|BADEAU lost his schooner before Christmas. The day after New Year's
he went to Manistee to see Mr. Jackson, whom he found sitting in his
office.
“Well, Badeau,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“I want a job.”
“What can you do?”
“Anything.”
“What's the matter? Up against it?”
“You know my schooner's gone.”
“Yes, I know.” And Mr. Jackson also knew that Hunch was a good man.
“Tell you what I'll do, Badeau; I'll make a place for you. How are you
on logs?”
“I was boss of Dempsey's gang up to Cadillac four years ago.”
“How much money do you want?”
“'Nough to keep me going. You'll find out what I'm worth fast enough.”
Badeau went to work the next morning. He took a cheap room near the
lumber-yard, and found before the week was out that he could live on
two-thirds of his salary. At the beginning of the second week, Mr.
Jackson put him in charge of the river gang, driving logs. Hunch took
advantage of the mild weather to get all the logs in the river to the
mill before the river should freeze up solid for the winter. He got
along well with the men, excepting a fellow named McGuire, who was
inclined to grumble at hard work. But one noon at the mill, when the
men were matching their strength, Hunch lifted a six-hundred pound
pile-driver weight and swung it easily clear of the ground. That quieted
McGuire.
One day toward the close of his second week, Badeau found Bruce
Considine hanging around, at closing time, outside the mill.
“Hello, Bruce,” he said. “What you doing up here?”
“Come up to see you, Hunch.”
“What's the matter?”
“The old man come down on me last week.”
“Fire you?”
“Yes. I'm sick of working for him anyhow. He'll never let a fellow
alone.”
“What you going to do? You ain't likely to get another job like that.”
“I don't know. I thought mebbe you'd know of something up here, Hunch.”
“I just went on the job, myself.”
“I know it, but I can't starve, Hunch, I ain't had any money for a
couple of days.”
“How about--your----”
“Marne? She's down at the house. I told her to go to the old man, but
he's kind of ugly and she wont do it. Guess she'll get over being proud
one of these days.”
“What's she living on?”
“I thought mebbe I could send her something, if I could get a job up
here.”
“I dunno, Bruce. I'll ask the boss. Come around to-morrow noon.”
The following afternoon Bruce joined Hunch's gang as a day-laborer. His
muscles were soft, and it was several days before he could do a man's
work. One day the gang were carrying heavy timbers at the mill, and
Hunch noticed that Bruce's partner on one of the double timber-hooks was
muttering. He kept an eye on the pair, and saw that Bruce's hands sagged
at every few steps. When the day's work was done he waited outside the
mill for Bruce.
“Look here, Bruce,” he said, “I'm on to you.”
“What you talking about?”
“You know what I'm talking about. I seen you soldiering. I just want to
tell you that it won't go.”
Bruce was silent for a moment. Then he said:
“Think you've got me down, don't you.”
“What I think ain't got nothing to do with it. I got you the job, but
I can't keep you if you don't take a brace. The boss wouldn't stand for
it. You got to earn your pay.”
“It's easy for you to talk. You're getting good money. I'm working hard
enough for every cent I get.”
“None o' your talk now, Bruce. You can't bluff me. You just quit loafing
and get down to business. You're going to do it, too, if I have to knock
it into you. Understand?”
Bruce walked away in a surly mood, but for a few days Hunch saw a slight
improvement in his work. Then there came a slump. Hunch said nothing
until one noon he overheard Bruce and McGuire grumbling together. He
called Bruce away.
“Look here, Bruce,” he said, “you know what I told you.”
“What you got to kick about?”
“None o' your lip. You just keep away from McGuire.”
“I don't see what you got to say about a friend of mine.”
“Friend of yours, eh? I s'pose you're bunking with him, too?”
“Well, whose business is it if----”
“You leave him tonight. Understand?”
Bruce sulked for the rest of the day and avoided Hunch. After supper
Hunch went to McGuire's room in the square frame hotel by the tracks. No
one was there, but Bruce's patent-leather valise lay in the corner. Hunch
waited until they came in.
“Hello,” said Bruce, a little startled.
