by Roy Norton
CHAPTER VII
THE WOMAN UNAFRAID
They were to have another opportunity to puzzle over the character ofThe Lily before a week passed, when, wishing to make out a new bill ofsupplies, they went down to the camp. The night was fragrant with thespring of the mountains, summer elsewhere--down in the levels whereother occupations than mining held rule. The camp had the same deadlevel of squalor in appearance, the same twisting, wriggling, recklesslife in its streets.
"Fine new lot of stuff in," the trader said, pushing his goods in abrisk way. "Never been a finer lot of stuff brought into any camp thanI've got here now. Canned tomatoes, canned corn, canned beans, cannedmeat, canned tripe, canned salmon. That's a pretty big layout, eh? AndI reckon there never was no better dried prunes and dried apricotsever thrown across a mule's back than I got. Why, they taste as ifyou was eatin' 'em right off the bushes! And Mexican beans! Hey, lookat these! Talk about beans and sowbelly, how would these do?"
He plunged his grimy hand into a sack, and lifted a handful of beansaloft to let them sift through his fingers, clattering, on thosebelow. The partners agreed that he had everything in the world thatany one could crave in the way of delicacies, and gave him theirorders; then, that hour's task completed, sauntered out into thestreet.
Dick started toward the trail leading homeward, but Bill checked him,with a slow: "Hold on a minute."
The younger man turned back, and waited for him to speak.
"I'd kind of like to go down to the High Light for a while," the bigman said awkwardly. "We ought to go round there and see Mrs. Meredith,and patronize her as far as a few soda pops, and such go, hadn't we?Seein' as how she's been right good to us."
Dick, nothing loath to a visit to The Lily, assented, although theHigh Light, with its camp garishness, was an old and familiar sight toany one who had passed seven years in outlying mining regions.
The proprietress was not in sight when they entered, but thebartenders greeted them in a more friendly way, and the Chinese, whoseemed forever cleaning glasses, grinned them a welcome. They noddedto those they recognized, and walked back to the little railing.
"Lookin' for Lily?" the man with the bangs asked, trying to show hisfriendliness. "She ain't here now, but she'll be here soon. She'sabout due. Go on up and grab a box for yourselves. The house owes youfellers a drink, it seems to me. Can I send you up a bottle of Pumbry?The fizzy stuff's none too good for you, I guess."
He appeared disappointed when Dick told him to send up two lemonades,and turned back to lean across the bar and hail some new arrival. Thepartners went up and seated themselves in one of the cardboard stallsdignified by the name of boxes, and, leaning over the railing in frontbetween the gilt-embroidered, red-denim curtains, looked down on thedancers. Two or three of their own men were there, grimly waltzingwith girls who tried to appear cheerful and joyous.
Shrill laughter echoed now and then, and when the music changed a manwith a voice like a megaphone shouted: "Gents! Git pardners for thesquare sets!" and the scene shifted into one of more regular pattern,where different individuals were more conspicuous. Some of the morehilarious cavorted, and tried clumsy shuffles on the corners when theraucous-voiced man howled: "Bala-a-ance all!" and others merely jiggedup and down with stiff jerks and muscle-bound limbs, gravely, and witha desperate, earnest endeavor to enjoy themselves.
A glowering, pockmarked man, evidently seeking some one with no goodintent, pulled open the curtains at the back of the box, and stared atthem in half-drunken gravity; then discovering his mistake, with aclumsy "Beg pardon, gents," let the draperies drop, and passed on downthe row.
Across from them, in the opposite box, some man from the placers, withhis face tanned to a copper color, was hilariously surrounding himselfwith all the girls he could induce to become his guests, holding a boxparty of his own. He was leaning over the rail and bellowing so loudlythat his voice could be heard above the din: "Hey, down there! You,Tim! Bring me up a bottle of the bubbly water--two bottles--five--no,send up a case. Whoop-ee! Pay on seventeen! This is where little HankJones celebrates! Come on up, girls. Here's where no men is wanted.It's me all by my little lonely!"
Some one threw a garland of paper flowers round his neck, which heesteemed as a high honor, and shook it out over the floor below, whereall the dancers were becoming confused in an endeavor simultaneouslyto watch his antics, and keep their places in the dance.
"The most disgusting object in the world is a man who drinks!" came acold voice behind them, and they turned to see The Lily standing backof them, and frowning at the scene across.
Bill turned to greet her, holding out his hand, and his broadshoulders shut out the view of Bacchanalia.
"The bartender says you drink nothing stronger than lemonade," shesaid, looking up at the giant, "and I am glad to hear it. It is apleasure to meet men like you once in a while. It keeps one fromlosing faith in all."
