The sun sank into the prairie and tinted the sky all red and green and
gold where it shone through the rents in the ragged clouds of purple
black. The glowing colors touching dull, weather-beaten steeples and
factory stacks, changed them to objects of interest and beauty. The
poisonous smoke from smelter and engine, that hung always over the
town like a heavy veil, shot through with the brilliant rays, became
a sea of color that drifted here and there, tumbled and tossed by the
wind, while above, the ball of the newly painted flag-staff on the
courthouse tower gleamed like a signal lamp from another world. And
through it all, the light reflected from a hundred windows flashed and
blazed in wondrous glory, until the city seemed a dream of unearthly
splendor and fairy loveliness, in which the people moved in wonder and
in awe. Only for a moment it lasted. A heavy cloud curtain was drawn
hurriedly across the west as though the scene in its marvelous beauty
was too sacred for the gaze of men whose souls were dwarfed by baser
visions. For an instant a single star gleamed above the curtain in the
soft green of the upper sky; then it too vanished, blotted out by the
flying forerunners of the coming storm.
About nine o'clock, when the first wild fury of the gale had passed,
a man, muffled in a heavy coat and with a soft hat pulled low over his
face, made his way along the deserted streets. In front of the Goodrich
hardware and implement store, he stopped and looked carefully about
as though in fear of some observer. Then taking a key from his pocket,
he unlocked the door and entered. Walking quickly through the room to
the office, as though familiar with the place, he knelt before the big
safe, his hand upon the knob that worked the combination. A moment
later the heavy door yielded to his hand. Taking a bunch of keys from
his pocket, he selected one without hesitation, and upon applying it,
the cash box opened, revealing a large sum of money. Catching up a
package of bills, he placed it in his side coat pocket, and locking
the cash box again, was closing the safe, when he paused as though
struck with a sudden thought. The storm without seemed to be renewing
its strength. The dashing of sleet and snow against the windows, the
howling of the wind, the weird singing of the wires, and the sharp
banging of swinging signs and shutters, carried terror to the heart
of the man kneeling in the dimly lighted office. Sinking on the floor,
he buried his face in his hands and moaned aloud, "My God--What am I
doing? What if I should fail?"
Again there came a lull in the storm; everything grew hushed and still,
almost as if the very spirit of the night waited breathlessly the
result of the battle fought in the breast of the tempted man. Rising
slowly to his knees, he swung back the heavy doors and once more
unlocking the cash box reached out to replace the package of bills;
but with the money before his eyes he paused again. Then with a sudden
exclamation, "I won't fail this time; I can't lose always," he quickly
closed the safe, and with the money in his pocket, sprang to his feet
and hurried out of the building, where the storm met him in all its
fury, as though striving to wrest from him that which he had taken
from another. But with set face and clenched fists, he pushed into the
gale, and a few minutes later knocked at the door of a room on the top
floor of a big hotel. He was admitted and greeted cordially by two men
who were drinking and smoking.
"Hello Frank," they exclaimed; "We thought you had crawfished this
time sure. What makes you so late; it is nearly ten?"
"Oh, the old man had some work for me, of course. What a beastly night.
Where's Whitley?" He tried to speak carelessly, but his eyes wavered
and his hands trembled as he unbuttoned his heavy coat.
"You're right; this storm's a ripper. Jim will be back in a minute;
he just stepped down to the corner drug-store to see a man. Here he
is now;" as another low knock sounded on the door, and the fourth man
entered, shaking the snow from his fur-trimmed coat.
"Pile out of your duds, boys, and have a drink. Good liquor hits the
spot a night like this."
Whitley grasped the proffered glass eagerly and emptied it without a
word, but Frank refused.
"You know I don't drink," he said, shortly; "take it yourself if you
need it, and let's get to work." He drew a chair to the table in the
center of the room.
The others laughed as they took their places, and one said, as he
shuffled a deck of cards: "We forgot you were a church member." And
the other added, with a sneer, "Maybe you'd like to open the services
with a song and prayer."
"You drop that and mind your own business," retorted young Goodrich,
angrily. "I'll show you tonight that you can't always have your own
way. Did you bring my papers with you?" The others nodded and one said,
"Whitley here told us you wanted a chance to win them back before we
were obliged to collect. It's to be cash tonight though," added the
other; "good cold cash, against the notes we hold."
