Part 5 (1/2)
”He referred to the green in his eye and in the moon, as I recall; and to a mysterious 'system'; and gratuitously offered me a 'steer.'”
Her face hardened remarkably, so that her chin set as if tautened by iron bands. Those eyes glinted with real menace.
”He did, did he? Along that line of talk! The clapper-jaw! He's altogether too free.” She surveyed me keenly. ”And naturally you couldn't understand such lingo.”
”I was not curious enough to try, my dear madam. He talked rather at random; likely enjoyed bantering me. But,” I hastily placated in his behalf, ”he recommended Benton as a lively place, and you as a friend of value in case that you honored me with your patronage.”
”My patronage, for you?” she exclaimed. ”Indeed? To what extent? Are you going into business, too? As one of--us?”
”If I should become a Bentonite, as I hope,” I gallantly replied, ”then of course I should look to permanent investment of some nature. And before my traveling funds run out I shall be glad of light employment. The brakeman gave me to understand merely that by your kindly interest you might be disposed to a.s.sist me.”
”Oh!” Her face lightened. ”I dare say Jerry means well. But when you spoke of 'patronage'---- That is a current term of certain import along the railroad.” She leaned to me; a glow emanated from her. ”Tell me of yourself. You have red blood? Do you ever game? For if you are not afraid to test your luck and back it, there is money to be made very easily at Benton, and in a genteel way.” She smiled bewitchingly. ”Or are you a Quaker, to whom life is deadly serious?”
”No Quaker, madam.” How could I respond otherwise to that pair of dancing blue eyes, to that pair of derisive lips? ”As for gaming--if you mean cards, why, I have played at piquet and romp, in a social way, for small stakes; and my father brought Old Sledge back from the army, to the family table.”
”You are lucky. I can see it,” she alleged.
”I am, on this journey,” I a.s.serted.
She blushed.
”Well said, sir. And if you choose to make use of your luck, in Benton, by all means----”
Whether she would have shaped her import clearly I did not know. There was a commotion in the forward part of the car. That same drunken wretch Jim had appeared; his bottle (somehow restored to him) in hand, his hat pushed back from his flushed greasy forehead.
”Have a smile, ladies an' gents,” he was bellowing thickly. ”Hooray! Have a smile on me. Great an' gloryus 'casion--'ic! Ever'body smile. Drink to op'nin' gloryus Pac'fic--'ic--Railway. Thash it. Hooray!” Thus he came reeling down the aisle, thrusting his bottle right and left, to be denied with shrinkings or with bluff excuses.
It seemed inevitable that he should reach us. I heard My Lady utter a little gasp, as she sat more erect; and here he was, espying us readily enough with that uncanny precision of a drunken man, his bottle to the fore.
”Have a smile, you two. Wouldn't smile at station; gotto smile now. Yep.
'Ic! 'Ray for Benton! All goin' to Benton. Lesh be good fellers.”
”You go back to your seat, Jim,” she ordered tensely. ”Go back, if you know what's good for you.”
”Whash that? Who your dog last year? Shay! You can't come no highty-tighty over me. Who your new friend? Shay!” He reeled and gripped the seat, flooding me with his vile breath. ”By Gawd, I got the dead-wood on you, you----!” and he had loosed such a torrent of low epithets that they are inconceivable.
”For that I'd kill you in any other place, Jim,” she said. ”You know I'm not afraid of you. Now get, you wolf!” Her voice snapped like a whip-lash at the close; she had made sudden movement of hand--it was extended and I saw almost under my nose the smallest pistol imaginable; nickeled, of two barrels, and not above three inches long; projecting from her palm, the twin hammers c.o.c.ked; and it was as steady as a die.
a.s.suredly My Lady did know how to take care of herself. Still, that was not necessary now.
”No!” I warned. ”No matter. I'll tend to him.”
The fellow's face had convulsed with a snarl of redder rage, his mouth opened as if for fresh abuse--and half rising I landed upon it with my fist.
”Go where you belong, you drunken whelp!”
I had struck and spoken at the same time, with a rush of wrath that surprised me; and the result surprised me more, for while I was not conscious of having exerted much force he toppled backward clear across the aisle, crashed down in a heap under the opposite seat. His bottle shattered against the ceiling. The whiskey spattered in a sickening shower over the alarmed pa.s.sengers.
”Look out! Look out!” she cried, starting quickly. Up he scrambled, cursing, and wrenching at his revolver. I sprang to smother him, but there was a flurry, a chorus of shouts, men leaped between us, the brakeman and conductor both had arrived, in a jiffy he was being hustled forward, swearing and blubbering. And I sank back, breathless, a degree ashamed, a degree rather satisfied with my action and my barked knuckles.
Congratulations echoed dully.