death-bed. He's eatin' three squares a day and settin' up readin' novels. Death-bed nothin'!" "Oh, no," said Tom Osby, "that's where you're mistaken. Dan Anderson is on his death-bed; and he writes his dyin' confession, his message in such cases made and pervided. He sends his last words to his own true love. Says he, ' All is forgiven.' Then she flies to receive his dyin' words. You ain't got no brains, Curly. You ain't got no imagination. Why, if I left all this to you, she'd get here too late for the funeral. You're a specialist, Curly. You can rope and throw a two-thousand-pound steer, but you can't handle a woman that don't weigh over a hun- dred and twenty-five. Now, you watch your Pa." Curly sat and looked at him in silence for a few minutes, but at last a light seemed to dawn upon him. "Oh, I see," said he, smiling broadly. "You mean for us to get up a letter for him — ■ write it out and send it, like he done it hisself." Tom Osby nodded. "Of course — that's the only way. There wouldn't either of them write to the other one. That's the trouble with these here States girls, and them men from the States, too. You have to take care of 'em. You and me has got to be gardeens for these two folks. If we don't, they're goin' to make all kinds of trouble for theirselves and each other." HEART'S DESIRE 333 "Kin you disguise your handwritin' any, Tom?" asked Curly. "I can't. Mine's kind of sot." "Curly," answered Tom, with scorn, "what you call your brains is only a oroide imitation of a dollar watch. Why, of course we can't write a letter and sign his name to it deliberate. That's forgery, and we'd get into the penitentiary for it« That ain't the way to do. "Now look here. Dan Anderson may be lookin' right well for a dyin' man, but he's on his death-bed just the same. That's needful for the purposes of dramatic construction. He's a-layin' there, pale and wore out. His right arm is busted permernent, and it's only a question of time when he cashes in — though he might live a few days if he was plumb shore his own true love was a-hastenin' to his bedside." "But it was his left arm that got shot," argued Curly; " and it didn't amount to a whole lot at that." "There's you go," jeered Tom, in answer, "with them imitation brain works of yours. It's his right arm that's busted. Now, him a-layin' there plumb helpless, his thoughts turns to his bride that might 'a' been, but wasn't. With his last dyin' words he greets her. If she would only hasten to his death- bed, he could die in peace. That's what he writes to her. 'Dear Madam/ says he, 'Havin' loved you all my life, I fain would gaze on you onct more. In that case/ says he, 'the clouds certainly would roll away!'" 334 HEART'S DESIRE "That shorely would fetch her," said Curly, admir- ingly, "but how you goin' to fix it?" "Why, how? There ain't but one way. The dyin' man has his dear friend Curly, or Tom Osby, or some one, write his last words for him. That ain't counterfeitin'. That's only actin' as his literary amanyensis, and that's plumb legal." "Things may be legal, and not safe" objected Curly. "Supposin' he finds out?" "Why, then, we'll be far, far away. This letter has got to be wrote. I can't write it myself, and you can't; but maybe several of us could." "I ain't in on writin' the letter," Curly decided; "I'll carry it, but my writin' is too sot, and so's my thinker." "Well, I ain't used my own thinker in this par- ticular way for about twenty years," said Tom Osby, "although I did co'te two of my wives by perlite correspondence, something like this; and I couldn't see but what them wives lasted as good as any." "It's too bad Dan Anderson ain't in on this play hisself," Curly resumed. "Now if it was us that was layin' dead, and him writin' the letter, he'd have us both alive, and have the girl here by two o'clock to-morrer, and everything 'd be lovely. But us! We don't know any more about this than a pair of candy, frogs." "The fewer there is in on a woman deal the better," HEART'S DESIRE 335 said Tom Osby, " and yet it looks like we needed help right now!" The two sat gazing gloomily down the long street of Heart's Desire, and so intent were they that they did not see the shambling figure of Willie the sheep- herder coming up the street. Then Tom Osby's gaze focussed him. " Now there's that damned sheepherder that broke us up in business," said he. "It was him that got us into this fix. If he hadn't lied like a infernal pirate, and got Dan Anderson to thinkin' that the girl and this lawyer feller Barkley was engaged to each other on the side, why Dan wouldn't have flared up and busted the railroad deal, and let the girl get away, and gone and got hisself shot." "S'posin' I shoot Willie up just for luck," suggested Curly. "He's got it comin' to him, from the way that Gee- Whiz friend of his throwed lead into our fellers, time we was arguin' with them over them sheep. This country ain't got no use for sheep, nor sheepherders either, specially the kind that makes trouble with railroads, and girls." "No, hold on a minute," interrupted Tom Osby. "You wait — I've got a idea." "Well, what is it?" "Wait a minute. How saith the psalmist? All men is liars; and sheepherders special, natural, eigh teen-karat, hand-curled liars — which is just the sort we need right now in our business." 336 HEART'S DESIRE Curly slapped his thigh in sudden understanding. The two sat, still watching Willie as he came rambling aimlessly up the street, staring from side to side in his vacant fashiom "A sheepherder, as you know, Curly," went on Tom, "has three stages in his game. For a while he's human. In a few years, settin' round on the hills in the sun, a-watchin' them damned woolly baa-baa's of his, he gets right nutty. He sees things. Him a-gettin' so lonesome, and a-readin' high-class New York literature all the time, he gets to thinkin' of the Lady Eyemogene. You might think he's seein' cactus and sheep, but what is really floatin' before him is proud knights, and haughty barons, and royal monarchs, and Lady Eyemogenes. "It ain't sinful for Willie to lie, like it is for us, because life is one continuous lie to him. He's seen a swimmin' picture of hand-painted palaces, and noble jukes, and stately dames out on the Nogal flats every day for eight years. That ain't lyin ' — that's imagination. "Now this feller's imagination is just about ripe. Usual, at the end of about seven years, a sheep- herder goes plumb dotty, and we either have to shoot him, or send him to Leavenworth. Your Gee- Whiz man can maybe take to cow punchin' and