JO POKER
"Mary Lee! Mary Lee! Where are you?" came the calls from one and
another as the riders arrived at the spot where they had left the
little girl.
At the same moment she appeared running along the path which led into
the deeper woods. "Here I am all right," she assured them.
"We were so scared when we didn't see anything of you," said Nan. "Were
you very lonely, Mary Lee? Did the time seem long?"
"Lonely? I should think not. I have had the loveliest time you can
imagine. I have seen a Douglas squirrel and a water ousel and I don't
know what all."
"Why, Mary Lee!" Miss Helen and Nan both looked astonished. "You have
done more than we," said Miss Helen.
"It's like the old adage that says he who stays at home sees more than
he who goes to Rome," said Nan. "We had an awful ride. Such precipices,
such narrow, narrow paths! I didn't dare to look down and in some
places I felt just as if I couldn't stand it. I wanted to scream but
all I could do was to shut my eyes and trust to my burro to get me back
all right. I don't want to do it again."
"Do tell us how you came to see the Douglas squirrel and the water
ousel," said Miss Helen. "Perhaps we can find them in the same place."
"Well," said Mary Lee, "I heard somebody chopping and I went to see who
it was, for I was getting tired of sitting still, and there was a man.
He was very kind and took me to see the dearest little waterfall where
there was that darling bird. He showed me the squirrel, too, and told
me the names of lots of trees and things, he was such a nice man. I
wish he had stayed till you all came back, but he wouldn't."
O'Neill, the guide, was listening attentively. "Tall man, was he, with
a scar over his left eye, lightish hair, warm-colored, not red exactly,
but light colored? I reckon it was Jo Poker."
"Jo Poker? What a funny name," said Nan.
"That isn't his real name and I reckon nobody does know just what that
is. He's a kind of shady character. There's several stories about
him; some say he cheated at cards and that's why he goes by the name
of poker, a sort of jeer at him, you see. Some says he killed a man
and that he's an escaped convict. Others says it's only because he's
always poking about and looking around at wild critturs and things that
makes folks call him Jo Poker. Nobody knows just the right of it. He's
a peaceable sort of chap, and is a right good worker when he wants to
be. Sometimes he hires out for a while but most of the time he lives in
a little hut here in these mountains. He don't seem to care much for
humans and always lights out if he sees anybody coming. You must 'a'
come on him suddent, sissy." He turned to Mary Lee.
"I did," she told him. "He looked so surprised when he saw me, but he
certainly was good and kind."
"You struck him all right," said O'Neill. "There ain't nobody could
tell you more about beastes than him, and when he knew you liked 'em,
you got on the right side of him at oncet."
"He must be rather an interesting character," said Miss Helen. "How
does he make his living?"
"Oh, he cuts a few shingles now and then and sells 'em, and sometimes
he'll hire out for a while, but he's particular who he works for. He
don't require much and it's easy to get."
"I wish we could see him," said Nan reflectively. "He seems like some
sort of hermit. I don't believe he ever killed any one. He wouldn't be
so kind to animals if he was wicked."
O'Neill gave a little amused laugh. "Bless you, miss, there's lots
of men do things in a fit of rage. That don't prevent 'em from bein'
soft-hearted as a woman when things goes easy."
"Could we go to the waterfall?" asked Miss Helen. "Is it too far?"
"It's about half a mile I should judge," said the guide, "but I
wouldn't advise your starting now, late as it is, for it's a rough
path. I wouldn't wonder if we couldn't see one of them birds on our
way back. There's sure to be one 'round a mountain stream, specially
if it's falling water. We'll look out for him as we go along. I guess,
sissy, you'd better mount now. This here young man wants to swop burros
with you and I guess you'd better let him," he turned to Mary Lee.
Carter had already mounted Mary Lee's self-willed little burro,
protesting that he wanted the fun of managing him, so Mary Lee, seated
on a surer animal, joined the cavalcade which started down the homeward
way.
The water ousel was discovered where a dancing stream cascaded down
to meet a singing rill, but, disturbed in his feeding ground, he did
not stop to gladden his discoverers but flew off down stream to a more
sequestered place, though notes of his joyous song came back to the
listeners.
"We did see him," said Nan in a satisfied manner, "but I would like to
have heard more of his song."
The Douglas squirrel, for some reason, kept out of sight, so that all
the glory of meeting him that day was Mary Lee's own.
