The Rio Vista was the famous hostelry of Ysleta. With full appreciation
of the truth of the old adage that the path to a man's heart leads
through his stomach, the promoters of the Ysleta boom had built a
gorgeous edifice and equipped it with a cuisine not equalled west of the
Mississippi. It is true that their artistic palates were not so finely
educated as were their gastronomic, but the glitter of plate glass
windows and the constant warfare of hostile colors, affected not at all
the delicate viands which were placed before the guests. Since her
connection with the Las Cruces, Helen Lonsdale had made this palace her
home.
As she ascended the steps of the Rio Vista, after her return from the
Berl ranch, Helen's attention was attracted to an old man who was seated
near the head of the broad stone steps that led to the broader verandah.
He seemed utterly out of harmony with his surroundings. His clothes were
not shabby, but they were evidently worn more with an eye to the useful
than to the ornamental. The heavy boots were wrinkled and worn, yet
solid, and the blacking suggested a reluctant concession to custom
rather than to a sense of propriety. His trousers were baggy and his
coat hung in loose folds from a pair of broad, square shoulders. A white
shirt was topped by a high old-fashioned collar, held by a flowing tie
of navy blue. These incongruities, in sharp contrast to the finished
specimens of well-groomed humanity who circled around him, first
attracted Helen. It was the face that compelled from her more than a
passing notice.
As she looked at the face, more especially the eyes, a sense of relief
from oppression, an almost irresistible impulse to laughter came over
her. It was not ridicule, but a light-hearted response to the contagious
humor radiating from every line and wrinkle. Yet the weathered face,
with its closely-cropped fringe of gray beard, resting like a sphere on
the sharp lips of the high collar, carried the conviction that the
mobile lines could set hard as frozen metal, that the humorous eyes,
deep beneath overhanging brows, could pierce like sharpened steel.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but the eyes seemed to answer her own
and the face to turn as as she passed, in order to prolong the
interchange of wordless messages.
Later in the day Helen was seated apart from the crowd in the rotunda.
She wanted to get away from herself but there was no desire to seek
companionship. Consequently she was annoyed at the sound of footsteps
which evidently had her for an object. She was more annoyed when a chair
was dragged from its position and thrust beside her own. She did not
even turn her head when she heard a slump in the chair which testified
that the intruder intended to maintain his position. With no preliminary
cough, a rugged voice remarked:
"Pretty considerable goin' on in these parts, if 'tis three thousand
miles from nowhere, an' a hard road at that."
Helen's annoyance vanished. She turned brightly to the old man.
"Please excuse me. I didn't know who it was till you spoke."
"If you know now, you've got the advantage 'o me, in one sense. I'm
Uncle Sid Harwood, retired sea captain, at present cruisin' for
pleasure."
Helen bowed with sedate humor.
"I'm Helen Lonsdale and nothing in particular."
Uncle Sid Harwood surveyed his companion leisurely.
"First time I ever found nothin' in particular worth while. You come
from around here?"
"Yes, I'm Californian, born and bred."
"Glad to know it. I've been lyin' at anchor here some days lookin' for a
pilot. I reckoned you knew the harbor. Met a young fellow by the name o'
Berl?"
"Elijah Berl?" Helen asked in surprise.
"That's him."
"Why yes, of course I have. He's president of the Las Cruces Irrigation
Company."
"Praisin' the Lord an' callyhootin' around like a sky rocket with its
tail a-fire?" pursued Uncle Sid.
Helen laughed at the apt though rather superficial analogy.
"Yes, but he's not all fire and fizz after all. He is doing things worth
while."
"Don't doubt it." Uncle Sid spoke with conviction. "He always carried
high steam, an' I guessed he'd do something, if he got hitched to an
engine that would stand the pressure."
"Wouldn't you like to see him? He's in the hotel now, I think. I'll send
for him."
Uncle Sid made no objections and Helen beckoned a waiter.
"Please see if Mr. Berl is in his room and tell him he's wanted."
"Eunice an' I thought maybe we'd see 'Lige. That's one reason why we
came here instead o' somewhere's else. Eunice's my sister," Uncle Sid
added.
Before Helen had time to reply, she heard the quick beat of Elijah's
feet on the floor.
"That's him," Uncle Sid remarked, as he rose to his feet.
The footsteps halted and Helen saw Elijah standing in mute surprise
before the old man. The next instant he had Uncle Sid's outstretched
hand in both his own with crushing grasp.
"Well! well! Uncle Sid! You're looking as natural as life."
Uncle Sid winced.
"I'm feelin' as natural's life too, just this very minute. Cast off,
'Lige! I brought my rheumatiz with me."
Elijah turned to Helen.
"How under the sun did you come to know Uncle Sid?"
"She don't know me. We're just gettin' acquainted."
