IN OPEN REBELLION
"It wus about the durndest fight as ever I see," explained Bill Hicks
confidentially to a group of his cronies in the bar-room of the
Poodle-Dog, while he tossed down a glass of red liquor, and shook the
powdered snowflakes from his bearskin coat. "He wus a sorter slim,
long-legged chap, thet young actor feller I showed the trail down ter
Bolton ter, an' he scurcely spoke a word all durin' thet whol' blame
ride. Search me, gents, if I c'd git either head er tail outer jist
whut he wus up to, only thet he proposed ter knock ther block off some
feller if he had the good luck ter ketch 'im. Somehow, I reckoned he
'd be mighty likely ter perform the job, the way his jaw set an' his
eyes flared. Leastwise, I didn't possess no rip-roarin' ambition fer
ter be thet other feller. Still, I didn't suppose he was no whirlwind."
Bill mechanically held out his drained glass, and, warming up somewhat,
flung his discarded overcoat across a vacant bench, his eyes beginning
to glow with reawakened enthusiasm.
"But, by gory, he wus! He wus simply chain lightnin', thet kid, an'
the way he handed out his dukes wus a sight fer sore eyes. I got onto
the facts sorter slow like, neither of us bein' much on the converse,
but afore we hed reached Bolton I managed to savvy the most of it. It
seems thet feller Albrecht--the big, cock-eyed cuss who played Damon,
ye recollect, gents--wus the boss of the show. He wus the Grand Moke,
an' held the spuds. Well, he an' thet one they call Lane jumped the
ore train last night, carryin' with 'em 'bout all the specie they'd
been corrallin' fer a week past, and started hot-foot fer Denver,
intendin' ter leave all them other actor people in the soup. This yere
lad hed got onter the racket somehow, an' say, he wus plumb mad; he wus
too damn mad ter talk, an' when they git thet fur gone it's 'bout time
fer the innocent spectator ter move back outen range. So he lassoed me
down at Gary's barn fer ter show him the ol' trail, an' we had one hell
of a night's ride of it. But, gents, I would n't o' missed bein' thar
fer a heap. It was a great scrape let me tell you. We never see hide
ner hair of thet Albrecht or his partner till jist afore the main-line
train pulled in goin' north. The choo-choo wus mighty nigh two hours
late, so it wus fair daylight by then, an' we got a good sight o' them
two fellers a-leggin' it toward the station from out the crick bottom,
whar they 'd been layin' low. They wus both husky-lookin' bucks, an' I
was sufficient interested by then ter offer ter sorter hold one of 'em
while the kid polished off the other. But Lord! that wan't his style,
no how, and he just politely told me ter go plumb ter hell, an' then
waltzed out alone without nary a gun in his fist. He wus purty white
round the lips, but I reckon it wus only mad, fur thar wus n't nothin'
weak about his voice, an' the way he lambasted thet thief wus a caution
ter snakes. Say, I 've heerd some considerable ornate language in my
time, but thet kid had a cinch on the dictionary all right, an' he read
them two ducks the riot act good an' plenty. Thet long-legged Lane, he
did n't have no sand, an' hung back and did n't say much, but the other
feller tried every sneakin' trick a thief knows, only he bucked up agin
a stone wall every time. Thet young feller just simply slathered him;
he called him every name I ever heerd, an' some considerable others,
an' finally, when the train was a-pullin' in, the cuss unlimbered his
wad, an' began peelin' off the tens an' twenties till I thought the
whole show wus over fer sure. But Lord! I didn't know thet kid--no
more did thet Albrecht."
Hicks wet his lips with his tongue, pausing, after the manner of a good
_raconteur_, to gaze calmly about upon the faces of his auditors.
"I could n't see jist how much the feller disgorged, but he wus
almighty reluctant an' nifty about it; an' then I heerd him say,
sneerin'-like, 'Now, damn yer, how much more do _you_ want?' An',
gents, what do yer think thet actor kid did? Cop ther whole blame
pile? Not on yer whiskers, he didn't. He jist shoved them scads
what hed been given him careless-like down inter his coat pocket, an'
faced Mister Manager. 'Not a dirty penny, Albrecht,' he said, sorter
soft-like; 'I 'm a-goin' to take whut yer owe me out of yer right now.'
