Going Some

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER VIII

  Lawrence Glass was beginning to like New Mexico. Not only did itafford a tinge of romance, discernable in the deep, haunting eyesof Mariedetta, the maid, but it offered an opportunity forfinancial advancement--as, for instance, the purchase of Willie'swatch. This timepiece cost the trainer twenty-one dollars, and hesold it to Speed for double the amount, believing in the luck ofeven numbers. Nor did young Speed allow his trainer's efforts tocease here, for in every portable timepiece on the ranch herecognized a menace, and not until Lawrence had cornered themarket and the whole collection was safely locked in his trunkdid he breathe easily. This required two days, during which theyoung people at the ranch enjoyed themselves thoroughly. Theywere halcyon days for the Yale man, for Fresno was universallyagreeable, and seemed resigned to the fact that Helen shouldprefer his rival's company to his own. Even when Speed hadregretfully dragged himself off to bed in the evening, the plumptenor amused Miss Blake by sounding the suitor's praises as anathlete, reports of which pleased Wally intensely. Mr. Fresno wasa patient person, who realized fully the fact that a fall is notpainful unless sustained from a considerable height.

  As for Glass, he recounted tales of Mariedetta's capitulation tohis employer, and wheezed merrily over the discomfiture of theMexican girl's former admirers.

  "She's a swell little dame," he confided to Speed one afternoon,as they lounged luxuriously in the shade at their customaryresting-place. "Yes, and I'm aces with her, too." They had setout for their daily run, and were now contesting for the seven-upsupremacy of the Catskill Mountains. Already Glass had beendeclared the undisputed champion of the Atlantic Coast, whileSpeed on the day previous had wrested from him the championshipof the Mississippi Valley.

  "But Mariedetta is dark!" said the college man, as he cut thecards. "She is almost a mulatto."

  "Naw! She's no dinge. She's an Aztec, an' them Aztec's is swellpeople. Say, she can play a guitar like a barber!"

  "Miss Blake told me she was in love with Carara."

  Glass grunted contemptuously. "I've got it on that insurrectsfour ways. Why, I'm learning to talk Spanish myself. If he getsflossy, I'll cross one over his bow." The trainer made a viciousjab at an imaginary Mexican. "He ain't got a good wallop in him."

  Like all New Yorkers, no matter what their station, Lawrencecherished a provincial contempt for such people as are not ofManhattan. While he was woefully timid in the presence offirearms, and the flash of steel reduced him to a panic, he was apast master at the "manly art," and carried a punch in which hereposed unlimited faith. The deference with which the cowboystreated him, their simple, child-like faith in his everyutterance, combined to exaggerate his contempt for them. EvenCarara, disappointed in love, treated him with a smiling,backward sort of courtesy which the trainer misconstructed astimidity.

  "I thought cowboys was tough guys," continued he, "but it's amistake. That little Willie, for instance, is a lamb. He packsthat Mauser for protection. He's afraid some farmer will walk upand poke his eye out with a corn-cob. One copper with a night-stick could stampede the whole outfit. But they're all right, atthat," he acknowledged, magnanimously. "They're a nice bunch offellers when you know how to take 'em."

  "The flies are awful to-day," Speed complained. "They bite mylegs."

  "I'll bring out a bath robe to-morrow, and we'll hide it in thebushes. I wish there was some place to keep this beer cool."Glass shifted some bottles to a point where the sunlight did notstrike them. "I'm getting tired of training, Larry," acknowledgedthe younger man, with a yawn. "It takes so much time."

  Glass shook his head in sympathy. "Seems like we'd ought to hearfrom Covington," said he.

  "He's on his way, no doubt. Isn't it time to go back to theranch?"

  Glass consulted his watch. "No, we ain't done but three miles.Here goes for the rubber."

  It was Berkeley Fresno who retreated cautiously from the shelterof a thicket a hundred yards up the arroyo and started brisklyhomeward, congratulating himself upon the impulse that haddecided him to follow the training partners upon their dailyroutine. He made directly for the corral.

  "Which I don't consider there's no consideration comin' to himwhatever," said Willie that evening. "He ain't acted on thelevel."

  "Now, see here," objected Stover, "he may be just what he claimshe is. Simply because he don't go skally-hootin' around in thehot sun ain't no sign he _can't_ run."

  "What about them empty beer bottles?" demanded Willie. "No fellercan train on that stuff. I went out there myself and seen 'em.There was a dozen."

  "Mebbe Glass drank it. What I claim is this: we ain't got noproof. Fresno is stuck on Miss Blake, and he's a knocker."

  "Then let's _git_ some proof, and dam' quick."

