CHAPTER XXV
"AND JUST THEN----"
Mr. Cone stood at his desk, looking all of ten years younger for hisrest at the Sanatorium. Indeed, it was difficult to reconcile thissmiling, affable host of the Magnolia House with the glaring maniac ofhomicidal tendencies who had hung over the counter of The ColonialHotel, fingering the potato pen-wiper and hurling bitter personalitiesat his patrons.
The Florida hostelry had just opened and the influx of guests promised asuccessful season, yet there was a regret and a wistfulness in Mr.Cone's brown eyes as they scanned the register, for in the long listthere was no name of any member of The Happy Family.
As all the world knows, sentiment has no place in business, yet forsentimental reasons solely Mr. Cone had to date refused to rent tostrangers the rooms occupied for so many winters by the same persons.Ordinarily, it was so well understood between them that they wouldreturn and occupy their usual quarters that he reserved their rooms as amatter of course and they notified him only when something occurred tochange their plans or detain them. But this winter, owing to thecircumstances in which they had parted, his common sense told him thatif they intended to return to the Magnolia House they would have soinformed him.
Nevertheless, so strong were the ties of friendship that Mr. Conedetermined to give them forty-eight hours longer, and if by then he hadno word from them, of course there was nothing to think but that theone-time pleasant relations were ended forever.
There were strangers aplenty, the "newcomers" had arrived, and Miss MaryMacpherson, but he wanted to see Henry Appel sitting on his veranda, andMrs. Budlong and "C. D.," and Miss Mattie Gaskett--in fact, he missedone not more than another.
What did it matter, after all, he reflected, if "Cutie" had kittens inthe linen closet, and that Mrs. Appel used the hotel soap to do herlaundry? As Mr. Cone looked off across the blue waters of the Gulf,which he could see through the wide open doorway, he wished with all hisheart that he had not "flown off the handle."
The Happy Family had been friends as well as patrons, and withoutfriends what did life amount to? The hotel was full of new people, butin spite of his professional affability Mr. Cone was not one to "cotton"to everybody, and it would be a long time, he told himself sadly, beforethese old friends could be replaced in his affections.
He would have listened gladly to the story of how Mr. Appel got hisstart in life; he was hungry for the sight of Mrs. C. D. Budlong sittinglike a potted oleander; he would have welcomed----
Mr. Cone's generous ears seemed suddenly to quiver, almost they wentforward like those of a startled burro. A voice--obstinate,cantankerous--a voice that could belong to no one on earth but old Mr.Penrose, was engaged outside in a wrangle with a taxi-cab driver!
Before Mr. Cone could get around the desk and at the door to greet him,Mr. Penrose was striding across the office with the porter behind him,round-shouldered under the weight of two portmanteaux and a bag of golfclubs.
Mr. Penrose was the same, yet different in an elusive way that Mr. Conecould not define exactly. There was an air about him which on the spurof the moment he might have called "brigandish"--the way he wore hishat, a slight swagger, a something lawless that surely he never hadacquired in his peach orchard in Delaware. When Mr. Penrose extended hishand across the counter Mr. Cone noticed that he was wearing a leatherbracelet.
As they greeted each other like reunited brothers there was nothing inthe manner of either to indicate that they had parted on any but thehappiest terms, though Mr. Penrose's gaze wavered for an instant when heasked:
"Is my room ready?"
"Since the day before yesterday," replied Mr. Cone, turning to thekey-rack. Then generously:
"What kind of a summer did you have? I trust, a pleasant one."
Mr. Penrose's faded eyes grew luminous. His voice quavered with eagerenthusiasm as he ignored the efforts of the bell-boy to draw hisattention to the fact that he was waiting to open his room for him.
"Superb! Magnificent! A wonderful experience! The Land of Adventure!Cone," Mr. Penrose peered at him solemnly from under his bushy eyebrows,"I know what it is to look into the jaws of Death, literally!" Mr.Penrose could look into Mr. Cone's jaws also, for he was so impressivethat the lower one dropped automatically. He added: "I am thankful to bealive to tell the story."
