by Owen Wister
A JOURNEY IN SEARCH OF CHRISTMAS
The Governor descended the steps of the Capitol slowly and with pauses,lifting a list frequently to his eye. He had intermittently pencilledit between stages of the forenoon's public business, and his gait grewabsent as he recurred now to his jottings in their accumulation, witha slight pain at their number, and the definite fear that they would bemore in seasons to come. They were the names of his friends' childrento whom his excellent heart moved him to give Christmas presents. He hadput off this regenerating evil until the latest day, as was his custom,and now he was setting forth to do the whole thing at a blow, entirelyplanless among the guns and rocking-horses that would presently surroundhim. As he reached the highway he heard himself familiarly addressedfrom a distance, and, turning, saw four sons of the alkali jogging intotown from the plain. One who had shouted to him galloped out from theothers, rounded the Capitol's enclosure, and, approaching with radiantcountenance leaned to reach the hand of the Governor, and once againgreeted him with a hilarious "Hello, Doc!"
Governor Barker, M.D., seeing Mr. McLean unexpectedly after severalyears, hailed the horseman with frank and lively pleasure, and,inquiring who might be the other riders behind, was told that they wereShorty, Chalkeye, and Dollar Bill, come for Christmas. "And dandies tohit town with," Mr. McLean added. "Red-hot."
"I am acquainted with them," assented his Excellency.
"We've been ridin' trail for twelve weeks," the cow-puncher continued,"makin' our beds down anywheres, and eatin' the same old chuck everyday. So we've shook fried beef and heifer's delight, and we're goin' tofeed high."
Then Mr. McLean overflowed with talk and pungent confidences, for theholidays already rioted in his spirit, and his tongue was loosed overtheir coming rites.
"We've soured on scenery," he finished, in his drastic idiom. "We'resick of moonlight and cow-dung, and we're heeled for a big time."
"Call on me," remarked the Governor, cheerily, "when you're ready forbromides and sulphates."
"I ain't box-headed no more," protested Mr. McLean; "I've got maturity,Doc, since I seen yu' at the rain-making, and I'm a heap older than themhospital days when I bust my leg on yu'. Three or four glasses and quit.That's my rule."
"That your rule, too?" inquired the Governor of Shorty, Chalkeye,and Dollar Bill. These gentlemen of the saddle were sitting quiteexpressionless upon their horses.
"We ain't talkin', we're waitin'," observed Chalkeye; and the threecynics smiled amiably.
"Well, Doc, see yu' again," said Mr. McLean. He turned to accompany hisbrother cow-punchers, but in that particular moment Fate descended orcame up from whatever place she dwells in and entered the body of theunsuspecting Governor.
"What's your hurry?" said Fate, speaking in the official's heartymanner. "Come along with me."
"Can't do it. Where are yu' goin'?"
"Christmasing," replied Fate.
"Well, I've got to feed my horse. Christmasing, yu' say?"
"Yes; I'm buying toys."
"Toys! You? What for?"
"Oh, some kids."
"Yourn?" screeched Lin, precipitately.
His Excellency the jovial Governor opened his teeth in pleasure at this,for he was a bachelor, and there were fifteen upon his list, which heheld up for the edification of the hasty McLean. "Not mine, I'm happyto say. My friends keep marrying and settling, and their kids call meuncle, and climb around and bother, and I forget their names, and thinkit's a girl, and the mother gets mad. Why, if I didn't remember theselittle folks at Christmas they'd be wondering--not the kids, they justbreak your toys and don't notice; but the mother would wonder--'What'sthe matter with Dr. Barker? Has Governor Barker gone back onus?'--that's where the strain comes!" he broke off, facing Mr. McLeanwith another spacious laugh.
But the cow-puncher had ceased to smile, and now, while Barker ranon exuberantly, McLean's wide-open eyes rested upon him, singular andintent, and in their hazel depths the last gleam of jocularity went out.
"That's where the strain comes, you see. Two sets of acquaintances.Grateful patients and loyal voters, and I've got to keep solid with bothoutfits, especially the wives and mothers. They're the people. So it'sdrums, and dolls, and sheep on wheels, and games, and monkeys on astick, and the saleslady shows you a mechanical bear, and it costs toomuch, and you forget whether the Judge's second girl is Nellie or Susie,and--well, I'm just in for my annual circus this afternoon! You're inluck. Christmas don't trouble a chap fixed like you."
Lin McLean prolonged the sentence like a distant echo.
"A chap fixed like you!" The cow-puncher said it slowly to himself. "No,sure." He seemed to be watching Shorty, and Chalkeye, and Dollar Billgoing down the road. "That's a new idea--Christmas," he murmured, for itwas one of his oldest, and he was recalling the Christmas when he worehis first long trousers.
"Comes once a year pretty regular," remarked the prosperous Governor."Seems often when you pay the bill."
"I haven't made a Christmas gift," pursued the cow-puncher, dreamily,"not for--for--Lord! it's a hundred years, I guess. I don't know anybodythat has any right to look for such a thing from me." This was indeed anew idea, and it did not stop the chill that was spreading in his heart.
"Gee whiz!" said Barker, briskly, "there goes twelve o'clock. I've gotto make a start. Sorry you can't come and help me. Good-bye!"
His Excellency left the rider sitting motionless, and forgot him at oncein his own preoccupation. He hastened upon his journey to the shopswith the list, not in his pocket, but held firmly, like a plank in theimminence of shipwreck. The Nellies and Susies pervaded his mind, andhe struggled with the presentiment that in a day or two he would recallsome omitted and wretchedly important child. Quick hoof-beats madehim look up, and Mr. McLean passed like a wind. The Governor absentlywatched him go, and saw the pony hunch and stiffen in the check of hisspeed when Lin overtook his companions. Down there in the distance theytook a side street, and Barker rejoicingly remembered one more name andwrote it as he walked. In a few minutes he had come to the shops, andmet face to face with Mr. McLean.
"The boys are seein' after my horse," Lin rapidly began, "and I've gotto meet 'em sharp at one. We're twelve weeks shy on a square meal, yu'see, and this first has been a date from 'way back. I'd like to--" HereMr. McLean cleared his throat, and his speech went less smoothly. "Doc,I'd like just for a while to watch yu' gettin'--them monkeys, yu' know."
The Governor expressed his agreeable surprise at this change of mind,and was glad of McLean's company and judgment during the impendingselections. A picture of a cow-puncher and himself discussing acouple of dolls rose nimbly in Barker's mental eye, and it was with animperfect honesty that he said, "You'll help me a heap."
And Lin, quite sincere, replied, "Thank yu'."
So together these two went Christmasing in the throng. Wyoming's ChiefExecutive knocked elbows with the spurred and jingling waif, one man asgood as another in that raw, hopeful, full-blooded cattle era, which nowthe sobered West remembers as the days of its fond youth. For one manhas been as good as another in three places--Paradise before the Fall;the Rocky Mountains before the wire fence; and the Declaration ofIndependence. And then this Governor, beside being young, almost asyoung as Lin McLean or the Chief Justice (who lately had celebrated histhirty-second birthday), had in his doctoring days at Drybone knownthe cow-puncher with that familiarity which lasts a lifetime withoutbreeding contempt; accordingly he now laid a hand on Lin's tall shoulderand drew him among the petticoats and toys.
