Part 14 (1/2)
”The Indian can beat the Australian, but he thried to sell the boys out, an' if he slackens his gait by ever so little, the b'ys will begin shootin' sthraight before them. An' maybe afther the race, he'd better be runnin' right on into the next county.”
”What next?”
”Next is a jacka.s.s fight, an' then, the race!”
After the billigerent jacks had been led away, Red Pete suddenly took to the brush, accelerated by a fusillade of bullets.
”Welchin' his bets, he is, an' ivery man he owes is lettin' him have it.”
”Nary a hit!” wailed old Jack Horner. ”The shootin' in this camp is a-gittin' vile! Time we was quittin so d---- much pick handlin, an'
a-practicin' up. It's a reflection on the community. Why, there ain't been a Chinaman drilled with a bullet decent an' clean for weeks!”
”They're leading out the horses! Where did that little n.i.g.g.e.r jockey come from? The mare's got more ginger today.”
”Eric, surely your horse can win!”
”I don't know, dear.”
”He must! He must, or--”
”Slick-heels Saul's face is turnin' the color of me native isle,”
chuckled Irish Mike. ”Patty, me little ladybird, 'tis no time to be faintin'!”
”Oh, you can't know--”
”Faith, an' I know more than you t'ink. Bear up, Asth.o.r.e, the darkest hour is just forninst the dawn. Whisht, now! They're off!”
”Here they come! The black is ahead! See, the n.i.g.g.e.r is lying flat on the mare's neck. She's closing up! Oh, they are neck and neck! I cannot look. Eric--The black is getting the whip. Good horse! They are even again! Ah, it is only for a moment. The mare... is over the line, first... It is all ended, life, love, honor, happiness... I cannot belong to that man! My poor old father. Dear old... for his sake, I must. I--”
”Patty, girl.”
”Eric, you are not to blame. You would wager on your own horse. 'Tis but natural. I must accept my fate with what fort.i.tude I can summon. Please take me home. All the people staring. I cannot bear it long.”
But when Slick-heels Saul pressed forward to her side at the boarding-house steps, she was as stately and cold as the snow-hooded rocks of Granite Mountain.
”I have lost everything, but still I hold you to your promise.”
”I made no promise, sir,” she said haughtily.
”'But you will,” he answered meaningly, ”tomorrow.”
”Stand aside!” thundered Eric.
”Come awn,” soothed Irish Mike. ”Not with the lady here, Eric, b'y.”
”Patty, I cannot let you go! I will shoot the beast on sight.”
”That would not vindicate my father's honor. Hush, he is coming. I must remember that I am a Laughton.”