The Girl of the Golden West (21 page)

"We'll play it after school; you'll be the stirrup," promised
Sonora; then turning to his mates with a laugh, which was
unobserved by Bucking Billy, he added: "We'll initiate 'im."

Presently the miners began to move away and Trinidad, picking up
a chip which he espied under a bench, put it on his shoulder and
stood in the centre of the room, thereby indirectly challenging the
new pupil to a scrimmage.

"Don't do it!" cried Old Steady as he hung up his hat upon a
buck's horn on the wall.

"Go on! Go on!" encouraged Bill Crow, hanging up his hat beside
Old Steady's.

The boys took up his words in chorus.

"Go on! Go on!"

Whereupon, Sonora made a dash far the chip and knocked it off of
Trinidad's shoulder, blazing huskily into his face as he did
so:

"You do, do you?"

In the twinkling of an eye Trinidad's jacket was off and the two
men were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle.

"Soak him!" came from a voice somewhere in the crowd.

"Hit him!" urged another.

"Bat him in the eye!" shrieked Handsome Charlie.

Finally Sonora succeeded in throwing down his opponent and sent
him rolling along the floor, the contents of his pockets marking
his trail.

The rafters of The Polka shook to a storm of cheering, and there
is no telling when the men would have ceased had not Nick
interfered at that moment by yelling out:

"Boys, boys, here she is!"

"Here comes the Girl!" came simultaneously from Happy Halliday,
who had got a glimpse of her coming down the trail.

None the worse for his defeat and fall, Trinidad sprang to his
feet; while Sonora made a dash for a seat. They had not been
placed; whereupon he cried out excitedly:

"The seats, boys, where's the seats?"

For the few minutes that preceded the Girl's entrance into the
room no men were ever known to work more rapidly or more
harmoniously. They fairly flew in and out of the room, now bringing
in the great whittled-up, weather-beaten benches and placing them
in school-room fashion, and then rolling in boxes and casks which
served as a ground-hold for the planks which were stretched across
them for desks. It was in the midst of these pilgrimages that
Trinidad rushed over to Nick to ask whether he did not think to-day
a good time to put the question to the Girl.

Nick's eyes twinkled up with merriment; nevertheless, his face
took on a dubious look when presently he answered:

"I wouldn't rush her, Trin—you've got plenty of time…" And when
he proceeded to put up the blackboard he almost ran into Sonora,
who stood by the teacher's desk getting into his frock coat.

"Hurry up, boys, hurry up!" urged Trinidad, though he himself
smilingly looked on.

A moment later the Girl, carrying a small book of poems, walked
quietly into their midst. She was paler and not as buoyant as
usual, but she managed to appear cheerful when she said:

"Hello, boys!"

The men were all smiles and returned her greeting with:

"Hello, Girl!"

Then followed the presentation of their offerings—mere trifles,
to be sure, but given out of the fulness of their hearts. Sonora
led with a bunch of berries, which was followed by Trinidad with an
orange.

"From 'Frisco," he said simply, watching the effect of his words
with pride.

A bunch of berries was also Happy's contribution, which he made
with a stiff little bow and the one word:

"Regards."

Meantime Nick, faithful friend that he was, went down on his
knees and began to remove the Girl's moccasins. The knowledge of
his proximity encouraged the Girl to glance about her to see if she
could detect any signs on the men's faces which would prove that
they suspected the real truth concerning her absence. Needless to
say adoration and love was all that she saw; nevertheless, she felt
ill-at-ease and, unconsciously, repeated:

"Hello, boys!" And then added, a little more bravely: "How's
everythin'?"

"Bully!" spoke up Handsome Charlie, who was posing for her
benefit, as was his wont, beside one of the desks.

"Say, we missed you," acknowledged Sonora with a world of
tenderness in his voice. "Never knew you to desert The Polka for a
whole week before."

"No, I—I…" stammered guiltily, and with their little gifts
turned abruptly towards her desk lest she should meet their
gaze.

"Academy's opened," suddenly announced Happy, "and—"

"Yes, I see it is," quickly answered the Girl, brushing away a
tear that persisted in clinging to her eyelids; slowly, now, she
drew off her gloves and laid them on the desk.

"I guess I'm kind o' nervous to-day, boys," she began.

"No wonder," observed Sonora. "Road agent's been in camp an' we
missed a hangin'. I can't git over that."

All a-quiver and not daring to meet the men's gaze, much less to
discuss the road agent with them, the Girl endeavoured to hide her
confusion by asking Nick to help her off with her cape. Turning
presently she said in a strained voice:

"Well, come on, boys—come, now!"

