The Black Pearl

by Mrs. Wilson Woodrow

  THE BLACK PEARL

  by

  MRS. WILSON WOODROW

  Author of "Sally Salt," "The New Missioner," Etc.

  Illustrated

  "'I'm feelin' particularly good right now.'" (Page 181)]

  New York and LondonD. Appleton and Company1912Copyright, 1912, byD. Appleton and CompanyPublished August, 1912Printed in the United States of America

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  "'I'm feelin' particularly good right now'"--(Frontispiece)

  "I'll show you what I'll do'" 102

  "There stood the Black Pearl alone" 244

  "Holding cautiously to a little branch, she bent over him" 302

  THE BLACK PEARL

  CHAPTER I

  It was just at sunset that the train which had crawled across the desertdrew up, puffing and panting, before the village of Paloma, not manymiles from the Salton Sea. After a moment's delay, one lone passengerdescended. Paloma was not an important station.

  Rudolf Hanson, the one passenger, whom either curiosity or business hadbrought thither, stood on the platform of the little station lookingabout him. To the right of him, beyond the village, blooming like anoasis from the irrigation afforded by the artesian wells, rose themountains, the foothills green and dimpled, the slopes with their massedshadows of pines and oaks climbing upward and gashed with deep purplecanons, and above them the great white, solemn peaks, austere andstately guardians of the desert which stretched away and away, itsillimitable distances lost at last in the horizon line.

  Hanson, of the far west, was used to magnificent scenic effects, but thedesert that sparkled like the gold of man's eternal quest, that lay withits sentinel hills enfolded and encompassed in color, colors thatseemed as if some spinner of the sunset courts wove forever freshcombinations and sent these ethereal tapestries out to float over thewide spaces of the wilderness--this caused him to catch his breath andexclaim.

  It was truly a sight to take any man's breath away; but even such a viewcould only arrest Hanson's interest temporarily. He was hungry, and thestation agent, a weedy youth, was making a noisy closing up.Intentionally noisy, for when one is the agent of a small desertstation, the occasional visitor is apt to whet one's curiosity to razoredge.

  Roused by these sounds, and by his growing hunger, which the cool purityof the air only augmented, Hanson turned to the boy.

  "Where's a place to stay?" he asked.

  "There ain't but one," replied the youth; "the San Gorgonio hotel. Youwalk right up this street until you come to it, on the left side. It'sgot a sign out, electric," he added with some pride. He looked curiouslyat Hanson, standing tall and straight with his ruddy, good-looking face,keen, quick, gray eyes and curling light hair. "Going to be here long?"he asked tentatively.

  "I don't know," returned Hanson idly. "Guess not. No string on me,though, even if I'd choose to put in a month or so here. This way, yousay?" He lifted his suit case and began to walk in the direction thestation agent had indicated.

  "Say," the latter called after him, "you don't want to miss the showto-night."

  "What show?" Hanson turned, interest amounting almost to eagerness inhis tone.

  "Benefit." The boy rolled the word unctuously under his tongue. "I guessmaybe you saw why in the papers. The river got on a tear and cut into anice little town here on the desert, drowned some of the folks and did alot of damage generally, so we're raising some money to send to 'em."

  The stranger's interest had increased perceptibly. "Sounds good to me,"he said heartily. "What's your features?"

  "Just one," the other answered impressively. "We don't need no more inthis part of the world, if we got her."

  "Her!" cried Hanson, and now his cold eyes were alight. "Who the hell isher?"

  "Why, the Black Pearl!" as if surprised that anyone should be unaware ofthe fact. "'Course we got a few thousand square miles of desert waitingto be reclaimed, and any amount of mountains full of ore, but to usthey's small potatoes and few in a hill beside the Black Pearl."

  Hanson swore softly and ecstatically. "If that ain't that good old blindluck of mine hitting me again after all these years," he muttered. "Say,son, I'm making no secret of my business. Don't have to. I am atheatrical manager--vaudeville. Got great backing this year and am outfor new features. Set my heart on the Black Pearl and got to figuring onher. Sweeney had her on his circuit last winter. Well, Sweeney, let metell you, is pretty shrewd. He knows a good thing when he's got it, soI thought there was no show for me. Presently, I hear that she'sscrapped with Sweeney and is off to the desert like a flash. So she'sreally here?"

