The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure
"I'm sorry you can't come in, Mr. Devlin; but I'm just going to bed."
"Oh, that's all right. I'll take a look through your bunk-house. Sorry
to disturb you."
When the footsteps had died away the stranger moistened his lips and
asked, "Why did you do that?"
"I don't know. You are brave, and brave men aren't bad. Besides, I
couldn't bear to send any person out of God's sunshine into the dark.
You see, I don't believe in prisons."
When Llewellyn told the other Wag-boys of June's part in his escape his
story was met with exclamations that would have pleased her to hear, but
the Scrap Iron Kid broke in to say, menacingly:
"Look here, George, don't aim to take no advantage of what she done for
you when you was hurt, or I'll tip her off!"
"Aw, rats!" cried Llewellyn, furiously. "What do you take me for?" Then,
staring coldly at the Kid, he said, "And it won't do her any good to
have you hanging around, either."
June's action toward Llewellyn, and her mode of life, gained the
admiration and respect of the Wag-boys, and although they avoided her
carefully, they watched over her from a distance. Nor was it long before
they found a means of serving her, although she did not hear of it for
many months.
The Dummy came home one night to inform his partners that Sammy
Sternberg, who owned the Miners' Rest, was boasting of his conquest of
June, whereupon Sammy was notified by Llewellyn, acting as a committee
of one, that his lies must cease. Sammy got a little drunk a few nights
later and boasted again, with the result that the Scrap Iron Kid, who
was playing black-jack, promptly floored him with a clout of his .45,
and the Swede who was standing near by kicked the prostrate Sternberg in
the most conspicuous part of his green-and-purple waistcoat, thereby
loosening a rib.
It was not long before the sporting element of the camp learned to treat
June with the highest courtesy, and, since she had been adopted in a
measure by the Wag-boys, she became known as the Wag-lady.
Meanwhile June was prospering. The homeless men who patronized her place
began to intrust their gold-sacks to her care; so she went to Harry
Hope, the P. C. agent, and bought a safe in which to deposit her
lodgers' valuables. Frequently thereafter she sat guard all night over
considerable sums of money while the owners snored peacefully in the big
back room.
When winter closed down June began to see more and more of Harry Hope.
And she began to like him, too; for he was the sort to win women's
hearts, being big and boyish and full of merriment. He had spent several
years in the Northland, and its winds had blown from him many of the
city-born traits, leaving him unaffected, impulsive, and hearty. While
the frontier takes away some evil qualities it also takes some good
ones, and Harry Hope was not by any means a saint. As the nights grew
longer he gained the habit of dropping in to talk with June on his way
up-town. One evening he paused before leaving and asked:
"Can you take care of something for me, June?"
"Of course," she answered.
He flung a leather wallet into her lap, laughing. "You're the banker for
the community; so lock that up overnight, if you please."
"Oh-h!" she gasped. "There are thousands of dollars! I'd rather not."
"Come! you must! I didn't get it in time to put it in the company's
safe, and if I carry it around somebody will frisk me."
"Where are you going?"
"Down to Sternberg's. I'm going to outguess his faro-dealer. This is my
lucky night, you know."
Realizing full well the lawlessness of the camp, June felt a bit nervous
as she laid the money away. In the course of the evening, however, she
gradually lost her fears.
Some time after midnight, when the big front room of the bunk-house was
empty, the outside door opened, admitting a billow of frost out of which
emerged two men. They were strangers to June, and when she asked them if
they wished beds they said "No." They backed up to the stove and began
staring at their surroundings curiously.
It had never been June's practice to forbid any man the comfort of her
coal-burner, even though he lacked the price for a bed, but, remembering
the money in her safe, she sharply ordered these two out.
Neither man stirred. They blinked at her in a manner that sent little
spasms of nervousness up her spine.
"I tell you it's too late--you can't stay!"
"That's too bad," said one of them. He crossed toward the desk behind
which she sat, at which she softly closed the heavy safe door. It gave
out a metallic click, however, which caused the fellow's eyes to gleam.
"That safe ain't locked, eh?" he inquired.
"Yes, it is," she lied.
He smiled as if to put her at her ease, but it was an evil leer and set
her heart to pounding violently. She was tempted to cry out and arouse
her lodgers, but merely flung back the fellow's glance defiantly.
The stranger ran his eye over the place and then said, "I guess we'll
set awhile." Drawing a chair up beside the door, he motioned to his
partner to do the same. They tilted back at their ease, and June fancied
they were listening intently. For a half-hour, an hour, they sat there,
following her every movement, now and then exchanging a word in a tone
too low for her to hear.
She was well-nigh hysterical with the strain of waiting, when she saw
both men lower the front legs of their chairs and rise together. The
next instant the door swung violently yet noiselessly inward and a
masked man with a gun in his hand leaped out of the night. Another man
was at his heels, and they covered her simultaneously. Then a most
amazing thing occurred.