“Pack up your stuff and come along with me, Bruce.”
“Bruce is rooming with me,” said McGuire, looking at Hunch out of the
corners of his eyes.
“No, he ain't,” said Hunch, “he's rooming with me. Step lively, Bruce. I
been waiting half an hour.”
Bruce and McGuire looked at each other, and Hunch sat grimly on the bed.
Then Bruce turned to the bureau and began nervously gathering his things
and throwing them into the valise. McGuire helped him without a word.
Then Bruce shook hands with McGuire, a little stiffly, and went away
with Hunch.
Now, that he was directly under Hunch's eye, Bruce improved slightly.
He fell into the habit of confiding in Hunch, and relying, as in the old
days, upon his advice. But one day a letter came for Bruce, addressed
in a hand which Hunch recognized. Bruce was quiet and serious for hours,
and when Hunch asked him what was the matter, he tried to pass it over
with a laugh. It was not until after supper, when they were up in the
room together, that Bruce gave way. Hunch was shaving, and Bruce sat
watching him for some time, before he said: “Hunch, I--got a letter from
Marne.” Hunch could see him in the mirror leaning forward in his chair
with his elbows on his knees.
“She--she's coming down kind of hard on me. I ain't had a chance to earn
anything yet. It's all I can do to take care of myself.”
“Ain't you sent her anything?”
“Why, how could I? You know what I'm getting, Hunch.”
“What's the matter?”
“She says they're sticking her for the house rent. I don't know what to
do. I wish she'd go back to her old man.”
“How much are you stuck for?”
“I don't know. You read it. Mebbe you can tell me what to do. Seems if
she ought to help a little, somehow.” Hunch leaned against the wall,
under the bracket lamp, and read the letter. Then he laid it on the
bureau and stood stropping his razor on the palm of his hand. Finally he
turned to the mirror and went on shaving.
“What do you think, Hunch?” asked Bruce, after a long silence.
“I dunno.”
“Tell me something, Hunch. I got to do something.”
“Shut up a while. Lemme think.”
When he had finished shaving, Hunch said:
“To-day's Thursday, ain't it?”
“Guess so.”
“Look here, Bruce, you write her a letter. Tell her I'm coming down
Sunday.”
“You, Hunch----?”
“Yes, I'm going down. Tell her, we'll see if we can't fix it up
somehow.”
Bruce looked up at him.
“Seems to me you're kind of anxious to see my wife.”
Hunch turned on him.
“Look here, Bruce. Do you want to know why I'm going?”
Bruce nodded slowly.
“It's 'cause if I gave you any money to go down there you'd blow it in
and make a fool of yourself. You ain't fit to have a wife, that's why.
You owe me money now that I give you for your wife and you soaked it in
on jags. Don't you talk to me. Understand?” Bruce stood by the window,
looking out into the dark. Hunch was bending over the washbowl and
splashing water on the floor. He groped for the towel. Bruce said: “What
you got mad about all of a sudden?”
Hunch's face was buried in the towel. Bruce watched him.
“What you going to say to her, Hunch?”
“I dunno.”
“Say, you ain't going to say nothing about me, are you?”
Hunch glanced at him contemptuously, and began to hone his razor. Bruce
stood around for a while, then moved slowly toward the door.
“Where're you going?”
“I dunno. Thought I might go up town. Guess there ain't much of anything
going on.”
“You come back.”
Bruce laughed nervously.
“Ain't mad, are you, Hunch?”
“No, I ain't mad. Better write that letter, I guess.”
“That's so. I was going to do that, wasn't I. I kind of forgot it.” He
sat at the table and took up the pen clumsily. “I don't know just what
to say, Hunch.”
“That's your business.”
“Don't be mean, Hunch.”
“You shut up and write that letter. I don't care what you say.”
When he had written it, and before sealing the envelope, Bruce hesitated
and looked around at Hunch. But Hunch had turned his back and was honing
without a word, so Bruce sealed it.
“It's wrote, Hunch. I told her----”
“Give it to me. I'll mail it in a minute. You be here now when I get
back.”