Christmas filled the windows and Christmas stirred in mankind. Cheyenne,not over-zealous in doctrine or litanies, and with the opinion that aworld in the hand is worth two in the bush, nevertheless was flockingtogether, neighbor to think of neighbor, and every one to remember thechildren; a sacred assembly, after all, gathered to rehearse unwittinglythe articles of its belief, the Creed and Doctrine of the Child. Linsaw them hurry and smile among the paper fairies; they questioned andhesitated, crowded and made decisions,
failed utterly to find the rightthing, forgot and hastened back, suffered all the various desperationsof the eleventh hour, and turned homeward, dropping their parcels withthat undimmed good-will that once a year makes gracious the universalhuman face. This brotherhood swam and beamed before the cow-puncher'sbrooding eyes, and in his ears the greeting of the season sang. Childrenescaped from their mothers and ran chirping behind the counters to touchand meddle in places forbidden. Friends dashed against each other withrabbits and magic lanterns, greeted in haste, and were gone, amid thesound of musical boxes.
Through this tinkle and bleating of little machinery the murmur of thehuman heart drifted in and out of McLean's hearing; fragments of hometalk, tendernesses, economies, intimate first names, and dinner hours,and whether it was joy or sadness, it was in common; the world seemedknit in a single skein of home ties. Two or three came by whose pursesmust have been slender, and whose purchases were humble and chosen aftermuch nice adjustment; and when one plain man dropped a word about bothends meeting, and the woman with him laid a hand on his arm, sayingthat his children must not feel this year was different, Lin made astep toward them. There were hours and spots where he could readilyhave descended upon them at that, played the role of clinking affluence,waved thanks aside with competent blasphemy, and tossing off someinfamous whiskey, cantered away in the full self-conscious strut of thefrontier. But here was not the moment; the abashed cow-puncher couldmake no such parade in this place. The people brushed by him back andforth, busy upon their errands, and aware of him scarcely more than ifhe had been a spirit looking on from the helpless dead; and so, whilethese weaving needs and kindnesses of man were within arm's touch ofhim, he was locked outside with his impulses. Barker had, in the naturalpress of customers, long parted from him, to become immersed in choosingand rejecting; and now, with a fair part of his mission accomplished,he was ready to go on to the next place, and turned to beckon McLean.He found him obliterated in a corner beside a life-sized image of SantaClaus, standing as still as the frosty saint.
"He looks livelier than you do," said the hearty Governor. "'Fraid it'sbeen slow waiting."
"No," replied the cow-puncher, thoughtfully. "No, I guess not."
This uncertainty was expressed with such gentleness that Barker roared."You never did lie to me," he said, "long as I've known you. Well, nevermind. I've got some real advice to ask you now."
At this Mr. McLean's face grew more alert. "Say Doc," said he, "what doyu' want for Christmas that nobody's likely to give yu'?"
"A big practice--big enough to interfere with my politics."
"What else? Things and truck, I mean."
"Oh--nothing I'll get. People don't give things much to fellows likeme."
"Don't they? Don't they?"
"Why, you and Santa Claus weren't putting up any scheme on my stocking?"
"Well--"
"I believe you're in earnest!" cried his Excellency. "That's simplyrich!" Here was a thing to relish! The Frontier comes to town "heeledfor a big time," finds that presents are all the rage, and mustimmediately give somebody something. Oh, childlike, miscellaneousFrontier! So thought the good-hearted Governor; and it seems a venialmisconception. "My dear fellow," he added, meaning as well as possible,"I don't want you to spend your money on me."
"I've got plenty all right," said Lin, shortly.
"Plenty's not the point. I'll take as many drinks as you please withyou. You didn't expect anything from me?"
"That ain't--that don't--"
"There! Of course you didn't. Then, what are you getting proud about?Here's our shop." They stepped in from the street to new crowds andcounters. "Now," pursued the Governor, "this is for a very particularfriend of mine. Here they are. Now, which of those do you like best?"
They were sets of Tennyson in cases holding little volumes equal innumber, but the binding various, and Mr. McLean reached his decisionafter one look. "That," said he, and laid a large muscular hand upon theLaureate. The young lady behind the counter spoke out acidly, and Linpulled the abject hand away. His taste, however, happened to be sound,or, at least, it was at one with the Governor's; but now they learnedthat there was a distressing variance in the matter of price.
The Governor stared at the delicate article of his choice. "I knowthat Tennyson is what she--is what's wanted," he muttered; and, feelinghimself nudged, looked around and saw Lin's extended fist. This gesturehe took for a facetious sympathy, and, dolorously grasping the hand,found himself holding a lump of bills. Sheer amazement relaxed him, andthe cow-puncher's matted wealth tumbled on the floor in sight of allpeople. Barker picked it up and gave it back. "No, no, no!" he said,mirthful over his own inclination to be annoyed; "you can't do that. I'mjust as much obliged, Lin," he added.
"Just as a loan, Doc--some of it. I'm grass-bellied with spot-cash."
A giggle behind the counter disturbed them both, but the sharpyoung lady was only dusting. The Governor at once paid haughtilyfor Tennyson's expensive works, and the cow-puncher pushed hisdiscountenanced savings back into his clothes. Making haste to leavethe book department of this shop, they regained a mutual ease, andthe Governor became waggish over Lin's concern at being too rich. Hesuggested to him the list of delinquent taxpayers and the latest censusfrom which to select indigent persons. He had patients, too, whoseinveterate pennilessness he could swear cheerfully to--"since you wantto bolt from your own money," he remarked.
"Yes, I'm a green horse," assented Mr. McLean, gallantly; "ain't used tothe looks of a twenty-dollar bill, and I shy at 'em."
From his face--that jocular mask--one might have counted him the mostserene and careless of vagrants, and in his words only the ordinaryvoice of banter spoke to the Governor. A good woman, it may well be,would have guessed before this the sensitive soul in the blunderingbody, but Barker saw just the familiar, whimsical, happy-go-lucky McLeanof old days, and so he went gayly and innocently on, treading upon holyground. "I've got it!" he exclaimed; "give your wife something."
The ruddy cow-puncher grinned. He had passed through the world of womanwith but few delays, rejoicing in informal and transient entanglements,and he welcomed the turn which the conversation seemed now to be taking."If you'll give me her name and address," said he, with the futureentirely in his mind.
"Why, Laramie!" and the Governor feigned surprise.
"Say, Doc," said Lin, uneasily, "none of 'em ain't married me since Isaw yu' last."
"Then she hasn't written from Laramie," said the hilarious Governor, andMr. McLean understood and winced in his spirit deep down. "Gee whiz!"went on Barker, "I'll never forget you and Lusk that day!"
