An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West

by Alfred Ernest Rice

  CHAPTER XIV.

  Within the cabin, so zealously watched by the detective prior to thejourney of Thorpe and Sam across the island, were the occupants--JackShore and his little captive, Dorothy Thorpe. The child was carefullyand secretly guarded, and at the same time made as comfortable as thelimited quarters of her captor would permit.

  Jack Shore was kind to the child, and though fully conscious of thesevere penalty of his desperate undertaking should he be discovered,he nevertheless allowed her a certain freedom of the abode in which hehad placed her, of course always providing for securely bolted outerdoors.

  During the preceding night she had been secretly and quietly removedfrom her first hiding place to the cabin. Her silence was obtained bythe promise of being taken home should she be a good little girl, andnot make a disturbance. But as a precaution she had been wrapped up ina manner so as completely to blindfold her, and in her childishconfidence was conveyed without any trouble, in the dead hour ofnight, to the cabin.

  The interior of the cabin was divided into two rooms. The small onewas used as a sleeping apartment, having two roughly-constructedbunks, one above the other. On one wall was a small four-paned windowthat gave light to the room. A small mirror, and a man's clothing hungon the wall, and a short, well-worn strip of carpet covered the floor.The large room served the purpose of a kitchen, dining room, pantry,laundry and general utility combined. There was a small cook stove inthe corner near the dividing partition. One dishcloth and a couple oftowels hung on a line across the corner of the room over the stove. Ashallow box about three feet square, and nailed to the wall beside thewindow, served as a cupboard for provisions. A table, an old chair, athree-legged stool and a box constituted the remaining furniture.

  At night a lighted lamp rested on a bracket above the table, and onthis particular night Jack's coat hung beside the lamp.

  The main entrance door of the cabin was at the kitchen end, and openedinward. There was also a door at the bedroom end of the cabin,securely locked and bolted. The door in the partition between the tworooms was in line with the other doors, and had a small pane of glass,six by six inches, in the upper panel.

  On this eventful night Dorothy was seated on the chair, her headresting on her arms on the end of the table, indifferently watchingJack. He, with a cigar in his mouth and in his gray shirtsleeves, wasstanding in front of the table wiping a dishpan, the last of theevening cleanup. Putting the pan away under the shelf, he hung thedishcloth beside its mate on the line, and carefully stretched it outto dry. Then, as he sat down on the stool at the end of the tableopposite Dorothy, a smile of satisfaction stole over his dark, swarthyface when he surveyed the result of his work--a clean and tidyappearing room.

  "Eesa be so nice-a da clean. So bute-a da corner. Eesa like-a dafine-a house. Tar-rah-rah! Tink-a eesa get-a da fote-da-graph of eet amade. Put eem in-a Sunny da paper. Eh-a da Daize! What a use-a datink? Eh!"

  Dorothy raised her head and looked at him in offended, childishdignity.

  "My name is not A da Daize; it is Dorothy!"

  "Eesa like-a da Daize a bet! What youse-a tink? Eesa nicey da room, ehDaize?"

  Then the child indifferently looked at the corner with its stove andadjuncts. She had been detained in his company now--for four days, and,childlike, was intuitively quick in interpreting the broken, stumblingDago utterances of Jack.

  "It is not so nice as our kitchen," she naively replied. "But maybethe photo will make people think you are a good cook!"

  "A da cook-a!--naw, eesa be damn! Turnoppsis! Carrotsis! Cababbages!Black-a da boots"--

  "Well, then," interrupted the child, pouting, "a rich man if you like;I don't care."

  "Eesa mores-a da bet," and he smiled approvingly. "And a Sunny-a dapaper print under da fote-da-graph some-a ting like-a deeze--A dacorner ova-a da dining room--maybees-a da den wud look-a da bet," hemuttered reflectively. "In deeze-a home ova-a a Signor George-a daGolda--house-a dat, eh, a Daize?"

