Going Some

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER XIV

  Now that the possibility of escape from the Flying Heart was cutoff, the young man felt agonizing regret that he had not yieldedto his trainer's earlier importunities and taken refuge in flightwhile there was yet time. It would have been undignified,perhaps; but once away from these single-minded cattle-men, hislife would have been safe at least, and he could have trusted hisingenuity to reinstate him in Miss Blake's good graces.Everything was too late now. Even if he made a clean breast ofthe whole affair to Jean, or to her brother when he arrived, whatgood would that do? He doubted Jack's ability to save him, in thelight of what had just passed; for men like Willie cared nothingfor the orders of the person whose pay-roll they chanced tograce. And Willie was not alone, either; the rest of the crewwere equally desperate. What heed would these nomads pay to JackChapin's commands, once they learned the truth? They were Arabswho owed allegiance to no one but themselves, the country waswild, the law was feeble, it was twenty miles to the railroad!And, besides, the thought of confession was abhorrent. Physicalinjury, no matter how severe, was infinitely preferable to HelenBlake's disdain. He cast about desperately for some savingloophole, but found himself trapped--completely, hopelesslytrapped.

  There were still, however, two days of grace, and to youth twodays is an eternity. Therefore, he closed his eyes and trusted tothe unexpected. How the unexpected could get past that grim,watchful sentry just outside the door he could not imagine, butwhen the breakfast-bell reminded him of his hunger, he banishedhis fears for the sake of the edibles his custodians had served.

  "Don't you want anything to eat?" he inquired, when Larry made nomove to depart for the cook-house.

  "No."

  "Not hungry, eh?"

  "I'm hungry enough to eat a plush cushion, but--"

  "What?"

  "Mary!"

  "Mariedetta?"

  "Sure. She's been chasin' me again. If somebody don't side-trackthat Cuban, I'll have to lick Carara." He sighed. "I told youwe'd ought to tin-can it out of here. Now it's too late."

  Willie thrust his head in through the open window, inquiring,"Well, how's the breakfast goin'?" and withdrew, humming afavorite song:

  "'Sam Bass was born in Indiany; It was his natif home. At the early age of seventeen Young Sam commenced to roam.'"

  "Fine voice!" said Lawrence, with a shudder.

  It was perhaps a half-hour later that Helen Blake came trippinginto the gymnasium, radiant, sparkling, her crisp white dresstouched here and there with blue that matched her eyes, in herhands a sunshade, a novel, and a mysterious little bundle.

  "We were so sorry to lose you at breakfast," she began.

  Wally led her to the cosey-corner, and seated himself beside her.

  "I suppose it is a part of this horrid training. I would neverhave mentioned that foot-race if I had dreamed it would be likethis."

  Here at least was a soul that sympathized.

  "The only hardship is not to see you," he declared softly.

  Miss Blake dropped her eyes.

  "I thought you might like to go walking; it's a gorgeous morning.You see, I've brought a book to read to you while you rest--youmust be tired after your run."

  "I am, and I will. This is awfully good of you, Miss Blake."Speed rose, overwhelmed with joy, but the look of Glass was notto be passed by. "I-I'm afraid it's impossible, however." Theblue eyes flew open in astonishment. "Why?" the girl questioned.

  "They won't let me. I--I'm supposed to keep to myself."

  "They? Who?"

  "Glass."

  Miss Blake turned indignantly upon Larry. "Do you mean to say Mr.Speed can't go walking with me?"

  "I never said nothing of the sort," declared the trainer. "He cango if he wants to."

  "Just the same, I--oughtn't to do it. There is a strict routine--"

  A lift of the brows and a courteous smile proclaimed Miss Blake'sperfect indifference to the subject, just as Willie saunteredpast the open window and spoke to Glass beneath his breath:

  "Git her out!"

  "I'm so sorry. May I show you a surprise I brought for you?" Sheunwrapped her parcel, and proudly displayed a pallid, anaemiccake garlanded with wild flowers.

  Speed was honestly overcome. "For me?"

  "For you. It isn't even cold yet, see! I made it beforebreakfast, and it looks even better than the one I baked atschool!"

  "That's what I call fine," declared the youth. "By Jove! and I'mso fond of cake!"

  "Have a care!" breathed Larry, rising nervously, but Speed paidno attention.