prosper, but not Willie. His long suit is imaginin' things, from now on. "Now, that feller is naturally pinin' to write thi c HEART'S DESIRE 337 here particular letter we've got on our minds. You watch Willie compose." "Here you, Willie, come over here!" Curly called out. The. herder started in fright. Timid at best, he was all the more so since the raid of the Carrizoso stock men. His legs trembled under him, but he slowly approached in obedience. "Willie," said Tom Osby, sternly, "I'm some hardened as a sinner my own self, but the kind of way you do pains me. What made you tell that lie about seein' the lady and that lawyer feller makin' love to each other, on the back seat of the buckboard, behind the old man's back?" "I thought I seen 'em," pleaded Willie. "I — I thought I heard 'em talkin'." "Oh, sufferin' saints! Listen to that! You thought! Of course you did. You and that Gee- Whiz friend of yours ought to turn yourselves into a symposium and write for the papers. Now look here. Have you got a copy of the ' Proud Earl's Revenge/ in your pocket?" Willie tremulously felt in his clothing, and did produce a dog-eared volume to somewhat that effect. Tom Osby turned over a few of the pages thought- fully, and then sat up with a happy smile. "There ain't no trouble about that letter now!" said he. "What — what — what do you want?" asked Willie. Then they told him. Willie radiated hap- 338 HEART'S DESIRE piness. He sat down beside them, his hands trem- bling with joy and eagerness — conspirator number three for the peace and dignity of Heart's Desire. "Go get some paper, Curly/' said Tom Osby, and Curly departed. Willie remained wrapped in thought, his mind confused at this sudden opportunity. "It's all about Lancelot," said he. "What brand did Lancelot ride under? Now, no foolin', Willie." " Why — why — why," said Willie, " Lancelot, he's at a tournyment. Now, he loves a beautiful queen." " Shore he does I That goes. What's the queen's name?" " Her name — her name — her name's Guinevere," replied Willie. "And the proud king, he brooks it ill. The proud king's name is Arthur." "Oh, no, it ain't /" said Tom Osby. "There ain't no man who's name is Arthur that has no scrap to him. It ain't Arthur that goes on no war-path." "Yes, he did," insisted Willie. "Lancelot gets herded out. He gets shot up some at the tourny- ment, so he leaves the beautiful queen, and he rides off for the range all alone by himself. He's like a sheepherder." "Come on with the paper, Curly," called Tom Osby. " This feller's thinker is workin' fine. Go on, Willie." "Now, Lancelot, he's layin' at the point of death, HEART'S DESIRE 339 and he's thinkin' all the time of Guinevere. I reckon he writes her a letter, and he says, says he, 'Dear Lady, I send thee my undyin' love/ says he. { I kiss the picture which is a-layin' on my breast/ says he; 'and with my last breath/ says he, ( I shorely yearn for thee ! ' " " Meanin' Guinevere ? " "Shore! Says Lancelot, 'Fair queen, thou didst me a injury onct; but couldst thou but come and stand at my bedside, I hadst new zeal in life/ says he." "Meanin' he'd get well?" asked Curly. "That's the same as Dan Anderson! This feller's a peach!" "Shut up!" admonished Tom Osby. "Go on, Willie." "It's always that-a-way," said Willie. Tears stood in his eyes. He looked vaguely out over the blue hills which hedged in the enchanted valley of Heart's Desire. "It's always that-a-way," he repeated. "Somehow, somewhere, there's always a beautiful queen, for every fellow, just over the mountains. It's always that-a-way." Tom Osby reached out a hand and gently shook him. "Set up, Willie," said he. "Come down now, till we get this business fixed. Now, what happens after that?" Willie winked his eyes and smiled amiably. "The sick knight, he writes a missive to the beautiful queen," he went on. "He sets his signet ring on to the missive, and he hands it to his trusted hench- 340 HEART'S DESIRE man, and his trusted henchman flies to do his bid- ding." " That's you, Curly," nodded Tom Osby. " You're the trusted henchman." "I'm damned if I am!" replied Curly. "I'm nothin' but a plain cow hand from the Brazos; but I don't take ' henchman' from nobody!" "Hush!" said his friend. "This feller's a genius. If he don't get side-tracked on Dead Shot Dick, or something of that kind, this letter is just as good as wrote, right now." " The good knight presses his signet ring on to the missive," resumed Willie, "and his trusted cow hand wraps the missive in the folds of his cloak, and climbs on to his trusted steed, and flies far, far away, to the side of the beautiful queen." "That's good!" "And the beautiful queen reads the missive, and clasps her hands, and says she, 'My Gawd ! ' " "Oh, now we're gettin' at it!" said Tom Osby. "Say, this is pretty poor, ain't it, Curly?" "And then," went on Willie, frowning at the inter- ruption, "the beautiful queen sends for her milk- white palfrey, and she flies to the distant bedside of the sufferin' knight." "She'll take a milk-white buckboard, more likely," said Tom Osby. "You got any palfreys on your ranch, Curly? But we'll let it go at that. She's got to fly to the distant bedside somehow." HEART'S DESIRE 341 "Oh, that'll be all right," agreed Willie, sweetly. " She'll fly. She'll come. It's always the same. It's always the same." "Write it down, Willie," ordered Tom Osby, thrusting the paper before him. Willie hesitated, and glanced up at Tom. The latter balked in turn. " What ! Have I got to start it for you? Well, then, begin it. 'Dear Madam!"' Curly shook his head. "You couldn't never marry a woman writin' to her that-a-way." And Tom, rubbing a finger over his chin, had to admit the justice of the assertion. "Leave it to Willie," suggested Curly. "He'll get it started after a while. Go ahead, Willie. How did he say it to her, now, when he sent for the beauti- ful queen?" Tom Osby's pencil followed rapidly as it might. "He writes," said Willie, "like they always do. He says : ' Light of my heart, I have loved you for these years, and they have seemed so long. I could love no other woman after seeing you, and this you should know with no proof but my word. If I have drawr apart from you, 'twas through no fault of mine, and this I pray you to believe. If I have not acted to my own heart the full part of a man, 'tis for that reason I have hidden away; but believe me, my faith and my love have been the same. If I have missed the dear sight of your face, 'twas because I 342 HEART'S DESIRE could not call it mine with honor, nor dare that vision with any plea on my lips, or any feeling in my heart, but that of honor. Heart's Heart, and life of my life, could you not see ? I could not doom you to a life unfit, and still ask you to love me as a man.'" He passed his hand across his face, as though it were not himself he heard speaking ; but he went on. "'Now I lie here hurt to death,' says the good knight Lancelot. 