  "Is that your name?" she inquired.

  "Eesa good-a da name? A Daize."

  "May I stay in here when the photo man comes?"

  "Sure-a Daize!"

  "Oh, good!" and the child clapped her little hands and laughedgleefully.

  Jack looked at her quizzically, and then, seating himself on thestool, took the child between his knees.

  "Tell-a me, da Daize, what-a da for youse-a like-a da picture take-ahere, eh?"

  "Cause!" she answered shyly.

  "Cause-a da what? Speak-a Daize."

  "I don't like to."

  "A Daize! Youse a know I bees-a da friend, speak-a."

  "Well, then my papa would know where to find me."

  "I deez-a thought so. Daize, youse-a tink I beez a da bad-a man. Eh,why?"

  "'Cause you promised to take me home and you have not."

  "Well-a Daize, your-a good-a da girl, and--eef-a da papa donn-a da comebees-a da morn, we'll-a go for-a da fine him, eh! Now youse-a dalike-a me now? Eh, a Daize?"

  "Oh, I like you ever so much for that, and we'll go home tomorrow?

  "Sure-a Daize! Now tell-a me some-a ting about a da Virginia."

  "If I do you'll sure take me home tomorrow?"

  "Sure-a Daize! Eesa beez a da good a da woman, eh? Much a da like ayou. Eh, a da Daize?"

  "Oh, yes; she would do anything for me, and I love my aunt, too."

  "Eesa look a da nicey. Mose a beez a da rich, eh-a Daize?"

  "My aunt does oil paintings, too."

  "Eesa got a much a da mon, eh a Daize?"

  "Oh, yes; a pocket full," replied the unsuspecting child.

  "Everybody says that she is rich, and I guess that it must be true,"muttered Jack, and he could not suppress a smile of satisfaction thechild's information gave him.

  "Eesa time to go a da bed, a Daize. Kiss a me good a da night."

  "If I do, you won't forget your promise?"

  "What a da promise?"

  "To take me home tomorrow."

  "Sure a Daize. I donna forget."

  Then the child kissed him, and at the contact of her soft, warm lipswith his--like a stream of sunshine, the child innocence of purestlips, pierced his heart with a shaft of kindly sympathy.

  "Good a da night, a Daize," he said in a voice soft and gentle. Thenhe released the child and arose to his feet. It drew from her a lookof steady admiration, and then she replied:

  "Good night!" On the threshold of the sleeping apartment she turnedand said:

  "I shall pray for you tonight, Mister Golda. I shall pray for you notto forget tomorrow." And she softly closed the door.

  As Jack mildly stared at the child, the light in his eyes changed to alook far off, and there gradually stole over his face an aspect ofinfinite sadness, reminiscent of the days of his childhood.

  On resuming his presence of mind, he went to the cupboard and tookfrom there a bottle. After removing the stopper he took a straightdraught of liquor, turned low the light and tip-toed to the bedroomdoor, listened, and heard Dorothy say:

  "Oh, dear Jesus, make George Golda good; help him remember his promiseto take me home tomorrow."

  Jack was deeply moved by the child's sweet disposition, and he turnedaway disgusted at the despicable role he was enacting, and mutteredreflectively: "Good God, that I should come to this! Fromsecretary-treasurer of the Securities Investment Association to be akidnapper of babes!

  "Jack Shore, the kidnapper! What a fall is here! Yes, I have sunk solow as to abduct from a fond, suffering mother one of the purest gemsof flesh and blood that ever blest a home. And for what? The almightydollar! Only that, and nothing more! Curse the damned dollar thatdrives men to crime!

  "Curse it for cramming hell with lost souls. I'll wash my hands ofthis whole business; I'll have no more of it; I'll take the childhome!"

