"This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities."
It was the night of the Derby of 1875. The great race had been run,
and the partisans of Galopin were triumphant. Those who had set their
affections on other names had finished their weeping, because by this
time lamentation, especially among those of the baser sort was changed
for a cheerful resignation begotten of much beer. The busy road was
deserted, save for the tramps who plodded their weary way homeward;
the moon, now in its third quarter, looked with sympathetic eye upon
the sleeping forms which dotted the silent downs. These lay strewn
like unto the bodies on a battle-field--they lay in rows, they lay
singly; they were protected from the night-dews by canvas tents, or
they were exposed to the moon-light and the wind. All day long these
people had plied the weary trade of amusing a mob; the Derby, when
most hearts are open, is the harvest-day of those who play
instruments, those who dance, those who tumble, those who tell
fortunes. Among these honest artists sleeps the 'prentice who is going
to rob the till to pay his debt of honour; the seedy betting-man in a
drunken stupor; the boy who has tramped all the way from town to pick
up a sixpence somehow; the rustic who loves a race; and the
sharp-fingered lad with the restless eye and a pocketful of
handkerchiefs. The holiday is over, and few are the heads which will
awake in the morning clear and untroubled with regrets, remorse, or
hot coppers. It is two in the morning, and most of the revellers are
asleep. A few, still awake, are at the Burleigh Club; and among these
are Gilead Beck, Ladds, and Jack Dunquerque.
They have been to Epsom. On the course the two Englishmen seemed, not
unnaturally, to know a good many men. Some, whose voices were, oddly
enough, familiar to Gilead Beck, shook hands with him and laughed. One
voice--it belonged to a man in a light coat and a white hat--reminded
him of Thomas Carlyle. The owner of the voice laughed cheerfully when
Beck told him so. Another made him mindful of John Ruskin. And the
owner of that voice, too, laughed and changed the subject. They were
all cheerful, these friends of Jack Dunquerque; they partook with
affability of the luncheon and drank freely of the champagne. Also
there was a good deal of quiet betting. Jack Dunquerque, Gilead Beck
observed, was the least adventurous. Betting and gambling were
luxuries which Jack's income would not allow him. Most other things he
could share in, but betting was beyond him. Gilead Beck plunged and
won. It was a part of his Luck that he should win; but, nevertheless,
when Galopin carried his owner's colours past the winning-post, Gilead
gave a great shout of triumph, and felt for once the pleasures of the
Turf.
Now it was all over. Jack and he were together in the smoking-room,
where half a dozen lingered. Ladds was somewhere in the club, but not
with them.
"It was a fine sight," said Gilead Beck, on the subject of the race
generally; "a fine sight. In the matter of crowds you beat us: that I
allow. And the horses were good: that I allow too. But let me show you
a trotting-race, where the sweet little winner goes his measured mile
in two minutes and a half. That seems to me better sport. But the
Derby is a fine race, and I admit it. When I go back to America," he
went on, "I shall institute races of my own--with a great National
Dunquerque Cup--and we will have an American Derby, with trotting
thrown in. There's room for both sports. What do you think, Mr.
Dunquerque, of having sports from all countries?"
"Seems a bright idea. Take your bull-fights from Spain; your fencing
from France; your racing from England--what will you have from
Germany?"
"Playing at soldiers, I guess. They don't seem to care for any other
game."
"And Russia?"
"A great green table with a pack of cards and a roulette. We can get a
few Egyptian bonds for the Greeks to exhibit their favourite game
with. We may import a band of brigands for the Italian sports.
Imitation murder will represent Turkish Delights, and the performers
shall camp in Central Park. It wouldn't be bad fun to go out at night
and hunt them. Say, Mr. Dunquerque, we'll do it. A permanent
Exhibition of the Amusements of all Nations. You shall come over if
you like, and show them English fox-hunting. Where is Captain Ladds?"
"I left him hovering round the card-tables. I will bring him up."
Presently Jack returned.
"Ladds is hard at work at _écarté_ with a villainous-looking stranger.
And I should think, from the way Tommy is sticking at it, that Tommy
is dropping pretty heavily."
"It's an American he's playing with," said one of the other men in the
room. "Don't know who brought him; not a member; a Major Hamilton
Ruggles--don't know what service."
