THE NEWS STORY
The last game of cribbage had been settled, and Haywire Smithers had
departed to his own place; Mrs. Tomkins had come home from the weekly
meeting of the Two Palms Ladies' Aid and had gone up to bed; and Piute
Tomkins was locking up for the night when Murray and Sandy Mackintavers
came in from Morongo Valley--dusty, sun-bitten, and hungry.
Piute listened sadly to their request for grub, and agreed to rustle up
some. He was no longer proud and haughty before them; he had given up
the unequal battle and had ceased to struggle. Virtue had descended
gloomily upon him, even as a mantle.
"Step into the dinin' room, gents, and I'll discover somethin'," he
announced.
"How's my patient?" asked Murray, pausing en route to the wash room.
"The chink? All right. Say, I reckon ye ain't heard the news about
him?" Piute went back to his desk and procured a sheet of paper. "And
about Scudder, too. Your friend sure busted somethin' in these parts,
he sure did! Look over this here paper; it come out to-day, and I
guess Scudder ain't seen it yet. I want to be watchin' when he does
see it, that's all! Then I got a business proposal to lay before ye
whilst ye eat."
Murray took the sheet, and an ejaculation broke from him as he saw that
it was the first issue of Willyum's paper. He hurried after Sandy,
made haste to get the sand and alkali out of his eyes and hair, and
passed into the dining room. Piute lighted a lamp, and the two friends
settled down to peruse the astounding results of Bill Hobbs's labors.
Mere print cannot reproduce the phenomenon. Mere printers cannot set
in type all that Willyum, in his blissful ignorance, had achieved in
that primary issue of the revived Helngon Star. The date had been
unchanged. The advertisements along the sides had been untouched;, yet
Willyum had managed to fill four columns, by dint of ornaments and
other aids to progress.
The news story touched first upon Tom Lee, and was begun with this lead:
We got in our midst today tmo guys that come direct from tHe hall
oj & Fame iNtwo tHe sentrel Presinct oF Two Palms$ tHe misterY has
beeu sollved:*
The article went on to say, more or less legibly, that Tom Lee was
immensely wealthy, and that he owned a string of oriental shops in the
Bay region of San Francisco. He was, in fact, a magnate pure and
simple in the antique line, and was rated many times a millionaire.
"Aiblins, now," observed Sandy, puzzling over the page with knotted
brows, "Bill is tryin' to say somethin' about a man named Scudder, but
I ain't right sure----"
Piute joined them, bringing in some dishes. "Scudder is a doc," he put
in, "and a friend of the Chinee. I'd say, offhand, that he's due to
raise partic'lar hell about to-morrow, when he sees that there paper!"
Murray whistled, as he perused the paper. "Say, Sandy--listen here!"
Willyum's remarks on Doctor Scudder were frankly illuminating about
Willyum himself:
I wunst seen tHis gink iN neworLeens.?; wHen i was vagGed and hE
was iN tHe dOck two for pedLing dope & Happy dust two the nlgge*rs
& jUdje give him hEll,? for it----
Willyum's remarks, apparently, knew no shame over the fact that he had
been "vagged"; but they excoriated Doctor Scudder as a peddler of
"dream-books" and a supplier of dope.
They went on to say that Scudder had been forced to leave New Orleans
for his own health; that he had there been a "dope" supplier to the
underworld. In language of beautiful simplicity, Willyum said that
Doctor Scudder was a top-notch crook and would murder his grandmother
for a dollar.
Sandy broke into a roar of laughter, but Murray frowned gravely.
"Willyum's asleep now, I imagine--well, let him rest in peace until
to-morrow! He's in bad."
"How come?" queried Mackintavers, while Piute stood by the kitchen door
and listened hard.
"Libel. If these things aren't true, this man Scudder can just about
rake the hair off Willyum! Confound it all, you go and put your foot
in it when I'm not around, and then Bill Hobbs goes and does the same
thing! Why, Scudder can sue for big damages----"
"Huh!" grunted Sandy complacently. "Let him sue! You can't draw blood
out of a turnip, not even with the law to help ye. So this Tom Lee is
a rich man, is he? That's interestin'."
Murray nodded. "Seems to be. Queer what he's doing here, Sandy! But
the girl--the girl Claire! I tell you, she's white! That's the
queerest thing of all."
Piute came forward, bearing coffee and flapjacks, and sat down to light
his corncob. He wore a portentous and solemn air.
"Ye don't think there's nothin' wrong, do ye?" he asked.
