Lin McLean Part 13

We left him in his triumph among his gla.s.s and mercury. "Gee whiz!" said the Governor. "I guess we'd better go and tell Hilbrun it's no use."

We went, and Hilbrun smiled with a certain compa.s.sion for the antiquated scientist. "That's what they all say," he said. "I'll do my talking to-morrow."

"If any of you gentlemen, or your friends," said a.s.sistant Lusk, stepping up, "feel like doing a little business on this, I am ready to accommodate you."

"What do yu' want this evenin'?" said Lin McLean, promptly.

"Five to one," said Lusk.

"Go yu' in twenties," said the impetuous puncher; and I now perceived this was to be a sporting event. Lin had his wad of bills out--or what of it still survived his bride's shopping. "Will you hold stakes, doctor?" he said to the Governor.

But that official looked at the clear sky, and thought he would do five to one in twenties himself. Lusk accommodated him, and then Ogden, and then me. None of us could very well be stake-holder, but we registered our bets, and promised to procure an uninterested man by eight next morning. I have seldom had so much trouble, and I never saw such a universal search for ready money. Every man we asked to hold stakes instantly whipped out his own pocketbook, went in search of Lusk, and disqualified himself. It was Jode helped us out. He would not bet, but was anxious to serve, and thus punish the bragging Lusk.

Sunday was, as usual, chronically fine, with no cloud or breeze anywhere, and by the time the church-bells were ringing, ten to one was freely offered. The biscuit-shooter went to church with her friends, so she might wear her fine clothes in a worthy place, while her furloughed husband rushed about Cheyenne, entirely his own old self again, his wad of money staked and in Jode's keeping. Many citizens bitterly lamented their lack of ready money. But it was a good thing for these people that it was Sunday, and the banks closed.

The church-bells ceased; the congregations sat inside, but outside the hot town showed no Sunday emptiness or quiet. The metal tube, the possible smell, Jode's sustained and haughty indignation, the extraordinary a.s.surance of Lusk, all this had ended by turning every one restless and eccentric. A citizen came down the street with an umbrella.

In a moment the by-standers had reduced it to a sordid tangle of ribs.

Old Judge Burrage attempted to address us at the corner about the vast progress of science. The postmaster pinned a card on his back with the well-known legend, "I am somewhat of a liar myself." And all the while the sun shone high and hot, while Jode grew quieter and colder under the certainty of victory. It was after twelve o'clock when the people came from church, and no change or sign was to be seen. Jode told us, with a chill smile, that he had visited his instruments and found no new indications. Fifteen minutes after that the sky was brown. Sudden, padded, dropsical clouds were born in the blue above our heads. They blackened, and a smart shower, the first in two months, wet us all, and ceased. The sun blazed out, and the sky came blue again, like those rapid, unconvincing weather changes of the drama.

Amazement at what I saw happening in the heavens took me from things on earth, and I was unaware of the universal fit that now seized upon Cheyenne until I heard the high cry of Jode at my ear. His usual punctilious bearing had forsaken him, and he shouted alike to stranger and acquaintance: "It is no half-inch, sir! Don't you tell me"' And the crowd would swallow him, but you could mark his vociferous course as he went proclaiming to the world. "A failure, sir! The fellow's an impostor, as I well knew. It's no half-inch!" Which was true.

"What have you got to say to that?" we asked Hilbrun, swarming around him.

"If you'll just keep cool," said he--"it's only the first instalment. In about two hours and a half I'll give you the rest."

Soon after four the dropsical clouds materialized once again above open-mouthed Cheyenne. No school let out for an unexpected holiday, no herd of stampeded range cattle, conducts itself more miscellaneously.

Gray, respectable men, with daughters married, leaped over fences and sprang back, prominent legislators hopped howling up and down door-steps, women waved handkerchiefs from windows and porches, the chattering Jode flew from anemometer to rain-gauge, and old Judge Burrage apostrophized Providence in his front yard, with the postmaster's label still pinned to his back. n.o.body minded the sluicing downpour--this second instalment was much more of a thing than the first--and Hilbrun alone kept a calm exterior--the face of the man who lifts a heavy dumb-bell and throws an impressive glance at the audience.

a.s.sistant Lusk was by no means thus proof against success I saw him put a bottle back in his pocket, his face already disintegrated with a tipsy leer. Judge Burrage, perceiving the rain-maker, came out of his gate and proceeded toward him, extending the hand of congratulation. "Mr.

Hilbrun," said he, "I am Judge Burrage--the Honorable T. Coleman Burrage--and I will say that I am most favorably impressed with your shower."

"His shower!" yelped Jode, flouris.h.i.+ng measurements.

