A MEETING OF RASCALS
Sometime after dusk the following Saturday, Tusk Potter walked
cautiously toward the home of Tom Hewlet. There was no moon, but a
starry glow illumined the pike and he kept well beneath the overhanging
trees; for Tusk had learned, through a dim sort of reasoning, that when
he walked in life's comfortable shadows he usually walked away from
trouble. He now reached the broken gate and for awhile stood regarding
the house, listening to see what manner of sounds came from within.
Being satisfied, he called:
"Hey, Tom!"
The door opened, and Mrs. Hewlet's whining voice answered:
"What d'you want?"
"Is Tom home?" he asked, in a half whisper.
"What if he is?" she demanded.
"Nuthin'," Tusk answered, shifting his weight and leaning against the
fence.
"Oh, is that you, Tusk?" she exclaimed more hospitably. "I've tuck so
much quinine a body can't hear their ears! Come in an' set!"
"Naw, I reckon not," he evasively replied. "Tell him to come on out!"
The door closed and, after a wait of several minutes, Tom glided around
the corner of the house. He preferred this to coming the direct way.
There were many things in common between Tusk and Tom.
"Hullo, Tusk," he said.
"Hullo, Tom."
They stood for awhile in awkward silence. Finally Tusk got out his knife
and began to whittle on the gate. Tom watched this, then reached into
his own pocket and produced a twist of long-green tobacco from which he
gnawed off a chew.
"Got any licker 'bout you?" he asked.
"A mite," Tusk answered, and by mutual consent they moved farther down
the road.
After having each tipped the bottle, Tusk announced:
"I'm buhned out!"
"You are?" Tom's voice held a note of alarm. "When?"
"A week ago today."
"How'd it happen?"
"You know that feller over to Cunnel's?"
"Reckon I do! Was it him?"
Tusk nodded. Tom remained deep in thought, wondering how he might
proceed without Nancy's knowledge.
"He'll pay for it, all right," he said, at last. "He's been owin' me a
little sum for a spell, an' we'll ask him to come across for two!"
"Aw, hell," Tusk turned with an air of disgust, "that ain't him. This
here'n ain't got no money what I'm talkin' 'bout. I don't mean the
railroad feller!"
"That's so; I did hear tell as how another feller was over there!"
"Well, I'd sort of reckon," Tusk growled. "An' what's moh, he's a
Dawson! There ain't no love lost 'tween me an' you an' the Dawsons,
Tom!"
"Shucks, Tusk, that ole thing's been fixed up way back at home," Hewlet
evasively replied.
"It ain't fixed up when he comes down heah an' buhns me out, I reckon!"
"Naw, I reckon not," the other had to admit. "What you goin' to do?"
"What you reckon I'm goin' to do?" Tusk growled.
"Look-ee-heah," Tom exclaimed, having a sudden inspiration. "You help me
on somethin' fu'st, an' then we'll have money to git moh guns, if yoh're
a mind to start somethin'!"
"How you mean?" Tusk cautiously asked.
"The railroad feller owes me a hund'ed dollars--I wouldn't be s'prised
if it was moh, but a hund'ed'll do to start on. Now don't ask no
questions! It don't consarn nobody but him an' me. You git it for me,
an' I'll help you with that Dawson bird. You know the McElroy feller,
don't you?"
"I've saw him hangin' 'round; but I can't go over there," Tusk grumbled.
"Didn't I jest tell you Dawson buhned me out? Why don't you go?"
"Tusk, a gentl'man don't like to be askin' another gentl'man to pay him
back a little friendly loan. You don't know that, 'cause you ain't got
real good sense, Tusk, but it's so. 'Sides that, some business dealin's
has to go through a third party. That's how he done when he made Dawson
buhn you out, didn't he?"
"When he what?" Tusk glared.
"Why, durn yoh poh haid, don't you know he wants yoh land for the
railroad? Ain't he said time an' time agin he's goin' to have it; an'
ain't you said you wouldn't sell? Well, then how's he goin' to git it,
you tell me that?"