  "Sure," said the boy.

  "So," continued Hanson, who was loquacious by nature, but sufficientlyshrewd and experienced only to let himself be so when he thought itworth his while, "I begin to figure on my chances. I learn thatSweeney's trying to coax her back by letter, so I says to myself:'Rudolf, you just chassez down to Paloma and see what you can do,' buthonest, son," he put his suit case down in the road and pushed his hatback on his head and put his hands on his hips, "honest to God, I didn'texpect anything like this, the first night I got here, too."

  His companion shifted his quid of tobacco to the other side of his mouthand nodded understandingly.

  Hanson's eyes were fixed ruminatively but unseeingly upon the goldendesert, its sand dunes touched with a deep rose soon to be eclipsed bythe jealous tyrian purples which were beginning to mass themselvesgorgeously beneath the oranges and flame of the setting sun.

  "Gee whiz!" he muttered, "and I was figuring that if I hung round here aweek or so and played my hand all right, I'd maybe get her to do a fewsteps for me in the parlor. Oh, Lordy! And now I got a chance to see herbefore the footlights and size up her capacity for getting over them."

  The station agent looked puzzled and a little offended. "There won't beany footlights," he said; "and you're mistaken if you think she's up toany rough work like climbing over them, any way."

  Hanson laughed loudly. "That's all right, son, you ain't on to the shoptalk, that's all. But now, where is this show and what time does itbegin?"

  "Oh, in an hour or so, whenever Pearl's minded, and it's to be held atChickasaw Pete's place--saloon. You see," apologetically, "we ain't avery big community, and that's the only place where there's a decentfloor for her to dance on."

  Hanson raised his brows and laughed. "Well"--he pulled out his watch andlooked at it--"I've got time to wash the upper crust of sand off anyway,and get a bite or so first. I suppose I'll see you later. Up this way,you say?"

  The agent nodded assent. "It's a good betting proposition," he mused."He knows what he wants and he usually gets it, I'm thinking, or there'ssomething to pay. But what'll the Pearl do? I guess she's the biggestgamble any man could tackle."

  As his new acquaintance had predicted, Hanson had no difficulty infinding the San Gorgonio, a small hostelry not by any means so gorgeousas its name implied, being merely an unpretentious frame building with afew palms in the enclosure before it, and there he speedily got a roomand some supper. It might be deemed significant that he gave more timeand attention to his toilet than his food, but that may have beenbecause he believed in the value of a pleasing appearance as well as ina winning address when transacting business with a woman. In any event,his motives, whatever they might be, were quite justifiable, as heundoubtedly possessed a bold and striking type of good looks which hadnever failed of receiving a due appreciation from most women.

  Assured, aggressive, his customary good humor heightened by thecomforting sense of his luck being with him, he finally emerged into theopen air to discover that the stars were out and that it might be laterthan he thought. The air, infinitely pure,
infinitely fresh, exhaledfrom the vast, breathing desert, and the delicious aromatic desert odorstouched him like a caress. He drew them in in great draughts. The airseemed to him a wonderful, potent ichor infusing him with a new andvigorous life. Hanson was sure of himself always, but now, in thisawakened sense of such power and dominance as he had never known, hethrew back his head and laughed aloud.

  "Gosh!" he muttered, "I feel like all I got to do was to reach up andpull down a few of those stars and use them for poker chips." He exultedlike a sleek and lordly animal in this thrilling vitality, thisimperious and insistent demand for conquest.

  Chickasaw Pete's place, as he soon discovered, was no more pretentiousin appearance than the San Gorgonio. It also was a long, low framebuilding with some great cottonwood trees before it and a few palms withtheir infinite and haunting suggestions of the tropics.

  It was with a sense of mounting excitement which still held that strongelement of exultation that Hanson crossed the porch, opened the door andwalked in. He saw before him a long room well lighted with electricityand with a shining polished floor. The bar ran along one side, andbehind it lounged a short, stout, round-faced man with very black hairand eyes and a perpetual smile. This was the bar-keeper, knownfamiliarly as Jimmy. At the rear of the room, covering about half of thefloor, were rows and rows of chairs, occupied by both men and women,strong, sun-burned looking people in the main, but with the invariableand unmistakable sprinkling of "lungers" in various stages of recovery.

