No man had more of a dread of the obvious than the Sheriff. His
position, he felt, was decidedly an unpleasant one. Nevertheless, in the
silence that followed the Girl’s discovery of his presence, he struggled
to appear his old self. He was by no means unconscious of the fact that
he had omitted his usual cordial greeting to her, and he felt that she
must be scrutinising him, feature by feature. When, therefore, he shot a
covert glance at her, it was with surprise that he saw an appealing look
in her eyes.
“Oh, Jack, I want to thank you--” she began, but stopped quickly,
deterred by the hard expression that instantly spread itself over the
Sheriff’s face. Resentment, all the more bitter because he believed it
to be groundless, followed hard on the heels of her words which he
thought to be inspired solely by a delicate tactfulness.
“Oh, don’t thank me that he got away,” he said icily. “It was the three
aces and the pair you held--”
This was the Girl’s opportunity; she seized it.
“About the three aces, I want to say that--”
It was Rance’s turn to interrupt, which he did brutally.
“He’d better keep out of my country, that’s all.”
“Yes, yes.”
To the Girl, any reference to her lover was a stab. Her face was pale
with her terrible anxiety; notwithstanding, the contrast of her pallid
cheeks and masses of golden hair gave her a beauty which Rance, as he
met her eyes, found so extraordinarily tempting that he experienced a
renewed fury at his utter helplessness. At the point, however, when it
would seem from his attitude that all his self-control was about to
leave him, the Girl picked up the bell on the desk and rang it
vigorously.
Began then the long procession of miners walking around the room before
taking their seats on the benches. At their head was Happy Halliday, who
carried in his hands a number of slates, the one on the top having a
large sponge attached. These were all more or less in bad condition,
some having no frames, while others were mere slits of slate, but all
had slate-pencils fastened to them by strings.
“Come along, boys, get your slates!” sang out Happy as he left the line
and let the others file past him.
“Whoop!” vociferated Trinidad in a burst of enthusiasm.
“Trin, you’re out o’ step there!” reprimanded the teacher a little
sharply; and then addressing Happy she ordered him to take his place
once more in the line.
In a little while they were all seated, and now, at last, it seemed to
the barkeeper as if the air of the room had been freed of its tension.
No longer did he experience a sense of alertness, a feeling that
something out of the ordinary was going to happen, and it was with
immense relief that he heard the Girl take up her duties and ask:
“What books were left from last year?”
At first no one was able to give a scrap of information on this
important matter; maybe it was because all lips were too dry to open; in
the end, however, when the silence was becoming embarrassing, Happy
moistened his lips with his tongue, and answered:
“Why, we scared up jest a whole book left. The name of it is--is--is--”
The effort was beyond his mental powers and he came to a helpless pause.
Swelling with importance, and drawing forth the volume in question from
his pocket, Sonora stood up and finished:
“--is ‘Old Joe Miller’s Jokes.’”
“That will do nicely,” declared the Girl and seated herself on the
pine-decorated box.
“Now, boys,” continued Sonora, ever the most considerate of pupils,
“before we begin I propose no drawin’ of weppings, drinkin’ or swearin’
in school hours. The conduct of certain members wore on teacher last
term. I don’t want to mention no names, but I want Handsome an’ Happy to
hear what I’m sayin’.” And after a sweeping glance at his mates, who,
already, had begun to disport themselves and jeer at the unfortunate
pair, he wound up with: “Is that straight?”
“You bet it is!” yelled the others in chorus; whereupon Sonora dropped
into his seat.
In time order was restored and now the Girl, looking at Rance out of her
big, frightened, blue eyes, observed:
“Rance, last year you led off with an openin’ address, an’--”
“Yes, yes, go on Sheriff!” cried the boys, hailing her suggestion with
delight.
Nevertheless, the Sheriff hesitated, seeing which, Trinidad contributed:
“Let ’er go, Jack!”
At length, fixing a look upon the Girl, Rance rose and said
significantly:
“I pass.”
“Oh, then, Sonora,” suggested the Girl, covering up her embarrassment as
best she could, “won’t you make a speech?”
“Me--speak?” exploded Sonora; and again; “Me--speak? Oh, the devil!”
“Sh-sh!” came warningly from several of the boys.
