THE DANCE IN SUNK HOLE.
A low-ceiled room with a bar at the end near the door. The odor of
smoke, liquor, and perspiration. The place lighted with oil-lamps having
dirty chimneys. The lights of the lamps dancing and flaring to the stamp
of many heavy-shod feet. A maze of human beings whirling, shifting,
prancing, and cutting figures on the floor. Rough-looking men, bearded
and armed; disheveled women, their faces glowing with excitement and
from the effects of drink. At the far end of the room an old man,
mounted on a square box and seated on a chair, sawing away for dear life
at his fiddle, while he called the figures in a sing-song tone.
And this was the way the fiddler called:
"First couple balance and swing,
Promenade the inside ring,
Promenade the outside ring,
Balance and swing and cast off six,
Ladies to the right and gents to the left.
Swing the one you swung before,
Down the center and cast off four,
Swing the one that comes to you,
Down the center and cast off two."
The men were such as most women would avoid. With few exceptions, they
had wicked faces. They had been drinking, and at intervals some elated
and enthusiastic fellow would utter a blood-curdling yell.
But the figures they cut were laughable at times. They "spanked 'er
down" furiously. They seized their partners and swung them until often
they were lifted off their feet. But those were not the sort of women to
mind.
Three or four of the citizens of Sunk Hole were married. Two had
daughters old enough to be present at the dance. Other "ladies" had come
in from the surrounding country, brought there by their partners.
There were a number of Mexicans in the crowd, and three or four Mexican
women.
Into this smoky room came yet another Mexican, a young man, dressed in
soiled finery, his wide-brimmed high-peaked hat shading his face. He had
a little mustache that was pointed on the ends, and he walked with a
swagger. Immediately on entering he made for the bar and called for a
drink.
Had any one been watching him closely that person must have noticed that
he did not drink the stuff put out to him, but slyly and deftly tossed
the contents of the glass into a corner under the bar.
This newcomer was Frank Merriwell, who had disguised himself as well as
possible and boldly walked into this den of ruffians.
Having pretended to drink, Frank stood back in a retired spot and looked
the dancers over.
In a moment his eyes fell on Cimarron Bill, who had a Mexican girl for
a partner and was enjoying himself in his own peculiar way.
Frank knew it would not be safe to come face to face with Bill, although
he saw at once that the desperado had been drinking heavily and could
barely "navigate" through the mazes of the dance.
"Gents chasse and put on style,
Resash and a little more style--
Little more style, gents, little more style,"
sang the fiddler; and the dancers strictly obeyed the admonition by
putting on all the style of which they were capable.
Under different circumstances Merry would have been amused by the
spectacle; and even now, for all of his peril, he was greatly
interested.
Cimarron Bill was not habitually a hard drinker, but on this occasion he
had surprised everybody present by the amount of whisky he had imbibed.
He seemed determined to get intoxicated, and it was plain that he was
making a success of it.
Frank did not wish to dance if he could avoid it, knowing he might be
brought face to face with Bill in the course of some of the figures.
All around the sides of the room men were leaning and looking on, some
of them laughing and calling to various dancers.
"Go it, Seven Spot!"
"Spank it down, Dandy!"
"Steady, Pie Face! Your left hoof belongs to the church!"
"See Honeydew! He's a holy terror!"
"Watch Lanky Jim cut a pigeon wing!"
"Say, Big Kate can dance some! You bet your boots!"
"Hi! hi! There goes Sweet William, plumb off his pins!"
Now the fiddler was calling:
"First lady out to the right;
Swing the man that stole the sheep,
Now the one that packed it home,
Now the one that eat the meat,
Now the one that gnawed the bones."
Frank found an opportunity to slip along the wall toward the back of the
room. No one seemed to pay any attention to him until he accidentally
stepped on a big fellow's foot. Instantly he was given a shove, and the
man growled:
"What in thunder ails ye, you yaller-skinned greaser? Keep off my corns,
ur I'll make hash o' you with my toad-sticker!"
"Pardon, senor, pardon!" entreated Merry, in a soft voice, with an
accent that seemed perfectly natural. "I deed not mean to do eet,
senor."
"Ef I'd 'lowed ye did I'd sure slashed ye without no talk whatever!" was
the retort.
Having no desire to get into trouble, Merry took great pains to avoid
stepping on another foot, and he finally reached the point he sought. In
the corner at the far end of the room there was not so much light. A
bench ran along there, and Frank found a seat on it, where he could
lean against the thin board partition, and he did not mind if some of
the men stood up before him so that he was partly screened.
Merry knew full well that he had done a most reckless thing in entering
that place, where all around him were ruffians and murderers; but there
was something about the adventure that he relished, and the danger gave
it a spice that was far from disagreeable.