'This is the end. Now, at the time when truth must come from the soul, I say to you, my queen' — she's always queen to him — ' I say to you, I have loved you more than I have loved myself. But if you could come, if you could stand at my bedside before it is too late, before it is too late — too late — '" Willie's voice broke into a wail. The ray of light was almost fading from his clouded brain. "Go on," whispered Tom Osby. "'My queen, my darling — ' says Lancelot." Willie's hands, trembling, fell into his lap. "It's always that-a-way," he whimpered vaguely, coming now to himself. "Willie," said Tom Osby, gently, "I ain't right sure I've got it all down straight, but I think I have. You read her over, and touch her up here and there where she needs it. Curly, look here. I don't believe Dan Anderson would hesertate one minute to sign this if he saw it." HEART'S DESIRE 343 "They sign it with their hearts," said Willie, vaguely. "They always do." "He signs it with his heart," said Tom Osby, "and it goes!" He folded the paper and handed it to Curly. "Saddle up that Pinto horse, Curly, if you can," said he, "and make the run to Sky Top as fast as God'll let you. This letter's all right, and it goes!" So presently there rode down the long sunlit street of Heart's Desire, mounted upon the mad horse Pinto, this courier to the queen, bearing a message from a mad brain and two simple hearts, — a courier bound upon a strange and kindly errand. The blue mountains, beyond whose rim lived the sovereign, looked gently down, and the stern walls of the canon seemed to widen and make room for the messenger as he swept on, carrying the greet- ings of an absent knight to his distant queen. "It's like he said," mused Curly to himself, feeling in his pocket for tobacco as he rode. " It's that-a- way, and I reckon it always has been. I've felt like that myself sometimes. Oh, Pinto! Vamos!" CHAPTER XXV ROMANCE AT HEART'S DESIRE The Pleasing Recounted of an Absent Knight, a Gentle Lady , and an Ananias with Spurs Long and weary miles lay before Curly, messenger to the queen, but the bigness of his errand lightened the way, and his own courage and hopefulness com- municated themselves to his steed. The mad horse, Pinto, indomitable, unapproachable, loped along with head down and ears back, surly at touch of rein or spur, yet steady in his gait as an antelope. The two swept down the long canon from Heart's Desire, traversed for twenty-five miles the alkali plain below, and climbed then the Nogales and the Bonitos, over paths known only to cattle thieves and those who pursued them. At last they swung down into the beautiful valley of the Bonito, and thence in the night far to the southward, until at length they reached the defiles of the Sacramentos. They pulled up after more than a day and a night of travel, weary but not hopelessly the worse for wear, at the end of the steep trail up the mountains to the Sky Top hotel. Curly, a trifle gaunt, gave his first attention to his 344 HEART'S DESIRE 345 horse, which he unsaddled with a slap of approval, and turned loose to feed as best it might on the coarse herbage of the upper heights. His next thought was for himself, and he realized that he was hungry. Im- mediately there dawned upon his mind another great conviction. He was scared ! He looked about at the long galleries of the ornate modern log house, wherein civilization sought to ape the wilderness; but it was not the arrogant preten- tiousness of the building itself which caused him to shift his glance and stand dubiously upon one foot. It was the thought of what the edifice might contain. There, as he began too late to reflect, was the queen ! He, the trusted henchman, was bearing to her a mis- sive regarding whose nature he now experienced sudden misgivings. Suppose Willie, the sheepherder, had not, after all, been able to meet the requirements of a situation so delicate and so important! Curly had known the plains and the mountains all his life. He had ridden in the press of the buffalo herd in the Panhandle, had headed cattle stampedes in the breaks of the Pecos, had met the long-toed cinnamon bear all over these mountains that lay about him — hal even heard the whisper of hostile lead as part of his own day's work, — but never before had his heart failed him. Nevertheless, his face puckered into a frown of determination, he stumbled, a trifle pigeon-toed in his high-heeled boots, across the floor of one gallery after 346 HEART'S DESIRE another, and knocked at one door after another, until finally, by aid of lingering Mexican servants, he found himself in the presence of the beautiful queen whom he had sought. He ratified her title when she came toward him where he stood, twirling his hat in his hands ; so tall was she, so grave and dignified, yet so very sweet and simple. Curly was a man, and he felt the spell of smooth brown hair and wide brows, and straight, sincere eyes; not to speak of a queen's figure clad in such raiment as had not often been given Curly to look upon. He gazed in a frank admiration which lessened his fear. Constance Ellsworth held out her hand, with questions for his own household at Heart's Desire. Was everything right with them? Was Arabella quite well of her accident ? Was his wife well ? And so on. But all the time she questioned him deeper with eyes large, wistful, eager. She had had no news since leaving Heart's Desire, and now she dreaded any. This, then, she said with tightening heart, was news, but fatal news, long withheld. Had Dan Anderson come back unhurt from his sheriff's errand, there would have been no message at all, and silence would have been sweeter than this certainty of evil. This messenger, reticent, awkward, embar- rassed, brought her news of Dan Anderson — of the boy whom she had loved, of the man she loved, debonair, mocking, apparently careless, but, as she HEART'S DESIRE 347 herself knew, in his heart indomitably resolved. Now he was gone forever from her life. He was dead! She could never see him again. Ah ! why had they not used the days of this life, so brief, so soon ended ? It was of his death that the messenger must speak. Curly, already sufficiently