  "_Si, Senores_," agreed Carara, who had been an interestedlistener.

  "I agree with you, but we got to be careful--"

  Willie grunted with disgust.

  "--we can't go at it like we was killin' snakes. Mr. Speed is aguest here."

  Again the little gun man expressed his opinion, this time inviolet-tinted profanity, and the other cowboys joined in.

  "All the same he _is_ a guest, and no rough work goes. I'min charge while Mr. Chapin is away, and I'm responsible."

  "Senor Bill," Carara ventured, "the fat vaquero, he is no guest.He is one of us."

  "That's right," seconded Willie. "He's told us all along that Mr.Speed was a Merc'ry-footed wonder, and if the young feller can'trun he had ought to have told us."

  Mr. Cloudy showed his understanding of the discussion by noddingsilently.

  "We'll put it up to him in the morning," said Stover.

  "If Mr. Speed cannot r-r-run, w'at you do, eh?" questioned theMexican.

  Nobody answered. Still Bill seemed at a loss for words, Mr.Cloudy stared gloomily into space, and Willie ground his teeth.

  On the following morning Speed sought a secluded nook with Helen,but no sooner had he launched himself fairly upon the subjectuppermost in his mind than he was disturbed by a delegation ofcowboys, consisting of the original four who had waited upon himthat first morning after his arrival. They came forward withgrave and serious mein, requesting a moment's interview. It wasplain there was something of more than ordinary importance upontheir minds from the manner in which Stover spoke, but when Helenquickly volunteered to withdraw, Speed checked her.

  "Stay where you are; I have no secrets from you," said he. Thennoting the troubled face of the foreman, quoted impatiently:

  "'You may fire when ready, Gridley.'"

  Still Bill shifted the lump in his cheek, and cleared his throatbefore beginning formally.

  "Mr. Speed, while we honor you a heap for your accomplishments,and while we believe in you as a man and a champeen, we kind offeel that it might make you stretch your legs some if you knewjust exactly what this foot-race means to the Flying Heartoutfit."

  "I assured you that the Centipede cook would be beaten," said thecollege man, stiffly.

  "Isn't Mr. Speed's word sufficient?" inquired the girl.

  Stover bowed. "It had sure ought to be, and we thank you for themnew assurances. You see, our spiritual on-rest is due to the factthat Humpy Joe's get-away left us broke, and we banked on you topull us even. That first experience strained our credulity to thebustin' point, and--well, in words of one syllable, we come fromJoplin."

  "Missouri," said Willie.

  "My dear sirs, I can't _prove_ that you are going to winyour wagers until the day of the race. However, if you are broketo start with, I don't see how you can expect to lose a greatdeal."

  "You ain't got the right angle on the affair," Stover explained."Outside of the onbearable contumely of losin' twice to thisCentipede outfit, which would be bad enough, we have drawn amonth's wages in advance, and we have put it up. Moreover, I havebet my watch, which was presented to me by the officials of theSanta Fe for killin' a pair of road-agents when I was DepitySheriff."

  Miss Blake uttered a little scream, and Speed regarded the lankys
peaker with new interest. "It's a Waltham movement, solid goldcase, eighteen jewels, and engraved with my name."

  "No wonder you prize it," said Wally.

  "I bet my saddle," informed Carara, in his slow, soft dialect."Stamp' leather wit' silver filagree. It is more dear to me than--well--I love it ver' much, Senor!"

  "Seems like Willie has made the extreme sacrifice," Stoverfollowed up. "While all our boys has gone the limit, Willie hastopped 'em all: he's bet his gun."

  "Indeed! Is it a good weapon?"

  "It's been good to me," said the little man, dryly. "I took itoff the quivering remains of a Sheriff in Dodge City, up to thattime the best hip shot in Kansas."

  Speed felt a cold chill steal up his spine, while Miss Blake wentpale and laid a trembling hand upon his arm.

  "You see it ain't intrinsic value so much as association andsentiment that leads to this interview," Stover continued. "Itain't no joke--we don't joke with the Centipede--and we've reliedon you. The Mex here would do murder for that saddle," Cararanodded, and breathed something in his own tongue. "I have partedwith my honor, and Willie is gamblin' just as high."

  "But I notice Mr.--Willie still has his revolver."

  "Sure I got it!" Willie laughed, abruptly. "And I don't give itup till we lose, neither. That's the understandin'." His voicewas surprisingly harsh for one so high-pitched. He looked morelike a professor than ever.

  "Willie has reasons for his caution which we respect," explainedthe spokesman.

  J. Wallingford Speed, face to face with these serious-mindedgentlemen, began to reflect that this foot-race was not a thingto be taken too lightly.

