CHAPTER XXI
SUPPER IN CAMP
"Will you never be done with your telephoning?" asked Marion. McCloudwas still planning the assembling of the men and teams for themorning. Breakfast and transportation were to be arranged for, and themen and teams and material were to be selected from where they couldbest be spared. Dicksie, with the fingers of one hand moving softlyover the telegraph key, sat on a box listening to McCloud'sconferences and orders.
"Cherry says everything is served. Isn't it, Cherry?" Marion called tothe Japanese boy.
Cherry laughed with a guttural joy.
"We are ready for it," announced McCloud, rising. "How are we tosit?"
"You are to sit at the head of your own table," said Marion. "I servethe coffee, so I sit at the foot; and Mr. Smith may pass the beansover there, and Dicksie, you are to pour the condensed milk into thecups."
"Or into the river, just as you like," suggested Whispering Smith.
McCloud looked at Marion Sinclair. "Really," he exclaimed, "whereveryou are it's fair weather! When I see you, no matter how tangled upthings are, I feel right away they are coming out. And this man isanother."
"Another what?" demanded Whispering Smith.
"Another care-killer." McCloud, speaking to Dicksie, nodded toward hiscompanion. "Troubles slip from your shoulders when he swaggers in,though he's not of the slightest use in the world. I have only onething against him. It is a physical peculiarity, but an indefensibleone. You may not have noticed it, but he is bowlegged."
"From riding your scrub railroad horses. I feel like a sailor ashorewhen I get off one. Are you going to eat all the bacon, Mr. McCloud,or do we draw a portion of it? I didn't start out with supperto-night."
"Take it all. I suppose it would be useless to ask where you have beento-day?"
"Not in the least, but it would be useless to tell. I am violating noconfidence, though, in saying I'm hungry. I certainly shouldn't eatthis stuff if I weren't, should you, Miss Dunning? And I don't believeyou are eating, by the way. Where is your appetite? Your ride oughtto have sharpened it. I'm afraid you are downcast. Oh, don't deny it;it is very plain: but your worry is unnecessary."
"If the rain would only stop," said Marion, "everybody would cheer up.They haven't seen the sun at the ranch for ten days."
"This rain doesn't count so far as the high water is concerned," saidMcCloud. "It is the weather two hundred and fifty miles above herethat is of more consequence to us, and there it is clear to-night. Aslong as the tent doesn't leak I rather like it. Sing your song aboutfair weather, Gordon."
"But can the men work in such a downpour?" ventured Dicksie.
The two men looked serious and Marion laughed.
"In the morning you will see a hundred of them marching forward withumbrellas, Mr. McCloud leading. The Japs carry fans, of course."
"I wish I could forget we are in trouble at home," said Dicksie,taking the badinage gracefully. "Worrying people are such a nuisance.Don't protest, for every one knows they are."
"But we are all in trouble," insisted Whispering Smith. "Trouble! Why,bless you, it really is a blessing; pretty successfully disguised, Iadmit, sometimes, but still a blessing. I'm in trouble all the time,right now, up to my neck in trouble, and the water rising this minute.Look at this man," he nodded toward McCloud. "He is in trouble, andthe five hundred under him, they are in all kinds of trouble. Ishouldn't know how to sleep without trouble," continued WhisperingSmith, warming to the contention. "Without trouble I lose my appetite.McCloud, don't be tight; pass the bread."
"Never heard him do so well," declared McCloud, looking at Marion.
"Seriously, now," Whispering Smith went on, "don't you know peoplewho, if they were thoroughly prosperous, would be intolerable--simplyintolerable? I know several such. All thoroughly prosperous people area nuisance. That is a general proposition, and I stand by it. Go overyour list of acquaintances and you will admit it is true. Here's totrouble! May it always chasten and never overwhelm us: our greatestbugbear and our best friend! It sifts our friends and unmasks ourenemies. Like a lovely woman, it woos us----"
"Oh, never!" exclaimed Marion. "A lovely woman doesn't woo, she iswooed!"
"What are you looking for, perfection in rhetorical figure? This isextemporaneous."
"But it won't do!"
"And asks to be conquered," suggested Whispering Smith.
"Asks! Oh, scandalous, Mr. Smith!"
"It is easy to see why _he_ never could get any one to marry him,"declared McCloud over the bacon.
"Hold on, then! Like lovely woman, it does not seek us, we seek it,"persisted the orator, "_That_ at least is so, isn't it?"
"It is better," assented Marion.
"And it waits to be conquered. How is that?"
Marion turned to Dicksie. "You are not helping a bit. What do youthink?"
"I don't think woman and trouble ought to be associated even infigure; and I think 'waits' is horrid," and Dicksie looked gravely atWhispering Smith.
McCloud, too, looked at him. "You're in trouble now yourself."