"Uncle Sid is worth knowing, Helen, I can vouch for that." Elijah
surveyed Uncle Sid with a beaming face. "Where's your sister, Mrs.
MacGregor; why didn't you bring her with you?"
"I did. She'll be down in a minute. Sit down. How do you make it out
here, 'Lige? You used to be great on temperance back East, but I haven't
seen any water worth drinkin' out here."
"There's plenty of water, all right, and good water too. We'll show him,
won't we, Helen?"
"I'll believe that when I see it. Lucky thing the Lord didn't start in
makin' man in this section," growled Uncle Sid, "he wouldn't have had
water enough to have pasted him together with. He'd a had dust enough,
goodness knows. I want a handbellus, to blow off some o' this dust. Just
as sure as I touch water I shan't be nothin' but a mud puddle."
"You can afford to even up, Uncle Sid. You've had more than your share
of water all your life. A little soil won't hurt you now."
"Huh!" Uncle Sid grunted. "I was on top of the water then, an' I kept
there. This dirt gets on top o' me an' inside me an' everywhere it ain't
no business to be. Here's Eunice now. Look here, Eunice, here's an old
friend o' yours, and here's Miss Lonsdale, a new friend o' mine, and I
won't swap either."
A tall woman, deliberate in all her motions, advanced upon the little
party. Her eyes rested for a moment upon Elijah as he rose with extended
hand, then, acknowledging the introduction to Helen, they slipped from
Elijah and glanced slowly over Helen from her boots to the coils of dark
hair that crowned her head. Helen experienced a creeping sensation. The
touch of the deliberate eyes reminded her of the inquisitive fingers of
a jockey feeling for blemishes on the smooth limbs of a horse.
Mrs. MacGregor seated herself with studied elegance.
"It occurs to me, Sidney, that Miss Lonsdale may object to your rather
broad claims to her friendship upon so short an acquaintance."
"I guess she's able to let me know her own mind. We took to each other
like ducks to a patch o' wild rice. I'm too old to be dangerous an'
young enough to know what's good for me."
Mrs. MacGregor ignored her brother's remark. She turned to Elijah.
"How does the change from sedate New England to this new life affect
you, Elijah?"
"Not at all, personally, Mrs. MacGregor. I'm just the same 'Lige you
used to know."
Uncle Sid broke in.
"Perhaps not your innards, but your outards ain't the same. You ain't
goin' around here barefoot, with two kinds o' cloth in your pants."
Mrs. MacGregor's eyes were wandering from Helen to Elijah. She was
comparing the evidences of sight gathered from personal inspection, with
those of hearsay, the result of her indirect inquiries among the hotel
guests, as to Elijah's standing in Ysleta. At length she arose, holding
out her hand to Elijah.
"I shall hope to renew our old acquaintance. It is a great pleasure to
find one's estimates of an old friend more than exceeded."
Elijah took Mrs. MacGregor's hand. In spite of his bewilderment over
their implied intimacy in the past, he felt a glow of pride that she
felt it worth her while to expand the mustard seed of their former
acquaintance into a luxuriant growth. He gave the limp hand a warm
pressure.
"Let me do anything I can for your pleasure, Mrs. MacGregor. I am always
at your service."
Mrs. MacGregor bowed formally to Helen.
"We shall meet again, I hope. You are stopping here?"
"Yes." Helen could hardly bring herself to this curt response. She felt
more like slapping.
It did not escape Mrs. MacGregor, who was following Uncle Sid from the
room, that Helen had begun to move as well, and that she was checked by
an almost imperceptible gesture from Elijah.
"What about tomorrow, Helen?" he asked.
"You mean the Pacific bank?"
"Yes. It's not our secret now. Every one knows that the run will begin
when the bank opens."
"There's only one thing to be done. You must be the first in line."
Elijah took a few quick turns then came to a sudden halt before Helen.
"That's impossible. The line's a mile long now." He laughed uneasily
over the exaggeration.
"Then we are out of it, after all."
Elijah hesitated.
"Not necessarily."
Helen leaped to the point of Elijah's meaning.
"You can't do that. You mustn't!"
"Why not? It's our money."
"You know why not." Helen spoke sharply.
"Mellin has fixed it all up." Elijah insisted.
"You know what that means, as well as I do." Helen's voice was sharper
and more decided.
Elijah was again striding up and down. He looked at his watch, then
snapped it shut and thrust it into his pocket.
"Well, goodnight, Helen, I'll think it over."
"Don't do it. It's dangerous to think about some things."
Helen was alone, walking thoughtfully to her room. Her old mood had
returned with even darker shadows. Why couldn't she act on her own keen
suggestion and stop thinking about dangerous things? This question
occurred to her. Another point suggested itself. Mellin was reading
clearly in Elijah that about which she had only vague presentiments.