But the mask fell now. "You're talking of his wife, not mine," said thecow-puncher very quietly, and smiling no more; "and, Doc, I'm going tosay a word to yu', for I know yu've always been my good friend. I'llnever forget that day myself--but I don't want to be reminded of it."
"I'm a fool, Lin," said the Governor, generous instantly. "I neversupposed--"
"I know yu' didn't, Doc. It ain't you that's the fool. And in a way--ina way--" Lin's speech ended among his crowding memories, and Barker,seeing how wistful his face had turned, waited. "But I ain't quite thesame fool I was before that happened to me," the cow-puncher resumed,"though maybe my actions don't show to be wiser. I know that there wasbetter luck than a man like me had any call to look for."
The sobered Barker said, simply, "Yes, Lin." He was put to thinking bythese words from the unsuspected inner man.
Out in the Bow Leg country Lin McLean had met a woman with thick,red cheeks, calling herself by a maiden name; and this was his wholeknowledge of her when he put her one morning astride a Mexican saddleand took her fifty miles to a magistrate and made her his lawful wifeto the best of his ability and belief. His sage-brush intimates wereconfident he would never have done it but for a rival. Racing the rivaland beating him had swept Mr. McLean past his own intentions, and themarriage was an inadvertence. "He jest bumped into it before he couldpull up," they explained; and this casua
lty, resulting from Mr. McLean'ssporting blood, had entertained several hundred square miles of alkali.For the new-made husband the joke soon died. In the immediate weeks thatcame upon him he tasted a bitterness worse than in all his life before,and learned also how deep the woman, when once she begins, can sinkbeneath the man in baseness. That was a knowledge of which he had livedinnocent until this time. But he carried his outward self serenely, sothat citizens in Cheyenne who saw the cow-puncher with his bride arguedshrewdly that men of that sort liked women of that sort; and before thestrain had broken his endurance an unexpected first husband, namedLusk, had appeared one Sunday in the street, prosperous, forgiving,and exceedingly drunk. To the arms of Lusk she went back in the publicstreet, deserting McLean in the presence of Cheyenne; and when Cheyennesaw this, and learned how she had been Mrs. Lusk for eight long, ifintermittent, years, Cheyenne laughed loudly. Lin McLean laughed, too,and went about his business, ready to swagger at the necessary moment,and with the necessary kind of joke always ready to shield his hurtspirit. And soon, of course, the matter grew stale, seldom raked up inthe Bow Leg country where Lin had been at work; so lately he had begunto remember other things beside the smouldering humiliation.
"Is she with him?" he asked Barker, and musingly listened while Barkertold him. The Governor had thought to make it a racy story, with themoral that the joke was now on Lusk; but that inner man had spoken andrevealed the cow-puncher to him in a new and complicated light; hence hequieted the proposed lively cadence and vocabulary of his anecdoteabout the house of Lusk, but instead of narrating how Mrs. beat Mr. onMondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and Mr. took his turn the odd days,thus getting one ahead of his lady, while the kid Lusk had outlinedhis opinion of the family by recently skipping to parts unknown, Barkerdetailed these incidents more gravely, adding that Laramie believed Mrs.Lusk addicted to opium.
"I don't guess I'll leave my card on 'em," said McLean, grimly, "if Istrike Laramie."
"You don't mind my saying I think you're well out of that scrape?"Barker ventured.
"Shucks, no! That's all right, Doc. Only--yu' see now. A man gets tiredpretending--onced in a while."
Time had gone while they were in talk, and it was now half after one andMr. McLean late for that long-plotted first square meal. So the friendsshook hands, wishing each other Merry Christmas, and the cow-puncherhastened toward his chosen companions through the stirring cheerfulnessof the season. His play-hour had made a dull beginning among the toys.He had come upon people engaged in a pleasant game, and waited, shy andwell disposed, for some bidding to join, but they had gone on playingwith each other and left him out. And now he went along in a sort ofhurry to escape from that loneliness where his human promptings had beenlodged with him useless. Here was Cheyenne, full of holiday for sale,and he with his pockets full of money to buy; and when he thought ofShorty, and Chalkeye, and Dollar Bill, those dandies to hit a town with,he stepped out with a brisk, false hope. It was with a mental hurrah anda foretaste of a good time coming that he put on his town clothes, aftershaving and admiring himself, and sat down to the square meal. He ateaway and drank with a robust imitation of enjoyment that took in evenhimself at first. But the sorrowful process of his spirit went on, forall he could do. As he groped for the contentment which he saw aroundhim he began to receive the jokes with counterfeit mirth. Memories tookthe place of anticipation, and through their moody shiftings he beganto feel a distaste for the company of his friends and a shrinking fromtheir lively voices. He blamed them for this at once. He was surprisedto think he had never recognized before how light a weight was Shorty;and here was Chalkeye, who knew better, talking religion after twoglasses. Presently this attack of noticing his friends' shortcomingsmastered him, and his mind, according to its wont, changed at a stroke."I'm celebrating no Christmas with this crowd," said the inner man; andwhen they had next remembered Lin McLean in their hilarity he was gone.
Governor Barker, finishing his purchases at half-past three, went tomeet a friend come from Evanston. Mr. McLean was at the railway station,buying a ticket for Denver.
"Denver!" exclaimed the amazed Governor.
"That's what I said," stated Mr. McLean, doggedly.
"Gee whiz!" went his Excellency. "What are you going to do there?"
"Get good and drunk."
"Can't you find enough whiskey in Cheyenne?"
"I'm drinking champagne this trip."
The cow-puncher went out on the platform and got aboard, and the trainmoved off. Barker had walked out too in his surprise, and as he staredafter the last car, Mr. McLean waved his wide hat defiantly and wentinside the door.
"And he says he's got maturity," Barker muttered. "I've known him sinceseventy-nine, and he's kept about eight years old right along." TheGovernor was cross, and sorry, and presently crosser. His jokes aboutLin's marriage came back to him and put him in a rage with the departedfool. "Yes, about eight. Or six," said his Excellency, justifyinghimself by the past. For he had first known Lin, the boy of nineteen,supreme in length of limb and recklessness, breaking horses and feelingfor an early mustache. Next, when the mustache was nearly accomplished,he had mended the boy's badly broken thigh at Drybone. His skill (andLin's utter health) had wrought so swift a healing that the surgeonoverflowed with the pride of science, and over the bandages wouldexplain the human body technically to his wild-eyed and flatteredpatient. Thus young Lin heard all about tibia, and comminuted, and otherglorious new words, and when sleepless would rehearse them. Then,with the bone so nearly knit that the patient might leave the wardon crutches to sit each morning in Barker's room as a privilege, thedisobedient child of twenty-one had slipped out of the hospital andhobbled hastily to the hog ranch, where whiskey and variety waited fora languishing convalescent. Here he grew gay, and was soon carried backwith the leg refractured. Yet Barker's surgical rage was disarmed, thepatient was so forlorn over his doctor's professional chagrin.
"I suppose it ain't no better this morning, Doc?" he had said, humbly,after a new week of bed and weights.
"Your right leg's going to be shorter. That's all."
"Oh, gosh! I've been and spoiled your comminuted fee-mur! Ain't I ason-of-a-gun?"
