Part 24 (1/2)
CHAPTER XIII
MUTINY
It was in the afternoon of the day after our encounter with Bothwell--to be more accurate, just after four bells. Miss Wallace and I were sitting under the deck awning, she working in a desultory fas.h.i.+on upon a piece of embroidery while I watched her lazily.
The languorous day was of the loveliest. It invited to idleness, made repudiation of work a virtue. My stint was over for a few hours at least and I enjoyed the luxury of pitying poor Mott, who was shut up in a stuffy cabin with our prisoner.
Yeager, too, was off duty. We could hear him pounding away at the piano in the saloon. Ragtime floated to us, and presently a s.n.a.t.c.h from ”The Sultan of Sulu.”
Since I first met you, Since I first met you, The open sky above me seems a deeper blue, Golden, rippling suns.h.i.+ne warms me through and through, Each flower has a new perfume since I first met you.
”T. Yeager is a born optimist,” I commented idly. ”Life is one long, glorious lark to him. I believe he would be happy if he knew raw, red mutiny were going to break out in twenty minutes.”
”He's very likable. I never knew a man who has had so many experiences.
There's something right boyish about him.”
”Even if he could give me about a dozen years.”
”Years don't count with his kind. He's so full of life, so fresh and yet so wise.”
”His music isn't fresh anyhow. I move we go stop it.”
”Thank you, I'm very comfortable here. I don't second the motion,” she declined.
”Motion withdrawn. But I'm going to tempt him from that piano just the same. Jimmie, come here. Run down to the music-room and tell Mr. Yeager that Miss Wallace would like to see him.”
Evelyn laughed.
”I think you're real mean, Mr. Sedgwick.”
”For saving the life of your musical soul?”
”He _is_ pretty bad,” she admitted.
He was on the chorus again, his raucous exuberant voice riding it like one of his own bucking broncos.
Golden, rippling suns.h.i.+ne warms me through and through, Each flower has a new perfume since I first met you.
”Bad. He's the worst ever. Thank Heaven, we've got him stopped! There he comes with Jimmie.”
He moved across the deck toward us with that little roll usually peculiar to dismounted hors.e.m.e.n of the plains.
”I _do_ like him,” the young woman murmured. ”He's so strong and gentle and good-natured. I don't suppose he could get mad.”
”Oh, couldn't he? I'll ask him about that.”
”Now I _do_ think you're mean,” she reproached with a flash of her eyes.
”You sent for me, Miss Wallace? Was it to throw him overboard because he's mean?” Yeager asked genially.