  "Break it with your own hands, please. Besides, it's too hot tocut."

  Miss Blake broke it with her own hands, during which operationthe brown face of the man outside reappeared in the window. Atsight of the cake he spoke sharply, and Lawrence lumbered swiftlyacross the floor and laid a heavy hand upon the cake.

  "Mr. Speed!" he cried warningly.

  "Here, take your foot off my angel-food!" fiercely ordered theyouth. But the other was like adamant.

  "Bo, you are about to contest for the honor of this ranch! Thatcake will make a bum of you!"

  "Oh--h!" gasped the author of the delicacy. "Stop before it istoo late!" Glass held his hungry employer at a distance, strivingto make known by a wink the necessity of his act.

  "There is absolutely nothing in my cake to injure any one," Helenobjected loyally, with lifted chin; whereupon the corpulenttrainer turned to her and said:

  "Cake would crab any athlete. Cake and gals is the limit."

  "Really! I had no idea I was the least bit dangerous." MissBlake, turning to her host, smiled frigidly. "I'm so sorry Iintruded."

  "Now don't say that!" Speed strove to detain her. "Please don'tbe offended--I just _have_ to train!"

  "Of course. And will you pardon me for interrupting your routine?You see, I had no idea I wasn't wanted."

  "But you are, and I _do_ want you! I--"

  "Good-bye!" She nodded pleasantly at the door, and left her loverstaring after her.

  When she had gone, he cried, in a trembling voice: "You're a fineyap, you are! She got up early to do something nice for me, andyou insulted her! You wouldn't even let me sit and hold herhand!"

  "No palm-readin'." Speed turned to behold his trainer ravenouslydevouring the cake, and dashed to its rescue.

  "It's heavier than a frog full of buckshot. You won't like it,Cul."

  "It's perfectly delicious!" came the choking answer.

  "Then get back of them curtains. Willie'd shoot on sight."

  All that morning the prisoner idled about the premises, followedat a distance by his guard. Wherever he went he seemed to see thesun flash defiance from the polished surface of those lenses, andwhile he was allowed a certain liberty, he knew full well thatthis espionage would never cease, night or day, until--what? Hecould not bear to read the future; anything seemed possible. Timeand again he cursed that spirit of braggadocio, that thoughtlesslack of moral scruple, which had led him into this predicament.He vowed that he was done with false pretences; henceforth thestrictest probity should be his. No more false poses. Praise wonby dissimulation and deceit was empty, anyhow, and did he escapethis once, henceforth the world should know J. Wallingford Speedfor what he was--an average individual, with no uncommon gifts ofmind or body, courage or ability.

  Yet it was small comfort to realize that he was getting his justdeserts, and it likewise availed little to anathematize Fresno asthe cause of his misfortune.

  At noon Wally went through the mockery of a second blood-raremeal, with no cake to follow, and that afternoon Glass draggedhim out under the hot sun, and made him sprint until he was readyto drop from exhaustion. His supper was wretched, and his fatigueso great that he fell asleep at Miss Blake's side during theevening. With the first hint of dawn he was up again, and Fridaynoon found him utterly hopeless, when, true to his prediction,the unexpected happened. In one moment he was raised from theblackest depths to the wildest transports of delight. It came inthe shape of
a telegram which Jean summoned him to the house toreceive. He wondered listlessly as he opened the message, thenstarted as if disbelieving his eyes; the marks of a wild emotionspread over his features, he burst into shrill, hystericallaughter.

  "Do tell us!" begged Roberta.

  "Covington--Covington is coming!" Wally felt his head whirl, andfailed to note the chaperon's cry of surprise and see the palingof her cheeks. "_Covington is coming!_ Don't youunderstand?" he shouted. After all, the gods were not deaf! Goodold Culver, who had never failed him, was coming as a deliverer.

  Even in the face of his extraordinary outburst the attention ofthe beholders was drawn to Lawrence Glass, who caused the porchto shake beneath his feet; who galloped to his employer, and,seizing him by the hands, capered about like a hippopotamus.

  "I told you 'Allah' was some guy," he wheezed. "When doesCovington arrive?" Wally reread the message. "It says 'NoonFriday.' Why, that's to-day! He's here now!"

