"Oh, it's all right. They won't trouble you no more."
"They came to--rob me, and you knew it--"
"Sure! Harry Hope got full and told about leaving eight thousand dollars
with you; so we beat 'em to it."
"But why didn't you say so? You frightened me."
"We wasn't sure they'd try it, and we didn't like to work you up."
"Please--who are you?"
"Us? Why, we're Wag-boys! Llewellyn's our pal. I'm Charley Fitzhugh;
they call me the Dummy. And this is Thomasville."
Thomasville nodded and mumbled greetings without removing his thumb from
his mouth, whereupon June began to express her gratitude. But thanks
threw the Wag-boys into confusion, it seemed, and they quickly bade her
an embarrassed good night.
Now that they had removed the weight of obligation that had rested upon
them, the Wags became more neighborly. Llewellyn and the Scrap Iron Kid
called to explain that the Dummy and Thomasville had broken all rules of
friendship by "hogging the spotlight" and to express their own regret at
having been absent during the attempted hold-up.
June was eating her midnight lunch when they came, and after they had
left Llewellyn said:
"She didn't have any butter, Kid. Notice it?"
"Sure. Butter's peluk. Rothstein cornered the supply, and he's holding
it for a raise."
"Where does he keep it?"
"In that big tent back of his store, along with his other stuff."
Now, the Wag-boys did nothing by halves. About dusk the following day
the Rothstein watchman was accosted by a stranger who had just mushed in
from the creek. The two gossiped for a moment. Then, as the stranger
made off, he slipped and fell, injuring himself so painfully that the
watchman was forced to help him down to Kelly's drug-store. Upon
returning from this labor of charity the watchman discovered, to his
amazement and horror, that during his absence two men had entered the
tent by means of a six-foot slit in the rear wall. They had brought a
sled with them, moreover, and had made off with about five hundred
dollars' worth of Rothstein's heart's blood, labeled "Cold Brook
Creamery, Extra Fine."
The next morning when June returned to her cabin she found a case of
butter.
A few days later the Dummy discovered a string of ptarmigan hanging
beside the rear door of a restaurant, and, desiring to offer June some
delicate little attention, he returned after dark and removed them. As
ptarmigan were selling at five dollars a brace, he was careful to
protect the girl; he sat on the back steps of the restaurant and picked
the birds thoroughly, scattering the feathers with a careless hand.
Scarcely a day passed that June did not receive something from the Wags,
but of course she never dreamed that her gifts had been stolen. As for
her admirers, it was the highest mark of their esteem thus to lay at her
feet the choicest fruits of their precarious labors, and, although they
were common thieves--nay, worse than that--they stole rather from love
of excitement than for hope of gain, and the more fantastic the
adventure the more it tickled their distorted fancies.
They were most amusing, and June grew to like them immensely. She began
to mother them in the way that pleases all women. She ruled them like a
family of wayward children, she settled their disputes, and they
submitted with subdued, though extravagant, joy. She asked Llewellyn
once about that wound in his arm, but he lied fluently, and she believed
him, for she was not the kind to credit evil of her friends.
Once they had received encouragement, they fairly monopolized her. She
was never safe from interruption, for the Wag-boys never slept. They
came to her cabin singly and collectively at all hours of day or night,
during her absence or during her presence, and they never failed to
leave something behind them.
Reddy was a good cook, but he loathed a stove as he loathed a policeman,
yet he donned an apron, and at the cost of much profanity and sweat
produced a chocolate cake that would have done credit to a New England
housewife. Furthermore, it bore June's name in a beautiful scroll
surrounded by a chocolate wreath, and she found it on her bed when she
came home one morning.
Chancing to express a liking for oysters in the hearing of the Scrap
Iron Kid, she mysteriously received a whole case of them when she knew
very well that there were none in camp. Of course she did not dream that
in securing them the Kid had put his person in deadly peril.
On returning from her duties at another time she found that during the
night the interior walls of her cabin had been painted, and, although
she did not want them painted and although the smell gave her a violent
headache, she pretended to be overcome with delight. In order to
beautify her little nest Reddy had burgled a store and stolen all the
paint there was of the particular shade that pleased his eye.
Now, the Wag-boys pretended to be care-free and happy as time went on.
In reality they were gnawed by a secret trouble--it was June's growing
fondness for Harry Hope. After careful observation they decided that the
P. C. agent would not do at all; he was too wild. He had undeniably lost
his head and was gambling heavily, tempted perhaps by the lax morality
of the camp and the license of good times.
It was the Dummy who finally proposed a means of safeguarding June's
wandering affections.