  "I can't understand," he declared, with a touch of irritation,"why you should risk such priceless things upon a friendlyencounter."

  "_Friendly!_" cried Willie and Stover in a tone that madetheir listeners gasp. "The Centipede and the Flying Heart is justas friendly as a pair of wild boars."

  "You see, it's a good thing we wised you up," added the latter.

  Carara muttered fiercely: "Senor, I works five year' for thatsaddle. I am a good gambler, _si, si!_ but I keel somebodybiffore I lose it to the Centipede."

  "And is that Echo Phonograph worth all this?" inquired Helen.

  "We won that phonograph at risk of life and limb," said Willie,doggedly, "from the Centipede-"

  "--and twenty other outfits, Senor."

  "It's a trophy," declared the foreman, "and so long as it ain'twhere it belongs, the Flying Heart is in disgrace."

  "Even the 'Leven X treats us scornful!" cried the smallest of thetrio angrily. "We're a joke to the whole State."

  "I know just how these gentlemen must feel," declared Miss Blake,tactfully, at which Stover bowed with grateful awkwardness.

  "And it's really a wonderful instrument," said he. "I don'treckon there's another one like it in the world, leastways inthese parts. You'd ought to hear it--clear as a bell--"

  "And sweet," said Willie. "God! It's sure sweet!"

  "Why, we was a passel of savages on this ranch till we got it--nosentiment, no music, no nothin' in our souls--except profanityand thirst. Then everything changed." Stover nodded gravely. "Wegot gentle. That music mellered us up. We got so we was as fullof brotherly love as a basket of kittens. Some of the boyscommenced writin' home; Cloudy begin to pay his poker debts.You'd scarcely hear enough profanity to make things bearable. Itell you it was refined. It got so that when a man came steamin'in after a week's high life and low company in town, his wagesgone, and his stummick burnin' like he'd swallered all his cigar-butts, it didn't make no difference if he found a herd of purplecrocodiles in his blankets, or the bunk-house walls a-crawlin'with Gila monsters. Little things like that wouldn't phaze him!He'd switch on the Echo Phonograph and doze off like a babe inarms, for the tender notes of Madam-o-sella Melby in _The HolyCity_ would soothe and comfort him like the caressin' hand ofa young female woman."

  "I begin to feel your loss," said Speed, gravely. "Gentlemen, Ican only assure you I shall do my best."

  "Then you won't take no chances?" inquired Willie, mildly.

  "You may rely upon me to take care of myself."

  "Thank you!" The delegation moved away.

  "What d'you think of him?" inquired Stover of the little man inglasses, when they were out of hearing.

  "I think he's all right," Willie hesitated, "only kind of crazy,like all Eastern boys. It don't seem credible that no sane manwould dast to bluff after what we've said. He'd be flyin' in theface of Providence."

  But this comforting conclusion wavered again, when BerkeleyFresno, who had awaited their report, scoffed openly.

  "He can't run! If he could run he'd be running. I tell you, hecan't run as fast as a sheep can walk."

  "Senor, you see those beautiful medal he have?" expostulatedCarara.

  "Sure," agreed Willie. "His brisket was covered with 'em. He hadone that hung down like a dewlap."

  "Phony!"

  "I've killed men for less," muttered the stoop-shouldered man.

  "Did you see his legs?" Fresno was bent upon convincing hishearers.

  "Couldn't help but see 'em in that runnin'-suit."

  "Nice and soft and white, weren't they?"

  "They didn't look like dark meat," Stover agreed, reluctantly."But you can't go nothin' on the looks of a feller's legs."

  "Well, then, take his wind. A runner always has good lungs, butI'll bet if you snapped him on the chest with a rubber band he'dcough himself to death."

  "Mebbe he ain't in good shape yet."

  Fresno sneered. "No, and he'll never get into good condition withthose girls hanging around him all the time. Don't you know thatthe worst thing in the world for an athlete is to talk to awoman?"

  "That's the worst thing in the world for anybody," said Willie,with cynicism. "But how can we stop it?"

  "Make him eat as well as sleep in his training-quarters; don'tlet him spend any time whatever in female company. Keep your eyeson him night and day."

  Willie spoke his mind deliberately. "I'm in favor of that. Ifthis is another Humpy Joe affair I'm a-goin' to put one morenotch in my gun-handle, and it looks like a cub bear had chawedit already."

  "There ain't but one thing to do," Stover announced, firmly."We've got to put it up to Mr. Glass and learn the truth."

  "You'll find him in the bunk-house," directed Fresno. "I thinkI'll trail along and hear what he has to say."