ALGY'S COOKING AND BETH'S DESPAIR
Van and the new supply of provender arrived together at the tent where
the partners made their temporary home. It was nearly dusk, the mellow
end of a balmy day. Gettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave were all inside the
canvas, filling the small hollow cube of air with a mighty reek from
their pipes, and playing seven-up on a greasy box. The Chinese cook
was away, much to Van's surprise.
"Gett," he said, throwing off his belt and revolver, "if Nap was to
deal the cards on your tombstone, on the day of Gabriel's trump, I'll
bet you'd break the crust and take a hand. What have you done with
Algy?"
"He's went to git a job," said Gettysburg. "He called us all a lot of
babies. I doggone near kicked him in the lung."
Outside, where a wagon had halted with Van's new purchases, the driver
hauled out two respectable boxes and dropped them on the earth.
"What's that?" demanded Napoleon, leaping to his feet. "If it's
pirates come to board us again----"
"Don't scare it away," Van interrupted warningly. "It's grub."
With one accord the three old cronies started for the door of the tent.
Van followed, prepared to get a dinner under way, since his system was
woefully empty.
To the utter astonishment of all, a visitor was bustling up the hill.
It was Mrs. Dick.
"Where's Van?" she panted, while still a rod away. "Here, Van!" she
exclaimed, the moment she clapped her eyes upon him, "you're just the
one I want to see, and I'm an awful busy woman, but I've got to make a
deal with you and the sooner it's over the better. So as long as
Charlie Sing is cookin' our victuals already I just run up to fight it
out, and we might as well begin the program tonight, so all you boys
come down to dinner in just about half an hour."
The men were all at sea, even Napoleon, who had once sailed a
near-briny river.
"Sit down," said Van, "and give the grounds a chance to settle. We can
almost see daylight through what you said, but who, for instance, is
Charlie Sing?"
"As if you didn't know!" Mrs. Dick responded warmly. "If you think I'm
goin' to call that Chinaman Algy, or anything white, you're way off
your ca-base! Algy! for a Chinaman! Not but what he's a good enough
cook, and I like him as a friend of yours--and him almost makin' me cry
with his tryin' to nurse you four old helpless galoots, but I draw the
line at fancy names, and don't you forget it!"
The "four old galoots" looked at one another in bewilderment. Van led
Mrs. Dick gently but firmly to a box of provisions and pushed her down
upon it.
"Now take a breath," he said, "and listen. Do we understand you to say
that Algy has gone to your boarding-house and taken a job as cook?"
"He has," said Mrs. Dick, "but I've named him Charlie."
"That'll turn his stomick," ventured Gettysburg gravely. "He was proud
of 'Algy.'"
"He certainly must be desperate," added Van. "I don't quite savvy how
it happened."
"Oh, you don't?" said little Mrs. Dick. "Well, I _do_. He come down
there and says to me, says he, 'We're broke, Van and us,' he says, 'and
I'll go to work and cook for you if you'll board all the family,' or
words to that effect, says he, 'and give Van twenty dollars a month,
salary,' he says, and I says I'll do it, quicker than scat. And that's
all there is to say, and if Charlie wasn't a Chinaman I'd kiss him in
the bargain!" With a quick, impatient gesture she made a daub at her
eye and flecked away a jewel.
Van hauled at his collar, which was loose enough around his neck.
"Say, boys," he said, "think of Algy, being kissed in the bargain. I
always thought he got his face at a bargain counter."
"That's all right, Bronson Van Buren!" answered Mrs. Dick indignantly,
"but I never come that near to kissin' you!"
Van suddenly swooped down upon her, picked her up bodily, and kissed
her on the cheek. Then he placed her again on the box.
"Why didn't you say what you wanted, earlier?" he said. "Now, don't
talk back. I want you to harken intently. I'm perfectly willing that
Algy should waste his sweetness on the desert air of your
boarding-house, if it pleases you and him. I'm willing these old
ring-tailed galoots should continue to eat his fascinating poisons, and
I certainly hope he'll draw his monthly wage, but I'm going to be too
busy to board in any one place, and Algy's salary would make a load I
must certainly decline to carry."
Mrs. Dick looked at the horseman in utter disappointment.