As though a veil had been drawn from Tusk's face he saw it all in an
instant, and the next few minutes he spent in a flow of lurid oaths. Tom
watched him, a slow smile flickering about the corners of his mouth.
Finally he said:
"'Tain't no use to cuss; that won't build yoh cabin. Jest go like you
don't know nuthin' 'bout it, an' say you've come for that hund'ed for
me. An' if he says he ain't goin' to send it, jest say all right, that
you'll go right on over to Arden an' ax the Cunnel an' his folks if they
don't think it's fair an' squar. Jest say that! An' tell him, in case he
ain't got it on him, to put it--let's see," Tom thought a moment; "tell
him to put it on the schoolhouse steps tomorrer night at nine. See? If
you do that, Tusk, an' fetch the coin, I'll give you five dollars an' a
new rifle; an' help you git squar', too."
"Where'll I find this heah railroad feller?" Tusk was growing excited.
"He's at the Cunnel's; I done told you that!"
"An' I done told you I dassant go there!"
"Then ketch him out somewhere."
Tusk thought a moment, and hopefully exclaimed:
"I kin ketch 'im at the schoolhouse when he leaves the money!"
Tom looked at his friend in pitying disgust.
"You blamed fool, how's he comin' to the schoolhouse less'n you tell
'im!"
The simple-minded giant was greatly perplexed at this. He drew out his
bottle and took another drink, then mechanically passed it to Tom.
"Well," this schemer said, drawing the back of his hand across his
mouth, "if you want the gun, you'll have to make it. Belly-achin' around
this a-way won't bring you nothin'. Let me know tomorrer night what you
kin do, 'cause there's plenty others'll jump at the chance." With that
he turned and went back to the house, while Tusk, dazed and thinking
hard, walked slowly and slouchily down the pike.
Chance succeeded where the ingenuity of Tusk might have failed. He
reached a dip in the road where a small stream crossed, and stopped to
drink. On his hands and knees, and with the water dripping from his
mouth and chin, he suddenly raised his head to listen, then scurried
into the bushes to watch, as he recognized the sound of a galloping
horse.
Brent, coming from town, felt his mount shy and saw Potter looking out
at him. He did not know, of course, the part Tusk had played in the
schoolhouse drama, or of the fire, or, indeed, anything about him except
that he owned a piece of land which Dulany, Buckville's legal hope, was
trying to buy for the railroad, and that someone else had said his
strength was as great as his intellect was lacking. Brent reined up.
"Hello, Potter! What are you doing in there?"
"Hello yohse'f," Tusk emerged. "Hold up a minute!"
"Well?" Brent asked.
There was a pause, and Brent asked again: "Well?"
"Tom says as how you kin git that hund'ed for buhnin' down my cabin!"
"I'll get a monkey-wrench, my friend; you rattle," Brent chuckled. "But
you get out of my way! I'm going!"
Tusk regarded him in sullen silence. His face was black with passion and
Brent saw the necessity of more affable tactics.
"What's on your mind?" he asked. "Tell me so I can understand!"
"Nothin' ain't on my mind," Potter answered, with more truth than he
realized. "Tom says you owe me a hund'ed dollars for buhnin' down my
cabin; an' he says to leave that an' the hund'ed you owes him on the
schoolhouse steps tomorrer night; an' if you don't hand 'em over now
I'm to put it up to the Cunnel!"
It was disconnected, but Brent understood the last part well enough.
Also, it had flashed across his mind that if Tusk were really burned
out, Tom had done it and concocted a plausible tale in order to gain
this fellow as an ally. So he sat for a minute trying to grasp the
dangling threads of this surprising situation.
"Tusk," he said, "I didn't know you were burned out, and, of course, I
didn't do it; but I will buy your land if you'll come in town Monday and
sign--that is, if Dulany finds the title clear. He's getting some other
pieces for me, and can put yours in. How much do you own?"
"Acre," Tusk answered. "Th' ain't no trick 'bout this?"