An', by gory, gents, he sure did. I can't say as how I see much o' the
fracas, 'ceptin' the dust, but when thet long-legged Lane jerked out a
pearl-handled pop-gun I jist naturally rapped him over the knuckles
with my '45.' an' then tossed him over inter the bunch. Say, thet beat
any three-ringed circus ever I see. The kid he pounded Albrecht's head
on the platform, occasionally interestin' Lane by kickin' him in the
stomick, while I jist waltzed 'round promiscous-like without seein' no
special occasion to take holt anywhar. I reckon they 'd a been thar
yit, if the train hands had n't pried 'em apart, an' loaded the remains
onter a keer. An' then thet actor kid he stood thar lookin' fust at
me, an' then after them keers. 'Hicks,' he panted, 'did I git fifty
dollars' worth?' 'I rather reckon ye did,' I said, thoughtfully, 'en
maybe it mought be a hundred.' An' then he laughed, an' brushed the
dust off his clothes. 'All right, then,' says he; 'let's eat.' An' I
never see no nicer feller after he got thet load offen his mind."
Winston, totally unconscious that he had thus achieved an enviable
reputation in certain rather exclusive social circles of San Juan,
proceeded straight to the hotel, pausing merely a moment in the
wash-room to make himself a trifle more presentable, tramped up the
stairs, and rapped briskly at Miss Norvell's door. He was still
flushed with victory, while the natural confidence felt in her
appreciation of his efforts yielded him a sense of exhilaration not
easily concealed. The door was promptly opened, and, with her first
glance, she read the success of his mission pictured within his face.
As instantly her eyes smiled, and her hand was extended in the
cordiality of welcome.
"I can perceive without a word being spoken that you discovered your
man," she exclaimed, "and I am so glad!"
"Yes," he returned, stepping past, and emptying his pockets on the
white coverlet of the bed. "There is the money."
She glanced at the pile doubtfully.
"What money?"
"Why, yours, of course. The money you told me Albrecht owed you."
She turned, somewhat embarrassed, her eyes upon his surprised face.
"Do you mean that was all you got?" she questioned finally. "Did he
send nothing for the others? Did n't you know he was equally in debt
to every member of the company?"
With these words the entire situation dawned upon him for the first
time. He had been thinking only about Miss Norvell, and had permitted
the rascally manager to escape with the greater portion of his stolen
goods. The realization of how easily he had been tricked angered him,
his face darkening. She read the truth as quickly, and, before he
found speech in explanation, had swept the little pile of loose bills
into her lap.
"Wait here a moment, please," she exclaimed quickly; "I shall be right
back."
He remained as bidden, wondering dimly as to her purpose, yet her brief
absence yielded but little opportunity for thought. He met her at the
door with an indignantly suspicious question:
"What have you been doing? Surely, you have n't given all that money
away?"
The girl smiled, a gleam of defiance visible in the uplifted eyes.
"Every cent of it. Why, what else could I do? They actually have
nothing, and must get back to Denver or starve."
For an instant he completely lost his self-control.
"Why did n't you tell me first?" he asked sharply. "Did you suppose I
collected my own money, and could therefore meet your expenses?"
He never forgot the expression which swept instantly into her face--the
quick indignation that leaped from the depths of those dark eyes.
"I was not aware I had ever requested any help from Mr. Winston," she
returned clearly, her slight form held erect. "Your following after
Albrecht was entirely voluntary, but I naturally presumed the money you
brought back belonged to me. You said it did, and hence I supposed it
could be disposed of at my own discretion."
"You have exhibited none."
"That would seem to depend entirely upon the point of view. Until I
request your aid, however, your criticism is not desired."
Both voice and manner were so cold that they were equivalent to
dismissal, but Winston hesitated, already beginning to regret the
bitter harshness of his speech. Beneath his steady gaze her cheeks
flamed hotly.
"We have been friends," he began more humbly. "Would you mind telling
me something regarding your plans? Just now I feel unable to offer you
either aid or advice."
Her face perceptibly brightened, as if this new mood quickly appealed
to her.
"That sounds ever so much better," she admitted, glancing up into his
face. "I have never enjoyed being scolded, as though I were a child
who had done wrong. Besides, I am quite convinced in this case I have
done precisely right. I think you would admit it also if you only had
patience to hear my story. I know exactly what I intend doing, or I
should never have given all that money away. I have an engagement."
"An engagement? Where? Is there another troupe playing here?"
She shrugged her shoulders, her hands clasped.
"No, not in the sense you mean; not the legitimate. I am going to
appear at the Gayety."
Winston stood grasping the back of the chair, staring straight at her,
his body motionless. For an instant he was conscious of a sudden
revulsion of feeling, a vague distrust of her true character, a doubt
of the real nature of this perverse personality. Such a resolution on
her part shocked him with its recklessness. Either she did not in the
least appreciate what such action meant, or else she woefully lacked in
moral judgment. Slowly, those shadowed dark eyes were uplifted to his
face, as if his very silence had awakened alarm. Yet she merely smiled
at the gravity of his look, shaking her dark hair in coquettish disdain.
