CHAPTER EIGHT
Walton left Soto's store after giving orders that his purchases be readywhen he came with his wagon at four o'clock, then he walked slowly downthe street, weighing Holy's suggestion. Vanity struggled with parsimony.
He reached Dunning's shop and paused uncertainly, without suspicioningthree pairs of eyes that peered from a small window in the hotel.Dunning, inside the shop, was seemingly oblivious to the man on thesidewalk but looked up with a professional smile when Walton entered thedoor.
"Well, Walton," Dunning's attitude was almost affectionate, "What can Ido for you? Shave? Hair trimmed a leetle bit? I don't wonder you keptaway from me all this time, and I'm just artist enough to say if youwant me to cut off your beard or hair, I won't do it for you or nobodyelse. But a leetle bit of trimming would improve it lots."
"I--Do you ever dye hair or whiskers, Dunning?"
"Sure;" was the answer. "I guarantee my work and mix my own dyes, andyou'd be surprised if I told you the names of people I've fixed up. But,my work is confidential. My customers trust me and I never betray them."
"Well, do you think you could fix mine?" asked Walton with an uneasysmile.
"Bet your boots! Nothing would please me better. Now, I suppose you'dwant it dark, wouldn't you?"
"Black. That's what it used to be," Walton replied. "But how long willit take?"
The barber cocked his head sideways, squinted an eye critically, thenwalked solemnly around Walton several times, and finally slipped hisfingers through the beard and hair.
"It's a fine growth," he announced. "I can finish it in an hour."
"How much will it cost?" Walton paused in front of the chair whichDunning was adjusting for him.
"Well, I usually charge fifteen dollars for such a job, but I'm willingto do it for five, if you promise not to let any one else know I cut theprice to you."
"I won't give over three," asserted Walton firmly, moving to the door.
Dunning, fearing flight and the attendant loss of the thirty dollars,followed Walton humbly.
"Now, see here, Walton, why can't we split the difference? If I comedown a dollar, you can sure raise one. I'll do a first-class job forfour dollars. My regular price is fifteen. Why, man! It will make youlook twenty years younger!"
Impervious to flattery, Walton kept edging nearer the door.
"Three and a half," compromised Dunning desperately.
"Three dollars;" declared Walton, reaching for the knob, but watchingDunning sharply.
"All right," consented the barber. "Three dollars. But don't you foolyourself into believing you are going to get an everyday, ordinary dye.It's my own invention. Guaranteed permanent or money cheerfullyrefunded. Results astonish everybody."
"Sure you will get it done by train time?" asked Walton anxiously, asDunning led him to the chair and deftly pinned a sheet about his neck.
Dunning glanced at the clock, "Just time to do it fine," he assuredWalton, who stretched out luxuriously, determined to get his threedollars' worth as far as possible. Dunning was engaged in mixing variousliquids.
"Going on a trip?" he asked, standing with his back to Walton while hestirred vigorously.
"Not exactly. I'm going to be married. The young lady will arrive on thewest bound train, and we're to be married at once and go out to theranch."
"Well, you did the right thing in coming to me," announced Dunning, ashe finished manipulating the concoction. "That white hair did make youlook old, Walton, and I often wondered why you didn't touch it up a bit.I bet when I get you fixed up, that she won't ask how old you are. Say,I'll stake ten dollars on that bet."
"Will it stay black, or have to be done over again?"
"Guaranteed permanent. Only way to remove or change the colour after itis once on, is keep the hair shaved close to the roots for six months."
Walton twisted nervously. "I wish you'd draw down that shade and lockthe door. I don't want any one hanging around while you are busy."
"That's what I figured on doing," agreed the barber, acting as he spoke;but winking at the boys of the Diamond H who were sauntering past as theshade was lowered.
Walton sank back with a sigh of relief. The silence of the dimly lightedroom and the movement of the barber's hands, had a soporific effect onthe customer, who closed his eyes and snored peacefully, while Dunningkept a wary eye on the clock until he heard the whistle of theapproaching train from the East.
"Better hurry, Walton! Train's pretty near the depot, now. I just gotdone in time."
Walton waked with a start as the sheet was jerked off, and Dunning'svoice sounded jubilantly in his ears, "Job's done fine. I'm proud ofyou!"