  Hanson saw his friend, the station agent, leaning across the bar talkingto Jimmy, and knew from the interested glances cast in his directionthat he was the topic of conversation.

  At the opposite end of the room was a piano. A young man sat before itfacing the wall, while beside him there stood a woman intently tuning aviolin which she held tucked under her chin. Approaching middle age, shewas rather stout, with a sallow, discontented face, which yet held sometraces of its former evanescent prettiness. Both lashes and brows of herfaded light eyes were heavily blackened, and the rouge which lay thicklyon her cheeks only served to accentuate their haggard lines. The hair,dark at the roots, was blondined to a canary color where it rolled backunder her hat, large and black, of a dashing Gainsborough style andcovered with faded red roses. For the rest, her costume consisted of awhite shirt waist, a wine-colored skirt and shoes with very high heelswhich were conspicuously, and no doubt uncomfortably, run over.

  Her violin finally tuned to her satisfaction, she bent her head to speakto the young man at the piano. He turned to answer her, and for a momenthis delicate, sad face was outlined against the wall behind him. Then,with an emphatic little nod, he began to play and the woman lifted herviolin and swung in with him.

  The only virtue she possessed as a violinist was that she kept goodtime, but although it was extremely unlikely that any member of thataudience recognized the fact, the boy was a musician by the divine rightof gift, a gift bestowed at birth. A wheezy old piano, and yet he drewfrom it sweet and thrilling notes; a hackneyed, cheap waltz measure, andyet he invested it with the glamour of romance.

  A ripple stirred all those waiting people, as a wind stirs a field ofwheat, a movement of settling and attention. Hanson, who had beencareful to secure a seat in the front row of chairs, was conscious thathis heart was beating faster.

  "This is where she whirls in through that door by the piano," hemuttered to himself with the acumen born of long knowledge of the stageand its conventions. He had a swift mental vision of a graceful paintedcreature, all undulating movement, alluring smiles, twinkling feet andwaving arms. This passed with a slight shock as a girl entered the doorby the piano, as he had foreseen, and walked indifferently to thecenter of the room, and then, without a bow to her audience, began,still with an air of languor and absorption, to take vague, slidingsteps, gradually falling in with the waltz rhythm, but, even so, themovement was without any definite form, certainly not enough to call ita dance.

  As she swayed about, listless, apparently indifferent to any effect shemight be producing, Hanson had a full opportunity to study her, and, inthat concentrated attention, the man and the manager were fused. He wasat once the cynical showman discounting every favorable impression andthe most critical and disillusioned of audiences.

  In this dancer he saw a woman who was like the desert willow and youngerthan he had supposed; straight and supple, with a body of suchplasticity, such instant response to the directing will of its possessoras only comes from the constant and arduous exercises begun in earlychildhood.

  "Been trained for it since she was born, almost," was Hanson's firstunspoken comment.

  She wore a soft, clinging frock of scarlet crepe. It was short enough todisplay her ankles, slender for a dancer, and her arched feet inheelless black slippers. In contrast to her red frock was a string ofsparkling green stones which fell low on her breast. Her long, brownfingers blazed with rings, and in her ears, swinging against her olivecheeks, were great hoops of dull gold. Her black shining hair wasgathered low on her neck, her unsmiling lips were scarlet as apomegranate flower, and exquisitely cut; and the fainter, duskierpomegranate bloom on her oval cheeks faded into delicate stains likepale coffee beneath her long, narrow eyes.

  "She ain't done a thing yet; she ain't even showed whether she can dancea few bars or not, but, Lord! how she has got over!" was Hanson'sunspoken comment. "Clean to the back seats. There's nobody else here."

  Although still aimlessly moving with the rhythm of the waltz she nolonger merely followed the music. She and it were one now. And Hanson, aconnoisseur, familiar with the best, at least in his part of the world,recognized the artist whose technique is so perfect that it is absorbed,assimilated and forgotten; but its essence remains, nevertheless, a surefoundation upon which to build securely future combinations andimprovisations.