You could not chide such a boy as this; and in time's due course he hadwalked jauntily out into the world with legs of equal length after alland in his stride the slightest halt possible. And Doctor Barker hadmissed the child's conversation. To-day his mustache was a perfectedthing, and he in the late end of his twenties.
"He'll wake up about noon to-morrow in a dive, without a cent," saidBarker. "Then he'll come back on a freight and begin over again."
At the Denver station Lin McLean passed through the shoutings andomnibuses, and came to the beginning of Seventeenth Street, where is thefirst saloon. A customer was ordering Hot Scotch; and because he likedthe smell and had not thought of the mixture for a number of years, Lintook Hot Scotch. Coming out upon the pavement, he looked across and sawa saloon opposite with brighter globes and windows more prosperous. Thatshould have been his choice; lemon peel would undoubtedly be fresherover there; and over he went at once, to begin the whole thing properly.In such frozen weather no drink could be more timely, and he sat, toenjoy without haste its mellow fitness. Once again on the pavement, helooked along the street toward up-town beneath the crisp, cold electriclights, and three little bootblacks gathered where he stood and cried"Shine? Shine?" at him. Remembering that you took the third turn to theright to get the best dinner in Denver, Lin hit on the skilful plan ofstopping at all Hot Scotches between; but the next occurred within afew yards, and it was across the street. This one being attained andappreciated, he found that he must cross back again or skip number four.At this rate he would not be dining in time to see much of the theatre,and he stopped to consider. It was a German place he had justquitted, and a huge light poured out on him from its window, which theproprietor's father-land sentiment had made into a show. Lights shoneamong a well-set pine forest, where beery, jovial gnomes sat on rootsand reached
upward to Santa Claus; he, grinning, fat, and Teutonic, heldin his right hand forever a foaming glass, and forever in his left astring of sausages that dangled down among the gnomes. With his Americanback to this, the cow-puncher, wearing the same serious, absent face hehad not changed since he ran away from himself at Cheyenne, consideredcarefully the Hot Scotch question, and which side of the road to takeand stick to, while the little bootblacks found him once more and cried,"Shine? Shine?" monotonous as snow-birds. He settled to stay over herewith the south-side Scotches, and the little one-note song reaching hisattention, he suddenly shoved his foot at the nearest boy, who lightlysprang away.
"Dare you to touch him!" piped a snow-bird, dangerously. They were inshort trousers, and the eldest enemy, it may be, was ten.
"Don't hit me," said Mr. McLean "I'm innocent."
"Well, you leave him be," said one.
"What's he layin' to kick you for, Billy? 'Tain't yer pop, is it?"
"New!" said Billy, in scorn. "Father never kicked me. Don't know who heis."
"He's a special!" shrilled the leading bird, sensationally. "He's got abadge, and he's goin' to arrest yer."
Two of them hopped instantly to the safe middle of the street, andscattered with practiced strategy; but Billy stood his ground. "Dare youto arrest me!" said he.
"What'll you give me not to?" inquired Lin, and he put his hands in hispockets, arms akimbo.
"Nothing; I've done nothing," announced Billy, firmly. But even in thelast syllable his voice suddenly failed, a terror filled his eyes, andhe, too, sped into the middle of the street.
"What's he claim you lifted?" inquired the leader, with eagerness."Tell him you haven't been inside a store to-day. We can prove it!" theyscreamed to the special officer.
"Say," said the slow-spoken Lin from the pavement, "you're poor judgesof a badge, you fellows."
His tone pleased them where they stood, wide apart from each other.
Mr. McLean also remained stationary in the bluish illumination of thewindow. "Why, if any policeman was caught wearin' this here," said he,following his sprightly invention, "he'd get arrested himself."
This struck them extremely. They began to draw together, Billy lingeringthe last.
"If it's your idea," pursued Mr. McLean, alluringly, as the three tookcautious steps nearer the curb, "that blue, clasped hands in a circle ofred stars gives the bearer the right to put folks in the jug--why, I'llget somebody else to black my boots for a dollar."
The three made a swift rush, fell on simultaneous knees, and clatteringtheir boxes down, began to spit in an industrious circle.
"Easy!" wheedled Mr. McLean, and they looked up at him, staring andfascinated. "Not having three feet," said the cow-puncher, always graveand slow, "I can only give two this here job."
"He's got a big pistol and a belt!" exulted the leader, who hadprecociously felt beneath Lin's coat.
"You're a smart boy," said Lin, considering him, "and yu' find a man outright away. Now you stand off and tell me all about myself while theyfix the boots--and a dollar goes to the quickest through."
Young Billy and his tow-headed competitor flattened down, each to aboot, with all their might, while the leader ruefully contemplated Mr.McLean.
"That's a Colt.45 you've got," ventured he.
"Right again. Some day, maybe, you'll be wearing one of your own, if theangels don't pull yu' before you're ripe."
"I'm through!" sang out Towhead, rising in haste.
Small Billy was struggling still, but leaped at that, the two headsbobbing to a level together; and Mr. McLean, looking down, saw that thearrangement had not been a good one for the boots.
"Will you kindly referee," said he, forgivingly, to the leader, "anddecide which of them smears is the awfulest?"
But the leader looked the other way and played upon a mouth-organ.
"Well, that saves me money," said Mr. McLean, jingling his pocket."I guess you've both won." He handed each of them a dollar. "Now," hecontinued, "I just dassent show these boots uptown; so this time it's adollar for the best shine."
The two went palpitating at their brushes again, and the leader playedhis mouth-organ with brilliant unconcern. Lin, tall and brooding leanedagainst the jutting sill of the window, a figure somehow plainly strangein town, while through the bright plate-glass Santa Claus, holding outhis beer and sausages, perpetually beamed.
Billy was laboring gallantly, but it was labor, the cow-puncherperceived, and Billy no seasoned expert. "See here," said Lin, stooping,"I'll show yu' how it's done. He's playin' that toon cross-eyed enoughto steer anybody crooked. There. Keep your blacking soft, and work witha dry brush."
"Lemme," said Billy. "I've got to learn." So he finished the boot hisown way with wiry determination, breathing and repolishing; and thisevent was also adjudged a dead heat, with results gratifying to bothparties. So here was their work done, and more money in their pocketsthan from all the other boots and shoes of this day; and Towhead andBilly did not wish for further trade, but to spend this handsome fortuneas soon as might be. Yet they delayed in the brightness of the window,drawn by curiosity near this new kind of man whose voice held them andwhose remarks dropped them into constant uncertainty. Even the omittedleader had been unable to go away and nurse his pride alone.
"Is that a secret society?" inquired Towhead, lifting a finger at thebadge.
Mr. McLean nodded. "Turruble," said he.
"You're a Wells & Fargo detective," asserted the leader.
"Play your harp," said Lin.
"Are you a--a desperaydo?" whispered Towhead.
"Oh, my!" observed Mr. McLean, sadly; "what has our Jack been readin'?"
"He's a cattle-man!" cried Billy. "I seen his heels."
