CHAPTER VI
THE INFIDEL, A JEW AND A GERMAN
A mile north from where stood the house of St. Jean Baptiste, therelived a quaint old man. He was a widower; at least this was the generalopinion, especially when he so claimed to be. In a new country there maybe found among those who settle much that is unusual, not to say quaintand oftentimes mysterious. And in the case of this man, by nameillustrious, there was all this and some more.
Augustus M. Barr, he registered, and from England he hailed. How longsince does not concern this story at this stage. Besides, he never toldany one when, or why--well, he had been in America long enough to securethe claim he held and that was sufficient. But that Barr had been a manof some note back from where he came, there could be little doubt. Amongthe things to prove it, he was very much of a linguist, being wellversed in English, French, Polish, German; the Scandinavian hethoroughly understood--and Latin, that was easy!
He had been a preacher and had pastored many years in a Baker streetchurch, London. Then, it seems, he concluded after all that there was noGod; there was no Satan nor Hell either--so he gave up the ministry andbecame an infidel. And so we have him. But there was something A.M. Barrhad never told--but that was the mystery.
And while he will be concerned with our story, let us not forget thattwo miles and more west of the little town of Dallas, there livedanother, a Jew. He was not a merchant, nor was he a trader; then, Jewswho are not the one or the other are not the usual Jew, apparently.Well, Syfe wasn't, for that was his name, Isaac Syfe, and from far awayAssyria he had come. He was dark of visage with dark hair, and piercingbut lurking eyes with brows that ran together; while his nose was longand seemed to hang down at the point, reminding one of the ancientJudas. His mouth was small and close; and there was always a cigarettebetween the dark lips. He was of medium size, somewhere in the thirties,perhaps, lived alone, on a homestead that was his own, and so we haveIsaac Syfe. But there is another still.
He lived about as far southwest of Dallas as Syfe lived to the west and,unlike Syfe, he was light, a blond, thick, short and stout. His neck wasmuscular and slightly bull like; while his features were distinctlyGermanic: his face was rounded and healthy with cheeks soft and red, andthey called him Kaden, Peter Kaden. He also held a claim, havingpurchased a relinquishment in the opening, lived alone as did Syfe andnumerous other bachelors, and did his own cooking, washing and ironing.
Augustus M. Barr appeared very much impressed with Jean Baptiste. He wasa judge of men, withal, and much impressed with Baptiste as apersonality; but the fact that Baptiste had broken one hundred andthirty acres on his homestead and now had it ready for crop, the firstyear of settlement; and had wisely invested in another quarter uponwhich a girl had made proof, delighted Barr. He admired the youngerman's viewpoint and optimism. So when Barr was in town, and theconversation happened around that way, he was ever pleased to speak hispraise of Baptiste.
It was the day of the Indian episode when Barr, driving a team hitchedto a spring wagon, came to town, hoping that the lumber yard hadreceived the much needed coal.
"And how about the coal," cried Barr to the lumberman before he drew histeam to a stop.
"Coal a plenty," replied the lumberman cheerfully.
"Good, good, good!" exclaimed Barr, his distinguished old face lightingup with great delight.
"Yep," let out the lumberman, coming toward the buggy. "I've weighedyou, and round to the bin is the coal. St. Jean Baptiste arrived lastnight--that is, I think he got home last night, although he brought thecoal this morning, two loads, four tons."
"Eighty hundred pounds of coal, you don't say! And it was Jean Baptistewho brought it! Now, say, wasn't that great! Not another man on thiswhole Reservation save he could have made it," he ended admiringly.
"Jean Baptiste is the man who can bring it if anybody," rejoined theother.
At this moment a large, stout man came driving up in a one horse rig.
"Any coal?" he called lazily from his seat.
"Plenty," cried Barr.
"Thank God," exclaimed the other, whose name was Stark, and who held theclaim that cornered with the town on the northeast, and therefore joinedwith the Baptiste claim on the east.
"Thank Jean Baptiste," advised Barr. "He's the man that brought it."
"So?" said Stark thoughtfully. "When?"
"Yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"That's what the lumberman said."
"Well, I'll be blowed!"
"You'll be warmed, I guess."
