Part 57 (1/2)

”Where _ain't_ I been, you better ask, boss,” he said. ”I seen more rotten cities and more rotten towns and more rotten country than you can shake a stick at; G.o.d A'mighty knows what's the good of it--I dunno!

Everybody I seen was strangers to me, never a face I knowed anywhere; Chicago, Kansas City, St. Louis, Denver--to h.e.l.l with 'em all, boss; old Mount Hope's good enough for me!” And the handy-man shrugged his huge slanting shoulders.

”Don't go so fast, Joe!” Langham cautioned, and his eyes searched the darkness ahead of them.

”It's a risky business for you, boss,” said the handy-man. ”You ain't used to this bridge like me.”

”Do you always come this way?” asked Langham.

”Always, in all seasons and all shapes, drunk or sober, winter or summer,” said the handy-man.

”One wouldn't have much chance if he slipped off here to-night,” said Langham with a shudder.

”Mighty little,” agreed Montgomery. ”Say, step over, boss--we want to keep in the middle! There--that's better, I was clean outside the rail.”

”Can you swim?” asked Langham.

”Never swum a stroke. The dirt's good enough for me; I got a notion that these here people who are always dippin' themselves are just naturally filthy. Look at me, a handy-man doing all kinds of odd jobs, who's got a better right to get dirty--but I leave it alone and it wears off. I'm blame certain you won't find many people that fool away less money on soap than just me!” said Joe with evident satisfaction. ”The old woman's up!” he cried, as he caught the glimmer of a light on the sh.o.r.e beyond.

Perhaps unconsciously he quickened his pace.

”Not so fast, Joe!” gasped Langham.

”Oh, all right, boss!” responded Montgomery.

Langham turned to him quickly, but as he did so his foot struck the cinder ballast of the road-bed.

”Good night, boss!” said Joe, his eyes fixed on the distant light.

”Wait!” said Langham imperiously.

”What for?” demanded Montgomery.

”The water made such a noise I couldn't talk to you out on the bridge,”

began Langham.

”Well, I can't stop now, boss,” said the handy-man, turning impatiently from him.

”Yes, d.a.m.n you--you can--and will!” and Langham raised his voice to give weight to his words.

Montgomery rounded up his shoulders.

”Don't you try that, boss! Andy Gilmore could shout me down and cuss me out, but you can't; and I'll peel the face off you if you lay hands on me!” He thrust out a grimy fist and menaced Langham with it. There was a brief silence and the handy-man swung about on his heel.

”Good night, boss!” he said over his shoulder, as he moved off.

Langham made no answer, but long after Joe's shuffling steps had died away in the distance he was still standing there irresolute and undecided, staring fixedly off into the darkness that had swallowed up the handy-man's hulking figure.

Mr. Montgomery, muttering somewhat and wagging his head, continued along the track for a matter of a hundred yards, when his feet found a narrow path which led off in the direction of the light he had so confidently declared was his old woman's. Then presently as he shuffled forward, the other seven houses of the row of which his was the eighth, cloaked in utter darkness, took shadowy form against the sky. The handy-man stumbled into his unkempt front yard, its metes and bounds but indifferently defined by the remnants of what had been a picket fence; he made his way to the side door, which he threw open without ceremony.

As he had surmised, his old woman was up. She was seated by the table in the corner, engaged in mending the ragged trousers belonging to Joseph Montgomery, junior.