"Why, yu' don't claim it's yourn, do yu'?" said Lin McLean, grinning.

"I tell you it's no half-inch yet, gentlemen," said Jode, ignoring the facetious puncher.

"You're mistaken," said Hilbrun, sharply.

"It's a plumb big show, half-inch or no half-inch," said Lin.

"If he's short he don't get his money," said some ign.o.ble subscriber

"Yes, he will," said the Governor, "or I'm a short. He's earned it."

"You bet "' said Lin. "Fair and square. If they're goin' back on yu', doctor, I'll chip--Shucks!" Lin's hand fell from the empty pocket; he remembered his wad in the stake-holder's hands, and that he now possessed possibly two dollars in silver, all told. "I can't chip in, doctor," he said. "That hobo over there has won my cash, an' he's filling up on the prospect right now. I don't care! It's the biggest show I've ever saw. You're a dandy, Mr. Hilbrun! Whoop!" And Lin clapped the rain-maker on the shoulder, exulting. He had been too well entertained to care what he had in his pocket, and his wife had not yet occurred to him.

They were disputing about the rainfall, which had been slightly under half an inch in a few spots, but over it in many others; and while we stood talking in the renewed sunlight, more telegrams were brought to Jode, saying that there was no moisture anywhere, and simultaneously with these, riders dashed into town with the news that twelve miles out the rain had flattened the grain crop. We had more of such reports from as far as thirty miles, and beyond that there had not been a drop or a cloud. It staggered one's reason; the brain was numb with surprise.

"Well, gentlemen," said the rain-maker, "I'm packed up, and my train'll be along soon--would have been along by this, only it's late. What's the word as to my three hundred and fifty dollars?"

Even still there were objections expressed. He had not entirely performed his side of the contract.

"I think different, gentlemen," said he. "But I'll unpack and let that train go. I can't have the law on you, I suppose. But if you don't pay me" (the rain-maker put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the fence) "I'll flood your town."

In earthquakes and eruptions people end by expecting anything; and in the total eclipse that was now over all Cheyenne's ordinary standards and precedents the bewildered community saw in this threat nothing more unusual than if he had said twice two made four. The purse was handed over.

"I'm obliged," said Hilbrun, simply.

"If I had foreseen, gentlemen," said Jode, too deeply grieved now to feel anger, "that I would even be indirectly a.s.sociated with your losing your money through this--this absurd occurrence, I would have declined to help you. It becomes my duty," he continued, turning coldly to the inebriated Lusk, "to hand this to you, sir." And the a.s.sistant lurchingly stuffed his stakes away.

"It's worth it," said Lin. "He's welcome to my cash."

"What's that you say, Lin McLean?" It was the biscuit-shooter, and she surged to the front.

"I'm broke. He's got it. That's all," said Lin, briefly.

"Broke! You!" She glared at her athletic young lord, and she uttered a preliminary howl.

At that long-lost cry Lusk turned his silly face. "It's my darling Kate," he said. "Why, Kate!"

The next thing that I knew Ogden and I were grappling with Lin McLean; for everything had happened at once. The bride had swooped upon her first wedded love and burst into tears on the man's neck, which Lin was trying to break in consequence. We do not always recognize our benefactors at sight. They all came to the ground, and we hauled the second husband off. The lady and Lusk remained in a heap, he foolish, tearful, and affectionate; she turned furiously at bay, his guardian angel, indifferent to the onlooking crowd, and hurling righteous defiance at Lin. "Don't yus dare lay yer finger on my husband, you sage-brush bigamist!" is what the marvelous female said.

"Bigamist?" repeated Lin, dazed at this charge. "I ain't," he said to Ogden and me. "I never did. I've never married any of 'em before her."

"Little good that'll do yus, Lin McLean! Me and him was man and wife before ever I come acrosst yus."

"You and him?" murmured the puncher.

"Her and me," whimpered Lusk. "Sidney." He sat up with a limp, confiding stare at everybody.

"Sidney who?" said Lin.

"No, no," corrected Lusk, crossly--"Sidney, Nebraska."

The stakes at this point fell from his pocket which he did not notice.

But the bride had them in safe-keeping at once.

"Who are yu', anyway--when yu' ain't drunk?" demanded Lin.

"He's as good a man as you, and better," snorted the guardian angel.

"Give him a pistol, and he'll make you hard to find."

"Well, you listen to me, Sidney Nebraska--" Lin began.

"No, no," corrected Lusk once more, as a distant whistle blew--"Jim."

"Good-bye, gentlemen," said the rain-maker. "That's the west-bound. I'm perfectly satisfied with my experiment here, and I'm off to repeat it at Salt Lake City."