perturbed, witnessed all this written on her face, stumbled, stammered, but was unable to find coherent speech ; although he saw plainly enough the subterfuge with which even now the girl sought to hedge herself against pry- ing eyes that would have read her secret. She began again to ask him of his family, the same questions. "Is anything wrong ?" she demanded. In some way they were seated before he could go on. "It ain't the twins, ma'am," he began. "I got — I got a letter for you. It's from him — from us — that is, I got a letter from Mr. Anderson — Dan Anderson, you know." He fumbled in his pocket. The girl, thoroughbred, looked him straight in the face, pale, meeting what she felt to be the great moment of her life. "Then he's alive! He must be!" Curly shook his head ; meaning that he was feeling in the wrong pocket. " He is dead ! And I did not see him. He — went away — " Her chin quivered. "Tell me," she whispered, " tell me!" Curly, busy in his search for the letter, lost the tragedy of this. 348 HEART'S DESIRE "Tell me, tell me, how did it happen?" "Well, ma'am, he ain't hurt so awful," remarked Curly, calmly. " He just got a finger or so touched up a little, so's he couldn't write none to speak of, you see." Her heart gave a great bound. She feared to hope, lest the truth might be too cruel; but at length she dared the issue. "Curly," said she, firmly, "you are not telling me the truth." "I know it, ma'am," replied Curly, amiably; he suddenly realized that he was not making his own case quite strong enough. "The fact is, he got hurt a leetle bit worse'n that. His hand, his left — no, I mean his right hand got busted up plenty. Why, he couldn't cut his own victuals. The fact is, it's maybe even a little worse'n that." "Tell me the truth!" the girl demanded steadily. "Is his arm gone?" "Sure it is," replied Curly, cheerfully, glad of assistance. "Do you reckon Dan Anderson would be gettin' anybody to write to you for him if he had even a piece of a arm left in the shop ? I reckon not ! He ain't that sort of a man." Curly's sudden improvement gave him courage. "The fact is, ma'am," said he, "I got to break this thing to you kind of gentle. You know how that is yourself." "I know. all about it now," she said calmly. "I knew he would not come back — I saw it in his face. It was all because of that miserable railroad trouble HEART'S DESIRE 349 that he went away — that he didn't ever come. It was all my own fault — my fault, — but I didn't mean it — I didn't — " Curly, for the first time in his life, found himself engaged in an important emotional situation. He rose and gazed down at her with solemn pity written upon his countenance. "Ma'am," he said, "I don't like to see you take on. I wish't you wouldn't. Why, I've seen men shot like Dan Anderson is, bullets clean through the middle of their body, and them out and frisky in less'n six weeks." "He m7Z live?" "Oh, well" and Curly rubbed his chin in delibera- tion, " I can't say about that. He might live. You see, there ain't no doctor at Heart's Desire. The boys just took care of him the best they could. They brung him home from quite a ways off. They — they cut his arm off easy as they could, them not bein' reg'lar doctors. They — they sewed him up fine. He was shot some in the fight with the Kid's gang, out to the Piiios Altos ranch. The sherf tole me hisself Dan was as game a man as ever throwed a leg over a saddle. When he got back from takin' the Kid up to Vegas, the sherf — that's Ben Stillson — he starts down to Cruces. Convention there this week, ma'am. Ben, he allowed he'd get Dan An- derson nomernated for Congress — that is, if he hadn't 'a' got killed." 350 HEART'S DESIRE "I knew he was a brave man/' said the girl, quietly. "I've known that a long time." "You didn't know any more'n us fellers knowed all along," said Curly. "There never was a squarer, nor a whiter, nor a gamer man stood on leather than him. He come out here to stay, and he's the sort that we all wouldn't let go of. Some of 'em goes back home. He didn't. What there was here he could have. For one while we thought he was throwin' us down in this railroad deal, but now we know he wasn't. We done elected him mayor, and right soon we're goin' to elect him something bet- ter'n that — if they ain't started it already over to Cruces — that is, I mean, if he ever gets well, which ain't likely — him bein' dead. Now I hate to talk this-a-way to you, ma'am; I ought to give you this letter. But I leave it to you if I ain't broke it as gentle as any feller could." Curly saw the bowed head, and soared to still greater heights. "Ma'am," said he, "I don't see why you take on the way j^ou do. We all know that you don't care a damn for Dan Anderson, or for Heart's Desire. Dan Anderson knowed that hisself, and has knowed it all along. You got no right to cry. You got no right to let on what you don't really feel. I won't stand for that a minute, ma'am. Now I'm — I'm plumb sincere and truthful. No frills goes." There was the solemnity of conscious virtue in his voice as he went on. HEART'S DESIRE 351 "I'm this much of a mind-reader, ma'am/' said he, "that I know you don't care a snap of your finger for Dan Anderson. That's everdent. I ain't in on that side of the play. I'm just here to say that, so far as he's concerned hisself, he'd 'a' laid down and died cheerful any minute of his life for you." She flung upward a tearful face to look at him once more. "He just worships the place where your shadow used to fall at, that's all," said Curly, firmly. "He don't talk of nothing else but you, ma'am." "How dare he talk of me!" she flashed. " Oh, that is — well, that is, he don't talk so blamed much, after all" stammered Curly. " Leastwise, not none now. He's out of his head most of the time, now." "Then you've not told me everything, even yet," exclaimed she, piteously. "Not quite," said Curly, with a long breath; "but I'm a-comin' along." "He's dying!" she cried with conviction. Curly, now taking an impersonal interest in the dramatic aspect of the affair, solemnly turned away his head "Ma'am," said he, at length, "he thought a heap of you when he was alive. We — we all did, but he did special and private like. Why, ma'am, if you'd come and stand by his grave, he'd wake up now and welcome you ! You see, I am a married man my own self, and Tom Osby, he's been married copious; and 352 HEART'S DESIRE Tom and me, we both allowed just like I said. We knew the diseased would have done that cheerful — if he had any sort of chanct." The girl sprang up. "He's