He thanked his lucky stars that this dance had given him the opportunity
to get in there without attracting any more attention.
"Meet your partner and all chaw hay,
You know where and I don't care,
Seat your partner in the old armchair."
That particular dance ended with this call from the fiddler; but there
were no armchairs in which the ladies could be seated, and Merry crowded
up into the corner in order to be as inconspicuous as possible and to
escape being disturbed.
There was a general rush for the bar, the fiddler getting down from his
box and hastening across the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of
his hand. Some of the women accompanied their partners to the bar and
drank with them.
Such depravity was not pleasant to witness, and Merry felt pity for the
fallen creatures. Sentiment, however, he sought to put aside, thinking
only of the dangerous mission that had brought him into that nest of
gambolling tigers.
Two men sat down near Merry. They had been dancing, and observed, with
some lurid embellishments, that it was hot. Then one of them said
something that interested Frank.
"Bill's goin' it a whole lot stiff to-night."
"That's whatever. Never saw him punish the razzle juice this way afore."
"You know why, mebbe."
"Waal, I opine he's some irked up over his mistake in Holbrook. First
time he ever shot the wrong gent. He warn't gunnin' fer File. It was
another galoot he was after."
"I jedge that's the matter with him. Bandy tried to joke him some about
it, an' Bandy came mighty near gettin' his."
"Bandy's a dern fool! He should 'a' knowed better than to shoot off his
mouth at Bill."
"I say so. But Bill he's a-playin' a right steep game in that thar gal
business."
"Bill kin play his keerds. You let him alone."
"No danger o' me chippin' in. They say the gal's folks are a heap rich."
"I opine so, else Bill he'd never taken so much trouble over her."
"Oh, I dunno; she's the purtiest leetle thing I ever set my blinkers on.
I 'lowed mebbe Bill was lookin' some fer a wife."
"Wife--northin'! He's lookin' fer the dust. Why, he sent word as how
he'd skin the galoot what dared hurt her or even say somethin' impolite
afore her."
"Let me tell you somethin'."
"Fire erway."
"Han'some Charley has seen that gal, an' I 'low he's taken a likin' to
her a whole lot. Bill better look sharp, ur Charley will sure get away
with her."
"I ain't the one to give Charley no advice, but if I were, I'd whisper
fer him to think twice afore tryin' it."
"Charley's some clever. Look, thar he is a-drinkin' with Bill now. Say,
pard, I've got an idee that Charley's doin' his best to load Bill
to-night. If that's so, he's got somethin' up his sleeve, an' we want to
look right sharp fer a breeze afore this dance is over. I'm goin' to
stand ready to duck instanter when the shootin' begins."
Frank could peer past a man in front of him without moving and see the
person referred to as Handsome Charley, who was drinking with Cimarron
Bill at the bar. This man was larger than Bill and heavier. He had a
flushed, reckless face that wore a smile nearly all the time. He had a
dark mustache and imperial, and there was about him the atmosphere of a
dashing desperado.
Charley at this time seemed very friendly with Cimarron Bill, and it was
plain that he was urging Bill to drink again.
"All right," thought Frank; "I'll watch you both."
At this moment a man appeared in the open door and looked timidly into
the room.
At sight of this man Frank gave a start in spite of his wonderful
nerve, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he kept himself
from crying forth a name.
Eliot Dodge, the crafty lawyer with the blue nose, stood there in the
door. No wonder Merry was astounded to see that man appear in such a
place and at such a time.
Dodge was rather pale, but an expression of relief flashed over his face
when his eyes fell on Cimarron Bill. Then he stepped into the room.
Bill seemed no less astonished, but he advanced to meet Dodge, holding
out his hand, which the lawyer accepted.
"However is this, Mr. Dodge?" inquired Bill. "I sure am a whole lot
surprised to meet up with you here--that is, I'm surprised to have it
occur so soon. Will you wash the dust out of your throat?"
"Don't care if I do," said Dodge, and they crowded nearer to the bar.
"Bill, I thinks mebbe you might present yer friend," chipped in Handsome
Charley.
"Waal, Charley," said Bill, "this yere is Mr.----"
"Lewis," interposed Dodge quickly.
"Mr. Lewis," said Bill queerly. "Mr. Lewis, permit me to make you
acquainted with Charley Sears, generally called Handsome Charley. Will
you take a little pisen with us, Charley?"
Handsome Charley gave Dodge his hand, which the lawyer shook gingerly,
his coolness causing the fellow to frown.
They all drank, and Bill lurched, catching at the edge of the bar.
"'Scuse me," he said, with unusual politeness. "Always makes me dizzy to
dance. There is a right good lot of whirlin' around in it, you know."
Charley smiled.