"That's you!" said the discovered puncher, with approval. "You'll do.But I bet you can't tell me what we wearers of this badge have sworn todo this night."
At this they craned their necks and glared at him.
"We--are--sworn--don't yu' jump, now, and give me away--sworn--to--blowoff three bootblacks to a dinner."
"Ah, pshaw!" They backed away, bristling with distrust.
"That's the oath, fellows. Yu' may as well make your minds up--for Ihave it to do!"
"Dare you to! Ah!"
"And after dinner it's the Opera-house, to see 'The Children of CaptainCant'!"
They screamed shrilly at him, keeping off beyond the curb.
"I can't waste my time on such smart boys," said Mr. McLean, risinglazily to his full height from the window-sill. "I am goin' somewhere tofind boys that ain't so turruble quick stampeded by a roast turkey."
He began to lounge slowly away, serious as he had been throughout, andthey, stopping their noise short, swiftly picked up their boxes, andfollowed him. Some change in the current of electricity that fed thewindow disturbed its sparkling light, so that Santa Claus, with his armsstretched out behind the departing cow-puncher seemed to be smiling morebroadly from the midst of his flickering brilliance.
On their way to turkey, the host and his guests exchanged but fewremarks. He was full of good-will, and threw off a comment or two thatwould have led to conversation under almost any circumstances savethese; but the minds of the guests were too distracted by this wholestate of things for them to be capable of more than keeping after Mr.McLean in silence, at a wary interval, and with their mouths, duringmost of the journey, open. The badge, the pistol, their patron's talk,and the unusual dollars, wakened wide their bent for the unexpected,their street affinity for the spur of the moment; they believed slimlyin the turkey part of it, but what this man might do next, to bethere when he did it, and not to be trapped, kept their wits jumpingdeliciously; so when they saw him stop, they stopped instantly too, tenfeet out of reach. This was Denver's most civilized restaurant--that onewhich Mr. McLean had remembered, with foreign dishes and private rooms,where he had promised himself, among other things, champagne. Mr. McLeanhad never been inside it, but heard a tale from a friend; and now hecaught a sudden sight of p
eople among geraniums, with plumes and whiteshirt-fronts, very elegant. It must have been several minutes that hestood contemplating the entrance and the luxurious couples who went in.
"Plumb French!" he observed at length; and then, "Shucks!" in a key lessconfident, while his guests ten feet away watched him narrowly. "They'reeatin' patty de parley-voo in there," he muttered, and the threebootblacks came beside him. "Say, fellows," said Lin, confidingly, "Iwasn't raised good enough for them dude dishes. What do yu' say! I'mafter a place where yu' can mention oyster stoo without givin' anybody afit. What do yu' say, boys?"
That lighted the divine spark of brotherhood!
"Ah, you come along with us--we'll take yer! You don't want to go inthere. We'll show yer the boss place in Market Street. We won't loseyer." So, shouting together in their shrill little city trebles, theyclustered about him, and one pulled at his coat to start him. He startedobediently, and walked in their charge, they leading the way.
"Christmas is comin' now, sure," said Lin, grinning to himself. "Itain't exactly what I figured on." It was the first time he had laughedsince Cheyenne, and he brushed a hand over his eyes, that were dim withthe new warmth in his heart.
Believing at length in him and his turkey, the alert street faces, sosuspicious of the unknown, looked at him with ready intimacy as theywent along; and soon, in the friendly desire to make him acquainted withDenver, the three were patronizing him. Only Billy, perhaps, now andthen stole at him a doubtful look.
The large Country Mouse listened solemnly to his three Town Mice, whopresently introduced him to the place in Market Street. It was not boss,precisely, and Denver knows better neighborhoods; but the turkey andthe oyster stew were there, with catsup and vegetables in season, andseveral choices of pie. Here the Country Mouse became again efficient;and to witness his liberal mastery of ordering and imagine his pocketand its wealth, which they had heard and partly seen, renewed in theguests a transient awe. As they dined, however, and found the host asfrankly ravenous as themselves, this reticence evaporated, and they allgrew fluent with oaths and opinions. At one or two words, indeed, Mr.McLean stared and had a slight sense of blushing.
"Have a cigarette?" said the leader, over his pie.
"Thank yu'," said Lin. "I won't smoke, if yu'll excuse me." He haddevised a wholesome meal, with water to drink.
"Chewin's no good at meals," continued the boy. "Don't you usetobaccer?"
"Onced in a while."
The leader spat brightly. "He ain't learned yet," said he, slanting hiselbows at Billy and sliding a match over his rump. "But beer, now--Inever seen anything in it." He and Towhead soon left Billy and hiscallow profanities behind, and engaged in a town conversation thatsilenced him, and set him listening with all his admiring young might.Nor did Mr. McLean join in the talk, but sat embarrassed by thisknowledge, which seemed about as much as he knew himself.
"I'll be goshed," he thought, "if I'd caught on to half that when I wasstreakin' around in short pants! Maybe they grow up quicker now."But now the Country Mouse perceived Billy's eager and attentiveapprenticeship. "Hello, boys!" he said, "that theatre's got a big starton us."
They had all forgotten he had said anything about theatre, and othertopics left their impatient minds, while the Country Mouse paid the billand asked to be guided to the Opera-house. "This man here will look outfor your blackin' and truck, and let yu' have it in the morning."
They were very late. The spectacle had advanced far into passages ofthe highest thrill, and Denver's eyes were riveted upon a ship and someicebergs. The party found its seats during several beautiful lime-lighteffects, and that remarkable fly-buzzing of violins which is pronouncedso helpful in times of peril and sentiment. The children of CaptainGrant had been tracking their father all over the equator and otherscenic spots, and now the north pole was about to impale them. TheCaptain's youngest child, perceiving a hummock rushing at them with asudden motion, loudly shouted, "Sister, the ice is closing in!" and shereplied, chastely, "Then let us pray." It was a superb tableau: the icesplit, and the sun rose and joggled at once to the zenith. The act-dropfell, and male Denver, wrung to its religious deeps, went out to therum-shop.
Of course Mr. McLean and his party did not do this. The party hadapplauded exceedingly the defeat of the elements, and the leader, withTowhead, discussed the probable chances of the ship's getting farthersouth in the next act. Until lately Billy's doubt of the cow-puncher hadlingered; but during this intermission whatever had been holding outin him seemed won, and in his eyes, that he turned stealthily upon hisunconscious, quiet neighbor, shone the beginnings of hero-worship.
"Don't you think this is splendid?" said he.
"Splendid," Lin replied, a trifle remotely.
"Don't you like it when they all get balled up and get out that way?"
"Humming," said Lin.
"Don't you guess it's just girls, though, that do that?"
"What, young fellow?"
"Why, all that prayer-saying an' stuff."
"I guess it must be."
"She said to do it when the ice scared her, an' of course a man had todo what she wanted him."
"Sure."
"Well, do you believe they'd 'a' done it if she hadn't been on thatboat, and clung around an' cried an' everything, an' made her friendsfeel bad?"
