Part 12 (1/2)
”h.e.l.l of a country, ain't it!” he observed in a moment. ”You a stranger, too?”
”I have been here a short time, sir.”
”Thought so. Jest beginnin' to peel, like me. I been here two days. What's your line?”
”I have a number of things in view,” I evaded.
”Well, you don't have to tell 'em,” he granted. ”Thought you was a salesman. I'm from Saint Louie, myself. Sell groceries, and pasteboards on the side. Cards are the stuff. I got the best line of sure-thing stock--strippers, humps, rounds, squares, briefs and marked backs--that ever were dealt west of the Missouri. Judas Priest, but this is a roarer of a burg! What _it_ ain't got I never seen--and I ain't no spring goslin', neither. I've plenty sand in my craw. You ain't been plucked yet?”
”No, sir. I never gamble.”
”Wish I didn't, but my name's Jakey and I'm a good feller. Say, I'm supposed to be wise, too, but they trimmed me two hundred dollars. Now I'm gettin' out.” He groaned. ”Take the train in a few minutes. Dasn't risk myself on the street again. Sent my baggage down for fear I'd lose that.
Say,” he added, watching me, ”looks like you was goin' out yourself. One of them surveyor fellers, workin' for the railroad?”
”It might be so, sir,” I replied.
He half sat up.
”You'll want to throw a leg, I bet. Lemme tell you. It's a h.e.l.l of a town but it's got some fine wimmen; yes, and a few straight banks, too. You're no crabber or piker; I can see that. You go to the North Star. Tell Frank that Jakey sent you. They'll treat you white. You be sure and say Jakey sent you. But for Gawd's sake keep out of the Big Tent.”
”The Big Tent?” I uttered. ”Why so?”
”They'll sweat you there,” he groaned lugubriously. ”Say, friend, could you lend me twenty dollars? You've still got your roll. I ain't a stivver.
I'm busted flat.”
”I'm sorry that I can't accommodate you, sir,” said I. ”I have no more money than will see me through--and according to your story perhaps not enough.”
”I've told you of the North Star. You mention Jakey sent you. You'll make more than your twenty back, at the North Star,” he urged inconsistent.
”If it hadn't been for that d.a.m.ned Big Tent----” and he flopped with a dismal grunt.
By this time, all the while conscious of his devouring eyes, I had changed my clothing and now I stood equipped cap-a-pie, with my hat clapped at an angle, and my pantaloons in my boots, and my red silk handkerchief tastefully knotted at my throat, and my six-shooter slung; and I could scarcely deny that in my own eyes, and in his, I trusted, I was a pretty figure of a Westerner who would win the approval, as seemed to me, of My Lady in Black or of any other lady.
His reflection upon the Big Tent, however, was the fly in my ointment.
Therefore, preening and adjusting with a.s.sumed carelessness I queried, in real concern:
”What about the Big Tent? Where is it? Isn't it respectable?”
”Respectable? Of course it's respectable. You don't ketch your Jakey in no place that ain't. I've a family to think of. You ain't been there? Say!
There's where they all meet, in that Big Tent; all the best people, too, you bet you. But I tell you, friend----”
He did not finish. An uproar sounded above the other street clamor: a pistol shot, and another--a chorus of hoa.r.s.e shouts and shrill frightened cries, the scurrying rush of feet, all in the street; and in the hall of the hotel, and the lobby below, the rush of still more feet, booted, and the din of excited voices.
My man on the bed popped with the agility of a jack-in-the-box for the window.
”A fight, a fight! Shootin' sc.r.a.pe!” In a single motion grabbing coat and hat he was out through the door and pelting down the hall. Overcome by the zest of the moment I pelted after, and with several others plunged as madly upon the porch. We had left the lobby deserted.
The shots had ceased. Now a baying mob ramped through the street, with jangle ”Hang him! Hang him! String him up!” Borne on by a hysterical company I saw, first a figure b.l.o.o.d.y-chested and inert flat in the dust, with stooping figures trying to raise him; then, beyond, a man bareheaded, whiskered, but as white as death, hustled to and fro from clutching hands and suddenly forced in firm grips up the street, while the mob trailed after, whooping, cursing, shrieking, flouris.h.i.+ng guns and knives and ropes. There were women as well as men in it.
All this turned me sick. From the outskirts of the throng I tramped back to my room and the bath. The hotel was quiet as if emptied; my room was vacant--and more than vacant, for of my clothing not a vestige remained!