"You had a fine partner that last dance, Bill; but you ought to bring
out that handsome gal an' take a spin with her, man. I 'low it ain't
right to keep her under kiver when every gent yere is yearnin' to set
eyes on her."
"They'll have to keep right on yearnin'," averred Bill, frowning.
"You're gettin' a whole lot selfish," declared Charley. "Are you afeared
some other gent will git her away from ye if you brings her out?"
"None at all, Charley. But she ain't for this gang to hustle around any,
and that's level."
At this the other seemed to take offense.
"I opine, Bill," he said, "that you don't set yourself up as a heap
better than the rest of this gang?"
The cruel face of Cimarron Bill took on an expression that was a
warning.
"Charley," he said, in a low, smooth voice, with one hand on the bar to
steady himself, "I am willing to confess that you disturbs me some. I
has my reasons for not bringin' the gal out, an' you'll sure excuse me
if I don't recite them none at present. Some other time I may explain."
But Charley persisted.
"Some other time it will be too late," he said. "I'm certain looking to
dance one set with the little beauty myself, Bill."
"Sorry to disappoint you," returned Bill; "but the young lady doesn't
dance none, if you want to know one good reason."
"Well, at least, you can bring her forth and permit us to gaze upon her
a while," suggested Charley.
"Not to-night," was the firm retort.
"Then it certain will seem a heap like you thought her too good for us,
and the boys won't like that a great deal if I tell 'em so."
Bill leaned on the bar, his back against it and his elbows resting so
that his hands were close to his hips. In that manner he stood perfectly
steady, and he was in a position to draw his pistols quickly.
"Charley," he said, his voice like the purring of a cat, all the
thickness seeming gone from his tongue, while his wicked eyes narrowed
to two thin slits, "I don't think you'll go for to say anything whatever
to the boys on this point. You are my friend, I opine. Am I sure right
on that?"
At this juncture Handsome Charley realized all at once that Bill was not
yet drunk enough not to be deadly. Charley's eyes noted in a flash how
the man had steadied himself and was ready for anything, and Charley
decided that the time was not yet ripe for bringing on a quarrel.
"Of course I'm your friend, Bill!" he said, with pretended heartiness,
"and whatever you says goes with me. I was just speakin' because I has
heard some of the boys growlin' over this business. That's all."
Bill smiled, but his smile was anything but pleasant.
"If any o' the boys growl around in your hearin' some more," he said,
"refer 'em to me, please. I reckons I can certain stop their growlin' in
a hurry."
"All right, all right!" nodded Charley.
"And you, pard," Bill went on--"you, I judge, will say to them that I
know my business a-plenty, and that you backs me up. Eh?"
"Sure, sure, Bill."
"I thought you would," nodded the desperado with the deadly eyes. "I
opined I could depend on you."
"You bet! Have another drink, you and Mr. Lewis?"
"Excuse us, please," urged Bill. "I hates most mortally to decline; but
I has some business to transact with Mr. Lewis, an' I says business
first an' pleasure arterwards. Arter we has settled the business I'll
stand up here to this yere bar an' drink with you as long as the pisen
lasts. Is that all satisfactory like?"
This question was put in a manner that indicated beyond question that it
would be best for Charley to acknowledge that it was satisfactory, and
the acknowledgment was made.
"Thanks," bowed Bill. "You're a sure enough gent, Charley, an' I'll
shoot the galoot what says to the contrary! An' now I reckons you'll
excuse us a while. Come, Mr. Lewis, thar's a small back room, an' we'll
jest step in thar."
Through this Dodge had stood there pale to the lips, with the exception
of his blue nose, for he realized that these men were on the verge of a
disagreement, and he understood that a disagreement between them meant
shooting in short order. Bill, however, had won out by a display of calm
assurance and nerve, which was remarkable, considering his condition.
The ruffian slipped an arm through that of Dodge, and they crossed the
floor and passed through a narrow door just as the fiddler resumed his
seat and called for the men to select partners and form for the next
dance.
Frank had watched every move, realizing full well that there was a
possibility of a "gun play" between those two desperadoes. He was unable
to hear what passed between them, but still he fancied he knew the bulk
of it, and, in spite of himself, in spite of the character of the man,
he could not help admitting Cimarron Bill's masterfulness. Frank
comprehended that Charley had thought at first of forcing a quarrel, but
had been cowed by Bill's manner.
The agitation of Eliot Dodge was also quite apparent. Merry had already
marked Dodge down as a coward.
When the two men passed into the back room Frank longed to follow them.
He sat there, wondering what course to pursue.
That June Arlington was somewhere in Sunk Hole he now felt certain. The
talk of the two men who had been seated near him was assurance enough on
that point.
But where was she? How was he to find and rescue her? This task he now
understood as the most important one before him and the one to which he
was to give his attention at once, regardless of the capture of Bill,
which could be accomplished later.