not dead!" she cried, and her eyes blazed, her natural courage refusing to yield. "I'll not believe it I" "I didn't ast you to, ma'am," said Curly. "He ain't plumb dead; he's just threatened. Oh, say, you've kind of got me rattled, you see. I've got a missage — I mean a missive — anyways a letter, from him. I had it in my pants pocket all the time, and thought it was in my coat. Them was the last words he wrote." She tore the letter from his hand, and her eyes caught every word of it at the first glance. "This is not his letter!" she exclaimed. "He never wrote it ! It's not in his hand !" "Ma'am," said Curly, virtuously grieved, "how could you! I didn't say he wrote it. He had to have a amanyensis, of course, — him a-layin' there all shot up. Nobody said it was his handwritin'. It ain't his handwritin'. It's his heartwritm'. They sign it with their hearts, ma'am! Now I tell you that for the truth, and you can gamble on that, anyways. "I think I had better g*. away. I'm hungry, any- how," he added, turning away. "Soon!" she said, si retching out her hand. "Wait!" her other hand trembled as she devoured HEART'S DESIRE 353 the pages of the message to the queen. Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, read it, ma'am!" said Curly, querulously. "Read it and get sorry. If you can read that there letter from Dan Anderson — signed with his heart — and not hit the trail for his bedside, then I've had a almighty long ride for nothing." 2a CHAPTER XXVI THE GIRL AT HEART'S DESIRE The Story of a Surprise, a Success, and Something Else Very Much Better As Curly stumped away, his spurs clinking on the gallery floor, he encountered Mr. Ellsworth, who held out his hand in recognition. "I just heard some one was down from the town," he began. "How are you, and what's the news?" "Mighty bad," said Curly, "mighty bad." Then to himself: "0 Lord! I'm in for it again, and worse. I'd a heap rather lie to a woman than a man — it seems more natural." "Bring any word down with you from up there?" asked Ellsworth. Curly nodded. "I brung a let- ter," said he. " That so ? What's it about ? " "Well, sir, it bein' a letter to a lady — " "You mean my daughter? Now, what — " "Yes, it's for her," admitted Curly; "but it's per- sonal." l' "Well, I didn't know but it might be news from that yoimg man, Anderson. You know he went with the posse. Do you happen to know?" 354 HEART'S DESIRE 355 "You ask her. It is, though." "Did he send you down here?" "I'm almighty hungry; I ain't had no breakfast, nor nothing. ' ' Whereupon Curly bolted. Ellsworth, disturbed, went in search of Constance. He found her, a crumpled and pathetic figure. The news then had, indeed, been bad ! "Now, now, child," he began, "what's up here? You've a letter, the man tells me." She covered it with her hand as it lay in her lap. "Is it from him, young Anderson?" he asked. She nodded. "It's written by a friend of his," she answered presently. "He himself couldn't write. He was too — ill." "Sent for you?" His voice was grave. "Yes," she whispered, "when it was too late." "We'll go," he said with decision. "Get ready. Maybe there is some mistake." " Don't," she begged, " there is no mistake. I knew it would happen; I felt it." "By Jove, I hope it's not true; I was beginning to think a good deal of that boy myself." Constance was passing through the door on her way to her room. She turned and blazed at him. "Then why didn't you talk that way before?" She disappeared, and left him staring after her, through the open door. An hour later a buckboard, driven by a silent 356 HEART'S DESIRE Mexican, rolled down the Sky Top canon, bound for the northern trail. Curly finished his breakfast, and then went out in search of his horse, which presently he found stand- ing dejectedly, close where it had been left, apparently anchored by the reins thrown down over its head and dragging on the ground. Curly seated himself on the ground near by and addressed his misan- thropic steed in tones of easy familiarity. "Pinto," said he, "you remind me of a heap of folks I know. You think them reins holds you, but they don't. They ain't tied to nothing. You're just like them, hitched tight to a fool notion, that's all. If I don't take your bridle off, you'll stand there and starve to death, like a good many fool folks I've heard of. You've got to eat, Pinto." Curly arose and with a meditative finger traced the outlines of the continental maps displayed on Pinto's parti-colored flanks. That cynical beast, with small warning, kicked at him viciously. "Oh, there you go!" remonstrated Curly; "can't you get tired enough to be decent? Git on away — vamos ! " He stripped off the bridle from Pinto's head, and again gave him a friendly slap, as he drove him off to graze, without any precaution to prevent his running away. As for himself, Curly lay down upon the ground, his face on his arm, and was soon fast asleep in the glaring sun. Pinto, misanthropic as he was, HEART'S DESIRE 357 did not abuse the confidence reposed in him. He walked off to a trickle of water which came down from a mountain spring, and grazed steadily upon the coarse mountain grass, but every now and then, under the strange bond which sometimes exists between horse and man, wandered around to look inquiringly at his sleeping master, whom he would gladly have brained upon occasion, but upon whom, none the less, he relied blindly. There were long shadows slanting toward the east- ward when Curly arose and again saddled up his mis- fit mount. He knew that the buckboard was well in advance of him in time, but it must take the longer wagon trail to the westward of Sky Top, while for himself there were shorter paths across the moun- tains. He rode on until night fell, and the moon arose, flooding all the mountain range with wondrous sil- very light, which grew the plainer as he left the whispering pines and came into the dwindled pinons of the lower levels. Then up and down, over and over, he crossed the edges of other spurs, coming down from the great backbone of the range. It was past midnight when he reached the flat-topped mesa near the Nogales divide, where there were no trees at all, and where ancient pottery, relics of a forgot- ten Heart's Desire of another race and time, crum- bled beneath his horse's hoofs. Here Curly loosened the saddle cinches, flung down the bridle-rein over Pinto's head again, and himself lay down to sleep, 358 HEART'S DESIRE uncovered, but hardy as any mountain bear that roamed the hills. When he awoke the red sun hung poised on the shoulder of