Progress is wonderful in the Far West. Since he had last seen it only a
year had passed, and yet the lovely city of Grub had doubled its size.
It now consisted of two saloons: the old "Life-Saving Station" and the
new "Like Father Used to Take." The proprietor of the new saloon was the
old saloon-keeper's son-in-law, and these, with their flourishing and,
no doubt, amiable families, were socially gathered on the shady side of
the Life-Saving Station. The shade was much the same sort that is
furnished by trees in more favored localities, and the population of
Grub City was enjoying itself. The rival wives, mother and daughter,
ample, rosy women, were busy stitching baby clothes. Children already
arrived were playing with a soap-box and choice pebbles and a tin mug at
keeping saloon. A sunburned-haired, flaming maiden of sixteen was at
work upon a dress of white muslin, and a young man of eighteen, brother
by his looks to the younger saloon-keeper, heartily feasted a pair of
honest blue eyes upon her plump hands as they came and went with the
needle. It looked as if another year might see a third saloon in
Grub City.
Saterlee approached the group, some of whose elders had been watching
and discussing his approach.
"Do any of you own a boat?" he asked.
"Train D-railed?" queried the proprietor of the Life-Saving Station, "or
was you just out for a walk?"
The family and family-in-law laughed appreciatively.
"The train put to sea in a washout," said Saterlee, "and all the
passengers were drowned."
"Where you want to git?" asked the proprietor.
"Carcasonne," said Saterlee. "Not the junction--the resort."
"Well," said the proprietor, "there's just one horse and just one trap
in Grub City, and they ain't for hire."
Again the united families laughed appreciatively. It was evident that a
prophet is not always without honor in his own land.
"We've no use for them," said the great man, with the noble abandoning
gesture of a Spanish grandee about to present a horse to a man
travelling by canoe. And he added: "So they're for sale. Now what do you
think they'd be worth to you?"
All the honest blue eyes, and there were no other colors, widened upon
Saterlee.
"Fifty dollars," he said, as one accustomed to business.
It was then that a panting, female voice was raised behind him. "Sixty
dollars!"
His showy acquaintance of the dining-car had followed him along the ties
as fast as she could, and was just come up.
"I thought you two was a trust," commented the proprietor's wife,
pausing with her needle in the air. "But it seems you ain't even a
community of interests."
"Seventy dollars," said Saterlee quietly.
The lady advanced to his side, counting the change in her purse.
"Seventy-six dollars and eighty-five cents," she said.
"Eighty dollars," said Saterlee.
"Oh!" cried the lady, "seventy-six eighty-five is every cent I've got
with me--and you're no gentleman to bid higher."
"Eighty," repeated Saterlee.
"Eighty dollars," said the son-in-law, "for a horse and buggy that a
man's never seen is too good to be true."
"They are yours, sir," said the father-in-law, and he turned to his
daughter's husband. "Is that horse in your cellar or in mine?" he asked.
"I ain't set eyes on her since February."
The son-in-law, sent to fetch the horse, first paused at the cellar
door of the Life-Saving Station, then, with a shake of the head and an
"I remember _now_" expression, he approached and entered the subterrene
of his own house and business, and disappeared, saying: "Whoa, there!
Steady you!"
Saterlee turned quietly to the angry and tearful vision whom he had so
callously outbid.
"Ma'am," he said, "if we come to my stop first or thereabouts, the buggy
is yours to go on with. If we reach yours first, it's mine."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her face brightening, "how good you are. But you'll
let me go halves on the purchase money."
"If I appeared rude just now," he said, "it was to save a lady's pocket.
Now then, you've wet them high-heeled shoes. Wherever you're going, it's
a long drive. Let's go inside and dry our feet while they're hitching
up. Which is your house?"
The proprietor of the Life-Saving Station indicated that building with
his thumb, and told his daughter of the white muslin dress to kindle a
fire in the stove. She slid her future wedding finery into a large paper
bag, and entered the saloon by the "Family Entrance," ardently followed
by her future husband.
The proprietor, Saterlee, and the showy lady followed more slowly,
discussing roads.
"Now," said Saterlee, "if you're going further than Carcasonne
Junction, I'll get off there. And either I'll walk to the hotel or hire
another trap."
"Why!" exclaimed the lady, "are you bound for Carcasonne House? So am
I."
"In that case," said Saterlee elegantly, "we'll go the whole hog
together."
"Quite so," said the lady primly.
"You'd ought to make Carcasonne House by midnight," said the proprietor.
"Put your feet up on that there stove."
"Heavens!" exclaimed the lady. "And if we don't make it by midnight?"
"We will by one or two o'clock."
The lady became very grave.
"Of course," she said, "it can't be helped. But it would be ever so much
nicer if we could get in before midnight."
"I take your point, Ma'am," said Saterlee. "Before midnight is
just a buggy ride--after midnight means being out all night
together. I feel for you, Ma'am, but I'm dinged if I see how
we can help ourselves. It's five now." He counted on his fingers:
"six--seven--eight--nine--ten--'leven--twelve--seven hours--seven into
forty--five and five-sevenths.... Ma'am," he said, "I can promise
nothing. It's all up to the horse."
"Of course," said the lady, "it doesn't really matter. But," and she
spoke a little bitterly, "several times in my life my actions and my
motives have been open to misconstruction, and they have been
misconstrued. I have suffered, sir, much."
"Well, Ma'am," said Saterlee, "my reputation as a married man and a
father of many children is mixed up in this, too. If we are in late--or
out late rather--and there's any talk--I guess I can quiet some of it. I
rather guess I can."
He rose to his feet, a vast, round, deep man, glowing with health and
energy.
"I once quieted a bull, Ma'am," said he, "by the horns. I would a held
him till help came if one of the horns hadn't come off, and he
ran away."
The proprietor entered the conversation with an insinuating wedge of a
voice.
"I don't like to mind other folks' business," he said, "but if the lady
is fretting about bein' out all night with a total stranger, I feel it
my dooty to remark that in Grub City there is a justice of the peace."
He bowed and made a gesture which either indicated his whole person, or
that smug and bulging portion of it to which the gesture was more
directly applied.
Saterlee and the lady did not look at each other and laugh. They were
painfully embarrassed.
"Nothing like a sound splice," suggested the Justice, still hopeful of
being helpful. "Failing that, you've a long row to hoe, and I suggest a
life saver for the gent and a nip o' the same for the lady. I'd like you
to see the bar," he added. "Mine is the show place of this here
city--mirrors--peacock feathers--Ariadne in the nood--cash register--and
everything hunky-dunk."
"We'll go you," said Saterlee. "At any rate, I will."
"Oh, I must see, too," said the lady, and both were relieved at the turn
which the conversation had taken.
The proprietor removed the cheese-cloth fly protector from the
two-by-three mirror over the bar, slipped a white jacket over his blue
shirt, and rubbed his hands together invitingly, as if washing them.
"What's your pleasure, gents?" said he.
As the lady approached the bar she stumbled. Saterlee caught her by the
elbow.
"That rail down there," he said, "ain't to trip over. It's to rest your
foot on. So." He showed her. With the first sign of humor that she had
shown, the lady suddenly and very capitally mimicked his attitude. And
in a tough voice (really an excellent piece of acting): "What's yours,
kid?" she said. And then blushed to the eyes, and was very much ashamed
of herself. But Saterlee and the bartender were delighted. They roared
with laughter.
"Next thing," said the bartender, "she'll pull a gun and shoot up the
place."