Part 17 (2/2)

”Have a cigarette?” said the leader, over his pie.

”Thank yu',” said Lin. ”I won't smoke, if yu'll excuse me.” He had devised a wholesome meal, with water to drink.

”Chewin's no good at meals,” continued the boy. ”Don't you use tobaccer?”

”Onced in a while.”

The leader spat brightly. ”He ain't learned yet,” said he, slanting his elbows at Billy and sliding a match over his rump. ”But beer, now--I never seen anything in it.” He and Towhead soon left Billy and his callow profanities behind, and engaged in a town conversation that silenced him, and set him listening with all his admiring young might.

Nor did Mr. McLean join in the talk, but sat embarra.s.sed by this knowledge, which seemed about as much as he knew himself.

”I'll be goshed,” he thought, ”if I'd caught on to half that when I was streakin' around in short pants! Maybe they grow up quicker now.”

But now the Country Mouse perceived Billy's eager and attentive apprentices.h.i.+p. ”h.e.l.lo, boys!” he said, ”that theatre's got a big start on us.”

They had all forgotten he had said anything about theatre, and other topics left their impatient minds, while the Country Mouse paid the bill and asked to be guided to the Opera-house. ”This man here will look out for your blackin' and truck, and let yu' have it in the morning.”

They were very late. The spectacle had advanced far into pa.s.sages of the highest thrill, and Denver's eyes were riveted upon a s.h.i.+p and some icebergs. The party found its seats during several beautiful lime-light effects, and that remarkable fly-buzzing of violins which is p.r.o.nounced so helpful in times of peril and sentiment. The children of Captain Grant had been tracking their father all over the equator and other scenic spots, and now the north pole was about to impale them. The Captain's youngest child, perceiving a hummock rus.h.i.+ng at them with a sudden motion, loudly shouted, ”Sister, the ice is closing in!” and she replied, chastely, ”Then let us pray.” It was a superb tableau: the ice split, and the sun rose and joggled at once to the zenith. The act-drop fell, and male Denver, wrung to its religious deeps, went out to the rum-shop.

Of course Mr. McLean and his party did not do this. The party had applauded exceedingly the defeat of the elements, and the leader, with Towhead, discussed the probable chances of the s.h.i.+p's getting farther south in the next act. Until lately Billy's doubt of the cow-puncher had lingered; but during this intermission whatever had been holding out in him seemed won, and in his eyes, that he turned stealthily upon his unconscious, quiet neighbor, shone the beginnings of hero-wors.h.i.+p.

”Don't you think this is splendid?” said he.

”Splendid,” Lin replied, a trifle remotely.

”Don't you like it when they all get balled up and get out that way?”

”Humming,” said Lin.

”Don't you guess it's just girls, though, that do that?”

”What, young fellow?”

”Why, all that prayer-saying an' stuff.”

”I guess it must be.”

”She said to do it when the ice scared her, an' of course a man had to do what she wanted him.”

”Sure.”

”Well, do you believe they'd 'a' done it if she hadn't been on that boat, and clung around an' cried an' everything, an' made her friends feel bad?”

”I hardly expect they would,” replied the honest Lin, and then, suddenly mindful of Billy, ”except there wasn't nothin' else they could think of,” he added, wis.h.i.+ng to speak favorably of the custom.

”Why, that chunk of ice weren't so awful big anyhow. I'd 'a' shoved her off with a pole. Wouldn't you?”

”b.u.t.ted her like a ram,” exclaimed Mr. McLean.

”Well, I don't say my prayers any more. I told Mr. Perkins I wasn't a-going to, an' he--I think he is a flubdub anyway.”

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