CHAPTER X
"PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"
William Stanley Winthrop woke next morning with a vague impression ofhaving lost something. He gazed indolently at the sunlight filteringthrough the curtains of his sleeping-room. Beyond the archway to theadjoining room of his suite, a ray of sunshine lay like living gold uponthe soft, rich-hued fabric of the carpet.
"Gold!" he murmured. "Mojave Desert! Overland Red! Lost gold! No, itisn't the two hundred dollars I invested in the rascal's story, for itwas worth the money. I never spent four happier hours in my life, atfifty dollars an hour. The best of it is he actually made me believehim. I think he believed himself."
Winthrop sat up in bed, yawning. "I think black coffee will be aboutall, this morning," he murmured, as he dressed leisurely.
He was tying a fastidiously correct bow on his tan oxford when hehappened to glance out of the window. It was early, altogether tooearly, he reflected, to appear in the breakfast-room of the hotel.Winthrop's indefinite soliloquy melted into the rapt silence ofimagination. Below on the smooth black pavement pattered two ladenburros. On their packs hung dusty, weatherworn canteens, a pick andshovel, and a rifle in its soiled and frayed scabbard. The sturdy,shaggy burros followed a little, lean old man, whose flop-brimmed hat,faded shirt, and battered boots told a tale of the outlands, whisperedof sun-swept immensities, of sage and cacti, sand and silence. Winthropdrew a long breath. Such an adventurer was the Overland Red he hadtalked with the evening previous. The tramp had mentioned a town far outon the desert. Winthrop sauntered down to the deserted office andsecured a timetable.
When the east-bound express left Los Angeles the following morning,Winthrop was aboard, uncomfortably installed in the private drawing-roomof a sleeper. He had cheerfully paid the double fare that he might havethe entire space to himself, and he needed it. Around him, on the floor,in the seats, in the racks, and on the hooks were innumerable packages,bags, and bundles.
"Very eccentric. He must be rich," whispered the wife of a dry-goodsmerchant from Keokuk, as her husband pushed her ahead of him past thedoor of the drawing-room.
"Just plain hog!" said the dry-goods merchant. "A man that'll paydouble fare to have the whole earth to himself when other folks has tobe packed into a berth and suffocate! The conductor said he paid doubleto Chicago to get that compartment, and he's only goin' out in thedesert a little ways. I'd 'a' took it myself."
"Well, we could hardly afford it, anyway," said the woman pleasantly."We've had such a good time I don't mind sleeping in a berth, Hiram."
They crowded on and finally found their seats.
Winthrop smiled to himself. He liked the woman's voice.
He lighted a cigarette and gazed wistfully, even despairingly, at the"outfit" which surrounded him. He sighed. "Awful accumulation ofplunder. Wonder what I'll do with it?"
As the train climbed the grade beyond San Bernardino, he grew restless.Flinging down his cigarette, he began unwrapping his belongings. Outcame blankets, extra clothing, a rifle, canteens of several patterns,two pack-saddles, a coil of rope, a pair of high lace boots,--hobnailed,heavy, and unserviceable,--a pocket compass, a hunting-knife, a patentfilter, two halters, two galvanized pails, a small, compact, silk tent,an axe, a fishing-rod, a rubber cup, a box of cigars, a bottle ofbrandy, several neckerchiefs, a cartridge-belt, a Colts revolver oflarge and aggressive caliber, cartridges, a prospector's pick, a shovel,a medicine-case, a new safety razor, a looking-glass, a clinicthermometer, and a copy of "Robinson Crusoe."
He pondered over the agglomeration of articles pensively. "He was a goodsalesman," he said, smiling. "I'll be either a juggler or a strong manbefore I'm through with these things. I think I'll begin now andre-pack. I'll make one glorious bundle of it. That's the ticket!"
Winthrop went to work, whistling cheerfully. He spread the blanket andrearranged his possessions, finally rolling them up into an uncertainbundle which he roped with the weird skill of the amateur packer. Hetried to lift the bundle to the opposite seat. He decided to leave it onthe floor.