Immediately the boys fell in line for the opening exercises,
which consisted of an examination by the Girl of their general
appearance.

"Let me see your hands," she said to the man nearest to her; a
glance was sufficient, and he was expelled from her presence. "Let
me see yours, Sonora," she commanded.

Holding his hands behind his back the man addressed moved
towards her slowly, for he was conscious of the grime that was on
them. Before he had spoken his apology she ordered him none too
gently to go and wash them, ending with an emphatic:

"Git!"

"Yes'm," was his meek answer, though he called back as he
disappeared: "Been blackenin' my boots."

The Girl took up the word quickly.

"Boots! Yes, an' look at them boots!" And as each man came up to
her, "An' them boots! an' them boots! Get in there the whole lot o'
you an' be sure that you leave your whisky behind."

When all had left the room save Nick, who stood with her cape on
his arm near the desk she suddenly became conscious that she still
had her hood on, and at once began to remove it—a proceeding which
brought out clearly the extraordinary pallor of her face which,
generally, had a bright, healthy colouring. Now she beckoned to
Nick to draw near. No need for her to speak, for he had caught the
questioning look in her eyes, and it told him plainer than any
words that she was anxious to hear of her lover. He was about to
tell her the little he knew when with lips that trembled she
finally whispered:

"Have you heard anythin'? Do you think he got through safe?"

Nick nodded in the affirmative.

"I saw 'im off, you know," she went on in the same low voice;
then, before Nick could speak, she concluded anxiously: "But s'pose
he don't git through?"

"Oh, he'll git through sure! We'll hear he's out of this country
pretty quick," consoled the little barkeeper just as Rance,
unperceived by them, quietly entered the room and went over to a
chair by the stove.

No man had more of a dread of the obvious than the Sheriff. His
position, he felt, was decidedly an unpleasant one. Nevertheless,
in the silence that followed the Girl's discovery of his presence,
he struggled to appear his old self. He was by no means unconscious
of the fact that he had omitted his usual cordial greeting to her,
and he felt that she must be scrutinising him, feature by feature.
When, therefore, he shot a covert glance at her, it was with
surprise that he saw an appealing look in her eyes.

"Oh, Jack, I want to thank you—" she began, but stopped quickly,
deterred by the hard expression that instantly spread itself over
the Sheriff's face. Resentment, all the more bitter because he
believed it to be groundless, followed hard on the heels of her
words which he thought to be inspired solely by a delicate
tactfulness.

"Oh, don't thank me that he got away," he said icily. "It was
the three aces and the pair you held—"

This was the Girl's opportunity; she seized it.

"About the three aces, I want to say that—"

It was Rance's turn to interrupt, which he did brutally.

"He'd better keep out of my country, that's all."

"Yes, yes."

To the Girl, any reference to her lover was a stab. Her face was
pale with her terrible anxiety; notwithstanding, the contrast of
her pallid cheeks and masses of golden hair gave her a beauty which
Rance, as he met her eyes, found so extraordinarily tempting that
he experienced a renewed fury at his utter helplessness. At the
point, however, when it would seem from his attitude that all his
self-control was about to leave him, the Girl picked up the bell on
the desk and rang it vigorously.

Began then the long procession of miners walking around the room
before taking their seats on the benches. At their head was Happy
Halliday, who carried in his hands a number of slates, the one on
the top having a large sponge attached. These were all more or less
in bad condition, some having no frames, while others were mere
slits of slate, but all had slate-pencils fastened to them by
strings.

"Come along, boys, get your slates!" sang out Happy as he left
the line and let the others file past him.

"Whoop!" vociferated Trinidad in a burst of enthusiasm.

"Trin, you're out o' step there!" reprimanded the teacher a
little sharply; and then addressing Happy she ordered him to take
his place once more in the line.

In a little while they were all seated, and now, at last, it
seemed to the barkeeper as if the air of the room had been freed of
its tension. No longer did he experience a sense of alertness, a
feeling that something out of the ordinary was going to happen, and
it was with immense relief that he heard the Girl take up her
duties and ask:

"What books were left from last year?"

At first no one was able to give a scrap of information on this
important matter; maybe it was because all lips were too dry to
open; in the end, however, when the silence was becoming
embarrassing, Happy moistened his lips with his tongue, and
answered:

"Why, we scared up jest a whole book left. The name of it
is—is—is—" The effort was beyond his mental powers and he came to a
helpless pause.

Swelling with importance, and drawing forth the volume in
question from his pocket, Sonora stood up and finished:

"—is 'Old Joe Miller's Jokes.'"

"That will do nicely," declared the Girl and seated herself on
the pine-decorated box.