  The resolution was so cheering, so fruitful of kindly intent, andurged on by the "still, small voice" within him to do right, that hedecided to fortify himself with a second drink of liquor. Then acontra train
of reflection seized him, and he whispered, as onesuddenly confronted with an appalling calamity:

  "Ah, ah! What am I saying? And I have scarcely a dollar in the world!Have gone hungry for the want of it--and here is twenty thousand of thebeautiful golden things actually in sight--almost at my finger tips!"and with the thought blank concern spread over his face, and thekindly purpose, the human compassion for his fellow being in itstransient passage to his heart, again took flight and the "still,small voice" within him shrank abashed to silence.

  "Out with this sentimental nonsense! The Thorpes can stand the loss ofa few thousand without a twitch of an eyelash."

  The sound of a couple of gentle taps on the starboard side of thecabin broke his train of audible thoughts and claimed his quickattention.

  The taps were repeated distinctly. He answered them with three lighttaps on the wall, given by the joint of his finger. Then he quietlyopened the door, and Philip Rutley, with the collar of his coat turnedup closely about his face, stood in the opening.

  "All skookum, Jack?" he questioned, in low tones, on entering.

  "All skookum, Phil," answered Jack, as he locked and bolted the door.

  "Good! I love to look at the little darling. Jack, she is a goldmine." And, so saying, Rutley took the lamp from over the shelf andcautiously opening the door, peered within.

  "Isn't she pretty?" Then he quietly closed the door, replaced the lampon the shelf, turned down his coat collar and said in a low, pleasedvoice: "Well, old boy, our troubles are nearly over. Virginia willcome tonight."

  "Alone?" queried Jack, in low tones, and he looked significantly athis colleague.

  "Yes, and with the ducats! I caused her to be secretly informed thatshe must meet you here by twelve o'clock this night, and prepared topay the ransom. Any liquor handy, Jack? I'm feeling a bit nervousafter that pull. The boat sogged along as heavy as though a bunch ofweeds trailed across her prow."

  Jack smiled, but proceeded to the cupboard and produced a bottle,together with a glass. Removing the cork, he offered both bottle andglass to Rutley with the remark: "Old Kaintuck--dead shot! The bestever. Help yourself!"

  "That's an affectionate beauty spot about your right eye, Jack,"remarked Rutley, taking the bottle and tumbler from him.

  "You haven't told me how it happened."

  "I was out on Corbett street when that damned Irish coachman ofThorpe's sauntered along as though he had a chip on his shoulder, andhe had the nerve to ask me if I had seen the child."

  "Do you think he suspected you?" queried Rutley, pausing with theglass and bottle in his hands.

  "No; it was a random shot. But it made me hot, and--well, the long andthe short of it was the doctor worked over me an hour before I wasable to walk."

  "I see," commented Rutley, pouring some liquor into the glass andsetting the bottle on the table. "A sudden and unexpected attack, eh!May the fickle jade smile on us tonight," and so saying, he drank theliquor with evident relish, and handed the glass to Jack.

  Jack, misunderstanding his quotation of the "fickle jade,"interpreting it as meant for Virginia, at once replied:

  "The jade may smile and smile, and be a villain, but she must 'pungle'up the 'dough.'" And pouring some liquor in the glass he drained it.

  Jack's misapplication of the popular quotation caused Phil to smile,then to chuckle. "Ha, ha, ha, ha, the jade!"

  Then he produced a couple of cigars from his vest pocket, and offeringone to Jack, continued: "She deserves no mercy."

  "None whatever," replied Jack, as he took the cigar.

  "If she had not weakened, we should never have selected her to pay theransom," resumed Rutley.

  "Ha, ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack, as he put a match to the cigar. "Herpenitent mood makes her an easy mark. The price of her atonement'll betwenty thousand dollars."

  Again Rutley chuckled, chuckled convivially, for evidently thesoftening influence of the liquor relaxed his tensely attuned nerves."Ha, my boy, she shall not enjoy the bliss of restoring the child toher mother. I shall be the hero in this case," and he lowered hisvoice. "After Virginia has paid the ransom, I shall take the child toher father." Then he looked at Jack significantly and laughed--laughedin a singularly sinister, yet highly pitched suppressed key.