"You don't mean it!"
"Yes. Alone, unarmed, I defended myself against an attack from one ofthe savage grizzlies of the Rocky Mountains."
Mr. Cone's eyes were as round as a child's awaiting a fairy tale. If Mr.Penrose had needed encouragement they would have furnished it. Hecontinued:
"We were camped near the Canon Hotel where the bears swarm--swarm likeflies over the garbage. A remarkable sight. It was a very dark night--sodark, in fact, that I hesitated to go to my teepee, which was placedapart that I might not be disturbed by the others. I must have my rest,as you will remember.
"I had been asleep only a few minutes when I was awakened by the feelingthat something was happening. It was. My tent was moving--actuallybounding over rocks and hummocks.
"Believing myself the victim of a practical joke, I sprang out andbrought my fish-pole down on what I supposed to be the head of a fellowdisguised in a big overcoat. There was a roar that was plainly heard formiles, and a monster grizzly struck at me.
"If it had not been for my presence of mind, that would have been theend of me. Now it was all that saved me. As the bear, on his hind legs,came toward me with his arms outstretched, to grapple, I ducked and cameup between them, and so close to his body that he was unable to sink histerrible claws into me.
"He let out another roar--simply appalling--it will ring in my earsforever--almost deafened me. Again my remarkable presence of mind cameto my rescue. I reached up and held his jaws open. It was my purpose todislocate the lower one, if possible.
"For fifteen minutes--twenty--perhaps--we fought desperately. Writhing,struggling, I could feel the brute's hot breath on my face and hislolling tongue dripped saliva. Finally, his heavy breathing told me hewas getting winded, and I knew that if my strength did not fail me Ishould be the victor. Fortunately, I was in splendid physical condition.Not once did I lose my presence of mind in this terrible crisis. I wasas calm as I am this minute, while the bear was letting out roars ofrage and pain that curdled the blood of those who heard them.
"At last I made a superhuman effort and backed the brute up against atree. Gripping his nose and jaw, I had doubled up my leg and thrust myknee into his stomach, which was of course cruel punishment--when, justthen----"
A slight cough made Mr. Penrose turn quickly. Miss Mattie Gaskett, whoseeyes were nearly as large as Mr. Cone's at this version of theencounter, was standing behind him with "Cutie" in a wicker basket.
Mr. Penrose looked disconcerted for a moment, and then that presence ofmind of which he boasted came to his assistance and he saidingratiatingly:
"This young lady will vouch for the fact that my clothes were inshreds--ribbons----"
"Why--er--yes, you had lost your shirt bosom," Miss Gaskett agreed,doubtfully.
Remarking that he would finish the story when Mr. Cone had more leisure,Mr. Penrose "skedaddled" after the bell-boy with unmistakable alacrity.
"And how is kitty?" inquired Mr. Cone, beaming upon Miss Gaskett. "Didyou take her with you this summer?"
As he lifted the cover and looked in the basket, "Cutie's" pupilsenlarged and she shrank from him. "Cutie" had a good memory.
"Luckily for her I did not," Miss Gaskett answered. "If I had, I shouldhave lost her."
"Lost her?"
"Coyotes."
"They would have _eaten_ her?"
Miss Gaskett nodded.
"Undoubteely. They were thick as anything. They howled hideously everymorning before sunrise, and it was not safe to leave one's tent at nightwithout a weapon."
"Whew!" Mr. Cone's lips puckered in a whistle.
His astonishment inspired Miss Gaskett to continue:
"Yes, indeed!
And once when I was out walking ever so far from everybodyI met one face to face. My first impulse was to run, but I thought if Idid so it might attack me, so, trying not to show that I was frightened,I picked up a stick, and just then----"
Seeing that Mr. Cone's gaze wandered, Miss Gaskett paused to learn thecause of it. She flushed as she found that Mrs. Budlong, with a smilewreathing her face, was listening to the recital.