She sat down in one of the chairs--a trifle wearily, Dick thought, andhe noticed that there were lines under the eyebrows, melancholy,pensive, that he had not observed before in the few times they had mether. As on the occasion of their meeting at the mine, she appeared tosense his thoughts, and turned toward him as if to defend herself.
"You are asking yourself and me the question, why, if I dislikeliquor, and gambling, and all this, I am owner of the High Light?" shesaid, reverting to her old-time hardness. "Well, it's because I wantmoney. Does that answer you?"
"I didn't ask you a question," he retorted.
"No, but it's just like it always is with you! You looked one. I'm notsure that I like you; you look so devilish clean-minded. You alwaysaccuse me, without saying anything so that I can have a chance toanswer back. It isn't fair. I don't like to be made uncomfortable. Iam what I am, and can't help it."
She turned her frowning eyes on Bill, and they softened. She relented,and for the first time in the evening her rare laugh sounded softlyfrom between her white, even teeth.
"You see," she said, addressing him, "I can't help being angry withMr. Townsend. I think I'm a little afraid of him. I'm a coward in someways. You're different. You just smile kindly at me, as if you wereolder than Methuselah, and had all the wisdom of Solomon or Socrates,and were inclined to be tolerant when you couldn't agree."
"Go on," Bill said. "You're doin' all the talkin'."
"I have a right to exercise at least one womanly prerogative, once ina while," she laughed. And then: "But I am talking more than usual.Tell me about the mine and the men? How goes it?"
They had but little to tell her, yet she seemed to find it interesting,and her eyes had the absent look of one who listens and sees distantscenes under discussion to the exclusion of all immediate surroundings.
"Have you met Bully Presby yet?" she asked.
They smiled, and told her they had.
"He is a wonderful man," she said admiringly. "He makes his way overeverything and everybody. He is ruthless in going after what he wants.He fears nothing above or below. I honestly believe that if the archdemon were to block him on the trail, Bully Presby would take a chanceand try to throw him over a cliff. I don't suppose he ever had a viceor a human emotion. I believe I'd like him better if he had a littleof both."
Dick laughed outright, and stared at her with renewed interest. Headmitted to himself that she was one of the most fascinating women hehad ever met, and wondered what vicissitude could have brought such awoman, who used classical illustrations, fluent, cultivated speech,and who was strong grace exemplified, to such a position. She seemedmaster of her surroundings, and yet not of them, looking down with ahard and lofty scorn on the very men from whom she made her living. Hebegan to believe what was commonly said of her, that her virtue,physical and ethical, was unassailable.
There was a crash and a loud guffaw of laughter. They pulled thecurtains farther apart, and looked across at the man who wascelebrating. He had dropped a bottle of wine to the floor below, andwas beseeching some one to bring it up to him.
; Bill leaned farther out of the box to look, and suddenly the drummersaw him, pointed in his direction with a drumstick, and spoke to agirl leaning near by. She, too, looked up, and then clapped herhands.
"There he is!" she called in her high treble voice. "Up there innumber five! The man that carried Pearl out and got burned himself."
Some man near her climbed to the little stage and pointed, took offhis hat, and shouted: "A tiger for that man! Now! All together!Whooee! Whooee! Whooee! Ow!"
In the wild yell that every one joined, Bill was abashed. He shrankback into the box, flushed and embarrassed, while Dick laughedoutright, with boyish enjoyment at his confusion, and The Lily watchedhim with a soft look in her eyes, and then stared down at the floorbelow.
Suddenly her figure seemed to stiffen, and the look on her facealtered to one of cold anger. She peered farther over as if to assureherself of something, and Dick, following her eyes, saw they werefixed on a man who stood leaning against one of the pillars near theentrance to the dance floor. He alone, apparently, was taking no partin the demonstration in Bill's honor, but glowered sullenly toward thebox. It took no long reasoning for Dick to know why. The man was theone who had been the watchman at the mine when they arrived.
The band struck up again, and another dance began, the enthusiastsforgetting Bill as quickly as they had saluted him; but theex-watchman continued to lean against the post, a picture ofsullenness, and in the box The Lily stood with knitted brows, as iftrying to recollect him.
"Well," she said at last, "I must go now. Come and see me wheneveryou can, both of you. I like you."
They arose and followed her out of the box, and down the flimsystairs that led to the floor below. She paused on the bottom step, andclutched the casing with both hands, then tried to get a closerlook at the ex-watchman, who had turned away until but a small partof his face was exposed. She walked onward, still looking angrilypreoccupied, to the end of the bar, and the partners were on thepoint of bidding her good-night, when she abruptly started, seemed totense herself, and exclaimed: "Now I know him!"
The partners wondered when she made a swift clutch under the end ofthe bar and slipped something into the bosom of her jacket. She tookfive or six determined steps toward the ex-watchman and tapped him onthe shoulder.