"Again you apparently disapprove," she said with pretence of
carelessness. "How easily I succeed in shocking you to-day! Really, a
stranger might imagine I was under particular obligations to ask your
permission for the mere privilege of living. We have known each other
by sight for all of two weeks, and yet your face already speaks of
dictation. Evidently you do not like the Gayety."
"No; do you?"
"I?" she replied doubtfully, with a slight movement of the body more
expressive than words. "There are times when necessity, rather than
taste, must control the choice. But truly, since you ask the question,
I do not like the Gayety. It is far too noisy, too dirty, too gaudy,
and too decidedly primitive. But then, beggars may not always be
choosers, you know. I am no bright, scintillating 'star'; I am not
even a mining engineer possessing a bank account in Denver; I am merely
an unknown professional actress, temporarily stranded, and the good
angel of the Gayety offers me twenty dollars a week. That is my
answer."
The young man flushed to the roots of his fair hair, his teeth meeting
firmly.
"There is no 'good angel' of the Gayety--the very atmosphere of that
place would soil an angel's wing," he exclaimed hotly. "Besides, you
are not driven by necessity to any such choice. There is another way
out. As you gently suggested, I am a mining engineer possessing a bank
account at Denver. I will most gladly draw a sight draft to-morrow,
and pay your expenses back to that city, if you will only accept my
offer. Is this fair?"
"Perfectly so; yet supposing I refuse?"
"And deliberately choose the Gayety instead?"
"Yes, and deliberately choose the Gayety instead--what then?"
She asked the momentous question calmly enough, her mouth rigid, her
eyes challenging him to speak the whole truth. He moistened his dry
lips, realizing that he was being forced into an apparently brutal
bluntness he had sincerely hoped to avoid.
"Then," he replied, with quiet impressiveness, "I fear such deliberate
action would forfeit my respect."
She went instantly white before the blow of these unexpected words, her
fingers clasping the door, her eyes as full of physical pain as if he
had struck her with clinched hand.
"Forfeit your respect!" she echoed, the slender figure quivering, the
voice tremulous. "Rather should I forever forfeit my own, were I to
accept your proffer of money." Her form straightened, a slight tinge
of color rising to the cheeks. "You totally mistake my character. I
have never been accustomed to listening to such words, Mr. Winston, nor
do I now believe I merit them. I choose to earn my own living, and I
retain my own self-respect, even although while doing this I am
unfortunate enough to forfeit yours."
"But, Miss Norvell, do you realize what the Gayety is?"
"Not being deprived of all my natural powers of observation, I most
certainly believe I do--we were there together last evening."
She puzzled, confused him, outwardly appearing to trifle with those
matters which seemed to his mind most gravely serious. Yet, his was a
dogged resolution that would not easily confess defeat.
"Miss Norvell," he began firmly, and in the depth of his earnestness he
touched her hand where it yet clung to the door, "I may, indeed, be
presuming upon an exceedingly brief friendship, but my sole excuse must
be the very serious interest I feel in you, especially in your
undoubted ability and future as an actress. It is always a great
misfortune for any man to repose trust and confidence in the character
of a woman, and then suddenly awaken to discover himself deceived.
Under these circumstances I should be unworthy of friendship did I fail
in plain speaking. To me, your reckless acceptance of this chance
engagement at the Gayety seems inexpressibly degrading; it is a
lowering of every ideal with which my imagination has heretofore
invested your character. I am not puritanical, but I confess having
held you to a higher plane than others of my acquaintance, and I find
it hard to realize my evident mistake. Yet, surely, you cannot fully
comprehend what it is you are choosing, I was with you last night,
true, but I considered it no honor to appear upon _that_ stage, even
with the 'Heart of the World,' and it hurt me even then to behold you
in the midst of such surroundings. But deliberately to take part in
the regular variety bill is a vastly more serious matter. It is almost
a total surrender to evil, and involves a daily and nightly association
with vice which cannot but prove most repugnant to true womanhood.
Surely, you do not know the true nature of this place?"
"Then tell it to me."
"I will, and without any mincing of words. The Gayety is a mere
adjunct to the Poodle-Dog saloon and the gambling hell up-stairs. They
are so closely connected that on the stage last evening I could easily
hear the click of ivory chips and the clatter of drinking glasses. One
man owns and controls the entire outfit, and employs for his variety
stage any kind of talent which will please the vicious class to which
he caters. All questioning as to morality is thoroughly eliminated.
Did you comprehend this?"
The young girl bowed slightly, her face as grave as his own, and again
colorless, the whiteness of her cheeks a marked contrast to her dark
hair.
"I understood those conditions fully."
"And yet consented to appear there?"
She shook back her slightly disarranged hair, and looked him directly
in the eyes, every line of her face stamped with resolve.
"Mr. Winston, in the first place, I deny your slightest right to
question me in this manner, or to pass moral judgment upon my motives.
