Part 28 (1/2)

Bethune smiled. ”You ought to know. I'm a bit of a philosopher, but when you stir my racial feelings I'm an American first. The mean white's a troublesome proposition at home, but we can't afford to exhibit him to the dagos here.” He turned to d.i.c.k. ”That's our att.i.tude, Brandon, and though you were not long in our country, you seem to sympathize with it.

I don't claim it's quite logical, but there it is! We're white and _different_.”

”Do you want me to hire the man?” Stuyvesant asked with an impatient gesture.

”Yes,” said d.i.c.k.

”Then put him on. If he steals anything, I'll hold you responsible and s.h.i.+p him out on the next cement boat, whether he wants to go or not.”

Next morning d.i.c.k sent word to Payne, who arrived at the dam soon afterwards and did his work satisfactorily. On the evening of the first pay-day he went to Santa Brigida, but d.i.c.k, who watched him in the morning, noted somewhat to his surprise, that he showed no signs of dissipation. When work stopped at noon he heard a few pistol shots, but was told on inquiring that it was only one or two of the men shooting at a mark. A few days afterwards he found it necessary to visit Santa Brigida. Since Bethune confined his talents to constructional problems and languidly protested that he had no apt.i.tude for commerce, much of the company's minor business gradually fell into d.i.c.k's hands. As a rule, he went to the town in the evening, after he had finished at the dam. While a hand-car was being got ready to take him down the line, Payne came up to the veranda, where d.i.c.k sat with Jake.

”You're going down town, Mr. Brandon,” he said. ”Have you got a gun?”

”I have not,” said d.i.c.k.

Payne pulled out an automatic pistol. ”Then you'd better take mine. I bought her, second-hand, with my first pay, but she's pretty good. I reckon you can shoot?”

”A little,” said d.i.c.k, who had practised with the British army revolver.

”Still I don't carry a pistol.”

”You ought,” Payne answered meaningly, and walking to the other end of the veranda stuck a sc.r.a.p of white paper on a post. ”Say, suppose you try her? I want to see you put a pill through that.”

d.i.c.k was surprised by the fellow's persistence, but there is a fascination in shooting at a target, and when Jake urged him he took the pistol. Steadying it with stiffened wrist and forearm, he fired but hit the post a foot below the paper.

”You haven't allowed for the pull-off, and you're slow,” Payne remarked.

”You want to sight high, with a squeeze on the trigger, and then catch her on the drop.”

He took the pistol and fixed his eyes on the paper before he moved. Then his arm went up suddenly and the glistening barrel pointed above the mark. There was a flash as his wrist dropped and a black spot appeared near the middle of the paper.

”Use her like that! You'd want a mighty steady hand to hold her dead on the mark while you pull off.”

”Sit down and tell us why you think Mr. Brandon ought to have the pistol,” Jake remarked. ”I go to Santa Brigida now and then, but you haven't offered to lend it me.”

Payne sat down on the steps and looked at him with a smile. ”You're all right, Mr. Fuller. They're not after you.”

”Then you reckon it wasn't me they wanted the night my partner was stabbed? I had the money.”

”Nope,” said Payne firmly. ”I allow they'd have corralled the dollars if they could, but it was Mr. Brandon they meant to knock out.” He paused and added in a significant tone: ”They're after him yet.”

”Hadn't you better tell us whom you mean by 'they'?” d.i.c.k asked.

”Oliva's gang. There are toughs in the city who'd kill you for fifty cents.”

”Does that account for your buying the pistol when you came here?”

”It does,” Payne admitted dryly. ”I didn't mean to take any chances when it looked as if I was going back on my dago partner.”

”He turned you down first, and I don't see how you could harm him by working for us.”