He whirled sharply as if his mind had guilty fears, and faced herdefiantly.
Those immediately around, suspecting something unusual, stopped towatch them, and listened.
"So you are here in Goldpan, are you, Wolff?" she demanded, with acold sneer in her voice.
He gave her a fierce, defiant stare, and brazenly growled: "You'reoff. My name's not Wolff. My name's Brown."
"You lie!" she flared back, with a hard anger in her voice. "Your nameis Gus Wolff! You get out of this place, and don't you ever come inagain! If you do, I'll have you thrown out like a dog."
He glowered at the crowd that was forming around him, as crowdsinvariably form in any controversy, and then started toward the door,but he made a grave mistake. He called back a vile epithet as hewent.
"Stop!" she commanded him, with an imperious, compelling tone.
He half-turned, and then shrugged his shoulders, and made as if tomove on.
"Stop, I said!"
He turned again to face a pistol which she had snatched from herjacket, and now the partners, amazed, understood what that swiftmotion had meant. He halted irresolutely.
"You used a name toward me that I permit no man to use," she saidfiercely. "So I shall explain to these men of Goldpan who you are, GusWolff! You were in Butte five years ago. You induced a poor, sillylittle fool named Rose Trevor to leave the dance hall where sheworked, and go with you. You were one of those who believe that womenare made to be brutalized. But good as most of them are, and bad assome of them are, there is none, living or dead, that you are or werefit to consort with. You murdered her. Don't you dare to deny it! Theyfound her dead outside of your cabin. They arrested you, and triedyou, and should have hanged you, but they couldn't get the proof ofwhat everybody believed, that you--you brute--had killed, then thrownher over the rocks to claim that she had fallen there in thedarkness."
She paused as if the tempest of her words had left her breathless, andmen glared at him savagely. It seemed as if every one had crowdedforward to hear her denunciation.
"Bah!" she added scornfully. "The jury was made up of fools, and menknew it. The sheriff himself told you so when he slipped you out ofthe jail where he had protected you, and let you loose across theborder in the night. Didn't he? And he told you that if ever you cameback to Butte, he would not turn a hand to keep you from the clutchesof the mob; didn't he? And now you are plain 'Mister Brown,' workingsomewhere back up in the hills, are you? Well, Mr. Brown, you keepaway from the High Light. Get out!"
Some one made a restless motion, and declared the man should behanged, even now, but The Lily turned her angry eyes on the speaker,and silenced him.
"Not if I can help it, or any of my friends can," she said coolly."There'll be no mobbing anybody around here. I've said enough. Let himalone, but remember what kind of a blackguard he is. That's all!"
She turned back and tossed the pistol behind the bar, and the crowd,as if her words and the advice of the more contained elementprevailed, resumed its play. She looked up, and saw the partnerswaiting to bid her good-night, and suddenly bit her lip, as if ashamedthat they had seen her fury unmasked.
"We're going now," Bill said, reaching out his hand. She did not takeit, but looked around the room with unreadable eyes.
"I'll walk with you to the beginning of your trail," she said. "I'msick of this," and led the way out into the night.
For half the length of the long street, she strode between them,wordless, and then suddenly halted and held her arms apartappealingly.
"What must you think of me?" she said, with a note of grief in hervoice. "Oh, you two don't know it all! You don't know what it takes tomake a woman, who tries to be decent, rebellious at everything underthe skies. What brutes there are walking the earth! Sometimes, lately,I begin to doubt if there is a God!"
"And that," exclaimed the quiet, steadfast young voice at her side,"is unworthy of you and your intelligence."
She halted again, as if thinking.
"And I," said the giant, in his deep, musical tones, "know there'sone. It takes more than men to make me believe there ain't. I know itwhen I look at them!" He waved his hands at the starlit mountainssurrounding them, and towering in serenity high up to the cloudlessspaces.
"I'd be mighty ashamed to doubt when I can see them," he said, "and ifthey went away, I'd still believe it; because if I didn't, I couldn'tsee no use in livin' any more. It's havin' Him lean down and whisperto you once in a while, in the night, when everything seems to begoin' wrong, 'Old boy, you did well,' that keeps it all worth whileand makes a feller stiffen his back and go ahead, with his conscienceclean and not carin' a cuss what anybody says or thinks, so longs ashe knows that the Lord knows he did the right thing."
She faltered for a moment, and Dick, staring through the darkness ather, could not decide whether it was because the woman in her wasmelting after the storm of anger, or whether she was merely weighinghis partner's words. As abruptly as had been any of her actions in allthe time they had known her, she turned and walked away from them, hersoft "Good-night" wafting itself back with a note of profound sadnessand misery.
"I've decided what she is," Bill said, as they paused for a last lookat the lights of the camp. "She's all woman, and a mighty good one, atthat!"
