Part 9 (1/2)
”Imagination!” he cried. ”There's no one comes around here at nighttimes. You see, this house lies away from the others, and up the hill. Unless a friend's coming up to smoke a pipe with me, there's no one this way of an evening; they don't fancy the climb. Sit down again, Jim. How much do you think you're going to earn on that digger?”
Jim threw himself into his chair again, let his head drop back, and closed his eyes. He already had an inkling of what he would earn. The thought had brought him vast pleasure; for there was enough to pay for his own and Sadie's keep.
”Three dollars, fifty cents, less fifty cents a day for food,” he said, after a while.
”Put it at four dollars fifty,” said Phineas. ”Four dollars fifty cents, less fifteen cents for your dinner. T'other meals you take here. So you'll net four dollars twenty-five a day, and free quarters.”
”One moment,” exclaimed Jim. ”Free quarters! No, Mr. Phineas. You must allow me to pay my way. I couldn't stop with you without making some sort of contribution to the expenses of the house.”
”Just as I should have thought,” said Phineas, smiling at him. ”Any chap with a little pride would want to pay his way: but these quarters are free. The Commission gives you so much a day, and free quarters. If I choose to have a companion, he don't have a call to pay for the rooms he uses; so that's wiped off. Then as to food: if you pay twenty-five cents a day for yourself, thirty for Sadie, seeing that she's only small, making fifty-five, and another ten for general expenses, there'll be nothing more to be said. How's that?”
Jim thought it was extremely fair, as indeed it was, and at once agreed.
The arrangement would allow of his putting by some twenty dollars a week, and at the end of a year he told himself that that would mount to a nice little sum. But again he heard a sound outside, and rose to his feet.
”I'm sure I heard a footstep,” he exclaimed. ”There!”
Phineas was doubtful, still he went to the door with him, and emerged on to the balcony. There was no one to be seen, and it was so dark that had there been anyone they would have escaped detection. They retired again, therefore, to the parlour, unaware of the figure skulking close down at the foot of the veranda. The man--for a man it undoubtedly was--rose to his feet stealthily, and stood there listening for a while, till he heard voices coming from the parlour. Then he clambered on to the veranda by way of the steps, and crept towards the square patch of light which indicated the gauze-covered window of the parlour. Slowly he raised his head till he was able to look into the room. As he did so, the lamplight flickering through fell upon his head and shoulders so that one could get some impression of his appearance. Decidedly short in stature, the man's face was swarthy, while the eyes seemed to be small and unusually bright, quite a feature of the face, in fact. He wore a long, flowing, black moustache, while his chin was covered with a stubbly growth a week old; but there was something about the face which immediately attracted one's attention more than any other feature. It was the mouth. The lips were parted in something resembling a snarl, showing a set of irregular white teeth, which with the lamplight s.h.i.+ning on them looked cruel. A Spaniard one would have said at once. More than that, his features were familiar. Little did Jim guess that the ruffian staring in upon him was one of those who had fought for the boats in the waist of the foundering s.h.i.+p on which he had been voyaging to New York, and that he himself had incurred the man's hatred by a blow which, now that the matter was over, he could not remember having given. But one's actions in the heat of a contest often pa.s.s utterly unnoticed and unremembered. Jim had no idea now that this same man had dashed at him with a drawn knife, and that he had floored him with a straight blow from his fist between the eyes. However, if he had no recollection the ruffian had.
”The very one,” he told himself, with a hiss of anger, as he peeped in at the two unconscious men. ”See the pup. He sits there chatting as if he had no fear, and as if he expected a Spaniard to forget. But I am not one of those; a blow for a blow, I say. I meant to thrust my knife between his ribs aboard the s.h.i.+p; now I will put lead into him. It will be more certain.”
His hand went unconsciously to his face, and for a few moments he let his fingers play very gently about his nose, for that was the organ on which Jim's fist had descended with such suddenness and weight. Even now it was decidedly tender, and pained the man as he touched it. That caused his sinister, bright, little eyes to light up fiercely, while the lips curled farther back from his cruel, irregular teeth as the fingers of the other hand fell upon the b.u.t.t of a revolver tucked into his belt.
”A blow for a blow; if not with the knife, then with the bullet.
He who strikes a Spaniard must reckon with the consequences, and afterwards--pouff! there will be no afterwards. The bullet will end everything.”
Slowly he drew the weapon, and pulled the hammer back with his thumb till it clicked into position.
”What was that?” asked Jim, hearing the sound distinctly. Even Phineas heard it this time, and stood to his feet.
”Perhaps one of the boys is outside; perhaps your Tom, or Sam,” he said swiftly. ”Certainly there is someone; we'll go and see.”
He went towards the door, while Jim rose from his chair and moved towards him. It was an opportunity of which the Spaniard took the fullest advantage.
”Now or never,” he told himself. ”If they come out, my chance is gone.”
He lifted the weapon till it was on a level with his face. Then he directed it through the gauze window at Jim, and, pressing heavily on the trigger, finally released it. Click!
An oath escaped him, for the weapon had missed fire, while the two men within the room had already reached the door. He pulled again, till the hammer swung upward. Bang! There was a deafening report, a neat little hole was torn in the gauze, while the leaden messenger he had discharged struck the doorpost, an inch above our hero's head, with a thud which caused him to start. As for the Spaniard, he did not wait to see what success he had had. He turned on his heel and fled down the steps of the veranda, and out into the night.
”Gee! A shot! There was someone outside then!”
Phineas swung round swiftly to stare at Jim. The latter nodded curtly.
”Yes,” he agreed. ”A shot. There's the bullet.”
He took the lamp from the table and held it up towards the doorpost.
”Just an inch above my head,” he smiled. ”I heard the thing bang into the woodwork, and felt the wind of the shot. Close, Mr. Phineas!”
”But--but who fired it? Why? Where from?”
There were a thousand questions he wished to ask, and only the last could Jim answer. He took his friend to the copper gauze stretching across the window, which was otherwise devoid of covering, for no gla.s.s was employed, and again with the help of the lamp showed him a neat little round hole punched through the gauze.