“Why, I didn’t mean that, o’ course,” apologised Sonora, colouring, and
incidentally expectorating on Bucking Billy’s boots. But to his infinite
sorrow no protest worthy of the word was forthcoming from the apparently
insensible Bucking Billy.
“Go on! Go on!” urged the school.
Sonora coughed behind his hand; then he began his address.
“Gents, I look on this place as something more ’n a place to sit around
an’ spit on--the stove. I claim that there’s culture in the air o’
Californay an’ we’re here to buck up again it an’ hook on.”
“Hear! Hear! Hear!” voiced the men together, while their fists came down
heavily upon the improvised desks before them.
“With these remarks,” concluded Sonora, “I set.” And suiting the action
to the word he plumped himself down heavily upon the bench, but only to
rise again quickly with a cry of pain and strike Trinidad a fierce blow,
who, he rightly suspected, was responsible for the pin that had found a
lodging-place in the seat of his trousers.
At that not even the Girl’s remonstrances prevented the boys, who had
been silent as mice all the time that the instrument of torture was
being adjusted, from giving vent to roars of laughter; and for a moment
things in the school-room were decidedly boisterous.
“Sit down, boys, sit down!” ordered the Girl again and again; but it was
some moments before she could get the school under control. When,
finally, the skylarking had ceased, the Girl said in a voice which,
despite its strange weariness, was music to their ears:
“Once more we meet together. There’s ben a lot happened o’ late that has
learned me that p’r’aps I don’t know as much as I tho’t I did, an’ I
can’t teach you much more. But if you’re willin’ to take me for what I
am--jest a woman who wants things better, who wants everybody all they
ought to be, why I’m willin’ to rise with you an’ help reach out--” She
stopped abruptly, for Handsome was waving his hand excitedly at her, and
asked a trifle impatiently: “What is it, Handsome?”
Handsome rose and hurriedly went over to her.
“Whisky, teacher, whisky! I want it so bad--”
The school rose to its feet as one man.
“Teacher! Teacher!” came tumultuously from all, their hands waving
frantically in the air. And then without waiting for permission to speak
the cry went up: “Whisky! Whisky!”
“No, no whisky,” she denied them flatly.
Gradually the commotion subsided, for all knew that she meant what she
said, at least for the moment.
“An’ now jest a few words more on the subject o’ not settin’ judgment on
the errin’--a subject near my heart.”
This remark of the Girl’s brought forth murmurs of wonder, and in the
midst of them the door was pushed slowly inward and The Sidney Duck,
wearing the deuce of spades which the Sheriff had pinned to his jacket
when he banished him from their presence for cheating at cards, stood on
the threshold, looking uncertainly about him. At once all eyes were
focused upon him.
“Git! Git!” shouted the men, angrily. This was followed by a general
movement towards him, which so impressed The Sidney Duck that he turned
on his heel and was fleeing for his life when a cry from the Girl
stopped him.
“Boys, boys,” said the Girl in a reproving voice, which silenced them
almost instantly; then, beckoning to Sid to approach, she went on in her
most gentle tones: “I was jest gittin’ to you, Sid, as I promised. You
can stay.”
Looking like a whipped dog The Sidney Duck advanced warily towards her.
Sonera’s brow grew thunderous.
“What, here among gentlemen?”
And that his protest met with instantaneous approval was shown by the
way the miners shifted uneasily in their seats and shouted
threateningly:
“Git! Git!”
“Why, the fellow’s a--” began Trinidad, but got no further, for the Girl
stopped him by exclaiming:
“I know, I know, Trin--I’ve tho’t it all over!”
For the next few minutes the Girl stood strangely still and her face
became very grave. Never before had the men seen her in a mood like
this, and they exchanged wondering glances. Presently she said:
“Boys, of late a man in trouble has been on my mind--” She paused, her
glance having caught the peculiar light which her words had caused to
appear in Rance’s eyes, and lest he should misunderstand her meaning,
she hastened to add: “Sid, o’ course,--an’ I fell to thinkin’ o’ the
Prodigal Son. He done better, didn’t he?”
“But a card sharp,” objected Sonora from the depths of his big voice.
“Yes, that’s what!” interjected Trinidad, belligerently.
The Girl’s eyebrows lifted and a shade of resentment was in the
answering voice:
“But s’pose there was a moment in his life when he was called upon to
find a extra ace--can’t we forgive ’im? He says he’s sorry--ain’t you,
Sid?”