"No," said Murray decisively. "Nothing. It's something we don't
understand, but it's nothing wrong. Tom Lee is no ordinary man."
"I reckon not," said Piute drily. "He done offered five thousand for
Morongo Valley."
The two friends quickly glanced at each other, then stared at Piute.
"Five thousand?" repeated Sandy, incredulous.
"Yep. Now I'm putting it straight up to you gents, layin' all cards
down, and leavin' it to you to do the right thing if ye sell to him.
He wants to see you and buy the property. I guess you'll sell at
_that_ figger, huh?"
Murray leaned back in his chair and gazed at Sandy.
"It's up to you, Mac," he said briefly.
"What's he want? the minin' rights or----?"
"The whole works," returned Piute. "Or so he allowed. All of it!"
"No tellin' his game," quoth Sandy. "Doc, find out his object when ye
see him in the mornin', and we'll talk it over."
Murray nodded assent, astonished and mystified by such an offer for
Morongo Valley. He was too weary to discuss it now, however, and he
wended his way to bed without further delay.
Early in the morning he was aroused by voices, and sat up. Sandy, who
occupied a second bed in the same room, was talking with Bill Hobbs,
and the latter turned to Murray with a proud but modest grin.
"Hello, Doc! Mac says you seen the paper last night. Kinda nifty,
ain't it?"
"A miracle," said Murray gravely. "How you did it, I can't figure out
yet!"
"Oh, printin' ain't so much," observed Bill loftily. "There was a few
mistakes, I seen on readin' her over, but next time she'll come through
better. But what's this Mac is tellin' me about gettin' in bad?"
"All depends," responded Murray. "That story about Doctor
Scudder--where on earth did you get the nerve to print that, you big
boob?"
"Why, it's true!" asserted Willyum stoutly. "I was vagged down to
N'Orleans, just like I printed it, and seen him in court bein' tried
for supplyin' dust an' hop to----"
"Was he convicted?" demanded Murray.
"Nope. He slid through; his pals squared the bulls, I guess."
"Good Lord!" Murray began to dress. "Well, he can't get any money out
of you, that's some satisfaction."
"Well, I ain't worried none," said Bill. "Leavin' all that out, how
did the paper strike you--honest, now?"
"Great stuff, Willyum," responded Murray, whereat the earnest William
glowed delightedly. "You've hit your vocation, if you can make it pay
in these parts. You get to work learnin' how to print, and we'll look
into the business end of it. If it seems likely to pay, then we'll all
put it through together."
"That's treatin' me white, Doc," answered Bill.
"Well," said Murray thoughtfully, "what we'll do, I don't know yet."
He turned to Sandy and put the issue squarely up to him.
"I'll see Tom Lee after breakfast. If there's no valid reason for
keeping the place, why not make a good profit while we can? Let him
take the whole place--unless you think there is any reason to keep it."
The mining man stared reflectively out of the window.
"There is and there ain't," he said slowly. "I'll be frank with ye,
Murray--that place out there attracts me! We could settle there and
make a fair livin' from the valley itself, what with the water there
and all. Aiblins, now the quartz will pay, too. It's not big, but I'm
thinking it runs big later on. Lookin' at it from the development
angle, instead o' from the prospector's viewpoint, it might be worth
keeping."
"All right, then we'll keep it." Murray turned to the doorway. "Come
on down and let's get breakfast."
Half an hour later, the three partners were just pushing back their
chairs from the breakfast table when they caught the sound of loud
voices coming from the hotel office. The voices drew nearer, then in
the doorway appeared the figures of Doctor Scudder and Piute.
"That's him," and Piute pointed out Bill Hobbs.
His face white with anger, a copy of the _Helngon Star_ clenched in his
hand, Doctor Scudder faced the amateur printer with blazing indignation.
"This is an outrage! As sure as my name is Scudder, I'll have you
jailed for this criminal----"
Murray stepped between the two men, in an attempt to pacify his brother
physician.
"One moment, sir," he intervened. "Our friend here is not a printer
and has allowed himself to be carried too far through his unfortunate
ignorance of the libel laws. As a professional man myself I can
realize how you must feel; but if you will allow me to explain the
matter----"
Murray checked himself. In the blazing black eyes of Scudder he
suddenly read a scornful anger that was now directed against himself.
"I don't desire any explanation from a man of your character, Doctor
Murray," snapped Scudder. "I recognize you; you are the once eminent
member of a profession which you disgraced! I have exposed you to Mr.