She was very thoughtful during the homeward ride, and indeed in the
presence of the mighty trees which towered above them, and in the
company of the myriad flowers which carpeted the wayside one felt that
the solemnity of a sanctuary forbade too much levity.
However their spirits were gay enough when they stopped on the roadside
for supper. O'Neill built a rousing fire, produced his stores, made
coffee and set forth a very fair meal for which their ride gave them a
keen appetite.
"Talk about being hungry as a hunter," remarked Carter; "I am as hungry
as two hunters."
"That sounds like the conundrum: What makes more noise than a pig under
a gate?" said Nan.
"Are you casting any insinuations?" asked Carter.
"Well, no," laughed Nan.
"I don't like to have pigs mentioned when I am eating my sixth
biscuit," said Carter. "Just leave them out of the conversation, will
you? till to-morrow."
"I promise," said Nan, "because when you put it that way I have a
fellow feeling myself. Oh, but I was hungry."
"I am still," said Carter, reaching for a sandwich. "I believe I was
hollow all the way down to my boots. Are you shocked, Miss Helen?"
"Not a bit of it. Don't you suppose I know how young things eat?"
"Young things!" scoffed Carter. "Is thy servant a colt or a calf?"
"I must be a robin," declared Nan, "I forget how many times its own
weight a young robin can eat in the course of twenty-four hours."
"Let's just eat and not talk about it," said Mary Lee.
"Good!" cried Carter. "That's the most sensible remark yet. I second
the motion. Tell us some more about Jo Poker, Mary Lee."
"I've told you everything, I believe. He doesn't seem to be an ignorant
man, for he knows about all sorts of things and tells you of them in
such an interesting way."
"No, he ain't no common man," said O'Neill. "I reckon he's got a
history, like a good many out this way. I never had much speech with
him myself, but they say he'll talk about most anything but his own
affairs, when he takes a fancy to any one. I reckon missy here got more
outen him than most. Now then if you're all filled up we'll move on. I
want to make the Three Brothers before night."
"What is Three Brothers? a town?" asked Nan.
"A little sort of hotel, kep' first by three men name o' Stallings.
There ain't but one now, but he keeps the name just the same. It's a
decent sort of place for ladies, right quiet and middlin' clean."
"Middling clean will have to suffice, I suppose," said Miss Helen in an
aside to Nan. "We shall be tired enough not to care much, I fancy, by
the time we get there."
"We shall sleep like tops," replied Nan, "after this mountain ride.
I'll not quarrel with the place so long as it gives us beds we can
sleep in, and I'll not ask for electric lights nor a private bath
either."
The shadows fell around them before they reached their destination
a weary, but cheerful party who made no complaints of the lodgings
assigned them.
It was that night at the modest hotel which was their stopping place
that Mary Lee unfolded to her sister the thoughts which had been hers
on the way back. "Do you know, Nan," she said, "I have been thinking
that Jo Poker might possibly be Miss Dolores' father."
Nan stared. "You are crazy," she replied. "Her father is dead."
"She doesn't know for certain. They made her think so, I know, but
maybe that was because they didn't want him to get hold of her. Don't
you see how it might be? He told me that he married a Mexican whose
family didn't like him and that he had never seen his little baby. It
was a girl, too."
Nan became more interested. "That's so. It might really be, Mary Lee,
but who would want her to have such a father?"
"I don't think he is so dreadful."
"He must be or his wife's family wouldn't have objected to him. I am
afraid, Mary Lee, he really must have been very bad."
"But that was so long ago. Maybe he isn't now."
"That wouldn't help it any. You wouldn't like the señorita to go
up there and live in a little hut on the mountains away off from
everybody."
"No, of course not. He said he should never make himself known to his
daughter even if he knew where she was."
"Then that proves he isn't a decent somebody, and that he is ashamed of
what he is. He knows he wouldn't be any credit to her."
Mary Lee felt the force of this argument and was silent before it for a
moment, but she soon returned to battle for her theory. "Well, suppose
he wasn't very nice once, maybe he has a nice family who would be glad
to take Miss Dolores."
"It seems to me you're mighty eager to get rid of her," said Nan slyly.
"Oh, Nan!" There was indignant protest in Mary Lee's tones. "You know
I'm not anxious to do that. It is only for her sake I want to find some
real blood kin for her."
"They might turn out to be people she would loathe," said Nan.