As he sat there, thinking the affair over and seeking to decide on some
course to pursue, he was surprised and pleased to distinctly hear Bill
speaking in the room beyond the board partition. These boards were thin
and badly matched, so that there were large cracks at intervals. One of
these cracks happened to be just behind Frank's head. By shifting his
position slightly, he brought his ear close to the crack.
The fiddler was tuning up, and the rough men and women were laughing as
they formed on the floor for the next dance.
Frank was able to concentrate his mind on anything he chose, at the same
time becoming quite oblivious to everything else; and now he shut out
the sounds of the room in which he sat and listened with all his ability
to hear what passed beyond the partition.
"Sure, partner," Bill's voice was saying, "it surprises me a whole lot
to see you come pokin' in here. However did you git here?"
"Terry came with me all the way. You said he would bring word to you
from me, but I could not wait. I wanted to have a talk with you face to
face, without trusting to any middle man. I felt that I must do it, and
that's what brought me here for one thing."
"Waal, here you are, and now open up. I'm ready to listen to anything
whatever you has to say."
"In the first place," Frank distinctly heard Dodge say, "Ben File is
dead."
"Say you so?" exclaimed Bill, and his voice indicated regret. "I allow
I'm a-plenty sorry."
"It was bad work."
"That's right. Don't know how I happened to do anything like that. Never
did afore. I saw Merriwell make a jump, and I thought from the way he
done it the bullet sure had gone clean through him."
"And you never touched him!"
"Don't rub it in harder than you kin help, Mr. Dodge!"
"Hush! Don't speak that name here! It must not get out that I'm in this
game! It would ruin me!"
"That's all right, pard; no danger. Hear the racket out yonder in that
room. Nobody would ever think o' tryin' to hear what we're sayin'."
"Still it will be better to keep on calling me Lewis. It's a dangerous
game we've tackled, and I want to get it through in a hurry now. That's
why I'm here."
"Waal, whatever do you say is the next move?"
"Merriwell got out of Holbrook right after you."
"I knows it. The gent sure chases me a distance, but he gits lost,
together with his pards, some time afore night."
"Well, now is the time to make the demand on Mrs. Arlington for the
ransom money. It must be rushed along. She's in a state of mind so that
she'll be sure to give up easy now. I've waited for this, and I find she
will pay well to have June returned to her unharmed."
"That's a heap soothin' and agreeable news. I has waited fer you to say
when it was best to make the demand on the old lady."
"And I've waited until I felt sure she was so distressed and agitated
that she would yield. She did not wish her husband to know of her
presence here, and so she sent no word to him at first. Now she has
wired him the whole facts, and we can reckon that he'll be coming this
way as fast as steam can carry him. It's best to get the whole deal
through, if possible, before he shows up."
"I'm for it."
"You must write a demand on the woman for the boodle. She has diamonds
and jewels with her on which she can raise ten thousand dollars. Make
her raise it at once. Don't let her delay. Frighten her into it."
"I opines I can do that. I'll give her a scorcher. I'll tell her the gal
is all safe an' onharmed, but she has to plunk down instanter or I'll
send her one o' Miss June's fingers to hurry her up a leetle."
"That will go. I think that ought to start her."
"If you says so, I'll make it stiffer. What if I adds that one o' the
gal's prittey hands will foller? or an ear--mebbe that's better?"
"As you choose. Say that the money is to be placed in my hands to be
delivered to your agent, who will meet me on the open plain ten miles
from Holbrook in whatever direction you choose. Then I can ride out with
it and come back, and you can bring the girl into town under cover of
night."
"I reckon that ought to work, partner. This yere game is your plannin',
an' I falls inter it because I reckons it was easier than gittin' ahead
o' Merriwell an' seizin' the mine. Had I shot up Merriwell, instead o'
File, I'd 'a' called on the lady hard fer the price, which, together
with the money I'll get out o' this strike, would have made me easy for
a right good while."
"I'm against your idea of trying to saddle the kidnaping onto
Merriwell."
"Why?"
"I don't think it will go. Merriwell might return to Holbrook. If the
demand for money had his name attached, his arrest would seem to put him
where it would be necessary for him to produce the girl. Mrs. Arlington
was for forcing him to do so when File took him. Anything like that
would cause delay, and delay is something we do not want."
"Mr.--ah--Mr. Lewis, you sure reasons correct. We'll jest hitch a
made-up name to the demand for money, which will be a whole lot better."
"I think so. And now let's write this demand, so that I may turn about
and get out of this hole immediately. You must furnish me with a fresh
horse. I'm supposed now to be searching for Merriwell, several men in
town having set out upon the same task, for Mrs. Arlington offered a
reward for his recapture. I will be able to make a very satisfactory
explanation of my absence from Holbrook."