Galusha the Magnificent Part 62

"Oh--ah--yes," he said. "Is it?"

"Sartin 'tis. THEY wouldn't need to be sendin' anybody to buy my shares, would they? They've bought 'em already. The whole thing is queer. Look here! Why should anybody be chasin' ME for those shares? Why don't they get a list of stockholders from the books? Those transfer books ought to show that I've sold, hadn't they? They would, too, if any transfer had been made. There ain't been any made, that's all the answer I can think of. I signed those certificates of mine in blank, transferred 'em in blank on the back. And somebody--whoever 'twas bought 'em--ain't turned 'em in for new ones in their own name, but have left 'em just the way they got 'em. That's why Raish and his crowd think I've still got my stock. Now ain't that funny, Mr. Bangs? Ain't that strange?"

It was not at all funny to Galusha. Nor strange. The light keeper tugged at his beard and his s.h.a.ggy brows drew together. "I don't know's I did right to let go of that stock of mine, after all," he said, slowly.

"Don't know as I did, no."

Galusha asked him why.

"Because I don't know as I did, that's all. If I'd hung on I might have got more for it. Looks to me as if Raish's crowd, whoever they are, are mighty anxious to buy. And the Denboro Trust Company folks might bid against 'em if 'twas necessary. They've got too much of that stock to let themselves be froze out. Humph!... Humph! I ain't sure as I did right."

"But--but you did get a profit, Captain Hallett. The profit you--ah--expected."

"Humph! I got a profit, but how do I know 'twas the profit Julia meant?

I ought to have gone and asked her afore I sold, that's what I ought to have done, I cal'late."

He frowned heavily and added, in a tone of gloomy doubt: "I presume likely I've been neglectin' things--things like that, lately, and that's why punishments are laid onto me. I suppose likely that's it."

Galusha, of course, did not understand, but as the captain seemed to expect him to make some remark, he said: "Oh--ah--dear me! Indeed?

Ah--punishments?"

"Yes. I don't know what else they are. When your own flesh and blood--"

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, sighed, and added: "Well, never mind. But I need counsel, Mr. Bangs, counsel."

Again Galusha scarcely knew what to say.

"Why--ah--Captain Hallett," he stammered, "I doubt if my advice would be worth much, really, but such as it is I a.s.sure you it--"

Captain Jethro interrupted.

"Counsel from this earth won't help me any, Mr. Bangs," he declared.

"It's higher counsel that I need. Um-hm, higher."

He walked away without saying more. Galusha wondered what had set him off upon that tack. That afternoon, while in the village, he met Nelson Howard and the latter furnished an explanation. It seemed that the young man had been to see Captain Jethro, had dared to call at the light with the deliberate intention of seeing and interviewing him on the subject of his daughter. The interview had not been long, nor as stormy as Nelson antic.i.p.ated; but neither had it been satisfactory.

"It's those confounded 'spirits' that are rocking the boat," declared Nelson. "The old man practically said just that. He seems to have gotten over some of his bitterness against me--perhaps it is, as you say, Mr.

Bangs, because I have a better position now and good prospects. Perhaps it is that, I don't know. But he still won't consider my marrying Lulie.

He seems to realize that we could marry and that he couldn't stop us, but I think he realizes, too, that neither Lulie nor I would think of doing it against his will. 'But why, Cap'n Hallett?' I kept saying.

'WHY? What is the reason you are so down on me?' And all I could get out of him was the old stuff about 'revelations' and 'word from above' and all that. We didn't get much of anywhere. Oh, pshaw! Wouldn't it make you tired? Say, Mr. Bangs, the last time you and I talked you said you were going to 'consider' those Marietta Hoag spirits. I don't know what you meant, but if you could consider some sense into them and into Cap'n Jeth's stubborn old head, I wish you would."

Galusha smiled and said he would try. "I don't exactly know what I meant, myself, by considering them," he admitted. "However, I--ah--doubtless meant something and I'll try and--ah--consider what it was. It seems to me that I had a vague thought--not an idea, exactly, but--Well, perhaps it will come back. I have had a number of--ah--distractions of late. They have caused me to forget the spirits.

I'm very sorry, really. I must try now and reconsider the considering.

Dear me, how involved I am getting! Never mind, we are going to win yet.

Oh, I am sure of it."

