A Breath of Prairie and other stories Part 12

Though easily the centre of attention, the couple were far from being alone. On the contrary, the car and platform fairly swarmed with humanity. Men mostly composed the throng that alighted--big, weather-stained fellows in rough jeans and denims. In the background, as spectators moved or lounged a sprinkling of others: thinner, lighter, enveloped in felt, woollen and buckskin, a fringe of heavy hair peeping out at their backs beneath the broad hat-brims. A few women were intermingled. Coa.r.s.ely gowned, sun-browned, they stood; themselves like suns, but each the centre of a system of bleach-haired minor satellites. It was into this heterogeneous ma.s.s that the tall man elbowed his way, a neat grip in either hand; the woman following closely in his wake, her skirts carefully lifted.

Clear of the out-flowing stream the man put down the satchels, and looked over the heads of the motley crowd into the still more motley street beyond. Two short rows of one-story buildings, distinctive by the brightness of new lumber on their sheltered side, bordered a narrow street, half clogged by the teams of visiting farmers. Not the faintest clue to a hostelry was visible, and the eyes of the man wandered back, interrupting by the way another pair of eyes frankly inquisitive.

The curious one was short; by comparison his face was still shorter, and round. From his chin a tiny tuft of whiskers protruded, like the handle of a gourd. Never was countenance more unmistakably labelled good-humored, Americanized German.

The eyes of the tall man stopped.

"Is there a hotel in this"--he groped for a cla.s.sification--"this city?" he asked.

A rattling sound, startlingly akin to the agitated contents of over-ripe vegetables, came from somewhere in the internal mechanism of the small man. Inferentially, the inquiry was amusing to the questioned, likewise the immediately surrounding listeners who became suddenly silent, gazing at the stranger with the wonder of young calves.

At length the innate spirit of courtesy in the German triumphed over his amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Hans Becher up by the postoffice takes folks in." The inward commotion showed indications of resumption. "I never heard, though, that he called his place a hotel!"

"Thank you," and the circle of silence widened.

The man and the woman walked up the street. Beneath their feet the cottonwood sidewalk, despite its newness, was warped in agony under sun and storm. Big puddles of water from a recent rain stood in the hollows of the roadway, side by side with tufts of native gra.s.ses fighting bravely for life against the intruder--Man. A fresh, indescribable odor was in their nostrils; an odor which puzzled them then, but which later they learned to recognize and never forgot--the pungent scent of buffalo gra.s.s. A stillness, deeper than of Sabbath, unbelievable to urban ears, wrapped all things, and united with an absence of broken sky line, to produce an all-pervading sense of loneliness.

Hans Becher did not belie his name. He was very German. Likewise the little woman who courtesied at his side. Ditto the choice a.s.sortment of inquisitive tow-heads, who stared wide-eyed from various corners.

He shook hands at the door with each of his guests,--which action also was unmistakably German.

"You would in my house--put up, you call it?" he inquired in labored English, while the little woman polished two speckless chairs with her ap.r.o.n, and with instinctive photographic art placed them stiffly side by side for the visitors.

"Yes, we'd like to stay with you for a time," corroborated the tall man.

The little German ran his fingers uncertainly through his hair for a moment; then his round face beamed.

"We should then become to each other known. Is it not so?" Without pausing for an answer, he put out a big hand to each in turn. "I am Hans Becher, and this"--with elaborate indications--"this my wife is--Minna."

Minna courtesied dutifully, lower than before. The little Bechers were not cla.s.sified, but their connection was apparent. They calmly sucked their thumbs.

The lords of creation obviously held the rostrum. It was the tall man who responded.

"My name is Maurice, Ichabod Maurice." He looked at the woman, his companion, from the corner of his eye. "Allow me, Camilla, to present Mr. Becher." Then turning to his hosts, "Camilla Maurice: Mr. and Mrs.

Becher."

The tall lady shook hands with each.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, and smiled a moment into their eyes.

Thus Camilla Maurice made friends.

There were a few low-spoken words in German and Minna vanished.

"She will dinner make ready," Hans explained.

The visitors sat down in their chairs, with Hans opposite studying them narrowly; singly and together.

"The town is very new," suggested Ichabod.

"One year ago it was not." The German's short legs crossed each other nervously and their owner seized the opportunity to make further inspection. "It is very new," he repeated absently.

Camilla Maurice stood up.

"Might we wash, Mr. Becher?" she asked.

The ultimate predicament was all at once staring the little man in the face.

"To be sure.... I might have known.... You will a room--desire." ...

He ran his fingers through his hair, and inspiration came. "Mr.

Maurice," he motioned, "might I a moment with you--speak?"

"Certainly, Mr. Becher."

The German saw light, and fairly beamed as he sought the safe seclusion of the doorway.

"She is your sister or cousin--_nein_?" he asked.

There was the faintest suggestion of a smile in the corners of Ichabod's mouth.

"No, she is neither my sister nor my cousin, Mr. Becher."

Hans heaved a sigh of relief: it had been a close corner.

"She is your wife. One must know," and he mopped his brow.

"Certainly--one must know," very soberly.

Alone together in the little unfinished room under the rafters, the woman sat down on the corner of the bed, physical discomfort forgotten in feminine curiosity.

"Those names--where did you get them?" she queried.

"They came to me--at the moment," smiled the man.

"But the cold-blooded horror of them!... Ichabod!"

"The glory has departed."

His companion started, and the smile left the man's face.

"And Camilla?"--slowly.

"Attendant at a sacrifice."

Of a sudden the room became very still.

Ichabod, exploring, discovered a tiny wash basin and a bucket of water.