With a hasty glance at the small mirror in the dimly-lighted room,Walton's blinking eyes saw a dark flowing beard, a mass of dark hair.The noise of the train warned that time was precious and fleeting.Thrusting the three dollars into Dunning's palm, he grabbed his hat andran across the street to the depot, where the train was puffing to astop.
Walton scanned the rows of windows with passengers looking aimlessly atthe town. Their bored faces suddenly became animated with smiles. Waltonfound the tourist sleeper, where he saw a girl in a grey suit on theplatform of the car descend the steps, while the porter helped adelicate-looking boy.
The bridegroom-elect moved more swiftly, and reached the girl just asthe porter shook hands with the child and said, "You'll be a big cowboybefore long, Ah reckon;" then the train went on its way, leaving thegirl looking about nervously.
Among the loiterers at the depot, Bronco, Holy and Roarer glanced ateach other in consternation.
"Good Lord!" "Holy, that ain't the girl, is it?"
Holy did not answer. The enjoyable flavour of the joke had evaporated,like a dose of castor oil in orange-juice, and a decidedly disagreeabletaste remained. Holy acknowledged to himself only, that his preconceivedidea of the picture as a fake, sent to old man Walton by anunattractive, elderly woman, was without any foundation. This girl wasmuch prettier than the photograph. Any doubt as to the identity wasdispelled when Walton sallied up to the girl and took off his hat withan elaborate flourish.
She started back, her frightened eyes travelling slowly over Walton'shair and beard. Meeting that prolonged glance, he attributed it to hisfascinating appearance, and smirked and preened consciously.
"I'm Montgomery Walton," he said unctuously. "Everything is arranged sowe can be married without delay and get out to the ranch tonight. TheJustice of Peace is waiting for us."
The girl's pretty colour faded suddenly as she saw him pick up hervalise with an air of proprietorship. She looked at the child, took astep toward Walton--stopped, then cried out, "No! No! I can't do it!"
Walton scowled, but controlled himself and said, "You are tired fromyour long trip just now, I know. It won't take long to get started forthe ranch after we are married."
He beamed on the child, "Come along, Sonny."
The boy shrank back, clung to the girl, who clutched the thin littlehand and looked about her desperately. Her eyes swept over strangefaces, rough-looking men, then, like an animal at bay, she ran to thewaiting-room with the child, and slammed the door violently. Waltonstared at the closed door, then at the valise in his hand.
The listeners outside heard hysterical sobs, and the soothing voice ofMrs. Green, the agent's wife. Walton, pale with rage, glared at thegrinning faces about him, drew himself up, entered the waiting-room andclosed the door behind him with a bang. The mingled sounds of a girl'ssobs, a woman's angry tones, Walton's voice in _crescendo_ notes, thenthe door opened and he dashed out, scattering those who obstructed hiswildly waving arms, and stopping at the door of Dunning's shop. It wasclosed. A notice hung on the door. "OUT OF TOWN."
Walton hurried to the bar-room of the Willcox Hotel. His face was aflamewith rage; the hand he rested on the bar was shaking as though withpalsy. The occupants of the room grinned at him.
"Them the latest style in whiskers?" joked the bartender, winking atanother man.
> "Mind your own affairs and give me a glass," ordered Walton.
Purposely misunderstanding him, the barkeeper held out a glass of liquorand said, "You seem a leetle nervous, Walton."
The glass was struck to the counter. Walton screamed in maniacal fury,"A looking-glass is what I want, you doggone idiot! I want to gaze onmy 'seraphic countenance' that seems to paralyze everybody. Look likethe 'green fields of Virginia,' do I? 'Rent me out during a drouth,'will they? Where's a glass?"
"Keep calm, Walton, here's one;" the bartender handed out a smallmirror.
Silently Walton gazed at hair and beard of vivid emerald green. Thevenomous glitter of his eyes was like that of an angry rattlesnake. Helaid the glass down and spoke with a voice that was quiet, but deadly.
"Some one put Dunning up to this, and I'll find out who it was, before Iget through." He flung out of the place and the men in the room glancedat one another. They knew that some day, somebody would pay. Walton wasa man whose debts of personal animus, never outlawed by time, were sureto be settled in full with compound interest.
The Long Dim Trail Page 8