Blanco, far away, as though to receive the ghostly worship of those who once lived and loved, and prayed here, in the long ago. So now he ate as he might, and drank at the Rio Bonito, a dozen miles farther on, and went his way comforted. Dropping down rapidly on the farther side of the Nogales, Pinto shambling along discontentedly but steadily, Curly at length came to the wagon trail which led along the edge of the plain on the western side of these ranges which he had threaded. He leaned forward and examined the trail for wheel marks. "By Jinks ! Pinto," he muttered, "the old man and the girl is shore hittin' the trail hard for that there death-bed. I'll bet that pore girl's tired, for they must have made a short camp last night. Vamos, cofoallol" and so he spurred on to the northward along the hot low flats. By noon he sighted a dust cloud on ahead, which told him that he had the other party well in hand if he liked, in spite of the speed they were making. "They travelled all night, that's what they did! If that Mexican don't kill his team, it's a lucky thing." He did not seek to close the gap between them, but on the other hand pulled up and rode more slowly. "Now, Pinto," he pondered, "whatever in the world HEART'S DESIRE 359 am I goin' to do when we all pull into town ? Death- bed — and him like enough settin' up and playin' solitaire, or out pitchin' horse shoes. Shucks! If I could git around behind Dan Anderson's house, I believe I'd shoot him a few for luck, so's to make some sort of death-bed scene like is announced in the small bills. We've been playin' it low down on them two folks, and for one, I wish't I was out of it. Pinto, this here particular trusted henchman has shore got cold feet right here." He trailed behind the buckboard hour after hour, dropping back into a gully for concealment now ard then, and putting off the unpleasant hour of meeting as long as possible. He kept in the rear until the vehicle turned in at the mouth of the canon which led up to the valley of Heart's Desire. Then Curly hastened, and so finally clattered up alongside the buckboard. Ellsworth was gray with fatigue, and Constance worn and pale ; seeing which Curly cursed himself, Tom Osby, and all animate and inanimate things. "It's a shame, that's what it is!" he mut- tered to himself reproachfully, and averted his face when Constance smiled at him bravely and dis- claimed fatigue. The sun was beginning to sink beyond Baxter peak as they came in view of the little straggling town, clinging hard to the earth as it had through so many years of oblivion. It was an enchanted valley upon which they gazed. The majestic robes of the purple 360 HEART'S DESIRE shadows, tremendous, wide-spreading, yet soft as the texture of thrice-piled velvet, were falling upon the shoulders of the hills. An unspeakable, stately calm came with the hour of evening. It was a world apart, beautiful, unreal, sweet and full of peace. Far, far from here were all the tinselled trappings of an artificial world, distant the clamorings of a disturbing civilization with its tears and terrors. Battle and striving, anxiety and doubt, apprehen- sion and repinings — the envy and the jealousies and little fears of life — none of these lay in the lap of old and calm Carrizo. Peace, rest, and pause, — these things were here. The ravens of the Lord had cared for those who had come hither, pausing, dreaming, for a pulse- beat in a frenzied century of rapacity and greed. Would the ravens care for a now pale-faced, trem- bling girl? "It's perty, ain't it, ma'am?" said Curly. She looked at him and understood many things. But Curly left them traitorously, almost as soon as they entered the lower end of the street, intent upon plans of his own. Those in the slower buck- board, whose tired team could ill afford any gait be- yond a walk, saw him set spurs to his horse and dash ahead. There came more and more plainly to their ears the sound of a vast confused shouting, mingled with rapid punctuation of revolver fire. As they came into full view of the middle portion of HEART'S DESIRE 361 the street, they saw it occupied by the entire popu- lation of Heart's Desire, all apparently gone mad with some incomprehensible emotion. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" Mr. Ellsworth called out to one man after another as they passed; but none of them answered him. Co- herent speech seemed to have deserted all. "Here, you, Curly!" he shouted. "What's all this about?" Curly, after a swift dash up the street, was now spurring back madly, his hat swinging in the air, himself crazed as the others. " He's in ! " he yelled. " We done it ! " "Who's in? What've you done?" " Dan Anderson — nomernated him for Congress — day 'fore yestidday, over to Cruces. Whole conven- tion went solid — Cruces and Dona Ana, Blanco — whole kit and b'ilin' of 'em. Ben Stillson done it — boys just heard — heard the news!" After which Curly relapsed into a series of yells which closed the incident. 'Constance listened, open-eyed and silent. So then, he had succeeded ! The joy in his success, the pride in his victory, brought a flush to her cheek; but in the same moment the light faded from her eye. She caught her father by the shoulder almost fiercely. "Look at them!" she exclaimed. "They're proud of their victory, but they do not think of him. See ! He is not here." Her father, sniffing politics, was forgetting all else ; 362 HEART'S DESIRE but sobered at this speech, he now motioned the driver to move on. McKinney was there, Doc Tomlinson, Uncle Jim Brothers — the man from Leavenworth — many whom they knew, but not Dan Anderson. As they turned from the street to cross the arroyo, they saw following at a respectful distance both Curly and Tom Osby, the latter walking at Curly's saddle-skirt, for reasons not visible at a distance. Tom Osby was still continuing his protestations. "You go on over, Curly," said he. "You've done mighty well ; now go on and finish up. I ain't in on the messenger part." "Maybe not," replied Curly, "but both halfs of this here amanyensis is goin' over there together. I told that girl that Dan Anderson was shot to a finish and just about to cash in. Now here's all this hoorah about his bein' put up for Congress ! I dunno what she'll find when she gets into that house, but which- ever way it goes, she's due to think I'm a damned liar. You come along, or I'll take you over on a rope." The two conspirators crossed the arroyo and paused at the path which led up to Dan Anderson's little cabin. They saw Mr. Ellsworth and