"I'll tell you the rest when you are not so busy," Miss Mattie said,taking her key from Mr. Cone hastily.
Mrs. Budlong declared that her pleasure equalled his own when Mr. Coneexpressed his delight at seeing her, and there was no thought on theminds of either as to the hotel rules she had violated or the food shehad carried away from the table in the front of her blouse and herreticule.
"You are looking in splendid health, Mrs. Budlong," he asserted, quiteas if that lady ever had looked otherwise.
"Yes, the change benefited me greatly." A stranger might have gatheredfrom the plaintive note in her voice that prior to her trip she hadbeen an invalid.
"You, too, found the Western country interesting?"
"Oh, very! At heart, Mr. Cone, I am a Child of Nature, and the primitivealways appeals to me strongly," Mrs. Budlong hesitated and seemeddebating. Having made her decision she asked in an undertone:
"I can trust you?"
"_Absolutely_," replied Mr. Cone with emphasis, which intimated that thetorture chamber could not wring from him any secret she chose todeposit.
"I had a very peculiar experience in the Yellowstone. I should nevermention it, if you were not more like a brother to me than a stranger.It is altogether shocking."
Mr. Cone's eyes sparkled.
"Purely in a spirit of adventure, I took a bath in a beaver dam. It wasin a secluded spot, and so well protected that I went in--er--I did notwear my bathing suit. The birds twittered. The arched trees made a greencanopy above me. The sunshine sparkled on the placid bosom of the water.A gentle breeze, warm, sweet-scented, caressed me as I drank in thebeauty of the scene.
"Then I plunged in--the temperature was warmer than tepid--delightful. Ifelt like a nymph, a water-sprite, or something, as I swam out to themiddle and found a footing. The bottom was rather oozy, and there weregreen patches floating on the surface, otherwise it was ideal.
"Noticing a brown spot on my arm, I touched it. It was squashy andpulpy. Then it moved! A leech--and it sunk a million feet into me assoon as I attempted to remove it. I was _black_ with them, if you willbelieve me, literally _covered_. Repulsive, disgusting--blood-suckers,sucking my blood like vacuum-cleaners, Mr. Cone! Imagine my horror."
Mr. Cone tried to.
"Another woman would have screamed or fainted," Mrs. Budlong continued,"but I come of different stock, and ancestry will tell at such moments.I am a Daughter of the Revolution and my father fought all through theCivil War as a sutler. Not a sound passed my lips as I got back toshore, somehow, and, weak from loss of blood, sank down to consider howto get rid of the leeches.
"In emergencies I am a resourceful woman. Recalling that I had amatch--only one little match--in my sweater pocket, it occurred to methat I might build a smudge and smoke them off. I scraped some leavestogether, struck my match, and, just then----"
But just then Mr. Budlong, who had stopped to look after the trunks,scuffled in the doorway, and in his eagerness to greet him Mr. Coneforgot completely the narrative Mrs. Budlong was reciting for hisbenefit. Nor did he ever hear its termination.
Even as the proprietor stood at his desk wondering if the later trainhad brought any more prodigals, a commotion on the veranda was followedby the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Appel.
Mr. Appel was using a stick and walking with such difficulty that Mr.Cone hurried forward and asked with real solicitude:
"My dear friend, whatever is the matter? Has your old enemy Rheumatismagain got his clutches on you?"
"Rheumatism!" Mr. Appel snorted. "You lie on your back with 2,000 poundson top of you and see how you like it!"
Mr. Cone was puzzled, and said so.
Mr. Appel explained tersely:
"A bear walked on me--that's all that happened. A silvertip stood onthe pit of my stomach and ground his heel into me."
"_Tsch! tsch! tsch!_" Mr. Cone's eyes were popping.
