Part 4 (1/2)
After some murmuring of expostulation, the invitation was invariably accepted.
There was always a barroom immediately adjacent. Keith was struck by the number and splendour of these places. Although San Francisco was only three years removed from the tent stage, and although the freightage from the centres of civilization was appalling, there was no lack of luxury. Mahogany bars with bra.s.s rails, huge mirrors with gilt frames, pyramids of delicate crystal, rich hangings, oil paintings of doubtful merit but indisputable interest, heavy chandeliers of prism gla.s.ses, most elaborate free lunches, and white-clad barkeepers--such matters were common to all. In addition, certain of the more pretentious boasted special attractions. Thus, one place supported its ceiling on crystal pillars; another--and this was crowded--had das.h.i.+ng young women to serve the drinks, though the mixing was done by men; a third offered one of the new large musical boxes capable of playing several very noisy tunes; a fourth had imported a marvellous piece of mechanism: a piece of machinery run by clockwork, exhibiting the sea in motion, a s.h.i.+p tossing on its bosom; on sh.o.r.e, a water mill in action, a train of cars pa.s.sing over a bridge, a deer chase with hounds, huntsmen, and game, all in pursuit or flight, and the like. The barkeepers were marvels of dexterity and of especial knowledge. At command they would deftly and skilfully mix a great variety of drinks--c.o.c.ktails, sangarees, juleps, bounces, swizzles, and many others. In mixing these drinks it was their especial pride to pa.s.s them at arm's length from one tall gla.s.s to another, the fluid describing a long curve through the air, but spilling never a drop.
In these places Keith pledged in turn each of his new acquaintances, and was pledged by them. Never, he thought, had he met so jolly, so interesting, so experienced a lot of men. They had not only lived history, they had made it. They were so full of high spirits and the spirit of play. His heart warmed to them mightily; and over and over he told himself that he had made no mistake in his long voyage to new fields of endeavour. On the other hand, he, too, made a good impression. Naturally the numerous drinks had something to do with this mutual esteem; but also it was a fact that his boyish, laughing, half-reckless spirit had much in common with the spirit of the times.
Quite accidentally he discovered that the tall, dark Southern youth was Calhoun Bennett. This then seemed to him a remarkable coincidence.
”Why, I have a letter of introduction to you!” he said.
Again and again he recurred to this point, insisting on telling everybody how extraordinary the situation was.
”Here I've been talking to him for three hours,” he exclaimed, ”and never knew who he was, and all the time I had a letter of introduction to him!”
This and a warm irresponsible glow of comrades.h.i.+p were the sole indications of the drinks he had had. Keith possessed a strong head.
Some of the others were not so fortunate. Little Rowlee was frankly verging on drunkenness.
The afternoon wind was beginning to die, and the wisps of high fog that had, since two o'clock, been flying before it, now paused and forgathered to veil the sky. Dusk was falling.
”Look here,” suggested Rowlee suddenly; ”let's go to Allen's Branch and have a good dinner, and then drift around to Belle's place and see if there's any excitement to be had thereabouts.”
”Belle--our local Aspasia, sah,” breathed a very elaborate, pompous, elderly Southerner, who had been introduced as Major Marmaduke Miles.
But this suggestion brought to Keith a sudden realization of the lateness of the hour, the duration of his absence, and the fact that, not only had he not yet settled his wife in rooms of her own, but had left her on the hands of strangers. For the first time he noticed that Sherwood was not of the party.
”When did Sherwood leave?” he cried.
”Oh, a right sma't time ago,” said Bennett.
Keith started to his feet.
”I should like to join you,” said he, ”but it is impossible now.”
A chorus of expostulation went up at this.
”But I haven't settled down yet!” persisted Keith. ”I don't know even whether my baggage is at the hotel.”
They waived aside his objections; but finding him obdurate, perhaps a little panicky over the situation, they gave over urging the point.
”But you must join us later in the evening,” said they.
The idea grew.
”I tell you what,” said Rowlee, with half-drunken gravity; ”he's got to come back. We can't afford to lose him this early. And he can't afford to lose us. The best life of this glorious commonwealth is as yet a sealed book to him. It is our sacred duty, gentlemen, to break those seals. What does he know of our temples of Terpsich.o.r.e? Our altars to the G.o.ds of chance? Our bowers of the Cyprians?”
He would have gone on at length, but Keith, laughingly protesting, trying to disengage himself from the detaining hands, broke in with a promise to return. But little Rowlee was not satisfied.
”I think we should take no chances,” he stated. ”How would it be to appoint a committee to 'company him and see that he gets back?”
Keith's head was clear enough to realize with dismay that this brilliant idea was about to take. But Ben Sansome, seizing the situation, locked his arm firmly in Keith's.