"Somebody's got to split her away from this Hope," he declared. "It's up
to us, and Llewellyn's the only one in her class."
The Scrap Iron Kid's face assumed an ugly yellow cast as he inquired,
quietly, "D'you mean George is to marry her?"
"Hardly!" exploded the Dummy. "Just toll her away."
"Why shouldn't I marry her?" Llewellyn demanded.
"I can think of five reasons," the Kid retorted. He tapped his chest
with his finger. "Here's one, and there's the other four." He pointed to
the other Wag-boys. "D'you think we'd let you marry her? Huh! I'd sooner
marry her myself."
Llewellyn ended the discussion by stamping out of the cabin, cursing his
partners with violence.
Business of the P. C. Company took Harry Hope to Council City in
February; so the Wags felt easier--but only for a time. They found that
June was grieving for him, and were plunged into deep despair until
Scrap Iron came home with the explanation that the lovers had quarreled
before parting. It was a signal for a celebration during which Reddy
cooked wildly for a week, making puddings and pies and pastries, most of
which were smuggled into June's cabin. Thomasville journeyed out to a
certain roadhouse run by a Frenchman, and returned with a case of eggs
wrapped up in a woolen comforter. It required the combined perjury of
the other Wags to prove an alibi for him, but June had an omelet every
morning thereafter.
Then, just as they were weaning her away, as they thought, the blow
fell. It came with a crushing force that left them dumb and
panic-stricken. June took pneumonia! The Scrap Iron Kid brought the
first news of her illness, and he blubbered like a baby, while Dummy,
the woman-hater, cursed like a man bereft.
"How d'you know it's pneumonia?" queried Thomasville.
"The doc says so. Me 'n' George dropped in with some beefsteaks we
copped from the butcher, and found her in bed, coughing like the devil.
She couldn't get up--pains in her boosum. We run for Doc Whiting
and--fellers, it's true! George is there now." The Kid swallowed
bravely, and two tears rolled down his cheeks.
The Wag-boys broke out of their cabin on the run, then strung out down
the snow-banked street toward June's cabin, where they found Dr.
Whiting, very grave, and Llewellyn with his face blanched and his lips
tight drawn. They tiptoed in and stood against the wall in a silent,
stricken row, twirling their caps and trying to ease the pain in their
throats.
The Wag-lady was indeed very ill. Her yellow hair was tumbled over her
pillow and she was in great pain, but she smiled at them and made a
feeble jest--which broke in her throat, for she was young and all alone
and very badly frightened. It was too much for the Scrap Iron Kid, who
stumbled out into the freezing night and fought with his misery. He
tried to pray, but from long inexperience he fancied he made bad work of
it.
An hour later they assembled and laid plans to weather the storm.
"She's worried about her hotel," Llewellyn announced. "If that was off
her mind she'd have a better chance."
"Let's manage it for her," the Dummy offered. "I'll watch it to-night."
"An' who'll watch you?" queried the Kid.
"D'you reckon I'd run out on a pal like June?" stormed the Dummy,
whereat Scrap Iron assured him he was positive that he would not, for
the very good reason that he and Reddy would take care that no
opportunity offered.
"You run the joint like you say, an' we'll lookout her game for her;
then to-morrow night the other three can do it. We'll take turn an' turn
about, an' them that's off shift will nurse her. I've been thinkin'
now--if only we knowed something about women folks--"
"I been married once or twice, if that's any good," Thomasville ventured
to confess; whereupon he was elected head nurse by virtue of his
experience, and accordingly they went to work.
Dr. Whiting had promised to secure a woman to care for the sick girl,
but women were scarce that winter and he was only partly successful, so
the greater portion of the responsibility fell upon the Wags. He also
spoke of removing June to the excuse for a hospital, but they would not
hear to this. And so the battle for her life began.
It was a battle, too, for she grew rapidly worse and soon was delirious,
babbling of strange things which tore at the hearts of the Wag-boys. Day
after day, night after night, she lay racked and tortured, fighting the
brave fight of youth, and through it all the six thieves tended her.
They were ever at her side, coming and going like the wraiths of her
distorted fancy, and while three of them divided the day into watches
the other three ran the bunk-house, keeping strict account of every
penny taken in. They O. K.'d one another's books, and it would have
fared badly indeed with any one of them had he allowed the least
discrepancy to appear in his reckoning.
It was a strange scene, this, a sick and friendless girl mothered by a
gang of crooks. When June's condition improved they rejoiced with a deep
ferocity that was pitiful; when it grew worse they went about hushed and
terror-stricken. Through it all she called incessantly for Harry Hope,
and it was Llewellyn who finally volunteered to go to Council City and
fetch him--an offer that showed the others he was game.