Mr. Beck looked up quietly, and reflected a moment. Then he said
softly to Jack--
"Mr. Dunquerque, I think we can have a little amusement out of this.
If you were to go now to Captain Ladds, and if you were to bring him
up to this same identical room with Major Hamilton Ruggles, I think,
sir,--I do think you would see something pleasant."
There was a sweet and winning smile on the face of Mr. Beck when he
spoke these words. Jack immediately understood that there was going to
be a row, and went at once on his errand, in order to promote it to
the best of his power.
"You know Major Ruggles?" asked the first speaker.
"No, sir, no--I can hardly say that I know Major Ruggles. But I think
he knows me."
In ten minutes Ladds and his adversary at _écarté_ came upstairs.
Ladds wore the heavy impenetrable look in which, as in a mask, he
always played; the other, who had a limp in one leg and a heavy scar
across his face, came with him. He was laughing in a high-pitched
voice. After them came Jack.
At sight of Mr. Beck, Major Ruggles stopped suddenly.
"I beg your pardon, Captain Ladds," he said. "I find I have forgotten
my handkerchief."
He turned to go. But, Jack, the awkward, was in his way.
"Handkerchief sticking out of your pocket," said Ladds.
"So it is, so it is!"
By a sort of instinct the half-dozen men in the smoking-room seemed to
draw their chairs and to close in together. There was evidently
something going to happen.
Mr. Beck rose solemnly--surely nobody ever had so grave a face as
Gilead P. Beck--and advanced to Major Ruggles.
"Major Ruggles," he said, "I gave you to understand, two days ago,
that I didn't remember you. I found out afterwards that I was wrong. I
remember you perfectly well."
"You used words, Mr. Beck, which----"
"Ay, ay--I know. You want satisfaction, Major. You shall have it. Sit
down now, sit down, sir. We are all among gentlemen here, and this is
a happy meeting for both of us. What will you drink?--I beg your
pardon, Mr. Dunquerque, but I thought we were at the Langham. Perhaps
you would yourself ask Major Ruggles what he will put himself outside
of?"
The Major, who did not seem quite at his ease, took a
seltzer-and-brandy and a cigarette. Then he looked furtively at Gilead
Beck. He understood what the man was going to say and why he was going
to say it.
"Satisfaction, Major? Wal, these gentlemen shall be witnesses.
Yesterday mornin', as I was walkin' down the steps of the Langham
Hotel, this gentleman, this high-toned, whole-souled pride of the
American army, met me and offered his hand. 'Hope you are well, Mr.
Beck,' were his affable words. 'Hope you are quite well. Met you last
at Delmonico's, in with Boss Calderon.' Now, gentlemen, you'll hardly
believe me when I tell you I answered this politeness by askin' the
Major if he had ever heard of a Banco Steerer, and if he knew the
meanin' of a Roper. He did not reply, doubtless because he was wounded
in his feelin's--being above all things a man of honour _and_ the
boast of his native country. I then left him with a Scriptural
reference, which p'r'aps he's overhauled since, and now understands
what I meant when I said that, if I was to meet him goin' around
arm-in-arm with Ananias and Sapphira, I'd say he was in good company."
Here the Major jumped in his chair, and put his right hand to his
shirt-front.
"No, sir," said Beck, unmoved. "I can tackle more'n one wild cat at
once, if you mean fightin,' which you do not. And it's no use, no
manner o' use, feelin' in that breast-pocket of yours, because the
shootin' irons in this country are always left at home. You sit still,
Major, and take it quiet. I'm goin' to be more improvin' presently."
"Perhaps, Beck," said Jack, "you would explain what a Banco Steerer
and a Roper are."
"I was comin' to that, sir. They air one and the same animal. The
Roper or the Banco Steerer, gentlemen, will find you out the morning
after you land in Chicago or Saint Louis. He will accost you--very
friendly, wonderful friendly--when you come out of your hotel, by your
name, and he will remind you--which is most surprising, considerin'
you never set eyes on his face before--how you have dined together in
Cincinnati, or it may be Orleans, or perhaps Francisco, because he
finds out where you came from last. And he will shake hands with you:
and he will propose a drink; and he will pay for that drink. And
presently he will take you somewhere else, among his pals, and he will
strip you so clean that there won't be left the price of a four cent
paper to throw around your face and hide your blushes. In London,
gentlemen, they do, I believe, the confidence trick. Perhaps Major
Ruggles will explain his own method presently."
