The Dude Wrangler Part 21

"Well, I ain't!" declared Rufus, unnecessarily bellicose. "A contract is a contract and I got you in writin'."

Wallie could not deny it and subsided meekly, putting a ham on to boil with a cabbage while Rufus smoked until he was ready to a.s.sist him.

"If they's anything I like it's a good mess of ham and cabbage," he observed.

"I am glad to have found something to stimulate your appet.i.te--it's worried me," replied Wallie. But his sarcasm was wasted on Rufus who arose, yawning, when Wallie indicated that he was ready.

Turning the windla.s.s according to instructions, Wallie deposited Rufus in the bottom. Then at intervals he hoisted the bucket which Rufus filled in leisurely fashion, and emptied it, performing the two men's work easily.

Wallie went down occasionally to stoke the fire, and upon his return reported so favourably upon the ham and cabbage that Rufus took to consulting his watch rather frequently after ten-thirty.

"I'll quit at 'leven," he informed Wallie, "and that'll give you plenty of time to make a batch of biscuit and get dinner."

Wallie agreed with him that it was an excellent idea and promptly at eleven pulled up the bucket of dirt which was to be the last one.

When it did not come down immediately, Rufus called to him:

"Hi! I'm ready! Get a move on, for I'm starvin'."

There was no response at the opening.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded, impatiently.

The echo of his own voice answered him. Slightly alarmed he called louder:

"Macpherson! What's happened to ye?"

Still no answer.

Distinctly nervous, Rufus shouted at the top of his lungs for Wallie and the bucket, breaking into a perspiration at the continued silence.

Was he sick? Fainted? Dead? Many things that could occur came to Reed as he halloed futilely.

When one o'clock came he was hoa.r.s.e from yelling and sick with fear at his predicament. His imagination painted gruesome pictures as he sweated. He saw himself weak and emaciated, dying slowly of starvation, collapsing, finally to lie undiscovered for days, weeks maybe. The memory of a field mouse that had fallen into a pit haunted him, its futile, frantic struggles to scale the steep sides, and he remembered that when he had pa.s.sed that way again he had looked and found it dead in the bottom. He wished now that he had rescued it.

His suffering would be worse than that of the field mouse, for he had the intelligence to know that it was useless to struggle, that there was no hope for him unless someone came to his a.s.sistance. And merciful heavens, how hungry he was at only an hour past his dinner time; what would his sensations be at an hour past his supper time or at one o'clock to-morrow? He made a sound like someone groaning in a rain barrel as he thought of the ham and cabbage boiling dry in the cabin.

It made the back of his neck ache to watch the opening of his prison and the patch of blue sky, from which he prayed, vaguely, that a rope ladder might descend to rescue him. So he sat down finally with his back against the side of the well, his knees to his chin, and his head bowed, to await the inevitable.

When three o'clock came he could no longer doubt but that some accident had befallen Wallie. He had given up hope and endeavoured to resign himself to the fate awaiting him. Remorse mingled with the pangs of hunger and the cold fear of dying which was upon him. He wondered if this torturing end was a judgment sent upon him. He could scarcely doubt it.

But if by some miracle he got out--if the Lord saw fit to save him--he would be a different man. The Almighty had his word for it. Still sitting with his back against the wall and his cramped legs extended in front of him, Rufus rolled his eyes in supplication to the circular blue s.p.a.ce above him and registered this vow with all the fervour and sincerity of which he was capable.

He moved uneasily. He was vaguely conscious of a dampness. He felt mechanically of that section of his overalls upon which he was sitting.

He sprang to his feet with an exclamation and looked at the spot he had occupied. Moisture! A seepage! Water! His eyes grew big with horror.

Even as he looked with dilating pupils he could see the earth darken with the spreading moisture. He had sunk too many wells not to know what it portended. Not only his days but his hours perhaps were numbered. If it was alkali, it would seep in slowly and prolong his agony, if it were not, it would come faster. He would die literally in a grave of his own digging.

He sat down again because his shaking legs refused to support him, and leaned his head against the side for the same reason. Rufus was no hero and there was no need to pretend to be, drowning by himself like a rat in a bucket.

As he leaned there, nauseated, he caught a sound, or thought so, which increased the sinking sensation, the feeling of collapse that overwhelmed him. He took off his hat and laid his ear against the wall to be sure of it. He had not been mistaken. His time on earth was shorter even than he had imagined. The sound he had heard was the rumble of a subterranean current that would soon break through, flowing faster and faster as the opening enlarged until it came with a gush, finally.

He could visualize it because he had seen it happen. It would rise to his ankles, his knees, his armpits, then cover him, and he would go to his final punishment by the last route he ever had pictured!

Rufus got on his knees in an att.i.tude of prayer and supplication. The cracked remnants of his stentorian voice he used to the utmost advantage. No Methodist exhorter ever prayed with more pa.s.sionate fervour, and he could not in a lifetime have kept the promises he made to his Maker if only He would release him from the trap into which he had gotten himself through his own evil doing.

"Lord, it was wrong for me to take that $150, but Canby tempted me. I needed the money or I don't know as I would have done it. If You'll jest get me out of this, Lord, all the rest of my life I'll do what I can for You! I'll go to church--I'll give to the heathen--I'll stop takin' Your name in vain, and say my prayers reg'lar! Oh, Lord! Once I stole a halter and I ask Your forgiveness. And I left a neighbour's gate open on purpose so the stock got into his cornfield, but I ain't a bad man naturally, and this is the first real crookedness I ever done intentionally. Lord," he pleaded, "hear my humble prayer and send somebody!"

At the top of the well Wallie had his suspicions verified. So Canby had laid one more straw on the camel's back to break it!

Any compunctions of conscience he might have had for putting Rufus through such mental anguish vanished.

Leaning over the edge of the well, he called down cheerily:

"How you making it?"

Wallie's voice sounded like the voice of an angel to the prisoner.

Relief and joy beyond description filled him. Hoa.r.s.e as a bullfrog, he quavered:

"In Mercy's name let me out of here, Macpherson!"

"You're all right where you are, Rufus," Wallie answered. "When you're down there you are out of mischief."

"I'm hungry--I'm starvin'----"

"I don't know when I've eaten such a ham, tender, a delicious flavour, and just enough fat on it--I thought of you all through dinner, Rufus."

"We've struck water--a big flow--I can hear it--it'll break through any minute!"

"That's fine! Splendid!"

"You don't understand!" Rufus cried, desperately. "I'm liable to be drowned before you can h'ist me out of here. I can heard it roar--like a cloudburst!"

"Tell me about that deal between you and Canby," Wallie suggested.

"Let down the bucket!" Rufus chattered.

"Couldn't think of it. My eyeteeth are coming through and I don't like to interrupt 'em."

"I'll make a clean breast of it."

"I don't want to pollute my well unless I have to, but that's the only way you'll get out of there," Wallie told him, grimly.

"Canby's out to break you in one way and another. He thought there was no water over here and he paid me to talk you into diggin' for it. He seen me and my boys eat one day in the mess house and he said 'twould break the Bank of England to board us, so he wanted that clause in the contract, and after sixty-eight feet he paid us, besides a hundred and fifty dollars bonus. I done wrong, Mr. Macpherson, and I freely admit it!"

"And you like my cooking, Rufus? You like your food highly seasoned with plenty of soda in the pancakes and dough-goods?"

"Yes, Mr. Macpherson," whined Rufus. "I never complained about your cookin', I've nothin' against you personal, and I'll knock off somethin'

on the bill for bringin' in water if you'll jest let down that----" A screech finished the sentence. Then:

"C-r-rr-ripes! She's busted through! She's comin' like a river!"