"Certainly not. But land up there where you are isn't worth a hundred
dollars an acre! What are you trying to put over on us, Tusk?"
"Don't make no difference," he growled. "I had a cabin, an' a bed, an
blanket; an' stove, too, sech as 'twas!"
"All right," Brent laughed. "I'll give you the hunner if you're at
Dulany's office Monday." A hundred was the exact maximum price he and
Dulany had decided on offering Potter for that little strip.
"How 'bout Tom's?"
"Tom's?" Brent looked down at him. "Oh, you just tell Tom to go to hell.
That's the place for him."
"Will I tell the Cunnel's folks to go there, too?" he asked, with
unintentional sagacity.
Brent hesitated; then, leaning over the saddle, put an impressive
question.
"Tusk, do you want to go to hell?"
"Shucks," he spat contemptuously, "hell ain't got nothin' on a feller
like me!"
"Then do you want to go to the penitentiary?"
"Fer Gawd sake," he sprang back, "what you mean?"
"Just this: You tell Tom that this blackmail has got to stop! Understand
the word?--Blackmail! Let it soak in well, Tusk:--Blackmail! It's a
penitentiary offense, and I'll have him up before the next Circuit
Court, sure! Or better still," he declared, growing more and more angry,
"I'll ride back and tell him myself!"
"Naw you don't," Tusk's hand went quickly to the bridle rein. "You don't
give me the slip that a-way!"
"I'm not trying to give you the slip, you poor fool! You come in town
day after tomorrow and get your money. That's all you want!"
"An' that's all you want, too, I reckon. But I ain't goin' nigh no town
arter this talk 'bout penitentries. Jest come 'crost with that hund'ed
now!"
"I won't do anything to you in town, simpleton!" Brent raged at him.
"That can be settled best by stayin' right heah, I reckon. Hand out the
money!"
"I haven't it with me, Tusk. Do what I say and you won't be hurt!"
"That's all right 'bout bein' hurt," the fellow growled. "If you ain't
got that money with you, I'm goin' to take its wu'th outen yoh hide. You
got yoh hide, ain't you?"
For the first time Brent realized he was about to have trouble. The
man's size impressed him with no particular awe. He did not think of
this. He was aroused now and becoming furious, and as willing for a
fight as one well could be. He felt that he had been reasonable enough,
even while the man's words were goading him; but, irrespective of this,
an act which invariably fires a horseman's anger had been committed--a
restraining hand had been put with violence on his bridle rein.
"Wait till I tie this beast," he said, "and you can peel off all the
hide you're able!"
Tusk clicked his tongue and chuckled in fiendish delight as he watched
Brent dismount. Dollars were nothing to him now. He was about to thrash
the "railroad feller"--to kill him, maybe--and the world seemed
transformed into a whirlwind of happiness.
Brent, coming slowly back, considered that in his recent college days
his right punch had been a potent factor. In the gym it had come to be
an unanswerable argument, and outside of the gym on one or two
occasions--perhaps others might have been recalled--it was respectfully,
even though dreamily, remembered.
But now, as he stood on the ground, the abnormally long arms of the
antagonist before him precluded any reasonable chance of putting this
narcotic into effect--at least, where it had heretofore proved its
value. The point of the jaw had been his favorite spot, but the point of
this fellow's jaw would be as difficult to reach as Mars. However, he
approached warily, taking a close look at the ground to make sure there
were no hindrances to footwork, and rather humorously whispering:
"Brent, if I didn't actually know better, I'd take you for as big an
idiot as this boob who'll probably crack your nut." He had as whimsical
a way of going into dangers as of going into pleasures, and now there
was no trace of anger.
Tusk, watching him approach, raised his hand and blinked at a stone he
had slyly picked up. But when he, too, saw his opponent on foot he
scorned the need of a weapon, even so primitive. Quite deliberately then
he rolled his tattered sleeves up on those powerful, freckled, hairy
arms; and grinned, showing the hideous yellow teeth.