But Major Ruggles preserved silence.
"So, gentlemen, after I'd shown my familiarity with the Ax of the
Apostles, I went down town, thinkin' how mighty clever I was--that's a
way of mine, gentlemen, which generally takes me after I've made a
durned fool of myself. All of a sudden I recollected the face of Major
Ruggles, and where I'd seen him last. Yes, Major, you _did_ know
me--you were quite right, and I ought to have kept Ananias out of the
muss--you _did_ know me, and I'd forgotten it. Those words of mine,
Major, required explanation, as you said just now."
"Satisfaction, I said," objected the Major, trying to recover himself
a little.
"Sir, you air a whole-souled gentleman; and your sense of honour is as
keen as a quarter-dollar razor. Satisfaction you shall have; and if
you are not satisfied when I have done with you, ask these gentlemen
around what an American nobleman--one of the noblemen like yourself
that we do sometimes show the world--wants more, and the more you
shall git.
"You did know me, Major; but you made a little mistake. It was not
with Boss Calderon that you met me, because I do not know Boss
Calderon; nor was it at Delmonico's. And where it was I am about to
tell this company."
He hesitated a moment.
"Gentlemen, I believe it is a rule that strangers in your clubs must
be introduced by members. I was introduced by my friend Mr.
Dunquerque, and I hope I shall not disgrace that introduction. May I
ask who introduced Major Ruggles?"
Nobody knew. In fact, he had passed in with an acquaintance picked up
somehow, and stayed there.
The Major tried again to get away. "This is fooling," he said.
"Captain Ladds, do you wish me to be insulted? If you do, sir, say so.
You will find that an American officer----"
"Silence, sir!" said Mr. Beck. "An American officer! Say that again,
and I will teach you to respect the name of an American officer. I've
been a private soldier myself in that army," he added, by way of
explanation. "Now, Major Ruggles, I am going to invite you to remain
while I tell these gentlemen a little story--a very little story--but
it concerns you. And if Captain Ladds likes when that story is
finished, I will apologise to you, and to him, and to all this
honourable company."
"Let us hear the story," said Jack. "Nothing could be fairer."
"Nothing!" echoed the little circle of listeners.
Beck addressed the room in general, occasionally pointing the finger
of emphasis at the unfortunate Major. His victim showed every sign of
bodily discomfort and mental agitation. First he fidgeted in the
chair; then he threw away his cigarette; then he folded his arms and
stared defiantly at the speaker. Then he got up again.
"What have I to do with you and your story? Let me go. Captain Ladds,
you have my address. And as for you, sir, you shall hear from me
to-morrow."
"Sit down, Major." Gilead Beck invited him to resume his chair with a
sweet smile. "Sit down. The night's young. May be Captain Ladds wants
his revenge."
"Not I," said Ladds. "Had enough. Go to bed. Not a revengeful man."
"Then," said Gilead Beck, his face darkening and his manner suddenly
changing, "I will take your revenge for you. Sit down, sir!"
It was an order he gave this time, not an invitation, and the stranger
obeyed with an uneasy smile.
"It is not gambling, Major Ruggles," Beck went on. "Captain Ladds'
revenge is going to be of another sort, I reckon."
He drew close to Major Ruggles, and sitting on the table, placed one
foot on a chair which was between the stranger and the door.
"Delmonico's, was it, where we met last? And with Joe Calderon--Boss
Calderon? Really, Major Ruggles, I was a great fool not to remember
that at once. But I always am weak over faces, even such a striking
face as yours. So we met last when you were dining with Boss Calderon,
eh?"
Then Mr. Beck began his little story.
"Six years ago, gentlemen,--long before I found my Butterfly, of which
you may have heard,--I ran up and down the Great Pacific Railway
between Chicago and Francisco for close upon six months. I did not
choose that way of spendin' the golden hours, because, if one had a
choice at all, a Pullman's sleeping-car on the Pacific Railway would
be just one of the last places you would choose to pass your life in.
