"Oho, it's you George," Montell purred--that sounds exaggerated, but I
cannot otherwise describe his manner of speaking. He made an odd figure
sitting up in bed, with his fat, purple face surmounting a flannel
shirt, and a red, knitted cap on his head.
"So you made it, eh? Who's this with you, George?"
"None of your damned business!" Barreau snapped. He stood back a little
from the bed, looking down at Montell. By the glint in his eyes he was
angry. "You needn't concern yourself about any man who travels with me."
"Tut, tut, George," the other pacified, "that's all right; that's all
right. You're mighty touchy to-night. I did the best I could for you,
I'm sure."
"The best you could! You did that--though not in the way you would have
me believe." Barreau's voice stung like a whip-lash. "You double-faced
Mammon-worshipper, if it would mend matters I would gladly jerk you out
of your bunk and stamp your swinish features into the earth. Do you
think you can pull the wool over my eyes? For two pins I'd break with
you right now."
Montell did not at once reply. He sat a few seconds, softly rubbing the
palm of one pudgy hand over the back of its fellow.
"Now, what's the use of that sort of talk, George?" he finally said,
quite unperturbed. "We can't afford to quarrel. We got too----"
"I can," Barreau interrupted.
"No, no, George, you're mistaken there. We got to stick together," he
declared. "Hang it! you had bad luck. But you shouldn't blame me for
them misfortunes."
"I don't--altogether," Barreau cut in again. "But you took advantage of
my mischance, to help along a little scheme that you've been nursing
some time. I had a glimpse of your hand in MacLeod. You have done the
mischief. Why should I trouble myself further in your affairs, unless it
be to call you to account for the dirty trick you have played?"
"Oho, I see now," Montell nodded understandingly. "I didn't catch what
you were driving at. But you're wrong, dead wrong, George. Why, I tried
every way to send Jessie back from Benton. Yes, sir, tried every way.
You've no idea how wilful that girl is." He spread his fat hands
deprecatingly. "She'd come to MacLeod, spite of hell 'n' high water. _I_
couldn't stop her. And with every Tom, Dick 'n' Harry talkin' about you,
and them dodgers stuck up every place, and you really in the
guardhouse--why, you see how it was. No way to keep it dark. But it's
not as bad as you think. Of course she's kinda excited--but, pshaw! When
you see her again she won't think of it. You're dead wrong, George, when
you blame me. Yes, sir. Wouldn't I have kept it quiet if I could? You
know it, George. I got somethin' at stake, too."
"You have that," Barreau returned grimly, "and you had better keep that
fact in mind. But don't ask me to believe such rot as your not being
able to prevent her from making such a radical change of plan. However,
the milk is spilt; the crying part will come later. I'll keep to my part
of the bargain. Does everything stand as originally laid out?"
Montell nodded. "There's no call to change," he said, and again the
purring, satisfied note crept into his voice.
"I want another good horse, a saddle, a pack layout, and grub for a
month," Barreau enumerated. "Rout Steve up--you know where he
sleeps--and have him get those things. We need guns, too. Where is my
box?"
"It's on the tail end of the first wagon outside. Steve's sleepin' just
beyond. Couldn't you just as well wake him, George?"
"No, I've other things to do," Barreau refused bluntly. "Bestir your fat
carcass, and set him to work. The night air won't hurt you. We have no
time to waste. For all I know a troop of Police may be on us before we
can get started again."
Montell grunted some unintelligible protest, but nevertheless, heaved
his flesh-burdened body up from the cot. He gathered about him a
much-worn dressing gown, and, thrusting his feet into a pair of
slippers, left the tent.
"Now, let us see about clothes," Barreau said to me, and I followed him
to the wagon-end.
He climbed up on the hind wheel. After a second or two of fumbling he
upended a flat steamer trunk. I held it while he leaped to the ground,
and between us we carried it into the tent.
"The Police have my key--much good may it do them," he remarked, and
pried open the lid with a hatchet that lay near by. He threw a few
articles carelessly aside.