All the while the Girl had been speaking The Sidney Duck kept his eyes
lowered and was swallowing nervously. Now he raised them and, with a
feeble attempt to simulate penitence, he acknowledged that he had done
wrong. Nevertheless, he declared:
“But if I ’adn’t got caught things would ’a’ been different. Oh, yes,
I’m sorry.”
In an instant the Girl was at his side removing the deuce of spades from
his coat.
“Sid, you git your chance,” she said with trembling lips. “Now go an’
sit down.”
A broad smile was creeping over The Sidney Duck’s countenance as he
moved towards the others; but Happy took it upon himself to limit its
spread.
“Take that!” he blazed, striking the man in the face. “And git out of
here!”
“Happy, Happy!” cried the Girl. Her voice was so charged with reproach
that The Sidney Duck was allowed by the men to pass on without any
further molestation. Nevertheless, when he attempted to sit beside them,
they moved as far away as possible from him and compelled him to take a
stool that stood apart from the benches which held them together in
friendly proximity.
At this point Trinidad inquired of the Girl whether she meant to infer
that honesty was not the best policy, and by way of illustration, he
went on to say:
“S’posin’ my watch had no works an’ I was to sell it to the Sheriff for
one hundred dollars. Would you have much respect for me?”
For the briefest part of a second the Girl seemed to be reflecting.
“I’d have more respect for you than for the Sheriff,” she answered
succinctly.
“Hurrah! Whoopee! Whoop!” yelled the men, who were delighted both with
what she said as well as her pert way of saying it.
It was in the midst of these shouts that Billy Jackrabbit and Wowkle,
unobserved by the others, quietly stole into the room and squatted
themselves down under the blackboard. When the merriment had subsided
Rance rose and took the floor. His face was paler than usual, though his
voice was calm when presently he said:
“Well, bein’ Sheriff, I’m careful about my company--I’ll sit in the bar.
Cheats and road agents”--and here he paused meaningly and glanced from
The Sidney Duck to the Girl--“ar’n’t jest in my line. I walk in the open
road with my head up and my face to the sun, and whatever I’ve pulled
up, you’ll remark I’ve always played square and stood by the cyards.”
“I know, I know,” observed the Girl and fell wearily into her seat; the
next instant she went on more confidently: “An’ that’s the way to
travel--in the straight road. But if ever I don’t travel that road, or
you--”
“You always will, you bet,” observed Nick with feeling.
“You bet she will!” shouted the others.
“But if I don’t,” continued the Girl, insistently, “I hope there’ll be
someone to lead me back--back to the right road. ’Cause remember, Rance,
some of us are lucky enough to be born good, while others have to be
’lected.”
“That’s eloquence!” cried Sonora, moved almost to tears; while Rance
took a step forward as if about to make some reply; but the next
instant, his head held no longer erect and his face visibly twitching,
he passed into the bar-room.
A silence reigned for a time, which was broken at last by the Girl
announcing with great solemnity:
“If anybody can sing ‘My Country ’Tis,’ Academy’s opened.”
At this request, really of a physical nature, and advanced in a spirit
of true modesty, all present, curiously enough, seemed to have lost
their voices and nudged one another in an endeavour to get the hymn
started. Someone insisted that Sonora should go ahead, but that worthy
pupil objected giving as his excuse, obviously a paltry one and trumped
up for the occasion, that he did not know the words. There was nothing
to it, therefore, but that the Indians should render the great American
anthem. And so, standing stolidly facing the others, their high-pitched,
nasal voices presently began:
“_My country ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing._”
“Well, if that ain’t sarkism!” interjected Sonora between the lines of
the hymn.
“_Land where our fathers died--_”
“You bet they died hard!” cut in Trinidad, rolling his eyes upward in a
comical imitation of the Indians.
“_Land of the Pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring._”
All the while the Indians were singing the last lines of the hymn the
Girl’s face was a study in reminiscent dreams, but when they had
finished and were leaving the room, she came back to earth, as it were,
and clapped her hands, an appreciation which brought forth from Wowkle a
grateful “Huh!”
“I would like to read you a little verse from a book of poems,”
presently went on the teacher; and when the men had given her their
attention, she read with much feeling:
“‘_No star is ever lost we once have seen,
We always may be what we might have been._’”
“Why, what’s the matter?” inquired Sonora, greatly moved at the sight of
the tears which, of a sudden, began to run down the teacher’s cheeks.