  The Black Pearl was generous to-night. She was the program--its onefeature. She gave the audience its money's worth, judged by theirstandards, which were measured by time; and yet, when she finished, shegave one no idea of having exhausted her repertoire. In fact, she couldnot have defined that repertoire. Dancing was her expression, and theBlack Pearl was conscious of infinite and unsounded phases of self.

  Most of the features of the program were familiar to Hanson by herreputation. They included some old Spanish dances, some gypsy ones andothers manifestly her own. But dancer though she was by nature andtraining, her personality dominated and eclipsed her art.

  Hanson was not imaginative, but as he watched her he seemed to be gazingat some gorgeous cactus blossom opening its scentless petals to theburning sun. Beneath and beyond her stretched the gray wastes of thedesert turning to gold under her feet, but still untrammeled andmerciless, holding strange secrets close to its savage heart; now,exerting all its magic of illusion in delicate and exquisite mirages,all of its luring fascination which has drawn men to it from thebeginning of the world; and now revealing itself desolate and unashamedin all of its repulsive, stark aridity.

  The Pearl certainly made no effort to attract. If a glance from thosenarrow eyes enthralled, it stung too. It was the flame of wine in theblood, the flick of a whip on the raw, which roused in a man's heart, inHanson's at least, the passionate disposition to conquer and subdue.

  Finally she gave a slight signal to the musicians, her steps slowed, themusic stopped, and she went over and sat down beside the woman, who hadplaced her violin on the piano, and then flung herself into a chair,where she sat, carefully dabbing her warm brow with her handkerchief.

  The vague pictures which Hanson had been seeing vanished. "Gee! She gotme going!" he said to himself, half dazedly, "hypnotized me sure." This,the manager. But the man exulted: "She ain't easy. She ain't easy."

  The moment the Pearl stopped dancing the audience was on its feetapplauding, and then, to a man, it eddied about her, casting banknotesinto her lap. These she lifted in handfuls and gave to two men who hadsat down beside her to count, while a third bent over them watching theoperation.

/>   Hanson, although he had drawn nearer her, still stood on the edge of thecrowd, leaning against the bar. "So that's the Black Pearl!" he saidpresently to the bar-keeper.

  "That's her," responded Jimmy equably. "Can't be beat. What'll youhave?"

  "Nothing, just yet. Say, those stones around her neck look good to me."Hanson narrowed his eyes.

  "Good!" Jimmy laughed shortly, a characteristic, mirthful littlechuckle. "I guess so. Bob Flick, up there beside Pearl, counting thatmoney, he gave 'em to her after she found him when he'd been lost on thedesert about three days. I'll tell you about it when I got more time."

  Hanson had been conscious from time to time of the close but furtivescrutiny of the man whom the bar-keeper had designated as Bob Flick, andnow he, in turn, made Flick an object of observation.

  He saw a tall man of noticeable languor and deliberation of movement,doubtless so long studied that it had become natural. His face, withregular, rather aquiline features, was devoid of expression, almostmask-like, while the deep lines about the mouth and eyes showed that helived much in the hard, brilliant, western sunlight.

  Hanson was quick enough to size up a man and a situation. "I'll make anote to look out for you," he thought, "just about as cold and justabout as deadly as a rattler."

  "Say," he turned to Jimmy again, "I want to meet her. I'm a theatricalmanager, always looking out for new turns. Heard of this Black Pearl andthought I'd run down and sign her up if I could."

  "She does go traveling once in a while," returned Jimmy dubiously, "butit's all in the mood she's in whether she'll let you even talk to her.You might as well count on the desert out there as the Pearl."

  "I suppose she's out for big money?" queried Hanson.

  "She'll get all she can, I guess," Jimmy chuckled. "But," he addedboastfully, "she can make big money by staying right here. Look at whatshe's pulled in to-night. And there's her father, old Gallito, he's gotmore than one good 'prospect,' and is foreman beside of one of the bigmines in the mountains. And her mother, there, that played the violin,she's got some nice irrigated land, and even Hughie, that played, hemakes money playing for dances in the different towns. Oh, they're smartfolks."