June's mysterious visitors pounced upon them from behind, there was a
brief, breathless struggle, and the next instant all four swept out into
the snow amid a tangle of arms and legs. Followed the sounds of a
furious scuffle, of heavy blows, curses and groans, then a voice:
"Beat it now or we'll croak the two of you! And peddle the word that no
rough stuff goes here. Do you get that?" There was the impact of a boot
planted against flesh, and the next instant June's deliverers had
re-entered and closed the door.
One of them was sucking a wound in the fleshy part of his hand where a
falling revolver hammer had punched him, but he inquired in a thoroughly
business-like tone, "Got a little hot water, June?"
June emerged weakly from behind her desk. "W-what does it all--mean?"
"Oh, it's all right. They won't trouble you no more."
"They came to--rob me, and you knew it--"
"Sure! Harry Hope got full and told about leaving eight thousand dollars
with you; so we beat 'em to it."
"But why didn't you say so? You frightened me."
"We wasn't sure they'd try it, and we didn't like to work you up."
"Please--who are you?"
"Us? Why, we're Wag-boys! Llewellyn's our pal. I'm Charley Fitzhugh;
they call me the Dummy. And this is Thomasville."
Thomasville nodded and mumbled greetings without removing his thumb from
his mouth, whereupon June began to express her gratitude. But thanks
threw the Wag-boys into confusion, it seemed, and they quickly bade her
an embarrassed good night.
Now that they had removed the weight of obligation that had rested upon
them, the Wags became more neighborly. Llewellyn and the Scrap Iron Kid
called to explain that the Dummy and Thomasville had broken all rules of
friendship by "hogging the spotlight" and to express their own regret at
having been absent during the attempted hold-up.
June was eating her midnight lunch when they came, and after they had
left Llewellyn said:
"She didn't have any butter, Kid. Notice it?"
"Sure. Butter's peluk. Rothstein cornered the supply, and he's holding
it for a raise."
"Where does he keep it?"
"In that big tent back of his store, along with his other stuff."
Now, the Wag-boys did nothing by halves. About dusk the following day
the Rothstein watchman was accosted by a stranger who had just mushed in
from the creek. The two gossiped for a moment. Then, as the stranger
made off, he slipped and fell, injuring himself so painfully that the
watchman was forced to help him down to Kelly's drug-store. Upon
returning from this labor of charity the watchman discovered, to his
amazement and horror, that during his absence two men had entered the
tent by means of a six-foot slit in the rear wall. They had brought a
sled with them, moreover, and had made off with about five hundred
dollars' worth of Rothstein's heart's blood, labeled "Cold Brook
Creamery, Extra Fine."
The next morning when June returned to her cabin she found a case of
butter.
A few days later the Dummy discovered a string of ptarmigan hanging
beside the rear door of a restaurant, and, desiring to offer June some
delicate little attention, he returned after dark and removed them. As
ptarmigan were selling at five dollars a brace, he was careful to
protect the girl; he sat on the back steps of the restaurant and picked
the birds thoroughly, scattering the feathers with a careless hand.
Scarcely a day passed that June did not receive something from the Wags,
but of course she never dreamed that her gifts had been stolen. As for
her admirers, it was the highest mark of their esteem thus to lay at her
feet the choicest fruits of their precarious labors, and, although they
were common thieves--nay, worse than that--they stole rather from love
of excitement than for hope of gain, and the more fantastic the
adventure the more it tickled their distorted fancies.
They were most amusing, and June grew to like them immensely. She began
to mother them in the way that pleases all women. She ruled them like a
family of wayward children, she settled their disputes, and they
submitted with subdued, though extravagant, joy. She asked Llewellyn
once about that wound in his arm, but he lied fluently, and she believed
him, for she was not the kind to credit evil of her friends.
Once they had received encouragement, they fairly monopolized her. She
was never safe from interruption, for the Wag-boys never slept. They
came to her cabin singly and collectively at all hours of day or night,
during her absence or during her presence, and they never failed to
leave something behind them.
Reddy was a good cook, but he loathed a stove as he loathed a policeman,
yet he donned an apron, and at the cost of much profanity and sweat
produced a chocolate cake that would have done credit to a New England
housewife. Furthermore, it bore June's name in a beautiful scroll
surrounded by a chocolate wreath, and she found it on her bed when she
came home one morning.
Chancing to express a liking for oysters in the hearing of the Scrap
Iron Kid, she mysteriously received a whole case of them when she knew
very well that there were none in camp. Of course she did not dream that
in securing them the Kid had put his person in deadly peril.
On returning from her duties at another time she found that during the
night the interior walls of her cabin had been painted, and, although
she did not want them painted and although the smell gave her a violent
headache, she pretended to be overcome with delight. In order to
beautify her little nest Reddy had burgled a store and stolen all the
paint there was of the particular shade that pleased his eye.
Now, the Wag-boys pretended to be care-free and happy as time went on.
In reality they were gnawed by a secret trouble--it was June's growing
fondness for Harry Hope. After careful observation they decided that the
P. C. agent would not do at all; he was too wild. He had undeniably lost
his head and was gambling heavily, tempted perhaps by the lax morality
of the camp and the license of good times.
It was the Dummy who finally proposed a means of safeguarding June's
wandering affections.