"If it were not for the fact that I'm quick in the head my wife would bea widow. I was in my sleeping bag and saw the bear coming. I knew whatwas going to happen, and that I had one chance in a thousand. It flashedthrough my mind that a horned toad when threatened with danger willinflate itself to such an extent that a wagon may pass over it, leavingthe toad uninjured. I drew a deep breath, expanded my diaphragm to itsgreatest capacity, and lay rigid. It was all that saved me."
Again Mr. Cone's tongue against his teeth clicked his astonishment atthis extraordinary experience, and while he congratulated Mr. Appel uponhis miraculous escape he noted that he was wearing souvenirs of his tripin the way of an elk-tooth scarf-pin and a hat-band of braided horsehair.
The same train had brought Mrs. J. Harry Stott apparently, for theelevator was barely closed upon the victim of the picturesque accidentto which Mr. Cone had just listened, when the office was illumined byher gracious presence.
The last time that lady had extended a supine hand it had been to offerhim one of the most serious affronts that can befall a self-respectinglandlord; now the hand contained only cordiality, and in that spirit Mr.Cone took it.
"You enjoyed your summer?" As Mr. Cone passed the pen for her toregister.
"Delightful! Altogether unique! Do you know, Mr. Cone, I never beforehave fully appreciated my husband--his splendid courage?"
"Is that so?" Mr. Cone replied with polite interest.
"Yes, when put to the test he was magnificent. You see, we had a cook,oh, a most offensive--a rully violent and dangerous person. In fact, itwas because of him that I left the party prematurely.
"It was plain that both Wallie and Pinkey were afraid of him, and darednot discharge him, so, one day when he had been more objectionable thanusual, my husband took things into his own hands--he simply _had_ to!
"Hicks--his name was Hicks--was disrespectful when Mr. Stott reprimandedhim for something, and then he attempted to strike my husband with apair of brass knuckles. Brass knuckles, it seems, are not a gentleman'sweapon, and the cowardly attack so infuriated Mr. Stott that he knockedthe bully down and took them away from him. He still has them. Beforehe let him up he pummelled him well, I assure you. Mr. Stott doesn'tknow how strong he is when angry. Such muscles!
"He punished the cook until he begged for mercy and promised to dobetter. But as soon as he was on his feet he tried to _stab_ my husbandwith a bread-knife. Fancy! Mr. Stott took this away from him, also, andran him down the road with it. He ran him for seven miles--_sevenmiles_, mind you! The cook was nearly dead when Mr. Stott let up on him.I had to _drag_ this story from my husband, little by little. But wasn'tit exciting?"
Mr. Cone, who never had thought of Mr. Stott as such a warrior, tried tovisualize the episode, and though he failed to do so he was greatlyimpressed by it.
He stood for some time after Mrs. Stott had left him, reflectingenviously that his life was dull and uneventful, and that he must seem apoor stick to the heroes and heroines of such adventures. He wished thathe could think of some incident in his past to match these tales ofvalour, but as he looked back the only thing that occurred to him wasthe occasion upon which the laundress had stolen the cooking sherry andgone to sleep in her chemise on the front veranda. She had fought like atiger when the patrol wagon came for her, and he had been the one tohold her feet as she was carried to it. At the time he had beencongratulated upon the able and fearless manner in which he had met theemergency, but a bout with an intoxicated laundress, though it had itsdangers, seemed a piffling affair as compared to a hand-to-hand combatwith a grizzly.
Gazing absently through the doorway and comforting himself by thinkingthat perhaps he, too, had latent courage which woul
d rise to heights ofheroism in propitious circumstances, he did not see Miss Eyester, whohad come in the side entrance, until she stood before him.
He had not expected Miss Eyester, because she was usually employedduring the winter, and it was only when a well-to-do relative sent her acheck that she could afford a few weeks in Florida. But Miss Eyester wasone of his favourites, and he immediately expressed the hope that shewas to stay the entire season, while he noticed that she was wearing amounted bear-claw for a hat-pin.