  "'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah! Covington!" bellowed the trainer, and Mrs.Keap sank to a seat with a stifled moan.

  "Why all the 'Oh joy! Oh, rapture!' stuff?" questioned BerkeleyFresno.

  "As Socrates, the Hemlock Kid, would put it, 'Snatched from theshadow of the grave,'" quoth Glass, then paused abruptly. "Say,you don't think nothin' could happen to him on the way over fromthe depot?"

  "I'm so sorry we didn't know in time to meet him," lamented MissChapin.

  "And I could have run over to the railroad to bid him welcome,"laughed Speed. "Twenty miles would do me good."

  Still Bill and Willie approached the gallery curiously, and insubdued tones inquired:

  "What's the matter, Mr. Speed?"

  "You ain't been summoned away?" Willie stared questioninglyupward. "No, no! My running partner is on his way here, that'sall."

  "Running pardner?"

  "Culver Covington."

  "Oh, we was afraid something had happened. You see, GabbyGallagher has just blowed in from the Centipede to raise ourbets."

  "We think it's a bluff, and we'd like to call him."

  "Do so, by all means!" cried the excited athlete. "Come on, let'sall talk to him!"

  The entire party, with the exception of Mrs. Keap, trooped downfrom the porch and followed the foreman out toward the sheds,where, in the midst of a crowd of ranch-hands, a burly, loud-voiced Texan was discoursing.

  "I do wish Jack were here," said Jean nervously, on the way.

  Gabby Gallagher seemed a fitting leader for such a desperate crewas that of the Centipede, for he was the hardest-looking citizenthe Easterners had beheld thus far. He was thickset, and burnedto the color of a ripe olive; his long, drooping mustaches,tobacco-stained at the centre, were bleached at the extremitiesto a hempen hue. His bristly hair was cut short, and stoodaggressively erect upon a bullet head, his clothes were soiledand greasy beneath a gray coating of dust. A pair of alert, lead-blue eyes and a certain facility of movement belied the drawlthat marked his nativity. He removed his hat and bowed at sightof Miss Chapin.

  "Good-evenin', Miss Jean!" said he. "I hope I find y'all well."

  "Quite well, Gallagher. And you?"

  "Tol'able, thank you."

  "These are my friends from the East."

  The Centipede foreman ran his eyes coldly over Jean's companionsuntil they rested upon Speed, where they remained. He shifted alump in his cheek, spat dexterously, and directed his remark atthe Yale man.

  "I rode over to see if y'all would like to lay a little mo' onthis y'ere foot-race. I allow you are the unknown?"

  Speed nodded, and Stover took occasion to remark: "Them's ourinclinations, but we've about gone our limit."

  "I don't blame you none," said Gallagher, allowing his gaze torove slowly from top to toe of the Eastern lad. "No, I cain'tblame you none whatever. But I'm terrible grieved at themtidin's. Though we Centipede punchers has ever considered y'all acheap an' poverty-ridden outfit, we gives you credit for bein'game, till now." He spat for a second time, and regarded Stoverscornfully.

  A murmur ran through the cowboys.

  "We are game," retorted Stover, "and for your own good don'tallow no belief to the contrary to become a superstition." Of asudden the gangling, spineless foreman had grown taut andforceful, his long face was hard.

  "Don't let a Centipede bluff you!" exclaimed Speed. "Coveranything they offer--give 'em odds. Anything you don't want, I'lltake, pay or play, money at the tape. We can't lose."

  "I got no more money," said Carara, removing his handsomebespangled hat, "but I bet my sombrero. 'E's wort' two hondredpesos."

  Murphy, the Swede, followed quickly:

  "Aye ban' send may vages home to may ole' moder, but aye skallbat you some."

  "Haven't you boys risked enough already?" ventured Miss Chapin."Remember, it will go pretty hard with the losers."

  "Harder the better," came a voice.

  "Y'all don't have to bet, jest because I'm h'yar," gibedGallagher.

  "God! I wish I was rich!" exclaimed Willie.

  But Miss Chapin persisted. "You are two months overdrawn, all ofyou. My brother won't advance you any more."

  "Then my man, Lawrence, will take what they can't cover," offeredSpeed.

  "That's right! Clean 'em good, brothers," croaked the trainer.