"Now, boys," continued Sonora, ever the most considerate of
pupils, "before we begin I propose no drawin' of weppings, drinkin'
or swearin' in school hours. The conduct of certain members wore on
teacher last term. I don't want to mention no names, but I want
Handsome an' Happy to hear what I'm sayin'." And after a sweeping
glance at his mates, who, already, had begun to disport themselves
and jeer at the unfortunate pair, he wound up with: "Is that
straight?"

"You bet it is!" yelled the others in chorus; whereupon Sonora
dropped into his seat.

In time order was restored and now the Girl, looking at Rance
out of her big, frightened, blue eyes, observed:

"Rance, last year you led off with an openin' address, an'—"

"Yes, yes, go on Sheriff!" cried the boys, hailing her
suggestion with delight.

Nevertheless, the Sheriff hesitated, seeing which, Trinidad
contributed:

"Let 'er go, Jack!"

At length, fixing a look upon the Girl, Rance rose and said
significantly:

"I pass."

"Oh, then, Sonora," suggested the Girl, covering up her
embarrassment as best she could, "won't you make a speech?"

"Me—speak?" exploded Sonora; and again; "Me—speak? Oh, the
devil!"

"Sh-sh!" came warningly from several of the boys.

"Why, I didn't mean that, o' course," apologised Sonora,
colouring, and incidentally expectorating on Bucking Billy's boots.
But to his infinite sorrow no protest worthy of the word was
forthcoming from the apparently insensible Bucking Billy.

"Go on! Go on!" urged the school.

Sonora coughed behind his hand; then he began his address.

"Gents, I look on this place as something more 'n a place to sit
around an' spit on—the stove. I claim that there's culture in the
air o' Californay an' we're here to buck up again it an' hook
on."

"Hear! Hear! Hear!" voiced the men together, while their fists
came down heavily upon the improvised desks before them.

"With these remarks," concluded Sonora, "I set." And suiting the
action to the word he plumped himself down heavily upon the bench,
but only to rise again quickly with a cry of pain and strike
Trinidad a fierce blow, who, he rightly suspected, was responsible
for the pin that had found a lodging-place in the seat of his
trousers.

At that not even the Girl's remonstrances prevented the boys,
who had been silent as mice all the time that the instrument of
torture was being adjusted, from giving vent to roars of laughter;
and for a moment things in the school-room were decidedly
boisterous.

"Sit down, boys, sit down!" ordered the Girl again and again;
but it was some moments before she could get the school under
control. When, finally, the skylarking had ceased, the Girl said in
a voice which, despite its strange weariness, was music to their
ears:

"Once more we meet together. There's ben a lot happened o' late
that has learned me that p'r'aps I don't know as much as I tho't I
did, an' I can't teach you much more. But if you're willin' to take
me for what I am—jest a woman who wants things better, who wants
everybody all they ought to be, why I'm willin' to rise with you
an' help reach out—" She stopped abruptly, for Handsome was waving
his hand excitedly at her, and asked a trifle impatiently: "What is
it, Handsome?"

Handsome rose and hurriedly went over to her.

"Whisky, teacher, whisky! I want it so bad—"

The school rose to its feet as one man.

"Teacher! Teacher!" came tumultuously from all, their hands
waving frantically in the air. And then without waiting for
permission to speak the cry went up: "Whisky! Whisky!"

"No, no whisky," she denied them flatly.

Gradually the commotion subsided, for all knew that she meant
what she said, at least for the moment.

"An' now jest a few words more on the subject o' not settin'
judgment on the errin'—a subject near my heart."

This remark of the Girl's brought forth murmurs of wonder, and
in the midst of them the door was pushed slowly inward and The
Sidney Duck, wearing the deuce of spades which the Sheriff had
pinned to his jacket when he banished him from their presence for
cheating at cards, stood on the threshold, looking uncertainly
about him. At once all eyes were focused upon him.

"Git! Git!" shouted the men, angrily. This was followed by a
general movement towards him, which so impressed The Sidney Duck
that he turned on his heel and was fleeing for his life when a cry
from the Girl stopped him.

"Boys, boys," said the Girl in a reproving voice, which silenced
them almost instantly; then, beckoning to Sid to approach, she went
on in her most gentle tones: "I was jest gittin' to you, Sid, as I
promised. You can stay."

Looking like a whipped dog The Sidney Duck advanced warily
towards her.

Sonora's brow grew thunderous.

"What, here among gentlemen?"

And that his protest met with instantaneous approval was shown
by the way the miners shifted uneasily in their seats and shouted
threateningly:

"Git! Git!"