I should class it, as a permanent home, with a first-class saloon in a
Cunard steamer. No, gentlemen, I was on board those cars in an
official capacity. I was conductor. It is not a proud position, not an
office which you care to magnify; it doesn't lift your chin in the air
and stick out your toes like the proud title of Major does for our
friend squirmin' in the chair before us. Squirm on, Major; but listen,
because this is interestin'. On those cars and on that railway there
is a deal of time to be got through. I am bound to say that time kind
of hangs heavy on the hands. You can't be always outside smokin'; you
can't sleep more'n a certain time, because the nigger turns you out
and folds up the beds; and you oughtn't to drink more'n your proper
whack. Also, you get tired watchin' the scenery. You may make notes if
you like, but you get tired o' that. And you get mortal tired of
settin' on end. Mostly, therefore, you stand around the conductor, and
you listen to his talk.
"But six years ago the dullness of that long journey was enlivened by
the presence of a few sportsmen like our friend the Major here. They
were so fond of the beauties of Nature, they were so wrapped up in the
pride of bein' American citizens and ownin' the biggest railway in the
world, that they would travel all the way from New York to San
Francisco, stay there a day, and then travel all the way back again.
And the most remarkable thing was, that when they got to New York
again they would take a through ticket all the way back to San Fran.
This attachment to the line pleased the company at first. It did seem
as if good deeds was going to meet their recompense at last, even in
this world, and the spirited conduct of the gentlemen, when it first
became known, filled everybody with admiration.--You remember, Major,
the very handsome remarks made by you yourself on the New York
platform.
"Lord, is it six years ago? Why, it seems to me but yesterday, Major
Ruggles, that I saw you standin' erect and bold--lookin' like a
senator in a stove pipe hat, store boots, and go-to-meetin'
coat--shakin' hands with the chairman. 'Sir,' you said, with tears in
your eyes, 'you represent the advance of civilisation. We air now,
indeed, ahead of the hull creation. You have united the Pacific and
the Atlantic. And, sir, by the iron road the West and the East may
jine hands and defy the tyranny of Europe.' Those, gentlemen, were the
noble sentiments of Major Hamilton Ruggles.--Did I say, Major, that I
would give you satisfaction? Wait till I have done, and you shall bust
with satisfaction."
The Major did not look, at all events, like being satisfied so far.
"One day an ugly rumor got about--you know how rumours spread--that
the Great Pacific Railroad was a big gamblin' shop. The enthusiastic
travellers up and down that line were one mighty confederated gang.
They were up to every dodge: they travelled together, and they
travelled separate; they had dice, and those dice were loaded; they
had cards, and those cards were marked; they played on the square, but
behind every man's hand was a confederate, and he gave signs, so that
the honest sportsman knew how to play. And by these simple
contrivances, gentlemen, they always won. So much did they win, that I
have conducted a through train in which, when we got to Chicago, there
wasn't a five-dollar piece left among the lot. And all the time
strangers to each other. The gang never, by so much as a wink, let out
that they had met before. And no one could tell them from ordinary
passengers. But I knew; and I had a long conversation with the
Directors one day, the result of which--Major Ruggles, perhaps you can
tell these gentlemen what was the result of that conversation."
The man was sallow. His sharp eyes gleamed with an angry light as
he looked from one to the other, as if in the hope of finding an
associate. There was none. Only Ladds, his adversary, moved quietly
around the room and sat near to Gilead Beck, on the table, but _nearer
the door_. The Major saw this manoeuvre with a sinking heart, because
his pockets were heavy with the proceeds of the evening game.
"Well, gentlemen, a general order came for all the conductors. It was
'No play.' We were to stop that. And another general order was--an
imperative order, Major, so that I am sure you will not bear
malice--'If they won't leave off, chuck 'em out.' That was the order,
Major, 'Chuck 'em out.'
"It was on the journey back from San Francisco that the first trouble
began. You were an upright man to look at then, Major; you hadn't got
the limp you've got now, and you hadn't received that unfort'nate scar
across your handsome face. You were a most charmin' companion for a
long railway journey, but you had that little weakness--that you
_would_ play. I warned you at the time. I said, 'Cap'en, this must
stop.' You were only a Cap'en then. But you would go on. 'Cap'en,' I
said, 'if you will not stop, you will be chucked out.' You will
acknowledge, Major, that I gave you fair warnin'. You laughed. That
was all you did. You laughed and you shuffled the cards. But the man
who was playing with you got up. He saw reason. Then you drew out a
revolver and used bad language. So I made for you.