"You won't come? Maybe you mean my house ain't good enough?"
Napoleon was somewhat excited by prospects of again beholding Elsa, of
whose absence he was wholly unaware.
"We won't go, neither!" he declared. "Doggone you, Van, you know we
won't go without the skipper, and you're shovin' us right out of
heaven!"
Gettysburg added: "I don't want to say nuthin', but my stomach will
sure be the seat of anarchy if it has to git cheated out of goin' down
to Mrs. Dick's."
Van was about to reply to them all. He had paused to frame his answer
artfully, eager as he was to foster the comfort of his three old
partners, but wholly unwilling to accept from either Mrs. Dick or
Algernon the slightest hint of aid.
"I admit that a man's reach should be above the other fellow's grasp,
and all that," he started, "but here's the point----"
He was interrupted suddenly. A man, running breathlessly up the slope
and waving his hat in frantic gestures, began to shout as he came.
"Mrs. Dick! Mrs. Dick!" he cried at the top of his voice. "Help!
help! You've got to come!"
Mrs. Dick leaped quickly to her feet to face the oncoming man. It was
old Billy Stitts. He had come from Beth.
"Come on! Come on!" he cried as he neared the group, towards which he
ceased to run, the better to catch his breath and yell. "There's hell
a-poppin' in the boarding-house! You've got to come!"
He surged up the last remaining ascent at a lively stride.
"What's the matter? What in the world are you drivin' at?" demanded
Mrs. Dick. "Hold your tongue long enough to tell me what's the matter."
"It's the _chink_!" exploded Billy pantingly. "They tried to run him
off the place! He's locked the kitchen and gone to throwin' out hot
water and Chinese language like a fire-engine on a drunk. And now
they're all a-packin' up to quit the house, and you won't have a
doggone boarder left, fer they won't eat Chinese chuck!"
"What?" said Van drawlingly, "refuse to eat Algy's confections?--a
crowd like that? By all the culinary gods of Worcestershire and
mustard, they'll eat out of Algy's hand."
He dived inside the tent, caught up his gun, and was strapping it on
before Mrs. Dick could catch her breath to utter a word of her wrath.
"Well," said Gettysburg dubiously, "I hate trouble on an empty stomach,
but----"
"You stay in camp till you hear the dinner bell," Van interrupted.
"This game is mine and Mrs. Dick's. You'll get there in time for
dessert."
He did not wait for Mrs. Dick. He started at a pace that none could
follow. Mrs. Dick began to run at his heels, calling instructions as
she went.
"Be careful of the crock'ry, Van! The stove's bran'-new! I'd hate to
have you break the chairs! And don't forgit Miss Kent!"
Old Billy Stitts had remained with the others at the camp.
"Ain't she the female woman?" he said. "Ain't she just about it?"
No one answered. The three old cronies were watching Van as he went.
Van, for his part, heard nothing of what Mrs. Dick was saying, except
the name "Miss Kent." He had not forgotten for a moment that Beth was
at the seat of war, or that he would perhaps be wiser by far never to
behold her again. He was speeding there despite all he felt at what
she had done, for she might be involved in trouble at the house,
and--at least she was a woman.
He arrived in the midst of a newly concerted plan on the part of
lodgers and strangers combined to smoke Algy out of the kitchen. They
had broken windows, overturned the furniture, and worked up a lively
humor. Algy had exhausted his supply of hot water, but not his supply
of language. It seemed as if the stream of Oriental invective being
poured through the walls of the building might have withered almost
anything extant. But Goldite whisky had failed on his besiegers
earlier and their vitals were proof against attack.
Van arrived among them abruptly.
"What's all this pillow-fight about?" he demanded in a voice that all
could hear. "Which one of you fellows is it that's forgotten he's a
man? Who's looking for trouble with my Chinese cook and Mrs. Dick?"
He boded no good to any man sufficiently hardy to argue the matter to a
finish. The attackers lost heart as they faced about and found him
there ready for action. From a half-open window above the scene Beth
was watching all that was done.
A spokesman for the lodgers found his voice.
"Well, we ain't a-goin' to stay in no doggone house with a chink shoved
in fer a cook."