"For God's sake, shut up and play," growled Frank in reply. "I guess
there's cash enough," and he laid the package of bills on the table.
Four eyes gleamed in triumph. Whitley looked at the young man keenly
and paused with the cards in his hands. Then he dealt and the game
began.
Meanwhile Adam Goodrich and his wife were entertaining the whist club,
of which they were enthusiastic members, for it was the regular weekly
meeting; and though the weather was so rough not a few of the devoted
lovers of the game were present.
In the conversation that preceded the play, the Young People's Society,
with Dick Falkner's plan of work, was mentioned. Nearly all of the
guests being members of different churches, expressed themselves quite
freely, with a variety of opinions, until the host, with annoyance
plainly expressed on his proud face and in his hard cold voice, said:
"You must not think, ladies and gentlemen, that because I and my family
are members of the Jerusalem Church, that we agree with Rev. Cameron
in his outlandish ideas. We have never been accustomed to associating
with such low characters as he delights in forcing us to meet in the
congregation; and if he don't change his line of work some, he will
drive all the best people to other churches."
The guests all nodded emphatic approval and each silently resolved to
send his pastor to interview the Goodrich's without delay.
Adam continued: "As for that tramp printer and his fool plan, I say
that it's just such stuff that causes all the discontent among the
lower classes and makes them unfit to serve their betters, and that
_my_ children shall have nothing to do with it. I have not brought
them up to follow the lead of a vagabond and a nobody."
Amy's face flushed painfully and she lifted her head as though to
speak, when Mrs. Goodrich silenced her with a look, and skilfully
changed the subject by saying: "It's too bad Frank won't be here
to-night. He enjoys these evenings so much and plays so well. But he
and Mr. Whitley are spending the evening with a sick friend. The dear
boy is so thoughtful of others and is always ready to give up his own
pleasures. And Mr. Whitley too; he will miss the game so much, and Amy
loses a strong partner." The company took the hint and talked of other
things until the all-absorbing game began.
And so, while the son played with his friend Whitley, and the two
professional gamblers at the hotel, played with fear in his face and
a curse in his heart, to save himself from sure disgrace, his fond
parents and beautiful sister at home, forgot his absence in their eager
efforts to win with the cards the petty prize of the evening, a
silver-mounted loving cup.
One, two, three hours passed. The storm had spent its strength; Mr.
Goodrich had won the coveted prize, and the guests of the evening had
returned to their homes. The last of the pile of ills before Frank was
placed in the center of the table. The silence was unbroken save for
the sound of the shuffling cards and the click of a whiskey glass as
one of the men helped himself to a drink.
Suddenly young Goodrich leaped to his feet with a wild exclamation:
"Tom Wharton, you're a liar and a cheat!" As he spoke, a heavy chair
whirled above his head and fell with a crashing blow upon the man who
sat at his right. Instantly all was confusion; the table was overturned;
the cards, money and glasses scattered over the room. Whitley and the
other man stood in blank astonishment at the sudden outburst. Frank
leaped at his prostrate victim, with a chair again raised to strike,
and had the second blow fallen, he would have been a murderer, for the
intent to kill shone from his glittering eyes. But Whitley, just in
time, caught his arm, while the other drew a knife and stepped between
the crazed man and his victim.
"Stop, you fool!" said Whitley. "And you, Jack, put up that knife and
look after Tom. This is a nice mess for us to be caught in." The gambler
did as he was bid, but Frank struggled in his friend's grasp. "Let me
go, Jim. Let me at him. I'm ruined anyway and I'll finish the man that
did it before I go myself." But Whitley was the stronger and forced
him backward, while the other man was busy with his fallen partner.
"Ruined nothing," said Jim in Frank's ear. "I'll stand by you. You get
out of this quick and go to my room. I'll come when I've settled with
them." He unlocked the door and pushed Frank into the hall, just as
the man on the floor struggled to his feet.
The two gamblers turned on Whitley in a rage when they saw Frank had
escaped. Standing with his back to the door, he let them curse a few
minutes and then said calmly: "Now if you feel better let's take a
drink and talk it over."