"Gentlemen, it was not a fair fight. But orders had to be observed. In
half a minute I had his pistol from him, and in two minutes more he
was flyin' from the end of the train. We were goin' twenty miles an
hour, and we hadn't time to stop to see if he was likely to get along
somehow. And the last I saw of Captain Ruggles--I beg your pardon,
Major--was his two heels in the air as he left the end of the train. I
s'pose, Major, it was stoppin' so sudden gave you that limp and
ornamented your face with that beautiful scar. The ground was gritty,
I believe?"
Everybody's eyes were turned on the Major, whose face was livid.
"Gentlemen," Mr. Beck continued, "that ærial flight of Captain Ruggles
improved the moral tone of the Pacific Railroad to a degree that you
would hardly believe. I don't think there has been a single sportsman
chucked out since. Major Ruggles, sir, you were the blessed means,
under Providence and Gilead P. Beck conjointly, of commencing a new
and moral era for the Great Pacific Railroad.
"And now, Major, that my little story is told, may I ask if you are
satisfied? Because if there is any other satisfaction in my power you
shall have that too. Have I done enough for honour, gentlemen all?"
The men laughed.
"Now for a word with me," Ladds began.
"Cap'en," said Gilead Beck, "let me work through this contract, if you
have no objection--Major Ruggles, you will clear out all your
pockets."
The miserable man made no reply.
"Clear out every one, and turn them inside out, right away."
He neither moved nor spoke.
"Gentlemen," Mr. Beck said calmly, "you will be kind enough not to
interfere."
He pulled a penknife out of his pocket and laid it on a chair open. He
then seized Major Ruggles by the collar and arm. The man fought like a
wild cat, but Beck's grasp was like a vice. It seemed incredible to
the bystanders that a man should be so strong, so active, and so
skilled. He tossed, rather than laid, his victim on the table, and
then, holding both his hands in one grip of his own enormous fist, he
deliberately ripped open the Major's trousers, waistcoat, and coat
pockets, and took out the contents. When he was satisfied that nothing
more was left in them he dragged him to the ground.
On the table lay the things which he had taken possession of.
"Take up those dice," he said to Ladds; "Try them; if they are not
loaded, I will ask the Major's pardon."
They were loaded.
"Look at these cards," he went on. "They are the cards you have been
playing with, when you thought you had a new pack of club-cards. If
they are not marked, I will ask the Major to change places with me."
They were marked.
"And now, gentlemen, I think I may ask Captain Ladds what he has lost,
and invite him to take it out of that heap."
There was a murmur of assent.
"I lost twenty pounds in notes and gold," said Ladds. "And I gave an I
O U for sixty more."
There were other I O U's in the heap, and more gold when Ladds had
recovered his own. The paper was solemnly torn up, but the coin
restored to the Major, who now stood, abject, white, and trembling,
but with the look of a devil in his eyes.
"Such men as you, Major," said Gilead the Moralist, "are the curse of
our country. You see, gentlemen, we travel about, we make money fast;
we are sometimes a reckless lot; the miners have got pockets full;
there's everything to encourage such a crew as Major Ruggles belonged
to. And when we find them out, we lynch them.--Lynch is the word,
isn't it, Major?--do you want to know the end of this man, gentlemen?
I am not much in the prophetic line, but I think I see a crowd of men
in a minin' city, and I see a thick branch with a rope over it. And at
the end of that rope is Major Ruggles's neck, tightened in a most
unpleasant and ungentlemanly manner.--It's inhospitable, but what can
you expect, Major? We like play, but we like playin' on the square.
Now, Major, you may go. And you may thank the Lord on your knees
before you go to sleep that this providential interference has taken
place in London instead of the States. For had I told my interestin'
anecdote at a bar in any city of the Western States, run up you would
have been. You may go, Major Ruggles; and I daresay Cap'en Ladds, in
consideration of the damage done to those bright and shinin' store
clothes of yours, will forego the British kicking which I see
tremblin' at the point of his toes."
Ladds did forego that revenge, and the Major slunk away.