I chance to possess a conscience of my own, and your presumption is
almost insulting. While you were absent in pursuit of Albrecht, the
manager of the Gayety, having chanced to learn the straits we were in,
called upon me here with his proposal. It appeared an honorable one,
and the offer was made in a gentlemanly manner. However, I did not
accept at the time, for the plain reason that I had no desire whatever
to appear upon that stage, and in the midst of that unpleasant
environment. I decided to await your return, and learn whether such a
personal sacrifice of pride would be necessary. Now, I believe I
recognize my duty, and am not afraid to perform it, even in the face of
your displeasure. I am going to deliver the parting scene from the
'Heart of the World,' and I do not imagine my auditors will be any the
worse for hearing it. I certainly regret that the Gayety is an adjunct
to a saloon; I should greatly prefer not to appear there, but,
unfortunately, it is the only place offering me work. I may be
compelled to sink a certain false pride in order to accept, but I shall
certainly not sacrifice one iota of my womanhood. You had no cause
even to intimate such a thing."
"Possibly not; yet had you been my sister I should have said the same."
"Undoubtedly, for you view this matter entirely from the standpoint of
the polite world, from the outlook of social respectability, where self
rules every action with the question, 'What will others say?' So
should I two years ago, but conditions have somewhat changed my views.
Professional necessity can never afford to be quite so punctilious,
cannot always choose the nature of its environments: the nurse must
care for the injured, however disagreeable the task; the newspaper
woman must cover her assignment, although it takes her amid filth; and
the actress must thoroughly assume her character, in spite of earlier
prejudices. The woman who deliberately chooses this life must, sooner
or later, adjust herself to its unpleasant requirements; and if her
womanhood remain true, the shallow criticism of others cannot greatly
harm her. I had three alternatives in this case--I could selfishly
accept my handful of money, go to Denver, and leave these other
helpless people here to suffer; I could accept assistance from you, a
comparative stranger; or I could aid them and earn my own way by
assuming an unpleasant task. I chose the last, and my sense of right
upholds me."
Winston watched her earnestly as she spoke, his gray eyes brightening
with unconscious appreciation, his face gradually losing its harshness
of disapproval. A spirit of independence always made quick appeal to
his favor, and this girl's outspoken defiance of his good opinion set
his heart throbbing. Back of her outward quietness of demeanor there
was an untamed spirit flashing into life.
"We may never exactly agree as to this question of proprieties," he
acknowledged slowly. "Yet I can partially comprehend your position as
viewed professionally. Am I, then, to understand that your future is
definitely decided upon? You really purpose dedicating your life to
dramatic art?"
She hesitated, her quickly lowered eyes betraying a moment of
embarrassment.
"Yes," she answered finally. "I am beginning to find myself, to
believe in myself."
"You expect to find complete satisfaction in this way?"
"Complete? Oh, no; one never does that, you know, unless, possibly,
the ideals are very low; but more than I can hope to find elsewhere.
Even now I am certainly happier in the work than I have been for
years." She looked up at him quickly, her eyes pleading. "It is not
the glitter, the sham, the applause," she hastened to explain, "but the
real work itself, that attracts and rewards me--the hidden labor of
fitly interpreting character--the hard, secret study after details.
This has become a positive passion, an inspiration. I may never become
the perfected artist of which I sometimes dream, yet it must be that I
have within me a glimmering of that art. I feel it, and cannot remain
false to it."
"Possibly love may enter to change your plans," he ventured to suggest,
influenced by the constantly changing expression of her face.
She flushed to the roots of her hair, yet her lips laughed lightly.
"I imagine such an unexpected occurrence would merely serve to
strengthen them," she replied quickly. "I cannot conceive of any love
so supremely selfish as to retard the development of a worthy ideal.
But really, there is small need yet of discussing such a possibility."
She stood aside as he made a movement toward the open door, yet, when
he had stepped forth into the hall, she halted him with a sudden
question:
"Do you intend returning at once to Denver?"
"No, I shall remain here."
She said nothing, but he clearly read a farther unasked question in her
face.
"I remain here, Miss Norvell, while you do. I shall be among your
audiences at the Gayety. I do not altogether agree that your choice
has been a correct one, but I do sincerely believe in you,--in your
motives,--and, whether you desire it or not, I propose to constitute
myself your special guardian. There is likely to be trouble at the
Gayety, if any drunken fool becomes too gay."
With flushed cheeks she watched him go slowly down the stairway, and
there were tears glistening within those dark eyes as she drew back
into the room and locked the door. A moment she remained looking at
her reflected face in the little mirror, her fingers clinched as if in
pain.
"Oh, why does n't he go away without my having to tell him?" she cried,
unconsciously aloud. "I--I thought he surely would, this time."