My Brave and Gallant Gentleman Part 25

"That's just what I was wondering in regard to Joe Clark," I retorted, returning glare for glare. "But look you here,--whoever you may be, you may get off with this sort of language elsewhere, but it doesn't have any effect on the man who is running the Golden Crescent Trading Company."

He tried hard to hold himself together.

"Guess you're one of them new-broom-sweep-clean smart Alicks," he said.

"About as smart as you are civil, Mr. Clark."

"Well, Mister Man, supposin' you and me gets down to bra.s.s tacks, right now. I'm the Superintendent of No. 2 Camp, with a say in the management of Camps No. 1 and No. 3. I own three tugs operatin' on the coast here."

He thumped his fist on the counter,--"and anything I have a hand in, my word goes,--understand."

"You are a lucky man," I answered. "But your word won't go here unless it coincides with mine, Mister Clark.

"Now," I added briskly, "tell me your business, or get out. I have other work to do."

He raised his hand and leaned across the counter, as if to clutch me by the throat, and a terrible paw of a hand it was, too. But, evidently, he thought better of it.

Not that I fancied for a moment that he was afraid of me at all, because I knew quite well that he was not.

He sat down on a box and watched me closely, sizing me up at every angle as I busied myself adjusting some tins on the shelves that were in no way in need of adjustment.

"Guess you think I pay men to take picnics for the good of their health down to this one-horse outfit."

"I have not wasted any thoughts on you at all, so far, Mr. Clark," I replied.

"Why'n the h.e.l.l didn't you fill my order yesterday?"

"Was it your order?"

"'Course it was. Wrote it out myself, every bit of it."

"Well,--you're a rotten writer, Mr. Clark."

"Oh!--can it. What kind of a tin-pot way of doin' business was that?

What was this d.a.m.ned place started for anyway, if not for the convenience of the Camps?"

"I suppose you think I ought to know your writing?" I asked.

"Well,--Mr. Clark, even if I had known it, I would not have accepted the order as it was. My positive instructions are that all camp orders have to be filled only on receipt of a stamped and signed doc.u.ment on the Company's business form for that purpose. And that's the only way goods will go out from here, whether for Joe Clark or for any one else."

"And what if I ain't got an order with me now? Guess you'll turn me down same as you did the others yesterday?"

"That is just what I would have to do."

"The h.e.l.l you would!" He put his hand into his pocket and brought out some papers, one of which he threw on the counter. "There's your blasted order. Get a wiggle on, for I ain't here on a pleasure jaunt,--not by a d.a.m.n sight. I'll be back in an hour for them goods."

"Better make it an hour and a half. It's a big order and it will not be ready a minute sooner."

"Gosh!" he growled, as he strode out, "some store-clerk,---I don't think."

I filled the requirements of Camp No. 2 to the best of my ability, packing up the goods and making everything as secure as necessary for the boat trip. I had the stuff all piled nicely on the veranda and was sitting on the steps contemplating and admiring the job, when the dinghy came back with Joe Clark in the stern as before.

"Hi, there!--you with the breeches and the leggings,--ain't you got that order of mine ready yet?"

"It is all here waiting for you," I shouted back, striking a match on my much maligned breeches and lighting my briar pipe leisurely.

"Well,--why'n the devil don't you bring it aboard?"

"Why don't you come and fetch it?" I cried. "I'm a store-keeper, Mister Joe Clark,--not a delivery wagon. I sell f.o.b. the veranda."

And I smoked on.

He jumped out of the boat and rushed up the beach like a madman. I sat still, smoking away dreamily, but with a weather eye on him.

He stood over me, rolled up his sleeves and contemplated me, then he turned and shouted to his man:

"Hi, Plumbago! Come on and lend a hand with this cargo. No use wasting any time on this tom-fool injun."

To say I was surprised, was to put it mildly, for I was sure a quarrel was about to be precipitated.

Joe Clark and his man set to, carrying the boxes, and bundles, and packages piecemeal from the veranda to the boat, while I smoked and smoked as if in complete ignorance of their presence.

I knew I was acting aggravatingly, but then, I had been very much aggravated.

In an ordinary circ.u.mstance I would have been only too pleased to lend a hand if asked and, possibly, without being asked,--although there was nothing calling for me to do so,--but when ordered,--well,--how would any other fellow with a little pride in him have acted? Still, I must give Joe Clark his due. He made two trips to that dinghy against his helper's one and he always tackled the heaviest and the most unwieldy packages.

When he came for the last box, I rose to go into the house. As I turned, he caught me by the arm.

"Here!" he shouted.

I whipped round.

"Take your hands off me," I cried angrily, jerking my arm in an old wrestling trick and throwing my weight on him at an unbalanced angle, freeing myself and sending him back against the part.i.tion.

He recovered himself and we stood facing each other defiantly.

"G.o.d!" he growled, "but I'd like to kill you. You think you've won this time. Maybe you have, but, by G.o.d! you won't be in this store a month from now. I'll hound you out, or kick you out,--take it from me."

"And I'll stand by," I replied, "and take it all quietly like the simple little lamb I'm not."

I went into the house and closed the door, and the last I saw of Joe Clark that day was through the window as he packed his last box and pushed off in the dinghy.

CHAPTER XIII

A Visit, A Discovery and a Kiss

In the cool of the evening, I came to the conclusion that I had earned for myself the privilege of the enjoyment of a swim, so I threw my clothes on my bed, got into my costume, ran out on to the rocks, dived in and away.