"Peel off those roustabout garments," he said to me. "Here is something
better. Lucky we're about of a size."
He gave me a blue flannel shirt to begin with, and when I had discarded
the soiled rags I wore and put on the clean one, he held out to me a
coat and trousers of some dark cloth, a pair of riding boots similar to
those on his own feet, and clean socks. Other clothing he hauled from
the trunk and laid in a pile by itself. Lastly he brought forth a new
felt hat.
"Does this fit you?" He stood up and set it on my head. "Fine. No, I'll
get a hat from Steve before we start," he silenced my protest. We had
both ridden bareheaded.
Montell returned while I was getting into the welcome change of apparel.
"Steve's gettin' you what you need, George," he informed. "There's a new
tarpaulin by the bed you can use for your pack. Steve'll get you
blankets. Go softly. I'm none too sure of all these bull-whackers I
got."
Barreau went on spreading his clothes in a flat heap as if he had not
heard. Presently he closed the trunk. Getting to his feet he glanced
about.
"Oh, yes," he said curtly, as if he had but recollected something. "I
want some of that port you've been guzzling. Dig it up."
"Certainly, George, certainly," Montell's face broadened in an
ingratiating smile, though Barreau's tone was as contemptuously
insulting as it could well be. He reached under the box upon which the
candle stood and brought out a bottle. Barreau took it, held it up to
the light, then laid it by his clothing without a word; Montell watching
him with a speculative air, meanwhile.
"That's fine stuff, George," he said tentatively. "Fine stuff. I ain't
got but a little."
"Damn you, don't talk to me!" Barreau whirled on him. "I'm sick of the
whole business, and I want none of your smooth palaver, nor whining
about what I do."
The older man's florid face took on a deeper tint. One of his fat hands
suddenly drew into a fist. Barreau had penetrated his hide, in some way
that I could not quite understand. And I imagine there would have been
some sort of explosion on the spot, but for the timely diversion of a
man's head parting the door-flaps.
"Them hosses is ready," he briefly announced. And Barreau turned his
back on Mr. Montell forthwith. I did likewise.
For all I did I might as well have stayed in the tent. Barreau and Steve
went silently about saddling one horse and lashing a pack-tree on
another. In the dull light from the tent I could barely make shift to
see, but they seemed to know every strap and tying-place, and the thing
was quickly done. Last of all, they folded Barreau's clothing and two or
three pairs of heavy blankets in the tarpaulin, and bound the roll on
top of the food-supply. Then Barreau stepped once more within the tent.
What he said to Montell did not reach my ears. At any rate, it was
brief. Watching his shadow on the canvas wall I saw him turn to come
out, saw him stop and bend over something near the flaps. He
straightened up with a sharp exclamation, and this time I heard
distinctly what he said.
"By the Lord, you have been fool enough to let her come farther even!
Oh, you miserable----" His words ran into a blur of sound.
Montell raised in his cot again. I could see the bulk of him outlined
against the farther side.
"Now, see here, George," he burst out irritably. "This is goin' too far.
Between you and Jessie I've had a heap of trouble this trip. And my
patience has got limits. Yes, sir. It's got limits! I'm doin' the best I
can, and you got to do the same. You go to backin' old man Montell into
a corner, and the fur'll fly. You act like you was a schoolboy, and I'd
took your cap away."
I don't think that Barreau made any reply to this. If he did the words
were softly spoken, and he was not the man to speak softly, considering
the mood he was in just then. He was out of the tent almost before
Montell had finished.
"Steve," he said, in a matter-of-fact way as he laid hold of his stirrup
(I was already mounted), "let me have your hat. I lost mine in the
shuffle."
Without comment Steve took the hat from his head and handed it up to
him. "So-long," he grunted laconically.
"So-long, Steve," said Barreau.
The candle in Montell's tent blinked out with the words. Barreau caught
up the lead-rope of our pack-pony, and then, as silently as we had come,
we rode away.