Part 9 (1/2)
The roll he held up contained two thousand and some odd hundreds of American dollars. ”When I seen how the luck was heading my way I pulled a side partner into the game, for I saw what a chance it was to fatten Miss Lee's hand. He was a-
”What are you crinkling your nose at?” he hotly demanded of Bull. ”This ain't no tainted money. I took it from some sports that had been buying horses from Mexican raiders. Mebbe some of 'em came from this very ranch. Anyway, in default of finding the real owners, who has a better right to their money than the little girl?”
”'Tain't that.” Bull shook his head. ”I was on'y thinking that I'd liefer you tried to give it her than me. She don't look like she'd take easily to charity.”
”_That so?_” Jake regarded him cynically. ”Now kain't you jest hear me a-saying, 'Please, Miss, will you please take this, you need it so bad?'
But is there any reason why she should object to us investing a couple of thousand in horses?”
”No; but she will.”
And Bull was right. When, next morning, Jake, speaking for the Three, made his proposition, Lee shook her head. ”It's only a question of time before the revolutionists run off all the stock. Then where would be your two thousand dollars?”
”In the same box with yours-stowed safely away where we can't spend or lose it, till Uncle Sam makes Mexico pay our claims,” Jake argued. ”The risk we're willing to take, because we expect to buy cheap on that account.”
At that she wavered; with a little more pressing, acceded. And thus by devious ways did the blind G.o.d of chance atone for many a former error, turning evil to good, if only for once.
IX: A PARTY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
”Lady-girl's a-going to have a birthday.”
The remark issued from the blue tobacco reek that filled the bunk-house.
So thick it was the lamp on the table sent forth a feeble golden glimmer that barely revealed the sketchy outlines of the Three stretched at ease on their _catres_. But the t.i.tle ”Lady-girl,” Sliver's especial name for Lee, stamped the remark as coming from him.
”That so?” Bull and Jake spoke in chorus. ”How'd you know?”
”She asked me to write a piece, t'other day, in her birthday-alb.u.m, an'
looking through it I kem on her day.”
”She asked me, too,” Jake admitted. ”What did you write?”
”'Roses is red, violets is blue; sugar is sweet, an' so air you.'”
”A real nice piece, too,” Jake commented upon this cla.s.sic. ”I like it better 'n mine.” Nevertheless, with the secret pride of your true poet, he gave his own:
Under pressure, Bull also admitted a descent into poetry. ”I ked on'y think of a verse that a girl once wrote in my sister's alb.u.m when I was a kid. 'Tain't near as good as yourn.
”My pen is dull, my ink is pale; My love for you will never fail.”
”I think it's pretty fine,” the others commended the effort.
After a thoughtful pause, consecrated by heavy smoking, Bull asked, ”How old is she, Sliver?”
”Rising twenty, be the date.”
”Seems to me we orter raise a little h.e.l.l in honor of the 'casion-if it's on'y to keep her from feeling lonesome.”
”Little bit close on the funeral,” Jake tentatively suggested. ”Jest about three months, ain't it?”
”Yes, for a regular party. My idea was just to tip off the Lovells an'