"I hardly expect they would," replied the honest Lin, and then, suddenlymindful of Billy, "except there wasn't nothin' else they could thinkof," he added, wishing to speak favorably of the custom.
"Why, that chunk of ice weren't so awful big anyhow. I'd 'a' shoved heroff with a pole. Wouldn't you?"
"Butted her like a ram," exclaimed Mr. McLean.
"Well, I don't say my prayers any more. I told Mr. Perkins I wasn'ta-going to, an' he--I think he is a flubdub anyway."
"I'll bet he is!" said Lin, sympathetically. He was scarcely a prudentguardian.
"I told him straight, an' he looked at me an' down he flops on hisknees. An' he made 'em all flop, but I told him I didn't care for themputting up any camp-meeting over me; an' he says, 'I'll lick you,' an'I says, 'Dare you to!' I told him mother kep' a-licking me for nothing,an' I'd not pray for her, not in Sunday-school or anywheres else. Do youpray much?"
"No," replied Lin, uneasily.
"There! I told him a man didn't, an' he said then a man went to hell.'You lie; father ain't going to hell,' I says, and you'd ought to heardthe first class laugh right out loud, girls an' boys. An' he was thatmad! But I didn't care. I came here with fifty cents."
"Yu' must have felt like a millionaire."
"Ah, I felt all right! I bought papers an' sold 'em, an' got more an'saved, ant got my box an' blacking outfit. I weren't going to be lickedby her just because she felt like it, an' she feeling like it most anytime. Lemme see your pistol."
"You wait," said Lin. "After this show is through I'll put it on you."
"Will you, honest? Belt an' everything? Did you ever shoot a bear?"
"Lord! lots."
"Honest? Silver-tips?"
"Silver-tips, cinnamon, black; and I roped a cub onced."
"O-h! I never shot a bear."
"You'd ought to try it."
"I'm a-going to. I'm a-going to camp out in the mountains. I'd like tosee you when you camp. I'd like to camp with you. Mightn't I some time?"Billy had drawn nearer to Lin, and was looking up at him adoringly.
"You bet!" said Lin; and though he did not, perhaps, entirely mean this,it was with a curiously softened face that he began to look at Billy.As with dogs and his horse, so always he played with what children hemet--the few in his sage-brush world; but this was ceasing to be quiteplay for him, and his hand went to the boy's shoulder.
"Father took me camping with him once, the time mother was off. Fathergets awful drunk, too. I've quit Laramie for good."
Lin sat up, and his hand gripped the boy. "Laramie!" said he, almostshouting it. "Yu'--yu'--is your name Lusk?"
But the boy had shrunk from him instantly. "You're not going to
take mehome?" he piteously wailed.
"Heaven and heavens!" murmured Lin McLean. "So you're her kid!"
He relaxed again, down in his chair, his legs stretched their straightlength below the chair in front. He was waked from his bewilderment bya brushing under him, and there was young Billy diving for escape to theaisle, like the cornered city mouse that he was. Lin nipped that poorlittle attempt and had the limp Billy seated inside again before the twoin discussion beyond had seen anything. He had said not a word to theboy, and now watched his unhappy eyes seizing upon the various exits anddispositions of the theatre; nor could he imagine anything to tell himthat should restore the perished confidence. "Why did yu' lead him off?"he asked himself unexpectedly, and found that he did not seem to know;but as he watched the restless and estranged runaway he grew more andmore sorrowful. "I just hate him to think that of me," he reflected.The curtain rose, and he saw Billy make up his mind to wait until theyshould all be going out in the crowd. While the children of CaptainGrant grew hotter and hotter upon their father's geographic trail, Linsat saying to himself a number of contradictions. "He's nothing tome; what's any of them to me?" Driven to bay by his bewilderment, herestated the facts of the past. "Why, she'd deserted him and Lusk beforeshe'd ever laid eyes on me. I needn't to bother myself. He wasn't nevereven my step-kid." The past, however, brought no guidance. "Lord, what'sthe thing to do about this? If I had any home--This is a stinkin' worldin some respects," said Mr. McLean, aloud, unknowingly. The lady in thechair beneath which the cow-puncher had his legs nudged her husband.They took it for emotion over the sad fortune of Captain Grant, andtheir backs shook. Presently each turned, and saw the singular man withuntamed, wide-open eyes glowering at the stage, and both backs shookagain.
Once more his hand was laid on Billy. "Say!" The boy glanced at him, andquickly away.
"Look at me, and listen."
Billy swervingly obeyed.
"I ain't after yu', and never was. This here's your business, not mine.Are yu' listenin' good?"
The boy made a nod, and Lin proceeded, whispering: "You've got no callto believe what I say to yu'--yu've been lied to, I guess, pretty often.So I'll not stop yu' runnin' and hidin', and I'll never give it away Isaw yu', but yu' keep doin' what yu' please. I'll just go now. I've sawall I want, but you and your friends stay with it till it quits. Ifyu' happen to wish to speak to me about that pistol or bears, yu' comearound to Smith's Palace--that's the boss hotel here, ain't it?--and ifyu' don't come too late I'll not be gone to bed. But this time of nightI'm liable to get sleepy. Tell your friends good-bye for me, and be goodto yourself. I've appreciated your company."
Mr. McLean entered Smith's Palace, and, engaging a room with two bedsin it, did a little delicate lying by means of the truth. "It's a lostboy--a runaway," he told the clerk. "He'll not be extra clean, I expect,if he does come. Maybe he'll give me the slip, and I'll have a job cutout to-morrow. I'll thank yu' to put my money in your safe."
The clerk placed himself at the disposal of the secret service, and Linwalked up and down, looking at the railroad photographs for some tenminutes, when Master Billy peered in from the street.
"Hello!" said Mr. McLean, casually, and returned to a fine picture ofPike's Peak.
Billy observed him for a space, and, receiving no further attention,came stepping along. "I'm not a-going back to Laramie," he stated,warningly.
"I wouldn't," said Lin. "It ain't half the town Denver is. Well,good-night. Sorry yu' couldn't call sooner--I'm dead sleepy."
"O-h!" Billy stood blank. "I wish I'd shook the darned old show. Say,lemme black your boots in the morning?"
"Not sure my train don't go too early."
"I'm up! I'm up! I get around to all of 'em."
"Where do yu' sleep?"
"Sleeping with the engine-man now. Why can't you put that on meto-night?"
"Goin' up-stairs. This gentleman wouldn't let you go up-stairs."
But the earnestly petitioned clerk consented, and Billy was the firstto hasten into the room. He stood rapturous while Lin buckled thebelt round his scanty stomach, and ingeniously buttoned the suspendersoutside the accoutrement to retard its immediate descent to earth.
"Did it ever kill a man?" asked Billy, touching the six-shooter.
"No. It ain't never had to do that, but I expect maybe it's stopped somekillin' me."
"Oh, leave me wear it just a minute! Do you collect arrow-heads? I thinkthey're bully. There's the finest one you ever seen." He brought outthe relic, tightly wrapped in paper, several pieces. "I foun' it myself,camping with father. It was sticking in a crack right on top of a rock,but nobody'd seen it till I came along. Ain't it fine?"