Van nodded: "Have you ever tried Algy's cooking?"
"No, we ain't! And we ain't a-goin' to, neither!"
The others murmured their assent.
"You're a fine discriminating cluster of bifurcated, viviparous
idiots," said Van in visibly disturbing scorn. "You fellows would have
to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and kicked into Eden, I reckon,
even if the snake was killed and flung over the fence, and the fruit
offered up on silver platters. The man who hasn't eaten one of Algy's
dinners isn't fit to live. The man who refuses to eat one better begin
right now on his prayers." He took out his gun and waved it loosely
about, adding: "Which one of you remembers 'Now I lay me down to
sleep'?"
There was no response. The ten or twelve disturbers of the peace were
stirring uneasily in their tracks.
Van gave them a chance.
"All who prefer to recite, 'Now I sit me up to eat,' please raise their
hands. Raise 'em up, raise 'em up!" he commanded with the gun. "Put
up both hands, while you're at it."
Up went all the hands. Mrs. Dick arrived, and stood looking on and
panting in excitement.
"Thanks for this unanimous vote," Van resumed. "I want to inform you
boarders in particular that if ever I hear of one of you missing a meal
of Algy's cooking, or playing hookey from this lodging-house, as long
as Mrs. Dick desires your inglorious company, I'll hand you forthwith
over to the pound-keeper with instructions not to waste his chloroform,
but to drown the whole litter in a bag."
"Oh, well!" said the spokesman, "I'd just as soon eat the chink's
cookin', if it's good."
"Me, too," said a follower, meek as a lamb. A number echoed "Me, too."
One added: "We was just having a little bit of fun."
"Well," said Van judicially, "Algy's entitled to his share." He raised
his voice: "Hey there, Algy--come out here and play with the boys."
Mrs. Dick had caught sufficient breath to explode.
"Fun!" she said. "My windows broken! My house all upset. Snakes
alive, if ever I heard----"
Algy appeared and interrupted.
"What's mallah you, Van?" he said. "I got no time fool lound now.
Been play too much. All time play, that velly superstich! Nobody got
time to work."
"That's all right," Van assured him. "The boys here wish to apologize
for wasting your valuable time. In fact, they insist. Now then, boys,
down on your knees, every Jack in the crowd."
That gun of his had a horribly loose way of waving about to cover all
the men. They slumped to, rather than knelt on, their knees.
"Suminagot!" said Algy. "All time too muchee monkey fooling! My
dinner not git leady, Van, you savvy that? What's mallah you?"
Van ignored the cook, in addressing the men.
"It's your earnest desire to apologize, boys, I believe," he said.
"All in favor will please say Aye."
The men said Aye in growlings, rumblings, and pipings.
Van addressed his cook. "Do you want them to kiss your hand?"
"_Ah_! Unema! hong oy!" said Algy blasphemously. "You makee me velly
sick! Just wash my hands for finish my dinner. Too much
monkey-doodle!" and off he went to his work, followed at once by Mrs.
Dick.
"Algy's too modest," Van assured the crowd. "And none of you chaps are
fit to apologize to Mrs. Dick, so you'd better go wash up for dinner.
But don't let me hear so much as a peep about Algy from one of this
bunch, or Eden will turn into Hades." As the men arose to their feet
sheepishly, and began to slink away he added to the spokesman, "You
there with the face for pie, go up to my camp and call the boys to
feed."
The men disappeared. Van, left alone, was turning away when his glance
was attracted to the window, up above, where Beth was looking down.
His face turned red to the topmost rim of his ears.
The girl was pale, but resolute.
"May I see you a moment, please?" she said, "before the men come in?"
"Certainly." Van went to the front and waited at the foot of the
stairs.
When Beth came down he was standing in the doorway, looking off at the
shadowy hills. He heard her steps upon the stairs and turned, removing
his hat.
For a moment Beth faced him silently, her color coming and going in
rapid alternations. She had never seemed more beautiful than now, in
her mood of worry and courage.
"Thank you for waiting," she said to him faintly, her heart beating
wildly in her bosom, "I felt as if I had the right--felt it only
right--won't you please tell me what I have done?"
