Bill looked up as a long, lank form glided surreptitiously into the
office.
"Been a long time since you drifted our way," he commented, as the form
resolved itself into the six-foot length of Kelly Jones.
"Might' nigh three month," averred Kelly grimly. "I've been tradin'
over at Barton. Couldn't stand for Jap's damfoolishness. Had to buy
my licker there, and just traded there. It's twelve mile from my farm
to Barton, and four mile to Bloomtown. Spring's comin' on, and work to
do. I hate to take that trip every time the wife needs a spool o'
thread. Did you get my letter, sayin' to stop the paper?"
"Stopped it, didn't we?" queried Bill crisply, scattering the type from
the financial report of Bloomtown into the case.
"Yes," assented Kelly, "you did. What'd you do it for?"
"Not forcing the _Herald_ on anybody," announced Bill glibly. "Got
past that. We used to hold 'em up and feed the _Herald_ to them, but
we don't have to do it now."
"I hear tell that Jap made Tim Simpson night marshal. Why, he run a
blind tiger beyond the water tank," exclaimed Kelly. "I reckon Jap
didn't know that."
"Just because he did know it, he made Tim night marshal," declared
Bill, flinging the last type into the box and descending from the
stool. "Just you stroll down the tracks in either direction, and see
if you can find a whisker or a tawny hair from the tip of any tiger's
tail lying loose along the way. Jap knows several things, Kelly, my
boy, and he is fighting fire with fire. Tim Simpson understands the
operations of the kind of menagerie that usually flourishes in a dry
town, and Jap put him on his honor. He's so conscientious that he goes
over to Barton to get full. He won't drink it here. He's got pride in
making Bloomtown the whitest town in the state. But explain the return
of the prodigal. How come your feet in our dust again?"
"Well," said Kelly shamefacedly, "the wife said that I was a durn fool.
I stopped the _Herald_ and subscribed for the _Standard_--and a pretty
standard it is! While Jap Herron was cleanin' up, it was slingin' muck
at him. The wife read it, and one day she goes up to Barton and starts
an argument with Jones. I reckon she had the last word. If she
didn't, it was the fu'st time. She come home so rip-snortin' mad that
she threatened to lick me if I didn't tackle Jones. Well, to keep
peace in the family, I run in to see him the next time I went to
Barton. Well, Jones put it up to me, if Jap was doin' much for
Bloomtown in havin' unlicensed drug stores, instid of regular saloons."
"Sure sign that you don't know the news," said Bill, unfolding a copy
of the _Herald_. "Since last Saturday night there has been only one
drug store in Bloomtown. That's Blanke's, and Jim Blanke wouldn't sell
liquor on anybody's prescription but Doc Hall's, and Doc Hall would let
you die of snake-bite, if nothing but whiskey would cure you. Any
other drug stores that may open up in this town 'll have to pattern
after Blanke's or out they go."
Kelly took the paper up and scanned its columns. He snorted.
"Well, I do declare! I see that might' nigh all the doctors have
packed up and are threatenin' to leave town. Well, there wa'n't enough
doctorin' to keep twenty of 'em in cash nohow."
"You ought to have heard Jap's speech when they were putting a plea for
local option," said Bill. "My pap has carried a sore ear against Jap's
reign ever since he was elected to fill out that unexpired term, and he
stirred up a lot of bellyaches among the guzzlers. It was a sickening
mess, because the whole town knows that my daddy can't stand even the
smell of liquor. It wouldn't be so bad--so hypocritical, if he really
liked it and was used to it. As I was telling you, he and the old
booze gang had been burning the midnight dip to plan a crimp for Mayor
Herron, when that local option idea struck him. Well, Jap got up and
made a speech, calling their attention to the bonds we voted, and the
sound financial condition back of those bonds; the granitoid pavement
on Main street, the electric light plant that's going up, and the water
works, and sewers that are under way--all managed since the town went
dry. Then he nominated Tom Granger for mayor, and what do you reckon
they did?"
"Seein' as how he ain't mayor," said Kelly, with a twinkle, "I allow
they done nothin'."
"Why," said Bill, his brown eyes kindling, "they arose as one man and
yelled, 'We want Jap Herron!' and that settled it."
The farmer stood in the middle of the office, his arms gesticulating
and his head bobbing with animation, as Jap hurried in. He gazed at
the back of Kelly's familiar slicker incredulously.
"What!" he hailed joyously, "our old friend of the sorghum barrel!
Where have you been hibernating? Surely a cure for sore eyes," and Jap
seized his shoulder and whirled him around so that he could grasp his
hand.
"Chipmunking in Barton," prompted Bill. "This sadly misguided farmer
has been lost but now is found."
"The Missus sent a package to Miss Flossy. You and Bill 'll eat it, I
reckon," and he produced a parcel from his pocket. "She said if Ellis
was here, he'd appreciate it. It's sausage that she made herself.
And--and she sent a dollar for the paper. She wants the _Herald_."
"And what about Kelly?" Jap asked, a wave of memory sweeping over him.
"Just you write it down that Kelly Jones is a yaller pup," said Kelly
morosely.
"Never!" declared Jap heartily. "Misled, perhaps, but with a heart of
gold."
Kelly groped for his handkerchief.
"I've got on the water wagon, Jap," he sniffled. "I reckon I kin get
along without the stuff. Sary hid my jug, and I done 'thout it for a
week, and I felt fine. I am goin' to make a stagger at it, if I do
fall down."
Jap pushed him into a chair.
"Why, you old rascal," he cried, "you have backbone enough to do
anything you will to do. Move into town and help us turn the wheels."
Kelly wiped his nose on the tail of his slicker as he started for the
door.
"Don't happen to need any basses, do you?" he grinned.
Jap flung an empty ink bottle after him. When quiet had returned to
the office, he said, as he hung his hat on the nail:
"Isabel wants to learn to stick type."
"Funny," said Bill shortly, "so does Rosy, and they hate each other
like Pap hates beer. Pretty mix-up we'll have on our hands."
"That's all nonsense, Bill. Rosy can't help liking Isabel."
Bill scanned the copy on his hook, his eyes narrowing.
"Appears like she can," he muttered.
"Now, Bill, this won't do," argued Jap earnestly. "We can't afford to
have dissension in such a vital matter. You must talk to Rosy."
"You can have the job," waived Bill, picking up a type. "Isabel said
that Rosy was shallow and only skin-deep, and Rosy heard about it.
Isabel Granger is not so much----"
He stopped abruptly as Jap's hand went up in pained alarm.
"Look here, Bill, are we going to let the chatter of women come between
us? There is something deeper holding us together than the friendship
of a day. Give me your hand, Bill, and tell me that it is Ellis's work
and not these trifles that you care for. We have a work to do, you and
I."
Bill threw the stick upon the case and grasped Jap's outstretched hand.
Tears glistened in his eyes.
"Better than all the loves in the world, I love you, Jap," he stormed.
Jerking his hat from the nail, he strode out to walk off the
emotionalism he decried.
That afternoon he strove manfully to show Isabel how to put type in the
stick upside down, and to save her feelings he stealthily corrected her
faulty work, suppressing a grin at Jap's pride in her first attempt.
Bill shook his head sadly as they strolled out together, Jap's eyes
drinking in the girl's slender beauty.
"Petticoat government 'll get old Jap tripped up," he complained to the
office cat. "And then where'll I be? When Jap marries I'll play
second fiddle. Come seven, come 'leven!" and he snapped his fingers in
the air.