Over the grade and on the level of the desert the train gathered speed.The shimmering spaces revolved slowly, to meet the rushing track ahead.Hour after hour sat Winthrop, reading and occasionally glancing outacross the desert. His was the wildest of wild-goose chases. A strangerhad told him of a mysterious ledge of gold somewhere out on the desert,and the stranger had named a desert town--the town toward which Winthropwas journeying. Would the eccentric Overland Red be there? Winthrophoped so. He wanted to believe that this Ulysses of the outlands hadspoken truth. He imagined vividly Overland Red's surprise when oneWilliam Stanley Winthrop, late of New York, should appear, equipped tothe chin and eager to participate in the hunt for the lost gold. Thenagain, the prospector might not care to be burdened with thecompanionship of a tenderfoot. Still, the uncertainty of his welcomelent zest to Winthrop's enterprise. He closed the door of hisdrawing-room and wound through a mahogany maze toward the dining-car.
* * * * *
Next morning, as the train slowed down for the desert town, Winthrop wasin the vestibule, peering out anxiously. It did not occur to him thatOverland Red knew nothing of his coming, or that the other would bewaiting on the station platform if he did. The tramp had not thefaintest desire to make himself conspicuous. Some of Winthrop'senthusiasm had evaporated during the hot night in the sleeper.
"Thank you very much," called the lady from Keokuk, Iowa.
"Don't mention it," said Winthrop, disembarking behind the porter withhis "plunder." Then, as the Pullman slid away, Winthrop deliberately andgracefully threw a kiss to the dry-goods merchant's wife. "Nice littlewoman," he reflected. "Too nice to associate with that grampus. Well, Ihope they'll enjoy the rest of the trip in the drawing-room. I'm glad Iwas able to arrange it."
He watched the train crawl down the track. He wondered how long he wouldbe able to distinguish the pattern of the brasswork on the observationcar-rail.
Out of the empty distance came the _click_, _clink_, _clank_ of hammersand shovels as the section-men, a mile down the track, stepped into workbehind the train.
"Prospectin'?" queried a lank individual, slouching up to Winthrop.
"A little," said Winthrop. "It's pretty dry work."
"Uhuh. It's goin' to be hot about noon."
"I suppose so. Will you kindly give me a hand with this monstrosity,"said Winthrop, indicating the pack. "The agent seems to be busy."
"Sure! She ain't roped very tight."
Which proved to be true. The bundle, with a kind of animateindifference, slowly sagged, opened, and things began to trickle from itin its journey across the platform. Among the things was the bottle ofbrandy. The lank individual picked this up tenderly and set it to oneside. Winthrop noticed his solicitude, and smiled.
"We can rope 'em up again," said the lank one, suddenly becomingenthusiastic. "My name's Jim Hicks. I'm constable here."
"I see. Well, I'm William Winthrop, from Los Angeles. I'm a naturalist.Will you accept a cigar?"
"Thanks. You want to pack this here bottle, too?"
"Not right away. Whew! It is getting hot."
"Goin' up to the hotel?" queried the constable.
Winthrop glanced along the street. The hotel did not look inviting. "Idon't know. I'd like to get in the shade somewhere."
"There's old Fernando's 'dobe down the track under them pepper trees.He's a friend of mine. He ain't to home to-day. Mebby you'd like to setdown there and wait for your friend."
"My friend?"
"Why, ain't you waitin' for anybody? You ain't goin' to tackle thatbug-huntin' trip alone, be you? It's dangerous out there for atenderfoot. Now I have took folks out, and brought 'em back allright,--gone as far as them hills over there, and that's a good jag fromhere,--and I only charge four dollars a day and grub."
"I thought you said you were constable?"
"So I be. Takin' parties across the desert is on the side. How far youfigurin'
on goin'?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet. Say we go down as far as the adobe youspoke about, as a beginning. Perhaps we can arrange terms."
"I'm on, pard," said the constable.
* * * * *
Under the pepper trees shading Fernando's adobe sat Winthrop and theconstable. The brandy-bottle was half empty and a box of cigars was openbeside it on the bench. The afternoon shadows were lengthening. Theconstable had been discursive, voluminous, in his entertaining. Time wasas nothing. He borrowed generously of to-morrow and even the next day.He became suddenly quite fond of this quiet, gentlemanly chap oppositehim, who said little, but seemed to be a prince of good fellows.