The distractions to which he referred were, of course, the recent and mysterious machinations of Raish Pulcifer. And he was to be again distracted that very afternoon. For as, after parting with Howard, he was walking slowly along the main road, pondering deeply upon the problem presented by the love affair of his two young friends and its spirit complications, he was awakened from his reverie by a series of sharp clicks close at his ear. He started, looked up and about, and saw that he was directly opposite the business office of the great Horatio.

He heard the clicks again and realized that they were caused by the tapping of the windowpane by a ring upon a masculine finger. The ring appeared to be--but was not--a mammoth pigeon-blood ruby and it ornamented, or set off, the hand of Mr. Pulcifer himself.

Galusha stared uncomprehendingly at the hand and ring. Then the hand beckoned frantically. Mr. Bangs raised his eyes and saw, through the dingy pane, the face of the owner of the hand. The lower portion of the face was in eager motion. "Come in," Mr. Pulcifer was whispering. "Come on in!"

Galusha wonderingly entered the office. He had no desire for conversation with its proprietor, but he was curious to know what the latter wanted.

"Ah--good-afternoon, Mr. Pulcifer," he said.

Raish did not answer immediately. His first move was to cross to the door by which his visitor had entered, close and lock it. His next was to lower the window shade a trifle. Then he turned and smiled--nay, beamed upon that visitor.

"Set down, set down, Perfessor," he urged, with great cordiality. "Well, well, well! It's good to see you again, be hanged if it ain't now! How's things down to the bluffs? Joggin' along, joggin' along in the same old rut, the way the feller with the wheelbarrer went to market? Eh? Haw, haw, haw! Have a cigar, Perfessor?"

Galusha declined the cigar. He would also have declined the invitation to sit, but Mr. Pulcifer would not hear of it. He all but forced his caller into a chair.

"Set down," he insisted. "Just as cheap settin' as standin' and consider'ble lighter on shoe leather, as the feller said. Haw, haw! Hey?

Yes, indeed. Er--Have a cigar?"

But Galusha was still resolute as far as the cigar was concerned. Raish lighted one himself and puffed briskly. To a keen observer he might have appeared a trifle nervous. Galusha was not a particularly keen observer and, moreover, he was nervous himself. If there had been no other reason, close proximity to a Raish Pulcifer cigar was, to a sensitive person, sufficient cause for nervousness.

Mr. Pulcifer continued to talk and talk and talk, of the weather, of the profits of the summer season just past, of all sorts of trivialities.

Mr. Bangs' nervousness increased. He fidgeted in his chair.

"Really," he stammered, "I--I fear I must be going. You will excuse me, I hope, but--ah--I must, really."

Pulcifer held up a protesting hand. It was that holding the cigar and he waved it slowly back and forth. One of Galusha's experiences had been to be a pa.s.senger aboard a tramp steamer loaded with hides when fire broke out on board. The hides had smoked tremendously and smelled even more so. As the dealer in real estate slowly waved his cigar back and forth, Galusha suddenly remembered this experience. The mental picture was quite vivid.

"Wait, Perfessor," commanded Horatio. "Throttle her down. Put her into low just a minute. Say, Perfessor," he lowered his voice and leaned forward in his chair: "Say, Perfessor," he repeated, "do you want to make some money?"

Galusha gazed at him uncomprehendingly.

"Why--ah--Dear me!" he faltered. "I--that is--well, really, I fear I do not fully grasp your--ah--meaning, Mr. Pulcifer."

Raish seemed to find this amusing. He laughed aloud. "No reason why you should yet awhile, Perfessor," he declared. "I'll try to get it across to you in a minute, though. What I asked was if you wanted to make money. Do, don't you?"

"Why--why, I don't know. Really, I--"

"Go 'way, boy!" derisively. "Go 'way! Don't tell me you don't want money. Everybody wants it. You and me ain't John D.'s yet, by a consider'ble sight. Hey? Haw, haw! Anyhow _I_ ain't, and I'll say this for you, Perfessor, if you are, you don't look it. Haw, haw!"

He laughed again. Galusha glanced despairingly at the locked door. Mr.

Pulcifer leaned forward and gesticulated with the cigar just before his visitor's nose. The visitor leaned backward.

"If--if you don't mind," he said, desperately, "I really wish you wouldn't."

"What?"

"Put that thing--that cigar quite so near. If you don't mind."

Raish withdrew the cigar and looked at it and his companion.

"Oh, yes, yes; I see!" he said, after a moment. "You object to tobacco, then?"

Galusha drew a relieved breath. "Why--ah--no," he said, slowly, "not to--ah--tobacco." Then he added, hastily: "But, really, Mr. Pulcifer, I must be going."