“Why, what’s--?” came simultaneously from the others, words failing
them.
“Nothin’, nothin’, only it jest came over me that I’ll be leavin’ you
soon,” stammered the Girl. “How can I do it? How can I do it?” she
wailed.
Sonora gazed at her unbelievingly.
“Do what?” he said.
“What did she say?” questioned Trinidad.
Now Sonora went over to her, and asked:
“What d’you say? Why, what’s the matter?”
Slowly the Girl raised her head and looked at him through half-closed
lids, the tears that still clung to them, blinding her almost. Plainly
audible in the silence of the room the seconds ticked away on the clock,
and still she did not speak; at last she murmured:
“Oh, it’s nothin’, nothin’, only I jest remembered I’ve promised to
leave Cloudy soon an’, p’r’aps, we might never be together again--you
an’ me an’ The Polka. Oh, it took me jest like that when I seen your
dear, ol’ faces, your dear, plucky, ol’ faces an’ realised that--” She
could not go on, and buried her face in her hands, her glistening blonde
head shaking with her sobs.
It was thus that the Sheriff, entering a moment later, found her.
Without a word he resumed his seat in front of the fire.
Sonora continued to stare blankly at her. He was too dazed to speak,
much less to think. He broke silence slowly.
“What--you leavin’ us?”
“Leavin’ us?” inquired Happy, incredulously.
“Careful, girl, careful,” warned Nick, softly.
The Girl hesitated a moment, and then went recklessly on:
“It’s bound to happen soon.”
Sonora looked more puzzled than ever; he rested his hand upon her desk
as if to support himself, and said:
“I don’t quite understand. Great Gilead! We done anythin’ to offend
you?”
“Oh, no, no, no!” she hastened to assure him, at the same time letting
her hand rest upon his.
But this explanation did not satisfy Sonora. Anxious to discover what
she had at heart he went on sounding:
“Tired of us? Ain’t we got style enough for you?”
The Girl did not answer; her breathing, swift and short, painfully
intensified the hush that had fallen on the room; at last, the boys
becoming impatient began to bombard her with questions.
“Be you goin’ to show them Ridge boys we’ve petered out an’ culture’s a
dead dog here?” began Happy, rising.
“Do you want them to think Academy’s busted?” asked Handsome.
“Ain’t we your boys no more?” put in Trinidad, wistfully.
“Ain’t I your boy?” asked Sonora, sentimentally. “Why, what is it, Girl?
Has anybody--tell me--perhaps--”
The Girl raised her head and dried her eyes; when she spoke one could
have heard a pin drop.
“Oh, no, no, no,” she said with averted face, and added tremulously:
“There, we won’t say no more about it. Let’s forgit it. Only when I go
away I want to leave the key o’ my cabin with Old Sonora here, an’ I
want you all to come up sometimes, an’ to think o’ me as the girl who
loved you all, an’ sometimes is wishin’ you well, an’ I want to think o’
little Nick here runnin’ my bar an’ not givin’ the boys too much
whisky.” Her words died away in a sob and her head fell forward, her
hand, the while, resting upon Nick’s shoulder.
At last, Sonora saw what lay beneath her tears; the situation was all
too clear to him now.
“Hold on!” he cried hoarsely. “There’s jest one reason for the Girl to
leave her home an’ friends--only one: There must be some fellow away
from here that she--that she likes better ’n she does any of us.” And
turning once more upon the Girl, he demanded excitedly: “Is that it?
Speak!”
The Girl raised her tear-stained face and looked him in the eye.
“Likes--” she repeated with a world of meaning in her voice--“in a
different way, yes.”
“Well, so help me!” ejaculated Happy, unhappily, while Sonora, with head
bent low, went over to his seat.
The next moment the boys of the front rows had joined those of the rear
and were grouping themselves together to discuss the situation.
“Sure you ain’t makin’ a mistake?” Trinidad questioned suddenly.
The Girl came down from her seat on the platform and went over to them.
“Mistake,” she repeated dreamily. “Oh, no, no, no, boys, there’s no
mistake about this. Oh, Trin!” she burst out tearfully, and two soft
arms crept gently about his neck. “An’ Sonora--Ah, Sonora...!” She
raised herself on her tiny toes and kissed him on the left cheek.
The next instant she was gone.