When he had them quiet again he continued, in a matter-of-fact tone:
"Suppose you fellows raise a row about this, what will you gain?"
"We'll teach that young fool a lesson he won't forget soon," snarled
the one who had fallen.
"Yes, and you'll pay big for the lesson," replied Whitley quietly.
"What do yon mean?"
"I mean that if this gets out young Goodrich is ruined and you won't
get a cent on the paper you hold."
Wharton's friend nodded, "That's straight, Tom," he said.
"Well," growled the other; "What of it, the old man won't pay it
anywray."
"Yes he would," returned Jim quickly, "if you didn't make it public;
but I don't happen to want him to know about this little deal."
"What's it to you?"
"Never mind what it is to me. I know what I'm doing, and I don't want
this to get out."
"How'll you help it?"
"This way." He took a check-book from his pocket. "Make the notes over
to me and I'll add two hundred to the amount. Go after Frank and you
get nothing. Go to the old man and you get what the paper calls for.
Keep your mouth shut and sell me the notes and you get an extra hundred
apiece. What do you say?"
"I say yes," exclaimed Jack, with an oath; "I'm no fool." And the other
grumbled a surly "All right. But I'd like to get one crack at that
kid's head."
"You'll have to pass that little pleasure this time." said the other
with a laugh. "Write your check, Whitley and let's get out of this.
I'm sleepy."
When Whitley reached his room after settling with the two gamblers,
he found Frank pacing the floor, his face white and haggard.
"Sit down. Sit down, old man; and take things easy. You're all right.
Look here." And he drew the notes from his pocket.
Frank sank into a chair. "What have you done?" he gasped. "How did you
get those?"
Whitley laughed. "Just invested a little of my spare cash, that's all,"
he said.
"But I tell you I'm ruined. I can't pay a third of that in six years."
"Well, perhaps you won't have to." Frank stared. "What do you mean?"
"I mean Amy," the other replied coolly. "You poor idiot, can't you
see. I can't afford to have you disgraced before the world under the
circumstances. If I wasn't in it, I'd let you go to thunder and serve
you right. But a fine chance I'd have to marry your sister if she knew
about this business tonight. If it wasn't for her I'd let you hang
your fool self too quick, before I'd spend a dollar on your worthless
carcass; but I've said that I would marry that girl and I will, if it
costs every cent I've got, and you'll help me too."
Frank was silent for a time, completely cowed by the contempt in the
other's voice, too frightened to protest. But at last he managed to
say: "There's more than those notes."
"I know that too," quickly returned Whitley, with an oath. "How much
did you steal from the old man's safe tonight?"
"What--How--How do you know?" stammered the other.
"Saw you," returned Whitley, shortly; and then added, as Frank rose
to his feet and began walking the floor again. "Oh, for Heaven's sake
quit your tragedy and sit down. You make me tired. You're not cut out
for either a gambler or a robber. You haven't the nerve."
Frank was silent, while the other went to a small cupboard and leisurely
helped himself to a glass of whiskey; then lit a fresh cigar.
"What can I do?" ventured Frank at last, in a voice but little above
a whisper.
Jim crossed the room, and unlocking a drawer in his desk, returned
with a handful of bills. "You can put that money back in the safe
before morning and keep your mouth shut." And then when Frank attempted
to grasp his hand, while stammering words of gratitude, he said, "No
thanks," and put his own hands behind his back in a gesture that there
was no mistaking. "Be a good boy, Frankie. Listen with more care to
your pastor's sermons; keep your Young People's Society pledge; read
your Bible and pray every day, and take part in all the meetings, and
when I marry your sister I'll make you a present of these papers. But
Oh Lord," he added, with a groan, "you'll make a healthy brother-in-law,
you will."
"How much did you say?"
Frank muttered the amount he had stolen.
Jim quickly counted it out and threw the bills on the table. "There
you are. And now you better go quickly before you slop over again and
I kick you." And turning his back he poured himself another glass of
liquor while Frank, with the money in his hand, sneaked from the room
like a well-whipped cur. And over his head, as he crept stealthily
down the street toward his father's store, the stars shone clear and
cold in their pure, calm beauty, while the last of the storm-cloud on
the far horizon covered the face of the bright new moon.