Mr. McLean pronounced it a gem.
"Father an' me found a lot, an' they made mother mad laying around, an'she throwed 'em out. She takes stuff from Kelley's."
"Who's Kelley?"
"He keeps the drug-store at Laramie. Mother gets awful funny. That'show she was when I came home. For I told Mr. Perkins he lied, an' I ranthen. An' I knowed well enough she'd lick me when she got through herspell--an' father can't stop her, an' I--ah, I was sick of it! She'slamed me up twice beating me--an' Perkins wanting me to say 'God blessmy mother!' a-getting up and a-going to bed--he's a flubdub! An' so Icleared out. But I'd just as leaves said for God to bless father--an'you. I'll do it now if you say it's any sense."
Mr. McLean sat down in a chair. "Don't yu' do it now," said he.
"You wouldn't like mother," Billy continued. "You can keep that." Hecame to Lin and placed the arrow-head in his hands, standing besidehim. "Do you like birds' eggs? I collect them. I got twenty-fivekinds--sage-hen, an' blue grouse, an' willow-grouse, an' lots morekinds harder--but I couldn't bring all them from Laramie. I broughtthe magpie's, though. D' you care to see a magpie egg? Well, youstay to-morrow an' I'll show you that en' some other things I got theengine-man lets me keep there, for there's boys that would steal an egg.An' I could take you where we could fire that pistol. Bet you don't knowwhat that is!"
He brought out a small tin box shaped like a thimble, in which werethings that rattled.
Mr. McLean gave it up.
"That's kinni-kinnic seed. You can have that, for I got some more withthe engine-man."
Lin received this second token also, and thanked the giver for it. Hisfirst feeling had been to prevent the boy's parting with his treasures,but something that came not from the polish of manners and experiencemade him know that he should take them. Billy talked away, laying barehis little soul; the street boy that was not quite come made place forthe child that was not quite gone, and unimportant words and confidencesdropped from him disjointed as he climbed to the knee of Mr. McLean, andinadvertently took that cow-puncher for some sort of parent he had nothitherto met. It lasted but a short while, however, for he went to sleepin the middle of a sentence, with his head upon Lin's breast. The manheld him perfectly still, because he had not the faintest notionthat Billy would be impossible to disturb. At length he spoke to him,suggesting that bed might prove more comfortable; and, finding how itwas, rose and undressed the boy and laid him between the sheets. Thearms and legs seemed aware of the moves required of them, and stirredconveniently; and directly the head was upon the pillow the whole smallframe burrowed down, without the opening of an eye or a change in thebreathing. Lin stood some time by the bedside, with his eyes on thelong, curling lashes and the curly hair. Then he glanced craftily at thedoor of the room, and at himself in the looking-glass. He stooped andkissed Billy on the forehead, and, rising from that, gave himself ahangdog stare in the mirror, and soon in his own bed was sleeping thesound sleep of health.
He was faintly roused by the church bells, and lay still, lingeringwith his sleep, his eyes closed, and his thoughts unshaped. As he becameslowly aware of the morning, the ringing and the light reached him, andhe waked wholly, and, still lying quiet, considered the strange roomfilled with the bells and the sun of the winter's day. "Where have Istruck now?" he inquired; and as last night retu
rned abruptly upon hismind, he raised himself on his arm.
There sat Responsibility in a chair, washed clean and dressed, watchinghim.
"You're awful late," said Responsibility. "But I weren't a-going withouttelling you good-bye."
"Go?" exclaimed Lin. "Go where? Yu' surely ain't leavin' me to eatbreakfast alone?" The cow-puncher made his voice very plaintive. SetResponsibility free after all his trouble to catch him? This was morethan he could do!
"I've got to go. If I'd thought you'd want for me to stay--why, you saidyou was a-going by the early train!"
"But the durned thing's got away on me," said Lin, smiling sweetly fromthe bed.
"If I hadn't a-promised them--"
"Who?"
"Sidney Ellis and Pete Goode. Why, you know them; you grubbed withthem."
"Shucks!"
"We're a-going to have fun to-day."
"Oh!"
"For it's Christmas, an' we've bought some good cigars, an' Pete sayshe'll learn me sure. O' course I've smoked some, you know. But I'd justas leaves stayed with you if I'd only knowed sooner. I wish you livedhere. Did you smoke whole big cigars when you was beginning?"
"Do you like flapjacks and maple syrup?" inquired the artful McLean."That's what I'm figuring on inside twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes! If they'd wait--"
"See here, Bill. They've quit expecting yu', don't yu' think? I'd oughtto waked, yu' see, but I slep' and slep', and kep' yu' from meetin' yourengagements, yu' see--for you couldn't go, of course. A man couldn'ttreat a man that way now, could he?"
"Course he couldn't," said Billy, brightening.
"And they wouldn't wait, yu' see. They wouldn't fool away Christmas,that only comes onced a year, kickin' their heels and sayin' 'Where'sBilly?' They'd say, 'Bill has sure made other arrangements, which he'llexplain to us at his leesyure.' And they'd skip with the cigars."
The advocate paused, effectively, and from his bolster regarded Billywith a convincing eye.
"That's so," said Billy.
"And where would yu' be then, Bill? In the street, out of friends, outof Christmas, and left both ways, no tobaccer and no flapjacks. Now,Bill, what do yu' say to us putting up a Christmas deal together? Justyou and me?"
"I'd like that," said Billy. "Is it all day?"
"I was thinkin' of all day," said Lin. "I'll not make yu' do anythingyu'd rather not."
"Ah, they can smoke without me," said Billy, with sudden acrimony. "I'llsee 'em to-morro'."
"That's you!" cried Mr. McLean. "Now, Bill, you hustle down and tellthem to keep a table for us. I'll get my clothes on and follow yu'."
The boy went, and Mr. McLean procured hot water and dressed himself,tying his scarf with great care. "Wished I'd a clean shirt," said he."But I don't look very bad. Shavin' yesterday afternoon was a goodmove." He picked up the arrow-head and the kinni-kinnic, and wasparticular to store them in his safest pocket. "I ain't sure whetheryou're crazy or not," said he to the man in the looking-glass. "I ain'tnever been sure." And he slammed the door and went down-stairs.
He found young Bill on guard over a table for four, with all the chairstilted against it as warning to strangers. No one sat at any other tableor came into the room, for it was late, and the place quite emptied ofbreakfasters, and the several entertained waiters had gathered behindBilly's important-looking back. Lin provided a thorough meal, and Billypronounced the flannel cakes superior to flapjacks, which were not uponthe bill of fare.
"I'd like to see you often," said he. "I'll come and see you if youdon't live too far."
"That's the trouble," said the cow-puncher. "I do. Awful far." He staredout of the window.
"Well, I might come some time. I wish you'd write me a letter. Can youwrite?" "What's that? Can I write? Oh yes."
"I can write, an' I can read too. I've been to school in Sidney,Nebraska, an' Magaw, Kansas, an' Salt Lake--that's the finest townexcept Denver."