Lee and his daughter in your true colors, as a dope fiend and one who
should have been long ago ejected from the medical fraternity----"
It was at this point that the fist of Murray collided violently with
the countenance of his colleague. Doctor Scudder was flung backward,
caught his foot against a chair, and fell into the corner; he sat there
motionless, staring up with one hand clapped against his bruised cheek,
in his eyes an expression of dazed, but virulent enmity.
"That'll be enough from you," said Murray, standing over him. "If you
want to argue the matter any further, get up! You don't want to, eh?
All right. I'd advise you to go mighty slow with your libel talk
against Mr. Hobbs, because if you start anything, I fancy that I would
have a pretty good case of malicious slander against you. So think it
over."
Murray turned away and left the dining room with his friends. Outside,
he quickly hushed their indignant utterances; he was once more cool and
calm, entirely master of himself again.
"Let the matter drop right here," he said briefly. "That fellow won't
make any more trouble; our best bet is to leave him absolutely alone.
I'll go up now and see Tom Lee."
He ascended the stairway to the upstairs hall, and knocked at the
entrance of the two rooms occupied by the Lees.
Claire admitted him. Beneath her radiant greeting he noticed as he had
previously noticed, the undefinable shadow that hovered in her eyes.
The shadow, he thought, had deepened since he had last seen her.
Tom Lee was awake and expecting him. Murray returned the greeting of
the big Chinaman, then met the latter's inflexible gaze with a square
challenge.
"I understand," he said quietly, "that your friend Doctor Scudder is
here. I presume, naturally, that you would prefer to have him in
charge of the case. He has just advised me that he has made you aware
of certain facts----"
Tom Lee lifted his hand commandingly.
"I am very sorry," he said, "that you and Doctor Scudder have had any
misunderstanding, as your manner would imply. He told us a little of
your story, not in any unkindly spirit, but simply because the mention
of your name drew the memory from him. I wish you to retain charge of
the case by all means. When you have looked at my leg, please sit
down; I want to speak with you."
Murray bowed. He examined the injured knee, pronounced it to be
mending in good shape, and informed the patient that in another two
days he could walk a little. At a gesture from Tom Lee, he took the
chair beside the bed. The oriental gazed at him for a moment, then
spoke. "I know from my own experience that you are a man of great
skill. I understand from Doctor Scudder that you were at one time a
victim of morphia, but I can see very plainly that you have overcome
this danger."
In the manner of the speaker there was a serene calm that quite swept
aside any possible search after information. Tom Lee continued, his
gaze holding that of Murray.
"We may speak frankly, Doctor Murray. For many years I was a victim of
opium. I was born in this country, and in business affairs I have
become a rich and even powerful man; but I have never succeeded in
getting loose from the chains of the poppy. Some time ago, I came in
contact with Doctor Scudder, a man who has had great experience with
drug users. He undertook to cure me, and I believe that he is
succeeding."
Murray listened to this confession in some astonishment. The oriental
did not speak with any symptom of shame. He seemed to face the matter
in a very blunt and straightfordward way, which was very significant of
the man's strong character.
"I determined," pursued Tom Lee, "to devote a portion of my wealth to
helping others of my race to rid themselves of the opium habit. To
this end I have been seeking a place which will be out of the world and
remote from any accessibility to the drug. This portion of the desert,
with its climate and situation, is ideal for my purpose. I propose to
erect a sanitarium and colony at my own cost, and to maintain it myself.
"Since meeting you, I believe that you can assist me. Doctor Scudder,
who has agreed to give my enterprise the benefit of his knowledge and
skill, is a thoroughly good physician. I shall also need a surgeon,
however, and I believe that you can fill that position admirably if you
will. After much search, the spot which I have chosen is the place
called Morongo Valley, north of here. I understand that you have
recently bought it. I will be glad to buy it back from you at any
price you may consider; and will make a flat offer of five thousand
dollars."
Murray listened to this proposal in astounded silence. He realized
that this man was one who swept aside all small things, and who dealt
upon a large and broad scale with everything and everyone.
Thus he was not so much surprised at the offer to use his services, as
at the outline of Tom Lee's business in this part of the country and
the philanthropic ambitions of the Chinaman. Before the man, he felt
ashamed. When he contrasted his own endeavors, and those of
Mackintavers, to scheme and obtain Morongo Valley and keep it, with the
frankly stated aims of this yellow man, he felt very small. He felt
dwarfed before the personality of Tom Lee.