"Oh, but we wouldn't tell her unless they were very nice."
"You couldn't help her knowing if they knew first. I don't think I'd
like to have Jo Poker for my father, no matter what his family happened
to be. Did he talk like a gentleman, Mary Lee?"
Mary Lee was obliged to confess that he did not, though she insisted
that he spoke much better than O'Neill. "He may have been a gentleman
once," she said, "for he was very polite and helped me over the hard
places. He has lived so long among rough people perhaps he has
forgotten how to speak correctly."
"Well," returned Nan, "I don't see what we can do about it anyway. We
can't go off alone and search him out and put the question to him point
blank."
"All we can do is to tell Mr. St. Nick."
"Yes, we can do that, and he will advise us. Come, do let's get in bed.
I am tired all over. Our mountain rides at home are nothing to the one
we have had to-day." And though Mary Lee tried to resume the subject
after they were in bed Nan was sound asleep almost as soon as her head
touched the pillow, and was dreaming of a water ousel which insisted
upon talking about the señorita's father.
Yet, while she pretended to laugh at Mary Lee's idea of claiming Jo
Poker's possible relationship for the señorita she was not at all sure
that he might not prove to be that undesirable parent, and it worried
her not a little, so that she was anxious to take the matter to Mr.
Pinckney as soon as they should reach home.
Therefore they had scarcely unburdened themselves of their first
enthusiasm over the trip before they left Miss Helen to tell their
mother the details and were off to Mrs. Roberts'. They found Mr.
Pinckney in his favorite chair on the veranda. "Don't get up," they
cried as he attempted to rise. "We came over to tell you about our
trip. It was perfectly glorious. We saw acres and acres of flowers,
such great thistles you never saw. Carter measured one that was two
feet around and an alder bush was a real tree. We saw a water ousel,
too."
"And a Douglas squirrel," Mary Lee put in, "at least I did."
"And the mountains are wonderful, the cañons so dark and deep
sometimes, but I was afraid I would fall when we came down those
narrow, narrow mountain paths," Nan was the speaker.
"And once," Mary Lee added, "I got off and waited for the rest, because
my burro behaved so badly I was afraid he would do something dreadful.
Carter rode him home and I took his, which was not near so mean."
"Oh, there was lots to see," Nan went on, "so much besides the
mountains and the towns and the orange groves. There are ever so many
springs up that way, all kinds; some one told us there were a thousand
hot springs in that part of California. We went to one of them. Aunt
Helen would like to have gone to the Pala Mission where there are so
many Indians but she thought she'd make another trip there in a less
roundabout way. I hope she'll take us."
"Well, it was a great experience, wasn't it?" said Mr. Pinckney. "But
I'm glad to see your cheerful countenances again, although the twinnies
have kept us from being too lonely. Bless me! what shall we do when you
are gone altogether? It isn't so hard to do without a thing when you
haven't had it, you see."
The girls looked at each other. "We would like so much to get a
granddaughter for you," said Nan, "and if we were not all so fond of
one another you could have one of us, but we would be wicked to leave
mother."
"I don't see anything but to keep you out here," replied Mr. Pinckney.
"If the climate helps your mother why shouldn't you stay?"
"Oh, we'd like it," said Nan, "but I don't believe mother and Aunt
Helen would want to stay forever."
"It's hard to suit everybody, isn't it?" said Mr. Pinckney. "I suppose
the day will come when I shall want to go East again myself. Well, we
won't bother about it yet awhile."
"We could keep the señorita if we stayed here," said Mary Lee
thoughtfully. "She would rather not go East if she can get a good
position out here."
"So there's a heavy balance on that side," said Mr. Pinckney. "I know
which way you would vote."
"Speaking of the señorita, we want to tell you something," said Nan.
"Mary Lee met a queer man up in the mountains and we think he may
possibly be the señorita's father."
"Why, I thought her father was not living."
"So did we, but I'll tell you why we think maybe he is alive." And Nan
disclosed the theory which she and Mary Lee had worked up, Mr. Pinckney
an interested listener. "Now what do you think of it?" asked Nan in
conclusion.
"It is possible, of course, but we must be sure first that her father
is really dead. I've been meaning to take a trip to Mexico, but you all
are so fascinating that I can't make up my mind to leave such charming
society. When I do go I shall see Mr. Garcia and get what information I
can. In the meantime, however, I can make some inquiries about this Jo
Poker, as you call him, and we'll see if there is any use in following
out that clue."