Billy fell into that cheerful strain of comment which, unreplied to,yet goes on contented and self-sustaining, while Mr. McLean gave amiablesigns of assent, but chiefly looked out of the window; and when the nowinterested waiter said respectfully that he desired to close the room,they went out to the office, where the money was got out of the safe andthe bill paid.
The streets were full of the bright sun, and seemingly at Denver's gatesstood the mountains sparkling; an air crisp and pleasant wafted fromtheir peaks; no smoke hung among the roofs, and the sky spread wide overthe city without a stain; it was holiday up among the chimneys and tallbuildings, and down among the quiet ground-stories below as well; andpresently from their scattered pinnacles through the town the bellsbroke out against the jocund silence of the morning.
"Don't you like music?" inquired Billy.
"Yes," said Lin.
Ladies with their husbands and children were passing and meeting,orderly yet gayer than if it were only Sunday, and the salutations ofChristmas came now and again to the cow-puncher's ears; but to-day,possessor of his own share in this, Lin looked at every one with a sortof friendly challenge, and young Billy talked along beside him.
"Don't you think we could go in here?" Billy asked. A church door wasopen, and the rich organ sounded through to the pavement. "They've goodmusic here, an' they keep it up without much talking between. I've beenin lots of times."
They went in and sat to hear the music. Better than the organ, it seemedto them, were the harmonious voices raised from somewhere outside, likeunexpected visitants; and the pair sat in their back seat, too deepin listening to the processional hymn to think of rising in decentimitation of those around them. The crystal melody of the refrainespecially reached their understandings, and when for the fourth time"Shout the glad tidings, exultingly sing," pealed forth and ceased, boththe delighted faces fell.
"Don't you wish there was more?" Billy whispered.
"Wish there was a hundred verses," answered Lin.
But canticles and responses followed, with so little talking betweenthem they were held spellbound, seldom thinking to rise or kneel.Lin's eyes roved over the church, dwelling upon the pillars in theirevergreen, the flowers and leafy wreaths, the texts of white andgold. "'Peace, good-will towards men,'" he read. "That's so. Peace andgood-will. Yes, that's so. I expect they got that somewheres in theBible. It's awful good, and you'd never think of it yourself."
There was a touch on his arm, and a woman handed a book to him. "This isthe hymn we have now," she whispered, gently; and Lin, blushing scarlet,took it passively without a word. He and Billy stood up and held thebook together, dutifully reading the words:
"It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold; Peace on the earth--"
This tune was more beautiful than all, and Lin lost himself in it,until he found Billy recalling him with a finger upon the words, theconcluding ones:
"And the whole world sent back the song Which now the angels sing."
The music rose and descended to its lovely and simple end; and, for asecond time in Denver, Lin brushed a hand across his eyes. He turnedhis face from his neighbor, frowning crossly; and since the heart hasreasons which Reason does not know, he seemed to himself a fool; butwhen the service was over and he came out, he repeated again, "'Peaceand good-will.' When I run on to the Bishop of Wyoming I'll tell him ifhe'll preach on them words I'll be there."
"Couldn't we shoot your pistol now?" asked Billy.
"Sure, boy. Ain't yu' hungry, though?"
"No. I wish we were away off up there. Don't you?"
"The mountains? They look pretty, so white! A heap better 'n houses.Why, we'll go there! There's trains to Golden. We'll shoot around amongthe foothills."
To Golden they immediately went, and after a meal there, wandered in theopen country until the cartridges were gone, the sun was low, and Billywas walked off his young heels--a truth he learned complete in onehorrid moment, and battled to conceal.
&
nbsp; "Lame!" he echoed, angrily. "I ain't."
"Shucks!" said Lin, after the next ten steps. "You are, and both feet."
"Tell you, there's stones here, an' I'm just a-skipping them."
Lin, briefly, took the boy in his arms and carried him to Golden."I'm played out myself," he said, sitting in the hotel and lookinglugubriously at Billy on a bed. "And I ain't fit to have charge of ahog." He came and put his hand on the boy's head.
"I'm not sick," said the cripple. "I tell you I'm bully. You wait an'see me eat dinner."
But Lin had hot water and cold water and salt, and was an hour upon hisknees bathing the hot feet. And then Billy could not eat dinner!
There was a doctor in Golden; but in spite of his light prescriptionand most reasonable observations, Mr. McLean passed a foolish night ofvigil, while Billy slept, quite well at first, and, as the hours passed,better and better. In the morning he was entirely brisk, though stiff.
"I couldn't work quick to-day," he said. "But I guess one day won't loseme my trade."
"How d' yu' mean?" asked Lin.
"Why, I've got regulars, you know. Sidney Ellis an' Pete Goode hastheirs, an' we don't cut each other. I've got Mr. Daniels an' Mr. Fisheran' lots, an' if you lived in Denver I'd shine your boots every day fornothing. I wished you lived in Denver."
"Shine my boots? Yu'll never! And yu' don't black Daniels or Fisher, orany of the outfit."
"Why, I'm doing first-rate," said Billy, surprised at the swearing intowhich Mr. McLean now burst. "An' I ain't big enough to get to make moneyat any other job."
"I want to see that engine-man," muttered Lin. "I don't like yoursmokin' friend."
"Pete Goode? Why, he's awful smart. Don't you think he's smart?"
"Smart's nothin'," observed Mr. McLean.
"Pete has learned me and Sidney a lot," pursued Billy, engagingly.
"I'll bet he has!" growled the cow-puncher; and again Billy was takenaback at his language.
It was not so simple, this case. To the perturbed mind of Mr. McLean itgrew less simple during that day at Golden, while Billy recovered, andtalked, and ate his innocent meals. The cow-puncher was far too wise tothink for a single moment of restoring the runaway to his debauchedand shiftless parents. Possessed of some imagination, he went througha scene in which he appeared at the Lusk threshold with Billy andforgiveness, and intruded upon a conjugal assault and battery. "Shucks!"said he. "The kid would be off again inside a week. And I don't want himthere, anyway."
Denver, upon the following day, saw the little bootblack again at hiscorner, with his trade not lost; but near him stood a tall, singularman, with hazel eyes and a sulky expression. And citizens during thatweek noticed, as a new sight in the streets, the tall man and the littleboy walking together. Sometimes they would be in shops. The boy seemedas happy as possible, talking constantly, while the man seldom said aword, and his face was serious.
Upon New-year's Eve Governor Barker was overtaken by Mr. McLean riding ahorse up Hill Street, Cheyenne.
"Hello!" said Barker, staring humorously through his glasses. "Have agood drunk?"
"Changed my mind," said Lin, grinning. "Proves I've got one. StruckChristmas all right, though."
"Who's your friend?" inquired his Excellency.
"This is Mister Billy Lusk. Him and me have agreed that towns ain't niceto live in. If Judge Henry's foreman and his wife won't board him atSunk Creek--why, I'll fix it somehow."
The cow-puncher and his Responsibility rode on together toward the openplain.
"Sufferin Moses!" remarked his Excellency.