"And I brought it on myself. So we do seek it, don't we? And trouble,I must hold, _is_ like woman. 'Waits' I strike out as unpleasantlysuggestive; let it go. So, then, trouble is like a lovely woman,loveliest _when_ conquered. Now, Miss Dunning, if you have a spark ofhuman kindness you won't turn me down on that proposition. By the way,I have something put down about trouble."
He was laughing. Dicksie asked herself if this could be the man aboutwhom floated so many accusations of coldness and cruelty and death. Hedrew a note-book from a waistcoat pocket.
"Oh, it's in the note-book! There comes the black note-book,"exclaimed McCloud.
"Don't make fun of my note-book!"
"I shouldn't dare." McCloud pointed to it as he spoke to Dicksie. "Youshould see what is in that note-book: the record, I suppose, of everyman in the mountains and of a great many outside."
"And countless other things," added Marion.
"Such as what?" asked Dicksie.
"Such as you, for example," said Marion.
"Am I a thing?"
"A sweet thing, of course," said Marion ironically. "Yes, you; withcolor of eyes, hair, length of index finger of the right hand,curvature of thumb, disposition--whether peaceable or otherwise, andprison record, if any."
"And number of your watch," added McCloud.
"How dreadful!"
Whispering Smith eyed Dicksie benignly. "They are talking thisnonsense to distract us, of course, but I am bound to read you what Ihave here, if you will graciously submit."
"Submit? I _wait_ to hear it," laughed Dicksie.
"My training in prosody is the slightest, as will appear," hecontinued, "and _synecdoche_ and _Schenectady_ were always on theverge of getting mixed when I went to school. My sentiment may betermed obvious, but I want to offer a slight apology on behalf oftrouble; it is abused too much. I submit this
"SONG TO TROUBLE
"Here's to the measure of every man's worth, Though when men are wanting it grieves us. Hearts that are hollow we're better without, Hearts that are loyal it leaves us.
"Trouble's the dowry of every man's birth, A nettle adversity flings us; It yields to the grip of the masterful hand, When we play coward it stings us.
"Chorus."
"Don't say chorus; that's common."
"I have to say chorus. My verses don't speak for themselves, and noone would know it was a chorus if I didn't explain. Besides, I'm shorta line in the chorus, and that is what I'm waiting for to finish thesong.
"Chorus:
"Then here's to the bumper that proves every friend! And though in the drinking it wrings us, Here's to the cup that we drain to the end, And here's to--
There I stick. I can't work out the last line."
"And here's to the hearts that it b
rings us!" exclaimed Dicksie.
"Fine!" cried McCloud. "'Here's to the hearts that it brings us!'"
Dicksie threw back her head and laughed with the others. ThenWhispering Smith looked grave. "There is a difficulty," said he,knitting his brows. "You have spoiled my song."
"Oh, Mr. Smith, I hope not! Have I?"
"Your line is so much better than what I have that it makes my stuffsound cheap."
"Oh, no, Gordon!" interposed McCloud. "You don't see that one reasonwhy Miss Dunning's line sounds better than yours is owing to thedifferences in your voices. If she will repeat the chorus, finishingwith her line, you will see the difference."
"Miss Dunning, take the note-book," begged Whispering Smith.
"And rise, of course," suggested McCloud.
"Oh, the note-book! I shall be afraid to hold it. Where are theverses, Mr. Smith? Is this fine handwriting yours?
Then here's to the bumper that proves every friend!
Isn't that true?
And though when we drink it it wrings us,
--and it does sometimes!
Here's to the cup that we drain to the end,
Even women have to be plucky, don't they, Marion?
And here's to the hearts that it brings us!"
Whispering Smith rose before the applause subsided. "I ask you todrink this, standing, in condensed milk."
"Have we enough to stand in?" interposed Dicksie.
"If we stand together in trouble, that ought to be enough," observedMcCloud.
"We're doing that without rising, aren't we?" asked Marion. "If wehadn't been in trouble we shouldn't have ventured to this campto-night."
"And if you had not put me to the trouble of following you--and it wasa lot of trouble!--_I_ shouldn't have been in camp to-night," saidWhispering Smith.
"And if _I_ had not been in trouble this camp wouldn't have been hereto-night," declared McCloud. "What have we to thank for it all buttrouble?"
A voice called the superintendent's name through the tent door. "Mr.McCloud?"
"And there is more trouble," added McCloud. "What is it, Bill?"
"Twenty-eight and nine tenths on the gauge, sir."
McCloud looked at his companions. "I told you so. Up three-tenths.Thank you, Bill; I'll be with you in a minute. Tell Cherry to come andtake away the supper things, will you? That is about all the water weshall get to-night, I think. It's all we want," added McCloud,glancing at his watch. "I'm going to take a look at the river. Weshall be quiet now around here until half-past three, and if you,Marion, and Miss Dunning will take the tent, you can have two hours'rest before we start. Bill Dancing will guard you against intrusion,and if you want ice-water ring twice."
Whispering Smith Page 22