  "If you'll step over to the bunk-house, Gabby, we'll dig up somepersonal perquisites and family heirlooms." Stover nodded towardhis men's quarters, and Gallagher grinned joyously.

  "That shore listens like a band from where I set. We aim to annexthe wages, hopes, and personal ambitions of y'all, along withyour talkin'-machine."

  "Excuse me." Willie pushed his way forward. "How's she gettin'along?"

  "Fine!"

  "You mule-skinners ain't broke her?"

  "No; we plays her every evenin'."

  The little man shifted his feet; then allowed himself to inquire,as if regarding the habits of some dear departed friend:

  "Have you chose any favorite records?"

  "We all has our picks. Speakin' personal, I'm stuck on thatbaggage coach song of Mrs. More's."

  "Mo_ray!_" Willie corrected. "M-o-r-a! Heleney Mo_ray_is the lady's name."

  "Mebbe so. Our foot-runner likes that Injun war-dance best ofall." Carara smiled at Cloudy, who nodded, as if pleased by thecompliment. Then it was that the Flying Heart spokesman made aninquiry in hushed, hesitating tones.

  "How do you like _The Holy City_"--he removed his hat, asdid those back of him. "As sung by Madam-o-sella Melby?"

  "Rotten!" Gallagher said promptly. "That's a bum, for fair."

  During one breathless instant the wizened man stood as ifdisbelieving his ears, the enormity of the insult robbing him ofspeech and motion. Then he uttered a snarl, and Stover was barelyin time to intercept the backward fling of his groping hand.

  "No voylence, Willie! There's ladies present."

  Stover's captive ground his teeth and struggled briefly, thenturned and made for the open prairie without a word.

  "It's his first love," said Stover, simply. The other foremanexploded into hoarse laughter, saying:

  "I didn't reckon I was treadin' on the toes of no bereafedrelatif's, but them church tunes ain't my style. However, we'rewastin' time, gents. Where's that bunk-house? Nothin' but moneytalks loud enough for me to hear. Good-day, white folks!"Gallagher saluted Miss Chapin and her friends with a flourish,and moved away in company with the cowboys.

  "I never," said Glass, "seen so many tough guys outside of astreet-car strike."

  "Gallagher has been in prison," Jean informed him. "He's awonderful shot."

  "I _knew_ it!"

  Speed spoke up brightly: "Well, let's go back to the house andwait for Covington."

  "But you were getting ready to go running," said Helen.

  "No more running for me! I'm in good enough shape, eh, Larry?"

  "Great! Barring the one thing."

  "What's that?" queried Fresno.

  "A little trouble with one of his nerve-centres, that's all. Buteve
n if it got worse during the night, Covington could run therace for him."

  The Californian started. At last all was plain. He had doubtedfrom the first, now he was certain; but with understanding camealso a menace to his own careful plans. If Covington ran inSpeed's place, how could he effect his rival's exposure? On theway back to the house he had to think rapidly.

  Mrs. Keap was pacing the porch as the others came up, and calledSpeed aside; then, when they were alone, broke out, with blazingeyes:

  "You said you had stopped him!"

  "And I thought I had. I did my best."

  "But he's coming! He'll be here any minute!"

  "I suppose he learned you were here." Wally laughed.

  "Then you must have told him."

  "No, I didn't."

  "Mr. Speed"--Roberta's cheeks were pallid and her voice trembled--"you--didn't--send that telegram--at all."

  "Oh, but I did."

  "You wanted him to get here in time to run in your place. I seeit all now. You arranged it very cleverly, but you will pay thepenalty."

  "You surely won't tell Helen?"

  "This minute! You wretched, deceitful man!"

  Before he could say more, from the front of the house came therattle of wheels, a loud "Whoa!" then Jean's voice, crying:

  "Culver! Culver!" while Mrs. Keap clutched at her bosom andmoaned.

  Her companion bolted into the house and down the hall, shoutingthe name of his room-mate. Out through the front door he dashedheadlong, in time to behold Fresno and the two girls assistingthe new arrival toward the veranda. They were exclaiming in pity,and had their arms about the athlete, for Culver Covington,Intercollegiate One-Hundred-Yard Champion, was hobbling forwardupon a pair of crutches.

  The yell died in Speed's throat, he felt himself grow deadlyfaint.

  "Crippled!" he gasped, and leaned against the door for support.