"My two friends have joined me in buying this land," he answered
slowly. He did not do his patient the injustice of considering the
offered position in the light of a bribe to sell the valley. "If we
sell to you at this figure, we shall make a profit--yet we had already
decided not to sell it. Mr. Mackintavers thinks there is gold in those
hills----"
Tom Lee smiled. "Keep the gold, then," he said. "Listen! I have my
plans all drawn, ready for work. I have in prospect a hundred more of
my countrymen--most of them my own employees--in San Francisco, who
have consented to break with opium if I will help them. My idea is to
keep them at physical work--to use them here in the construction of my
buildings, and in reclaiming the soil--as a part of the cure. If you
and your friends wish to work a mine, I will provide the labor. Why
not? Keep the mining rights to the land if you wish."
Murray's face cleared. "That is eminently fair," he said reflectively.
From the outer room had come a murmur of voices, and as Claire now
appeared he rose. "I'll speak with my partners about it, and let you
know. As concerns your offer of a position--may I reserve judgment
upon that for a time?"
"There is no hurry," said Tom Lee, and looked at Claire.
"Doctor Scudder was here but would not come in," said the girl, a faint
color in her cheeks. Murray, catching her glance, read a strange
expression in her eyes, an expression so fleeting and indefinable that
it wakened him instantly to the sense of something unusual. What had
Scudder said out there? What did the girl think of Tom Lee's proposals?
"You have heard our conversation, Miss Lee," said Murray quickly,
turning to her with his swift disarming smile. "May I inquire whether
you think me a fit person to be associated in such a work?"
She met his gaze squarely, although her color deepened a trifle.
"I should be only too glad," she answered him, "to know that you would
accept!"
He was surprised by the evident sincerity of her words.
"Something queer about all this!" he thought to himself, when he had
taken his departure and was on his way downstairs. "Something queer
about Scudder, too--I shouldn't wonder if Willyum had told the truth
about him! And Clairedelune seems afraid of something. A white girl,
I could swear, and as good as she is beautiful. What is her origin,
then? Where is the answer to this riddle?"
He passed across the street to the printing office, where he found
Mackintavers awaiting him. He told the two exactly what had been said,
and they held a long discussion. Bill Hobbs swore that there was
something crooked about anything with which Doctor Scudder was
connected; but Murray, more correctly, considered that Bill was
prejudiced. In the end, they decided to accept Tom Lee's offer. As
soon as Willyum was established in his printing office, Murray and
Sandy Mackintavers were to visit Morongo Valley on a more extended
prospecting trip.
Their first business was to get Willyum settled. Ascertaining from the
subscription list of the late proprietor that there was a goodly
scattering of ranchers and homesteaders and prospectors about the
district and learning that a newspaper would be welcomed and supported
by some advertising, all three partners got down to steady work.
Sandy and Murray canvassed the town with no little success. Two days
later, a derelict in human shape blew in from the south, having heard
that a paper was to be started in Two Palms. He was a hobo printer, a
shiftless fellow who would be worthless to any real establishment--but
to Bill Hobbs he was a providential shower of manna. Bill engaged him
on the spot as preceptor.
During the three days which elapsed thus, Murray saw Claire Lee at
intervals. He also informed Tom Lee of the decision regarding Morongo
Valley, received a check for five thousand dollars, and made over the
deed to the land in the name of Claire, as requested. He and his
friends encountered Doctor Scudder frequently, but the encounters were
very cold and formal.
On the third evening Patrick Hennesy arrived from Meteorite in his car,
and was at once closeted with Tom Lee. As the latter was still
confined to his room by Murray's orders, supper was served there by
Piute. Hennesy beckoned Piute aside.
"Is that fellow Mackintavers still here?" he demanded in a grim whisper.
Piute allowed that he was.
"Then don't say nothin', but fix it up for me to meet him back o' the
hotel early in the morning--all alone. Will ye? I don't want no
interference."
Piute grinned suddenly.
"Will I?" he retorted. "Say! Them fellers--I put 'em next to a sale
for their prop'ty, all fair and square; and they didn't even so much as
slide me a ten-spot! Ain't that gratitood? I'm askin' ye--ain't it?
Well, don't you worry none, Hennesy!"
"Ain't you a deputy sheriff?" demanded the contractor.
"Me an' Deadoak is both depitties. Why?"
"Tell you later," and Patrick Hennesy winked joyfully at Piute.