"No," she replied, blushing.
Not until then had Mr. Cone observed the Montana diamond flashing on herfinger.
"Ah-h?" He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
Miss Eyester nodded.
"In January."
"A Western millionaire, I venture?" he suggested playfully.
"A stockman."
"Indeed?" A new respect was in Mr. Cone's manner. "Cattle?"
"Sheep," replied Miss Eyester, proudly. "Mr. Fripp is herding atpresent."
* * * * *
In a week Mr. Cone was as familiar with the glorious summer which TheHappy Family had spent in the West as if he had been there. Although heknew the story by heart he still thrilled when Mr. Penrose backed thebear up against a tree and separated its jaws until it "moaned like ahuman."
He continued to listen with flattering attention to the recital of theintrepid spinster who would have given battle to a hungry coyote if ithad attacked her, as he did to the account of Mr. Stott's recklesscourage in putting to flight a notorious outlaw who had hired out as acook for some sinister purpose.
But, gradually, Mr. Cone began to detect discrepancies, and he noticedalso that the descriptions not only varied but grew more hair-raisingwith repetition. Also, he guessed shrewdly that the reason the membersof The Happy Family never contradicted one another was that they darednot.
The day came, finally, when Mr. Cone found it not only expedient butnecessary to arrange a signal with the operator at the switchboard forcertain contingencies. A close observer might have noticed that apreliminary "That reminds me" was invariably followed by an imperativeannouncement from the operator that Mr. Cone was wanted on thetelephone.
A haste which resembled flight frequently marked the departure of otherguests when a reminiscence seemed threatening until, forsooth, the timearrived when they had only themselves for audience and their "Thatreminds me" became "Do you remember?" The only wonder was, to those lesstravelled, that The Happy Family ever had brought themselves to leavethat earthly paradise in Wyoming, even for the winter.
The only person whom their enthusiasm did not weary was Miss MaryMacpherson, because directly and indirectly it all redounded to thecredit of her nephew, whom she now carefully called Wallace, as morebefitting the dignity of a successful "Dude Wrangler" than thediminutive.
Wallie's refusal to accept her offer had brought tears of disappointmentto the eyes of the lonely woman, yet secretly she respected his prideand boasted to strangers of his independence.
"My nephew, Wallace Macpherson--you may have heard of him? He has largeinterests in Wyoming. Went West without a penny, practically; too proudto accept help from any one--that's the Macpherson of it--and now, theytell me, he is one of the important men of the country."
She was sometimes tempted to mention the extent of his holdings, and putthe acreage well up into the thousands, but since Miss Macpherson was atruthful woman with a sensitive conscience, she contented herself withdeclaring, merely:
"My nephew, Wallace Macpherson, has a large ranch, oh, a very largeplace--several days' ride around it."
He was all she had, and blood is far thicker than water. She was hungryfor a sight of him, and every day increased her yearning. While lettersfrom him now arrived regularly, he said nothing in any of them ofcoming to Florida. His extensive interests, she presumed, detained him,and he was too good a business man to neglect affairs that needed him.
She had promised to go to him next summer, but next summer was a longway off and there were times when she was strongly tempted to make thejourney in winter in spite of the northern blizzards of which, whilefanning themselves, they read with gusto.
A blizzard was raging at present, according to the paper from which Mr.Appel was reading the headlines aloud to the group on the veranda. Alltrains were stalled west of the Mississippi and there was three feet ofsnow on the level in Denver.
"That reminds me----"
Only too well Mr. Cone knew what Mr. Budlong's remark portended. Thehotel proprietor was having an interesting conversation with Mrs. Appelupon the relative merits of moth-preventatives, but he arose abruptly.
Mr. Budlong squared away again.