But before the weather had settled sufficiently to allow it, Hope came.
He arrived one night in a blinding smother which whined down over the
treeless wastes, driving men indoors before its fury. Hearing of June's
illness, he had taken the trail within an hour, fighting his way for a
hundred trackless miles through a blizzard that daunted even a Wag-boy,
and he showed the marks of battle. His face was bitten deeply by the
cold, his dogs were dying in the harness, and it was evident that he had
not slept for many hours. He whimpered like a child when Llewellyn met
him at June's door; then he heard her wearily babbling his name, as she
had done these many, many days, and he went in, kneeling beside her with
his frozen breath still caked upon his parka hood.
Llewellyn stood by and heard him tenderly calling to the wandering girl,
saw the peace that came into her face as something told her he was near;
then the Wag-boy who had once been a gentleman came forward and gave
Hope his hand, and thanked him for his coming.
June began to mend after that, and it was not long before Whiting said
she might recover if she had proper food. She would, however, need
nourishment--milk; but there was only one cow in camp, and other sick
people, and not sufficient milk to go round. The Wag-boys lumped their
bank-rolls and offered to buy the animal from its owner, but he refused.
So they stole the cow and all her fodder.
Now it is no difficult matter to steal a cow, even in a mining-camp in
the dead of winter, but it is not nearly so easy for a cow to remain
stolen under such conditions, and the Wags were hard put to prevent
discovery. It would have been far easier, they realized, to steal a
two-story brick house or a printing-office, and then, too, not one of
them knew how to secure the milk even after they had gained the cow's
consent. They made various experiments, however, one of which resulted
in Reddy's having the breath rammed out of him, and another causing
Thomasville to adopt crutches for a day or so. But eventually June got
her milk, a gallon of it daily. Every night or two the cow had to be
moved, every day they gagged her to muffle her voice. Then, when
discovery was imminent, they made terms of surrender, exacting
twenty-five per cent. of the gross output as the consideration for her
return.
They breathed much easier when the cow was off their hands.
Spring was in sight when June became strong enough to take up her
duties, and she was surprised to find her hotel running as usual, also a
flour-sack full of currency beneath her bed, together with a set of
books showing her receipts. It was signed by Llewellyn and witnessed by
the other Wags. There was no record of disbursements.
One day Whiting advised her to get out in the air, and the Scrap Iron
Kid volunteered to take her for a dog ride.
"I didn't know you had a team," she said.
"Who? Me? Sure! I got as good a team as ever you see," he declared, and
when she accepted his invitation he proceeded to get his dogs together
in a startling manner. He tied a soup-bone on a string and walked the
back streets; then, when he beheld a likely-looking husky, he dragged
the bone behind him, enticing the animal by degrees to the Wag-boys'
cabin, where he promptly tied it up. He repeated the performance seven
times. The matter of harness and sled was but a detail; so June enjoyed
a ride that put pink roses into her cheeks and gave the Scrap Iron Kid a
feeling of pure, exalted joy such as he had never felt in all his
adventurous career.
The day she walked over to the Wag house unassisted was one of such wild
rejoicing that she was forced to tell them shyly of her own happiness, a
happiness so new that as yet she could scarcely credit it. She was to be
Mrs. Harry Hope, and asked them to wish her joy.
Llewellyn made a speech that evoked the admiration of them all, even to
the Kid, who was miserably jealous, and June went home with her heart
very warm and tender toward these six adventurers who had been so true
to her.
It was to be expected that Hope would share in his sweetheart's
extravagant gladness, for he loved her deeply, with all the force of his
big, strong nature, yet he acted strangely as time went on. Now he was
sad and worried, again he seemed tortured by a lurking disquietude of
spirit. This alarmed the Wag-lady, and she set out to find the secret of
his trouble.
The ice was breaking when he made a clean breast of it, and when he had
finished June felt that her heart was breaking also. It was the
commonplace story of a young man tempted beyond his strength. Hope's
popularity had made him a host of friends, while his generosity had made
"no" a difficult answer. He had plunged into excesses during the early
winter; gambled wildly, not to win, but for the fun of it. He had lost
company money, trusting to his ability to make it good from his own
pocket when the time came. The time was coming, and his pockets were
empty. Spring was here, the first boats would arrive any day, and with
them would come the P. C. men to audit his accounts. It was possible to
cover it up, to be sure, but he scorned to falsify his books.
"I should have stayed in Council City," he said, "but when I heard you
were--sick--" He buried his brown face in his hands.