"Well, I should say!"
"That Baptiste is _some_ fellow."
"Well, yes. Although I sometimes think he is a fool."
"Oh, not so rash!"
"Any man's a fool that would have left Bonesteel with loads yesterday."
"Then I suppose we should be thankful to the fool. A fool's errand willin this case mean many lazy men's comfort."
"And last summer you recall how it rained?"
"I sure do."
"Well, you know that fellow would go out and work in the rain."
"And has a hundred and thirty acres ready and into crop while I have butthirty."
"I have but ten, but--"
"You will be in the hole--at least behind at the end of this summer."
"But I'm advertised to prove up."
"And leave the country when you have done so."
"Well, of course. I have a house and lot and three acres back in Iowa."
"And Jean Baptiste has 320 acres. In a few years he will have a rich,wonderful farm that will be a factor in the local history anddevelopment of this country; it will also mean something for posterity."
"Well, I don't care."
"You drew your land and got it free excepting four dollars an acre tothe government. Baptiste bought his and paid for the relinquishment. Youwere lucky, but it will be up to Jean Baptiste and his kind to make thecountry. Had they been as you appear to be, we would perhaps all be inJerusalem, or the jungle. Let's load the coal."
"Good lecture, that," muttered the lumberman when the two were at thebin. "Lot's o' truth in it, too. Old Stark needed it. He's too lazy tohitch up a team, so rides to town in that little buggy with one horsehitched to it."
"What are you talking about?" inquired another, coming up at thismoment.
"Jean Baptiste."
"So?"
"Barr and Stark have just had a set-to about him."
"M-m?"
"Stark says a man that would come from Bonesteel a day like yesterdaywas a fool."
"Why will he partake of the fuel he brought to keep from freezing,then?"
"Well, Stark is too lazy to care. He's advertised to prove up, you know,and he always has something to say about working."
"Used to come to town after the mail during the rainy spell last summer,and upon seeing Baptiste at work in the field, cry 'Just look at thatfool nigger, a workin' in the rain.'" Both laughed. A few minutes laterthe town was thrown into an uproar over the incident related in the lastchapter.
* * * * *
Now it happened that day that Augustus M. Barr went to the postofficeand received a heavy envelope. He glanced through the contents with aserious face, and put the papers in his pocket. On the way to his claim,he took them out and went through them again, and returned them to hispocket. A few minutes later he reached into the pocket, drew out what hethought to be the papers, and silently tore them to threads, and flungthe bundle of paper to the winds.
When Jean Baptiste left the town for his little sod house on the hill,he saw A.M. Barr just ahead of him. He followed the same route that Barrhad taken, and when he reached the draw on the town site that laybetween his place and the town, he espied some papers. He picked themup, continued on his way, and presently observed the torn ball of paperthat Barr had cast away. He idly opened the package he held. He wonderedat the contents and as he read them through he became curious. Thepapers had to do with something between Augustus M. Barr, Is
aac Syfe,and Peter Kaden.
"Now that is singular," he said to himself. He continued to read throughthe papers, and as he did so, another fact became clear to him. Kadenwas a sad character. And because he was so forlorn, never cultivated anyfriendship, lived alone and never visited, the people had begun toregard him as crazy. But now Jean Baptiste understood something thatneither he, nor any of the people in the country had dreamed of. He readon. He recalled that the summer before a young lady, beautiful, refinedbut strange at times, had stayed at the Barr claim. Barr had introducedher as his niece. The people wondered at her seclusion. She had a fineclaim. Barr had come to him once and spoken about selling it, statingthat the girl had fallen heir to an estate in England and was compelledto return therewith.... Later he had succeeded in selling the place. Shehad disappeared; but he had never forgotten the expressions he hadobserved upon the face of Christine.... He had thought it singular atthe time but had thought little of it since. He read further into thepapers, and learned about some other person, a woman, but concerningher he could gather nothing definite. He could not understand aboutChristine either, except that she had fallen heir to nothing in England;was not there, but not more than three hundred miles from where he stoodat that moment. But there was before him what he _did_ understand, andwhich was that there was something between Augustus M. Barr, Isaac Syfe,and Peter Kaden, _and something was going to happen_.
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