"Why, the fellow's a—" began Trinidad, but got no further, for
the Girl stopped him by exclaiming:

"I know, I know, Trin—I've tho't it all over!"

For the next few minutes the Girl stood strangely still and her
face became very grave. Never before had the men seen her in a mood
like this, and they exchanged wondering glances. Presently she
said:

"Boys, of late a man in trouble has been on my mind—" She
paused, her glance having caught the peculiar light which her words
had caused to appear in Rance's eyes, and lest he should
misunderstand her meaning, she hastened to add: "Sid, o'
course,—an' I fell to thinkin' o' the Prodigal Son. He done better,
didn't he?"

"But a card sharp," objected Sonora from the depths of his big
voice.

"Yes, that's what!" interjected Trinidad, belligerently.

The Girl's eyebrows lifted and a shade of resentment was in the
answering voice:

"But s'pose there was a moment in his life when he was called
upon to find a extra ace—can't we forgive 'im? He says he's
sorry—ain't you, Sid?"

All the while the Girl had been speaking The Sidney Duck kept
his eyes lowered and was swallowing nervously. Now he raised them
and, with a feeble attempt to simulate penitence, he acknowledged
that he had done wrong. Nevertheless, he declared:

"But if I 'adn't got caught things would 'a' been different. Oh,
yes, I'm sorry."

In an instant the Girl was at his side removing the deuce of
spades from his coat.

"Sid, you git your chance," she said with trembling lips. "Now
go an' sit down."

A broad smile was creeping over The Sidney Duck's countenance as
he moved towards the others; but Happy took it upon himself to
limit its spread.

"Take that!" he blazed, striking the man in the face. "And git
out of here!

"Happy, Happy!" cried the Girl. Her voice was so charged with
reproach that The Sidney Duck was allowed by the men to pass on
without any further molestation. Nevertheless, when he attempted to
sit beside them, they moved as far away as possible from him and
compelled him to take a stool that stood apart from the benches
which held them together in friendly proximity.

At this point Trinidad inquired of the Girl whether she meant to
infer that honesty was not the best policy, and by way of
illustration, he went on to say:

"S'posin' my watch had no works an' I was to sell it to the
Sheriff for one hundred dollars. Would you have much respect for
me?"

For the briefest part of a second the Girl seemed to be
reflecting.

"I'd have more respect for you than for the Sheriff," she
answered succinctly.

"Hurrah! Whoopee! Whoop!" yelled the men, who were delighted
both with what she said as well as her pert way of saying it.

It was in the midst of these shouts that Billy Jackrabbit and
Wowkle, unobserved by the others, quietly stole into the room and
squatted themselves down under the blackboard. When the merriment
had subsided Rance rose and took the floor. His face was paler than
usual, though his voice was calm when presently he said:

"Well, bein' Sheriff, I'm careful about my company—I'll sit in
the bar. Cheats and road agents"—and here he paused meaningly and
glanced from The Sidney Duck to the Girl—"ar'n't jest in my line. I
walk in the open road with my head up and my face to the sun, and
whatever I've pulled up, you'll remark I've always played square
and stood by the cyards."

"I know, I know," observed the Girl and fell wearily into her
seat; the next instant she went on more confidently: "An' that's
the way to travel—in the straight road. But if ever I don't travel
that road, or you—"

"You always will, you bet," observed Nick with feeling.

"You bet she will!" shouted the others.

"But if I don't," continued the Girl, insistently, "I hope
there'll be someone to lead me back—back to the right road. 'Cause
remember, Rance, some of us are lucky enough to be born good, while
others have to be 'lected."

"That's eloquence!" cried Sonora, moved almost to tears; while
Rance took a step forward as if about to make some reply; but the
next instant, his head held no longer erect and his face visibly
twitching, he passed into the bar-room.

A silence reigned for a time, which was broken at last by the
Girl announcing with great solemnity:

"If anybody can sing 'My Country 'Tis,' Academy's opened."

At this request, really of a physical nature, and advanced in a
spirit of true modesty, all present, curiously enough, seemed to
have lost their voices and nudged one another in an endeavour to
get the hymn started. Someone insisted that Sonora should go ahead,
but that worthy pupil objected giving as his excuse, obviously a
paltry one and trumped up for the occasion, that he did not know
the words. There was nothing to it, therefore, but that the Indians
should render the great American anthem. And so, standing stolidly
facing the others, their high-pitched, nasal voices presently
began:

"My country 'tis of thee,
 Sweet land of liberty,
 Of thee I sing."

"Well, if that ain't sarkism!" interjected Sonora between the
lines of the hymn.

"Land where our fathers died—"