The Man from the Bitter Roots Part 43

There was luggage on behind and--Yankee Sam's voice broke as though it were changing when he announced it--a female and two men!

Was this Uncle Bill's secret? Had he known? They could learn nothing from his face and his mouth was shut so tight it looked as if he had the lock-jaw.

Who was she? Where was she from? Did she have any money? Was she old or young? Delicacy forbade them to go outside and look straight at a strange lady but a dozen questions rose in every mind. Then simultaneously the same thought came to each. Moved by a common impulse they turned and stared suspiciously at Uncle Bill. Could it be--was it possible that he had been advertising for a wife? Luring some trusting female from her home by representing himself as a mining man forced to reside in this mountain solitude near his valuable properties? Ore City knew of cases like it; and he was just about the age to begin writing to matrimonial bureaus.

Speculation ended abruptly. A sharp intake of breath--a startled gasp ran through the tense group as a pair of nimble, yellow legs flashed from beneath the robes and the citizens of Ore City saw the smiling face of Wilbur Dill! They turned to each other for confirmation lest their own eyes deceive them.

Mr. Dill stamped the snow from his feet, flung open the door and beamed around impartially.

"Well, boys--" he threw off his opulent, fur-lined coat--"it's good to be back."

For the s.p.a.ce of a second Ore City stood uncertainly. Then Pa Snow disentangled his feet from the quilt and stepped forth briskly.

"Welcome home!" said the fire-eater cordially.

Dill's return could have but one meaning. He had returned with a "Live One" to take up the options. Hope smouldering to the point of extinction sprang to life and burned like a fire in a cane-brake. Imaginations were loosed on the instant. Once more Ore City began to think in six figures.

Yankee Sam, who had called upon his friends and High Heaven to "watch his smoke," was the next to wring Dill's hand, and Lannigan followed, while the Judge forgot the priceless year of which he had been robbed and elbowed Porcupine Jim aside to greet him. Only Uncle Bill stood aloof turning his jack-knife over and over nonchalantly in the pocket of his Levi Strauss's.

Ore City scowled. Couldn't he be diplomatic for once--the stubborn old burro'--and act glad even if he wasn't? Why didn't he at least step up like a man and say howdy to the woman he had lured from a good home?

Where was he raised, anyhow?--drug up in the brush, most like, in Missoury.

Dill looked about inquiringly.

"Ah-h! Mr. Griswold." He strode across the floor. "_How_ are you?"

Ore City's hand flew to its heart, figuratively speaking, and clutched it. No man ever called another "Mister" in that tone unless he had something he wanted. And no man ever answered "tolable" with Uncle Bill's serenity unless _he knew_ he had something the other fellow wanted.

Had he really got hold of something on his prospecting trip this summer?

Had he sold? Was he selling? Did this account for Dill's presence and not the options? The chill at their hearts shot to their feet.

Mr. Dill tapped his pocket and lowered his voice--a futile precaution, for at the moment Ore City could have heard a "thousand legger" walk across the floor. "I've got the papers here," he said, "all ready to be signed up if every thing's as represented."

Ore City went limp but not too limp to strain their ears for Uncle Bill's reply.

"Yes," he drawled, "you want to take particular care that I ain't saltin'

you. Give plenty of time to your examination. They's no great sweat; I wouldn't sign my name to an application for a fish license that you brought me until I'd had a good lawyer look it over first. As I promised you when you wrote me to open up that ledge, I'll give you the first shot at it, but don't try any funny business. I know now what I got, and I don't need you to help me handle it. I've never made it no secret, Wilbur, that I wouldn't trust you with a red-hot stove."

"I don't see why you should talk to me like this," Dill declared in an injured tone. "You can't point to a single thing I've done."

"I ain't got fingers enough," Uncle Bill said dryly, "and my toes is under cover. It's prob'ly slipped your mind that I was down in south'rn Oregon when you left between two suns; but tain't that"--his old eyes gleamed--"it's what you done last winter--goin' down there deliberate to jump Bruce Burt's claim."

"Ss-s.h.!.+" Mr. Dill hissed, not in resentment but in alarm as he glanced over his shoulder. "That's Burt's father." From the corner of his mouth--"I think he's got money."

Money! The word acted like a strychnia tablet upon Ore City's r.e.t.a.r.ded circulation. Money! Warmth returned to its extremities. It looked at the object of these hopeful suspicions as though its many heads swung on a single neck. He was sitting by the stove in a suit of clothes that must have cost as much as fifteen dollars and he appeared as oblivious to their concentrated gaze as though he were alone in the middle of his ranch.

The strange female was still unaccounted for. Ore City had the tense, over-strained feeling of a spectator trying to watch all the acts in a triple-ringed circus. When she removed her outer wraps it was seen that she was not only young but, in Ore City's eyes, overpoweringly good-looking. Was she married? Every question paled beside this one.

Surely--they looked at Uncle Bill contemptuously--even if he _had_ struck something she would not marry that old codger.

When she walked to the stove to warm her hands if they had followed their impulses they would have jumped and run. The bravest among them dared not raise his eyes two inches above the bottom part of the stove-door though in each mind there was a wild groping for some light and airy nothing to show how much he felt at ease. Something which should be appropriate and respectful, yet witty.

And of course it must be Porcupine Jim who finally spoke.

"That's a hard stage ride, ma'am," he said deferentially. "Them jolts is enough to tear the linin' out of a lady. They does _me_ up and I'm quite hearty."

Ore City blushed to the roots of its hair and there was murder in the eyes that turned on Jim. Didn't he know _nothin'_--that Swede?

They felt somewhat relieved when she laughed.

"It is rather b.u.mpy but I enjoyed it. The mountains are wonderful, and the air, and everybody is so kind; it's a new world to me and I love it all!"

Ore City fairly purred. _Was_ she married? There was a general movement--a surrept.i.tious smoothing of back hair--an apologetic fumbling at the spot sacred to neckties. The judge b.u.t.toned up the two remaining b.u.t.tons of his waistcoat. Lannigan concealed his hands.

The shadow of a grin flitted across John Burt's face, for he sometimes saw and heard more than was generally believed.

"If you was aimin' to stay any length of time, ma'am," Yankee Sam fished innocently, "we kin git up a picnic and show you somethin' of the country when the snow goes off. About three days' ride from here I know a real nice view."

Helen thanked him adequately and explained that she was not sure how long she would remain. "I should like to stay, though," she added, "long enough to see the boom."

Ore City sat up as if she had said, "bomb."

"By the way, I wonder, if Mr. Griswold is here?"

It _was_ Uncle Bill then! He'd ought to be lynched. It was sickening the luck some people had.

Uncle Bill came forward wonderingly.

"Here I be."

Helen put out a friendly hand:

"You don't know me, of course, but I've heard a great deal about you."

"I'm most afraid to ask what it is, ma'am, for lyin' and stealin' is the only crimes I denies."

"I'll tell you when I know you better," Helen laughed, "because I hope we're going to be good friends."

He looked keenly into her face. "I wouldn't never look for any trouble between you and me, ma'am. Shake." He added with a smile: "I ain't got so many friends that I kin afford to turn one down."

"You'll have enough of them shortly," Helen smiled. "I know the world sufficiently well to be sure of that. I hope I'm the first to congratulate you on your good fortune. Mr. Dill has told me something of your luck. He says you're going to be the saviour of the camp."

"I been crucified a-plenty," Uncle Bill replied, with a significant look at Ore City sitting with its mouth agape, "but," modestly, "I wouldn't hardly like to go as far as to call myself _that_."

XXVIII

"ANNIE'S BOY"