  Jack penetrated Rutley's purpose at once and the prodigious nerve ofthe fellow caused him likewise to laugh. But Jack's laugh wasdifferent from Rutley's, in so much that it conveyed, thoughsuppressed and soft, an air of rollicking abandon.

  "And get the reward of ten thousand dollars offered for the child'srecovery."

  "Precisely," laughed Rutley.

  His laugh seemed infectious, for Jack joined him with a "Ha, ha, ha,ha. And borrow ten thousand more from old Harris for being a GoodSamaritan to his nephew, Sam, eh! Have another, Phil," and again helaughed as he offered the glass.

  Rutley took the glass and filled it. "A forty thousand cleanup, Jack,just for a bit of judicious nerve! He, he, he, he," and then hislaughter ceased, for the simple reason that his lips could not performthe act of drinking and laughing at the same time.

  "Ha, ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack, in response. "A damned good thing, eh,Phil?" and he took the glass, filled it, and drank. "Has anybody heardfrom Corway?"

  "Shanghaied," laconically replied Rutley.

  "He's off on the British bark Lochlobin. No fear of any trouble fromhim for several months."

  "How, in the name of God, did you do it?" asked Jack, fairlyenthralled with Rutley's nerve.

  "Oh, it was easy. Fixed it up with some sailor boarding-house toughs,but I only got $50 out of it all told, including his watch. But, mydear boy, that is not all I have planned in this plunge. You know I amdesperately in love with the orphan?"

  "Hazel!" exclaimed Jack. "Ho, that was plain long ago," and he laughedagain.

  "She's the sweetest little girl in the world, Jack, and the best partof it is, she has a cool hundred thousand in her own right."

  "Marry her," promptly advised Jack.

  "That is my intention, Jack, and the day after tomorrow I visitRosemont to persuade her to elope with me. Quite a societythrill--don't you know?"

  "Thrill!" replied Jack, astonished. "You mean sensation. Hazel elopedwith me Lord Beauchamp, Knight of the Garter. Have one on that, Phil."

  "Oh, she's a darling, Jack, and now that Corway is out of the way--Ithink she'd like--to wear the garter," and he grinned jovially.

  "A garter is fetching, Phil."

  "Success to the garter! May Lady Hazel never let it fall; ha, ha," andJack laughed merrily as he filled the glass.

  "Evil be to him who evil thinks. My garter, Jack! He, he, he, he."There was no mistaking the fact that the two men were verging on thehilarious, and though fully aware of the importance of conversing inlow tones, they continued, because they felt satisfied the criticalperiod of their operations had passed and success was assured.

  Again Rutley laughed. "Jack, I've had an itching palm today."

  "So have I. See how red it is with scratching, and the sole of my leftfoot has been tickled to fits."

  "The signs are right, Jack. I congratulate you on your luck, and if itis as good as your judgment of liquor--it is a damned good thing." Helaughed as he seized the glass. "This is the proof," and he forthwithtossed it off, and handed the glass to Jack.

  Jack's convivial spirits were quite willing. He took the glass, filledit, and laughingly said: "What is good for the devil, applies to hisimp." Then he drained the glass and again laughed.

  Rutley joined in. "You make me blush! Did you say your left foottickled?"

  "Yes!"

  "You will change domiciles. What do you say to secretary-treasurer ofthe Securities Investment Association?"

  "What? Resurrect the old S. I. A.?" Jack replied, and he stared atRutley with amazement.

  "Yes! Thorpe and Harris put us out of business. Why not use their'simoleons' to start up again?" And he chuckled with evidentsatisfaction.

  "Agreed, Phil! Start her up with a full page
ad in a Sunday paper, eh?Ha, ha, ha, ha--a damned good thing."