"That reminds me that I was wondering this morning how deep the snowwould be at that point where Mr. Stott slid down the glacier in thegold-pan. By the way, Mr. Cone, have you heard that story? It's a goodone."
Edging toward the doorway, Mr. Cone fairly chattered in his vehemence:
"Oh, yes--yes--yes!"
Mr. Penrose interrupted eagerly:
"The drifts must be about forty feet high on that stretch south of TheLolabama. There's a gap in the mountain where the wind comes througha-whoopin'. I mean the place where the steer chased Aunt Lizzie--did anyone ever tell you that yarn, Cone?"
Mr. Cone, with one foot over the door-sill and clinging to the jamb, asif he half expected they would wrench him loose and make him go back andlisten, answered with unmistakable irony:
"I think I recall having heard someone mention it."
It required more than irony to discourage Mr. Penrose, however, and heinsisted petulantly:
"Come on back here, Cone! I'll explain just how Wallie jumped that steerand went to the ground with him. It's worth listening to twice."
Twice! Mr. Cone had heard it more times than he had fingers and toes.
"The telephone's ringing," he pleaded.
"Go answer it, then; looks like you'd want to learn something!"
Miss Macpherson had heard the story an even greater number of times thanMr. Cone, but now she urged Mr. Penrose to repeat it, and he did so withsuch spirit and so vividly that she shuddered almost continuouslythrough the telling. He concluded by asserting emphatically that if ithad not been for his foresight in providing himself with field-glasses,the steer would have been running over the flat with Aunt Lizzie empaledon its horns like a naturalist's butterfly, before any one could haveprevented it.
Mr. Appel opined, when Mr. Penrose had finished, that "Canby made a poorshowing."
"I could have done as well myself if I had been able to get there." Headded speculatively: "I suppose Canby and Miss Spenceley are engaged bynow--or married. Wallie hasn't mentioned it in his letters, has he?"
Miss Macpherson replied in the negative.
"He might not, anyway," remarked Mrs. Appel. "Helene was a nice girl,and attractive, but I could see that she did not interest him."
Mrs. Budlong, who had one eye closed trying to thread a needle withouther glasses, observed succinctly:
"Men are funny."
She intended to qualify her statement by saying that some are funnierthan others, only, before she had time to do so, an exclamation fromMiss Macpherson attracted her attention. Following Miss Macpherson'sunbelieving stare she saw Helene and Wallie getting out of the motor-buswith a certain air which her experienced eye recognized as "married."
Mrs. Budlong specialized in detecting newly wedded people and she wasseldom mistaken. Her cleverness along this line sometimes amounted toclairvoyancy, but, in this instance, no one needed to be supernaturallygifted to recognize the earmarks, for no man could look so radiantlyhappy as Wallie unless he had inherited a million dollars--or marriedthe girl he wanted.
Miss Mary Macpherson threw her arms about her nephew's neck and kissedhim with an impetuosity seemingly incompatible with a lady who wore ahigh starched collar in summer, and the others welcomed him with asincerity and warmth which made his eyes grow misty.
> It was hard to believe, as he looked at them beaming upon him in genuinefondness, that only a few short months before they had been barelyspeaking to him, or that he had wished The Happy Family had, as thesaying is, a single neck that he might wring it.
Above the volley of questions and chatter he heard old Mr. Penrose'squerulous voice reproaching him:
"I hope you have the grace to be ashamed of yourself for not telling us,Wallace!"
"If I look sheepish," Wallie replied, smiling, "it may be due to thenature of my new occupation. You see," in reply to their looks ofinquiry, "Canby bought me out, to get rid of me, and for a far moremunificent sum than I ever expected. I re-invested, and am now," withmock dignity, "a wool-grower--with one Mr. Fripp engaged as foreman."Wallie's eyes twinkled as he added:
"I trust that the percentage of loss will not be so great as in the dudebusiness."
The Country Life Press,Garden City, N. Y.
The Dude Wrangler Page 25