"I knew it was just the right thing to tell you at once," said Nan.
"You always know just what to do."
"Better than two youngsters like you, I should hope. However, you are a
big help in unwinding the snarl. Now, run in and hear what Mrs. Roberts
has to tell you. I know young folks like the kind of frolic she is
planning."
Thus advised, the girls ran indoors to hunt up their friend. "Where
are you, Mrs. Bobs?" they called.
"Up here," came the answer.
"She's in the morning room," said Mary Lee. "I'm glad of that. I always
like to go in there." No wonder she did, for it was the prettiest room
in the house, all rose-embowered and bright where the sun shone in at
the broad windows.
"So my girlies are back," said Mrs. Roberts as she greeted them. "It
made a big hole in our circle when you all went. Did you have a good
time?"
"The finest sort of time; wild and woodsy," returned Nan. "I'm glad you
missed us, Mrs. Bobs. What is it you have to tell us? We are crazy to
hear it. Mr. St. Nick said you were planning something."
"So I am. I want your mother and aunt to meet some of my friends, and
so I am going to give a tea. I want my four little lasses to help in
the dining-room if they will, and I hope I can persuade the señorita to
pour the tea."
"Oh, lovely!" Nan clasped her hands. "To think, Mary Lee, that we are
going to a real grown-up tea, and be one of it, too. I never did go to
one, even a little one. Some of the schoolgirls have little afternoon
somethings, but they are not really dress-up affairs. Won't the
twinnies be delighted? I hope Jack will keep her hair ribbon tied and
that she won't spill anything. Don't give her anything wet to pass
around, Mrs. Bobs, she'll be sure to waste it on some one's best gown."
Mrs. Roberts laughed. "I will tell her she is to take charge of the
salted nuts only; they can't hurt anything if they happen to be
overturned. I am glad you like my plan."
"And when is it to be?" asked Mary Lee.
"Not for a couple of weeks."
"Oh, then there will be plenty of time," remarked Mary Lee.
"Time for what?" asked Nan.
"Oh," Mary Lee looked confused. "I was just thinking of frocks."
Nan gave her an inquiring look. "We shall not need new ones," she said.
"We have those lovely embroidered ones grandmother gave us for Betty
Wise's party. We haven't outgrown them, and there are our white China
silks we had for Christmas, too."
"Yes, I know," said Mary Lee weakly.
"Then I don't know what you are talking about," said Nan. "Mrs. Bobs,
you are a dear to want us to have such good times, and to put us into
those you have for the grown folks. I just wish we could always have
you this near to us. But dear me, Mary Lee, we must go. We told mother
we wouldn't stay long, and it is most dinner time. No, Mrs. Bobs, we
really can't stay this time, thank you. Does mother know about the tea?"
"Yes, but I asked her to let me have the pleasure of telling you about
it. You accept my invitation, don't you?"
Nan laughed gleefully. "Accept! I should think so. We'll be the
faithfullest waitresses you ever saw."
"I don't want you to be too energetic, for I want you to have a good
time as well as the rest of us. Must you go? Well, good-bye for a
while."
"What did you mean about the frocks, Mary Lee?" asked Nan, as soon as
the two were out the gate.
"I didn't mean ours; I was thinking of the señorita. I don't believe
she has a blessed thing to wear."
"She must have had some nice things before her aunt died and they lost
all their money," said Nan. "I wonder if everything is worn out."
"I am afraid so, all except some laces. Her aunt dressed very plainly,
she told me, and she herself never had real frisky clothes, because she
was at a convent school and wore plain things."
"Well, she's got to go," said Nan decidedly. "We'll have to do
something about it, at least mother and Aunt Helen will have to. We'll
talk to them when we get a chance. Aren't you excited at being asked
to a real grown-up thing like that? Won't it be lovely to see mother
dressed up, too? You know she would never go to anything dressy because
she couldn't afford it. I hope she'll have that gray crêpe made up; she
promised that she would some day. We've never seen her in anything but
black and white, and I know she'll look too sweet for words in gray."
"There's been so much else to think about out here that I've hardly
thought of clothes, but it is rather fun to put our minds on them when
we can have nice ones," said Mary Lee.
Nan agreed with this, and with their thoughts on pleasure bent they
returned home.