Part 24 (1/2)

”Under mortgage? Not much. Some of your friends jest sejested to Plausaby he'd better pay two debts of yourn. And he did. He paid Westcott fer the land-warrant, and he paid Minorkey's mortgage. Ole chap didn't want to be paid. Cutthroat mortgage, you know. He'd heerd of the railroad junction.

Jemeny! they's five hundred people livin' on Gray's claim, and yourn's alongside.”

”What does he call his town?” asked Albert.

Jim brought his whip down smartly on a lazy wheel-horse, crying out:

”Puck-a-chee! Seechy-do!” (Get out--bad.) For, like most of his cla.s.s in Minnesota at that day, the Superior Being had enriched his vocabulary of slang with divers Indian words. Then, after a pause, he said: ”What does he call it? I believe it's 'Charlton,' or suthin' of that sort. _Git_ up!”

Albert was disposed at first to think the name a compliment to himself, but the more he thought of it, the more clear it became to him that the wors.h.i.+pful heart of the Poet had meant to preserve the memory of Katy, over whom he had tried in vain to stand guard.

Of course part of Driver Jim's information was not new to Albert, but much of it was, for the Poet's letters had not been explicit in regard to the increased value of the property, and Charlton had concluded the claim would go out of his hands anyhow, and had ceased to take any further interest in it.

When at last he saw again the familiar balloon-frame houses of Metropolisville, he grew anxious. How would people receive him? Albert had always taken more pains to express his opinions dogmatically than to make friends; and now that the odium of crime attached itself to him, he felt pretty sure that Metropolisville, where there was neither mother nor Katy, would offer him no cordial welcome. His heart turned toward Isa with more warmth than he could have desired, but he feared that any friends.h.i.+p he might show to Isabel would compromise her. A young woman's standing is not helped by the friends.h.i.+p of a post-office thief, he reflected. He could not leave Metropolisville without seeing the best friend he had; he could not see her without doing her harm. He was thoroughly vexed that he had rashly put himself in so awkward a dilemma; he almost wished himself back in St. Paul.

At last the Superior Being roused his horses into a final dash, and came rus.h.i.+ng up to the door of the ”City Hotel” with his usual flourish.

”Hooray! Howdy! I know'd you'd be along to-night,” cried the Poet. ”You see a feller went through our town--I've laid off a town you know--called it Charlton, arter _her_ you know--they wuz a feller come along yisterday as said as he'd come on from Was.h.i.+n'ton City weth Preacher Lurton, and he'd heern him tell as how as Ole Buck--the President I mean--had ordered you let out. An' I'm _that_ glad! Howdy! You look a leetle slim, but you'll look peart enough when we git you down to Charlton, and you see some of your ground wuth fifteen dollar a front foot! You didn' think I'd ever a gin up po'try long enough to sell lots.

But you see the town wuz named arter _her_ you know--a sorter moniment to a angel, a kind of po'try that'll keep her name from bein' forgot arter my va.r.s.es is gone to nothin'. An' I'm a-layin' myself out to make that town nice and fit to be named arter her, you know. I didn't think I could ever stan' it to have so many neighbors a drivin' away all the game. But I'm a-gittin' used to it.”

Charlton could see that the Inhabitant was greatly improved by his contact with the practical affairs of life and by human society. The old half-crazed look had departed from his eyes, and the over-sensitive nature had found a satisfaction in the standing which the founding of a town and his improved circ.u.mstances had brought him.

”Don't go in thar!” said Gray as Charlton was about to enter the room used as office and bar-room for the purpose of registering his name.

”Don't go in thar!” and Gray pulled him back. ”Let's go out to supper.

That devilish Smith Wes'cott's in thar, drunk's he kin be, and raisin'

perdition. They turned him off this week fer drinkin' too steady, and he's tryin' to make a finish of his money and Smith Wes'cott too.”

Charlton and Gray sat down to supper at the long table where the Superior Being was already drinking his third cup of coffee. The exquisite privilege of doing as he pleased was a great stimulant to Charlton's appet.i.te, and knives and forks were the greatest of luxuries.

”Seems to me,” said Jim, as he sat and watched Albert, ”seems to me you a'n't so finicky 'bout vittles as you was. Sheddin' some of yer idees, maybe.”

”Yes, I think I am.”

”Wal, you see you hed too thick a coat of idees to thrive. I guess a good curryin' a'n't done you no pertickeler hurt, but blamed ef it didn't seem mean to me at first. I've cussed about it over and over agin on every mile 'twixt here and St. Paul. But curryin's healthy. I wish some other folks as I know could git put through weth a curry-comb as would peel the hull hide offen 'em.”

This last remark was accompanied by a significant look at the rough board part.i.tion that separated the dining-room from the bar-room. For Westcott's drunken voice could be heard singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of negro melodies in a most melancholy tone.

Somebody in the bar-room mentioned Charlton's name.

”Got out, did he?” said Westcott in a maudlin tone. ”How'd 'e get out?

How'd 'e like it fur's he went? Always liked simple diet, you know.

”Oh! if I wuz a jail-bird, With feathers like a crow, I'd flop around and--

”Wat's the rest? Hey? How does that go? Wonder how it feels to be a thief? He! he! he!”

Somehow the voice and the words irritated Albert beyond endurance. He lost his relish for supper and went out on the piazza.

”Git's riled dreffle easy,” said Jim as Charlton disappeared. ”Fellers weth idees does. I hope he'll gin Wes'cott another thras.h.i.+n'.”

”He's powerful techy,” said the Poet. ”Kinder curus, though. I wanted to salivate Wes'cott wunst, and he throwed my pistol into the lake.”