  "Precisely! Ahem," coughed Rutley. "We are pleased to announce thatour former fellow townsmen, Mr. Philip Rutley and Mr. Jack Shore havereturned very wealthy."

  "And were received with open arms," added Jack, and he laughed."Damned good joke, Phil; damned good joke. Have one on that!" And heturned and picked up bottle and glass from the table and offered themto his colleague.

  Rutley always maintained a dignified bearing, yet his manners werequite unconventional, and suave, and easy, and it must be understoodthat neither of them on this occasion became boisterous. He took theproffered bottle and glass, poured liquor in the glass, and aftersetting the bottle on the table, said: "Thirty days later, a-hem! Wecongratulate the stockholders of the reorganized Securities InvestmentAssociation on the able and efficient management of your officers,Manager Philip Rutley and Secretary-Treasurer Jack Shore." He thendrained the glass and handed it to Jack.

  "Ha, ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack, as he took the glass and poured theliquor in it, and pointedly added: "Addenda! It affords us muchpleasure to apologize for our former charge of wilful dishonestyagainst the gentlemen above mentioned. Signed: John Thorpe, JamesHarris, committee." And Jack drained the glass.

  "He, he, he, he," softly laughed Rutley. "Very proper, my boy; quiteso!"

  "It only needs the measly 'yellow goods' to make it practical,"suggested Jack.

  "My dear, ahem, Mr. Secretary, don't let that trifle worry you. The'yellow goods' are coming as sure as day follows night."

  "I hope the day will not again plunge us into night," laughed Jack.

  "Oh, don't put it that way," testily rejoined Rutley. "Disagreeablysuggestive, you know--damned bad taste."

  Rutley's supersensitiveness, in their present situation, was greetedby Jack with a burst of suppressed laughter. "When Eve tempted andAdam bit, he took his medicine without a fit. Have another, Phil."

  Without accepting the bottle, and seemingly without heeding theremark, Rutley inquired, a bit seriously: "Is the dog on guard?"

  "Yes," replied Jack, standing stock still, with the bottle in one handand the tumbler in the other. "Tied to a stick of driftwood on shore.No interlopers while Snooks is on watch. Why?" The question was askedrather soberly.

  "I received a tip that you are shadowed and trouble may come beforedawn. When it comes the little one must not be here."

  "I agree with you," responded Jack. "I've lost that medal somewhere,too."

  "Ye Gods!" gravely replied Rutley, with an alarmed look. "If it fallsinto the hands of a detective, it may serve as a clue. Curious, too. Irecall now that the dog didn't bark or growl when I approached thecabin."

  "I wonder!" exclaimed Jack. "Maybe Snooks has got loose and iswandering about the island. We had better make sure."

  Setting the bottle and tumbler on the table, he opened the cabin doorand stepped somewhat unsteadily on the platform. Closing the door, hepeered shoreward, then softly whistled. After listening intently, andhearing nothing, he called, in a low voice:

  "Snooks! Snooks!" Receiving no response, and being unable to identifyshapeless objects on the shore, through the darkness, he re-enteredthe cabin, quietly as possible, and with a concerned look on his face.

  "I believe the dog has got away. I'll go ashore and investigate."

  "I'll go with you," assured Rutley. "Jack, better see that the child'sasleep."

  Jack took the lamp from the bracket, opened the partition door, lookedin at the sleeping child, and closed the door as gently as he hadopened it. "Sound asleep," he whispered. Then he replaced the lamp,blew out the light, and made his way out onto the platform,accompanied by Rutley.

  Quietly they stepped into a small boat, fastened to the logs, andpushed off towards the shore.

  It was then Jack remembered that he had not locked the door, andwanted to return for that purpose, but Rutley demurred.

  "Time is precious," he murmured, rather thickly. "Besides we shall begone only a few minutes, and it is unlikely that the child will stirin the darkness."