It was not an easy matter for Van to hold his own, to check an impulse
utterly incontinent, utterly weak, that urged him fairly to the edge of
surrender. But his nature was one of intensity, and inasmuch as he had
loved intensely, he distrusted now with equal force.
"What you have done?" he repeated. "I'm sure I can't tell you of
anything that you do not know yourself. What do you wish me to say?"
"I don't know! I don't know," she told him honestly. "I thought if I
asked you--asked you like this--you'd tell me what is the matter."
"There's nothing the matter."
"But there is!" she said. "Why not be frank? I know that you're in
trouble. Perhaps you blame----"
"I told you once that taking trouble and having trouble supply all the
fun I have," he interrupted. "The man without trouble became extinct
before he was born."
"Oh, please don't jest," she begged him earnestly. "You and I were
friends--I'm sure we were friends--but now----"
"Now, if we are not, do you think the fault is mine?"
He, too, was white, for the struggle was great in his soul.
"It isn't mine!" she said. "I want to say that! I had to say that. I
stopped you--just to say that." She blushed to say so much, but she
met his stern gaze fearlessly with courage in her eyes.
He could not understand her in the least, unless she still had more to
do, and thought to hold his friendship, perhaps for Searle's
protection. He forced himself to probe in that direction.
"And you'd wish to go on being friends?"
It was a hard question--hard to ask and hard to answer. She colored
anew, but she did not flinch. Her love was too vast, too strong and
elemental to shrink at a crucial moment.
"I valued your friendship--very much," she confessed steadily. "Why
shouldn't I wish it to continue?"
It was aggravating to have her seem so honest, so splendid, so womanly
and fine, when he thought of that line in her letter. He could not
spare himself or her in the agitation of his nature.
"Your way and mine are different," he said. "My arts in deceit were
neglected, I'm afraid."
Her eyes blazed more widely than before. Her color went like sunset
tints from the sky, leaving her face an ashen hue of chill.
"Deceit?" she repeated. "You mean that I--I have deceived you? What
do you mean?"
He could bear no more of her apparent innocence. It was breaking his
resolution down.
"Oh, we may as well be candid!" he exclaimed. "What's the use of
beating round the bush? I saw your letter--read your letter--by
mistake."
"My letter?"
"Your letter to your brother. Through some mistake I was given the
final page--a fragment merely--instead of your brother's reply to be
brought to you. I was asked to read it--which I did. Is that enough?"
"My letter to---- The last----" At a sudden memory of that letter's
last page, with her heart's confession upon it, she burned a blinding
crimson. "You read----" she stammered, "--and now----" She could not
look him in the face. She leaned against the stair in sudden weakness.
"After that," he said, "does my conduct occasion surprise?"
What he meant, in the light of the letter as she had written it to
Glen, as she thought he must have read it, was beyond her
comprehension. She had fondly believed he loved her. He had told her
so in actions, words, and kisses. What terrible secret, deep hidden in
his breast, could possibly lie behind this thing was more than mind
could fathom. Or did he scorn and loathe her now for having succumbed
to his love? He had read her confession that she loved him more than
anything else in all the world. He knew the last faint word in her
heart--and flung her away like this!
She cast one frightened, inquiring look at his face. It was set and
hard as stone. The light in his eyes was cold, an accusing glitter.
She felt herself utterly abashed, utterly shamed. Her heart had lain
naked before him, throbbing with its secret. His foot was upon it.
There was nothing to cover its nakedness--nothing to cover her
confusion.
For a moment she stood there, attempting to shrink within herself. Her
attitude of pain and shame appeared to him as guilt. He felt the whole
thing poignantly--felt sorry to send his shaft so truly home, sorry to
see the effect of the blow. But, what was the use? His was the way of
plain, straightforward dealing. Better one swift wound, even unto
death, than a lingering torture for years.
He opened his lips as if to speak. But there was nothing more to say.
He turned towards the door.
Beth could not suppress one little cry.
"Oh!" It was half a moan, half a shuddering gasp.
With her last rally of strength she faced the stairway, and weakly
stumbled up the steps.
A spasm of agony seized Van by the cords of his heart. He went blindly
away, with a vision in his eyes of Beth groping weakly up the stairs--a
doe with a mortal hurt.