  "Is Hughie the brother?" asked Hanson, looking at the boy, who satlistlessly at the piano.

  "No. Adopted." Jimmy spoke briefly. "Born blind, but let me tell you, hesees considerable more than those of us who have eyes."

  "Well, the Pearl's a certain winner," said the manager earnestly, "aflower of the desert, a what-you-may-call-'em, a cactus bloom."

  "Correct, and don't forget the spines," chuckled Jimmy. "Looks as ifthey were all out to-night, too. Kind of sulky, ain't she? Well, did yousay you was waitin' to be introduced? I'll take you up and ask her. Likeas not, she'll turn you down. She ain't looked at you once, I notice. Ibeen watching her."

  "So've I," said Hanson good humoredly, "but you're wrong, son"--therewas a brief, triumphant flash of his light eyes--"she's looked at metwice, took me all in, too. Numbered the hairs of my head and the sizeof my shoes. Threw a search light on my heart and soul. Gee! It feltlike the violet rays. Now, look here, friend, I ain't going to takechances on a turn-down, nor of your Mr. Bob Flick having fun all nightshooting holes in the floor while this little Johnny Tenderfoot does hisimitation Black Pearl dancing. Listen," he tapped the bar sharply, "whenI meet the Black Pearl, it's because she requested an introduction. Youtake me up to that old lion tamer, her mother."

  Jimmy threw him a glance of ungrudging admiration. "You ain't so dumb,"he vouchsafed. "Say, have one on me."

  "A little later," replied the other. "Never drink during businesshours."

  A small table had been placed before Mrs. Gallito, upon which were twoglasses, one of beer for herself, and one of lemonade for her daughter.

  As Jimmy performed the introduction, she put down her beer from whichshe had been somewhat thirstily drinking and received Hanson with aperfunctory bow and a brief mechanical smile. "Think of settling here?"she asked politely.

  "No, I'm just down for a few days," replied Hanson genially. He haddrawn a chair up and seated himself on the other side of the table,directly opposite Mrs. Gallito and her daughter.

  The surprise of the glance she threw at him was heightened by a quickcuriosity. "Just prospecting?" she asked. "I saw at once that youweren't a 'lunger.' I didn't think you were an engineer, so I made up mymind that you were looking for land."

  "None of them," returned Hanson, smiling, and hastened to inform her ofhis real calling. Immediately she relaxed, her smile became genuine, thebored and constrained politeness vanished from her manner.

  "Well, that is certainly nice," she exclaimed with real animation andcordiality. "I'm always glad to meet any of the profession. No folkslike your own folks, you know." She bridled a little.

  "That's so," agreed Hanson heartily. "I knew the minute that I saw youthat you belonged."

  She lifted her head with a gesture of pride, the glow and color cameback into her face, giving it a transitory appearance of youth, andrestoring, for a fugitive moment, something of its vanishing beauty.

  "Born to it," she said. "My mother and her mother, and my father and hisfather, and, 'way back on both sides, was all circus people. Yes, I wasborn in the sawdust--rode--drove--tight-rope--trapeze--learned dancingon the side--ambitious, you know. Say, you must have heard of mymother--greatest bare-back rider ever in the ring. Isobel Montmorenci.English, you know. I wasn't so shy myself, Queenie Madrew."

  "Gee! Well, you were some. Shake." Hanson extended his hand, which Mrs.Gallito shook warmly. "And I do remember your mother. I should say so.First time I went to the circus, I was about ten years old--ran off youknow. Knew well enough what I'd get when I turned up at home. Pop layingfor me with a strap. Goodness! It takes me right back. It's all a kindof jumble, sawdust ring and animals and clowns and all; but what I doremember plain is Isobel Montmorenci, her and a big black horse she wasriding."

  "Caesar!" cried Mrs. Gallito excitedly. "Lord! don't I remember! Ilearned to ride on him."

  "Yes," mused the manager, "all I recall of that circus is her and my twonickels. I broke my bank to get 'em. They seemed a fortune to me; buteven then I was a shrewd kid and meant to get my money's worth.Well--the first one I laid out in a great tall glass of lemonade. Say,that was the first time I came up against the disillusions of life.Nothing but a little sweetened water. The next nickel went for peanuts,and they were too stale for even a kid to chew."