"'S this way," said the constable, leaning forward and waving his cigar."You're fren' of mine--sure thing. 'S af'ernoon now, but I was plumbfooled this mornin'. Y' know i's af'ernoon now. Thought you was the guyI'm lookin' for. H'overlan' Red--bum--tram'. Wire from Loshangeles toupperan' him if he shows up here. See?"
"You're not quite clear to me," replied Winthrop. "But never mind aboutapprehending any one. Let's talk about this glorious prospect of sand,silence, and solitude. I feel like a fallen angel. Never mind aboutarresting anybody. Life is too short. Let's talk of roses."
"Roshes! Huh!" sniggered the constable. "You're kin' of sof, ain't you?Roshes nothin'! I'm goin' talk 'bout business. It's business, mybusiness to talk 'bout it, see? 'T ain't your business. You c'n lissen,an' when I get through, then you c'n talk roshes."
"But what is your business?" asked Winthrop, with an indifference thathe did not feel.
"S-s-s-h-h! I'm cons'able. Tha's on the quiet. Thousand dollars rewar'f'r th' appr'enshun of 'Verlan' Red. Thought you was him--hic--hee!hee!"
"Please don't laugh like that. It hurts my feelings," said Winthrop. "Itis bad enough to be taken for a--er--tramp."
"Nobody's feelin's--pologishe. '_Course_ you ain' him! You're jus' ali'l' ole ten'erfoot--perfec'ly harmless li'l' ole ten'erfoot."
"Thanks. May I ask you to have another?"
"Nope. 'Nough's 'nough. 'S time f'r dinner."
"Nearly. Well, if you flatly refuse to drink my health, I'll have todrink it alone, and that's rather egotistical, isn't it?"
"Never. B' Gosh! You're sport. Funny li'l' ole ten'erfoot--perf'lyharmless. Sure, I'll drink all th' health you got, 'n then gohome--dinner."
"One will be sufficient, I think," said Winthrop.
"Sufficen' wha'?" And the constable leered cunningly.
"To drown all pangs. Well, here's pleasant dreams."
Far down the line came the faint thrill of wheels and the distant,clear-cut blast of a locomotive. The local freight from Los Angeles waswhistling for the "block."
Winthrop glanced at his watch, then at the constable. "What train isthat?" asked the Easterner.
The constable's eyelids drooped, then opened languidly. "Railro' train,'f course." And he slid forward to his elbow and thence to the bench.Presently he snored.
Winthrop strolled toward the approaching train. "Pretty stiff session,"he commented. "Now if happy chance should bring Overland Red on thisfreight, with his burro and outfit; I'll have one reason to offer forwanting to go with him. I've probably saved him some annoyance,indirectly, but rather effectively, I think."
The great oil-burning locomotive roared in, casting heat-waves thatsmelled of steam, iron, and mechanical energy. The hot air sickenedWinthrop.
A car was cut out and shunted to a siding. Then the engine, pausing todrink a gargantuan draught at the tank, simmered away in the dusk,clanking across the switch-points. A figure leaped from the freight-carto the ground. Then out came a burro and several bundles. The figurestrode to the station and filled two canteens. Winthrop walked towardthe burro. When he of the burro and canteens returned, he found Winthropstroking the little animal's nose.
"What the--! How the--! Who lost you out here?" asked Overland.
Winthrop spoke rapidly and to the point. "Express this morning. Lonesomeagain. Thought I'd make a change. My outfit is over at the station.Don't say 'No' before you hear me. You're going to need me--tenderfeetand all."
"But you can't--"
"Wait. The local constable has a wire from the Los Angeles police tolook out for you. Perhaps you got this far because you're traveling in afreight-car. No doubt all the passenger trains have been watched allalong the line. The constable has been my--er--my guest since morning.He is asleep now. I had to do it. He told me, after either the sixth orseventh glass, I forget which, that he was looking for you. Come on overto the station and inspect my outfit, please. I think we had bettervanish."
Overland breathed once, deeply. "Lead me to it!" he exclaimed. "You gotmy number. I guess you're some lame chicken, eh? No? I'll never call youa tenderfoot as long as I live. Shake!"
The inspection of the outfit was brief. "Take the Colts and thecartridges, and the blankets and the rope. T' hell with the rest."