Constance leave the buckboard and stop uncertainly at the door. They saw him knock and step half within, then withdraw and gently push his daughter ahead of him. Then he stood outside, his hat in hand, violently mopping his brow. As he caught sight of the two laggards he beckoned them peremptorily. HEART'S DESIRE 363 "0 Lord!" moaned Tom Osby; "now here's what that sheepherder done to us, with his missive and his signet ring." Constance Ellsworth had grown deadly pale as she approached the dwelling. The open door let in upon a darkened interior. There was no light, no ray of hope to comfort her. There, as it seemed to her, in that tomblike abode, lay the end of all her happiness. In her heart was only the prayer that she might find him able still to recognize her. At her father's gesture she stepped to the door — and stopped. The blood went first to her heart, and then flamed back into her face. Her cheeks tingled. Her hand fell lax from the door jamb, and she half staggered against it for support, limp and helpless. There before her, and busily engaged in writing — so busy that he had merely called out a careless in- vitation to enter when he heard the knock of what he presumed to be a chance caller — there, perhaps a trifle pale, but certainly well, and very much him- self, sat Dan Anderson ! "He's alive!" whispered Constance to her heart. "He's going to live!" The future delegate from the Territory had slunk away from the noisy street to pen some line of ac- knowledgment to his friend the sheriff of Blanco. He had succeeded, so he reasoned with himself in- sistently ; and yet a strange apathy, a sadness rather than exultation, enveloped him. The world lay dull 364 HEART'S DESIRE and gray around him. The price of his success had been the sight of a face worth more to him than all else in the world. He had won something, but had lost everything. His hand stopped, his pencil fell upon the paper. He looked up — to see her stand- ing at his door ! Dumb, unbelieving, he gazed and gazed. She turned from red to pale, before his eyes, and still he could not speak. He knew that in an instant the vision would fade away. "Oh, why, hello !" said he at last, weakly. "How — that is, how do you do?" Constance said, flushing adorably again. "I didn't expect — I didn't know you were coming," stammered Dan Anderson. She chilled at this, but went on wonderingly. "I got your letter — " she began. "Letter ? My letter — what letter ? " Constance looked at him fairly now, agitation sufficiently gone to enable her to notice details. She saw that Dan Anderson's left arm was supported upon the table, but apparently not seriously injured. And he had been writing — with his right hand — at this very moment ! She almost sank to the ground. There had been some cruel misunderstanding ! Was she always to be repudiated, shamed? She stood faltering, and would have turned away. But by this time Dan Anderson's own numbed faculties came back to him with a rush. With a HEART'S DESIRE 365 bound he was at her side, his right arm about her, holding her close, strong. " Constance ! " he cried. " Constance ! You ! You ! " He babbled many things, his cheek pressed against hers. She could not speak. "You see — you see — " exclaimed Dan Anderson, at length, half freeing her to look the more directly into her eyes, and to assure himself once more that it all was true — "I didn't understand at first. Of course, I sent the letter. I wrote it. I couldn't wait — I couldn't endure it any longer. Darling, I couldn't live without you — and so I wrote, I wrote ! And you've come!" "But your handwriting — " she murmured. "Of course! of course!" said Dan Anderson. He was lying beautifully now. "But of course you know I'm left-handed, and my left arm got hurt a while ago, so I couldn't use that hand. I don't suppose my handwriting did look quite natural to you." Her eyes were solemn but contented as she looked into his face, and saw that in spite of his words he was as much mystified as herself. Slowly she pre- sented to him the letter which he had never seen. His face grew grave and tender as he read it line for line. "It is mine!" he said. "I wrote it. I sent it. I've sent it a thousand times to you before now, across the mountains." 366 HEART'S DESIRE "Is it signed with your heart, Dan?" she whis- pered. "With my heart — yes, yes ! M "It is beautiful," said she, simply. And so they dropped between them the letter to the queen. Hand in hand they stepped to the door, the room too small now to contain their happiness. Two stumbling figures fleeing, pigeon-toed and sharp-heeled, on the further side of the arroyo meant much to Dan Anderson. A laugh choked in his throat as he caught her once more in his arms. "It looks like Willie had made good!" said Tom Osby to Curly, as he took a swift glance back over his shoulder. But Constance and her lover had forgotten all the world, as they stepped out now into the glory of the twilight of Heart's Desire. "You remember," said he — "up there — the other time?" He nodded toward the head of the arroyo, where lay the garden of the Littlest Girl. "You broke my heart," she murmured. "I loved you, Dan. What could I do?" "Don't !" he begged as he tightened his arm about her. "I loved you, Constance — what could I do? We've been through the fire together. It has all come right. It's all so beautiful." They stood together at the little garden spot. Two brave red roses now blossomed there, and he plucked them both, pinning them at her throat with hands HEART'S DESIRE 367 that trembled. They turned and looked out over the little valley, and to them it seemed a golden cup overrunning with joy. " Heart's Desire," he murmured, and once more his cheek rested against hers. "Yes," she whispered vaguely, "all, all — your Heart's Desire, I hope — and mine — mine." "It's the world," he murmured. "It is the Begin- ning. We are the very first. Oh, Eve! Eve!" THE GAME A TRANSCRIPT FROM REAL LIFE By JACK LONDON Author of " The Call of the Wild," " The Sea-Wolf," etc. With Illustrations and Decorations in Colors by Henry Hutt and T. C. Lawrenc* Cloth 12mo $1.50 "The Game " resembles "The Call of the Wild" very strongly in the unity and rapidity of its action, in its singleness of purpose, and in its conveyed impression of power. "The Game" is that which takes place within the squared ring; included in the story is an intensely graphic portrayal of what the prize ring stands for and means to participants, spectators, and the general scheme of things. THE STORM CENTRE By CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK Author of " The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.