  "Ain't that just like a young one at the circus!" Mrs. Gallito laughedloudly.

  "What's the joke, mom?" drawled a lazy, sliding, soft voice on theother side of her.

  "A circus story, honey. Oh!" as the sudden formal silence recalled herto her duty. "I forget. You two ain't been introduced, have you? Pearl,make you acquainted with Mr. Hanson. He's in the show business."

  Pearl bowed without lifting her eyes, giving Hanson ample opportunity tonote the incredible length, as it seemed to him, of the upcurling lashesupon her smooth cheeks. But just as he bent forward to speak to her, shehalf-turned from him and said something to one of the men beside her.

  The manager's quickness saved him. He was perfectly aware of all thosejealous masculine eyes, flickering now with repressed and delightedlaughter over his discomfiture. He recovered himself in a moment andslipped easily and with unabated geniality into a conversation with Mrs.Gallito.

  "Funny you should marry out of the profession," deftly catching up histhreads.

  "She didn't," again that soft, sliding voice. "Pop was born in thesawdust, too."

  Without a change of expression in his face, Hanson waited imperturbablyfor Mrs. Gallito's answer. Since his eyes were fixed on the red spark atthe end of his cigarette, who could see the quick flash in them?

  Mrs. Gallito took a hasty gulp of beer. "It's just like Pearl says," shemurmured. "Her pop came of a long line of circus people, same as me, buthe broke clean away from it, couldn't bear the life." There wasunabated wonder in her tones. "I guess," resig
nedly, "it's the Spanishof him."

  "Say," cried Hanson, and now his voice rang with a new note in it,something of gay, masterful, masculine dominance, "say, what you ladiesdrinking beer and lemonade for? It's got to be wine to-night. Hey,Jimmy. Wine for this table, and treat the house. Wine, understand? Gotenough to float 'em?"

  "Hold on a minute, Jimmy." Hanson heard Bob Flick's voice for the firsttime, soft as the Pearl's, liquidly southern, gentle, even apologetic."I'm sorry, stranger"--he leaned forward courteously to Hanson--"we allwould enjoy accepting your hospitality, but you see, it ain'tetiquette."

  A silence that could be felt had fallen upon the room. Mrs. Gallito,pale under her paint, was nervously biting her handkerchief and glancingfrom one man to the other, while the Pearl leaned back in her chair aslazily, languidly, scornfully indifferent as ever.

  Then Hanson laughed, and a little thrill went over the room. The new manwas game. "Ain't that just your ruling, stranger?" he asked pleasantly."Since we've not been introduced, I can't call your name. But I holdthat it is etiquette. Jimmy, get on your job. The occasion when I firstset my eyes upon the Black Pearl has got to be honored."

  "Hold on just a moment, Jimmy." It was Flick now. "You see," again toHanson, his voice more apologetic than ever, "you being new here,naturally don't understand. It ain't etiquette on a Benefit night, whenMiss Pearl Gallito, whose name you have, most unfortunately, justmiscalled, condescends to dance. I'm afraid I got to ask you to takeback your order and to apologize to Miss Gallito."

  Hanson was on his feet in a minute. "I'm sure ready now and always toapologize my humblest to Miss Gallito, although I don't know what's theoffense. But the order stands."

  "Oh, Pearl," wailed her mother, "you raise mischief wherever you go. Youknow Bob wouldn't go on so if you'd ask him to stop. You just like toraise the devil."

  Then, for the first time, the Pearl's face became animated. It brokeinto brilliance, her eyes gleamed, she showed her white teeth when shelaughed.

  "Quit your fooling, both of you," she said composedly, rising to herfeet. "I ain't going to have tales flying all over the desert about theructions stirred up the night I danced for the benefit of the floodsufferers. Shake hands, you two," imperiously. "Go on, do what I tellyou. That's right," as the two men perfunctorily shook hands. "Bob don'tmean a thing, Mr. Hanson. It's just his temper, and there ain't going tobe any wine, because I'm going home, but--" and here she smiled into hiseyes--"you can walk a piece of the way with me, if you want to. Come on,mother and Hughie. Good-night, Bob."