* " The Story of Old Fort Loudon," etc. Cloth 12 mo $1.50 A war story; but more of flirtation, love, and courtship, than of fighting or history. It is a simple and pleasing tale of a wounded Union officer in a household strongly in sympathy with the Con- federate cause. The officer falls in love with the young lady of the house, and the son of the family, a dashing young Confederate offi- cer, comes back to see his family. While there the rebel officer secures information that enables the Southern army to gain an im- portant strategical advantage, and the Union officer is eventually court-martialled. The tale is light and entertaining and thoroughlv readable, and the background is that associated with Miss Murfree's well-earned fame. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK A DARK LANTERN A STORY WITH A PROLOGUE By ELIZABETH ROBINS (C. E. RAIMOND) Author of " The Magnetic North," " Below the Salt," etc. Cloth 12mo $1.50 This new book is one that must appeal very strongly to those who enjoy the novel of keen social analysis. Its pictures of Eng- lish and continental society are as graphic, just, and authoritative as any that have appeared in fiction. One of the main characters is a young German whose rank at once excludes him from the privileges of commonplace home life and gives him the unconscious assump- tion of the overfeted man who has missed the tonic of hard work. Another is the young specialist in "nerves," accurate to the verge of brutality, driven to misogyny by the trivial aggravations of en- countering most often the vague indecisions he hated most. And between them stands Katharine Dereham, a character of strong, unforgettable appeal to the woman who looks on modern social life with open eyes. The Memoirs of an American Citizen By ROBERT HERRICK Author of " The Common Lot," " The Real World," etc., etc With 45 Illustrations by F. B. Masters Cloth 12mo $1.50 In his grasp on the popular interest Mr. Herrick's mastery grows with every new book he writes. Just because they are human, alive, and above all sincere, they hold one as no tales of silks and swords in an imaginary land could possibly do. The " American " of his new story walks into the Chicago markets from Indiana, to all ap- pearances a tramp — in reality a country boy who has quarrelled with his home surroundings and flung himself into the city to fight for a future. The novel opens in time and scenes of Chicago in 1877. It includes among other incidents a glimpse of the strained days of the Haymarket riot and the trial that followed. It is a novel with more than a passing appeal to one's sympathies, and taken as a whole seems certain to be at once the most popular and the best thing that Mr. Herrick has written. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, HEW YORK THE HOUSE OF CARDS A RECORD By JOHN HEIGH Sometime Major U.S.A. Cloth 12mo $1.50 Glimpses of many fascinating figures are seen in this chronicle. The old, old social warfares of Boston and Philadelphia come out now and then amusingly. The chief character is one of the modern kings of finance — "a promoter? Not at all! He reorganizes railroads and things; one railway he has reorganized three times; and these rejuvenated concerns have been very grateful to him. He is rich beyond all decent guessing, my friend of fifty years, and I regard him as the most dangerous man in America." So his story is told by his oldest friend, with little thrusts of grim humor; yet with a very strong and sweet undercurrent of sentiment. It has an altogether indescribable tone that is admirably in keeping with one's mental picture of the veteran soldier and scholar who tells the tale to young " Waltham Eliot, late of Boston, who has come to settle in Philadelphia, live on law, and be honest ! " But in the last analysis it is a love-story of yesterday, to-day, and forever. MRS. DARRELL By FOXCROFT DAVIS Author of "Despotism and Democracy" With Illustrations by William Sherman Potts Cloth 12mo $1.50 "Mrs. Darrell" is a penetrating bit of analysis in the form of an exceptionally good story of the social side of high political life in the national capital. Its very genuine people are sketched with a light touch, a deli- cacy of expression, that make the book enjoyable reading. Those who know the city well enough to recognize the unerring accuracy of even its minor details will wonder over the skill which has pro- duced such real, interestingly varied types. It is full of highly diverting humor without a trace of satirical sting; on the contrary, its prevailing tone is refreshingly wholesome. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK THE SECRET WOMAN By EDEN PHILLPOTTS Author of "The American Prisoner," "My Devon Year," etc Cloth 12mo $1.50 "There cannot be two opinions as to the interest and the power of ' The Secret Woman.' It is not only its author's masterpiece, but it is far in advance of anything he has yet written — and that is to give it higher praise than almost any other comparison with corn- temporary fiction could afford." THE LODESTAR By SIDNEY R. KENNEDY With Illustrations by The Kinneys Cloth 12mo $1.50 " The novel is full of humor, a humor of a gentle, quiet, almost wistful quality, and its effect is to make us more in love with life and with our fellow-mortals." — News and Courier. THE MASTER-WORD A STORY OF THE SOUTH TO-DAY By L. H. HAMMOND Cloth 12mo $1.50 "Mrs. Hammond has conceived and portrayed what is perhaps the most difficult situation on earth. . . . The writer has a large heart and wide sympathies; she has told her story freely and well, treading both firmly and delicately on difficult ground. . . . She has done some admirable work, and has achieved a striking story, quite out of the ordinary." — N. Y. Times. THE GOLDEN HOPE A STORY OF THE TIME OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT By ROBERT H. FULLER Cloth 12mo $1.50 "All together this is a powerful story and a vivid, correct, and intensely interesting picture of the most prosperous days of the Macedonian kingdom." — The Watchman. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewals only: Tel. No. 642-3405 Renewals may be made 4 days priod to date due. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. ^NTER-LlbRARt l=OAN JAN 1 8 1971 MAR 12 1979 i . u;. CiK. im — Tim t noi a «n«, a »™ General Library < N 8?l™3t 4££-l°32 Universi^ofCalifornia IB 3297 31 i y 912873 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY