The Jucklins Part 29

"Yes, I mean every word of it. Wouldn't you--I mean, wouldn't the woman who had persisted in having her way--wouldn't she like a home up there?"

In her voice was the musical cluck that so often had charmed me. "She would be happy anywhere with the man who had permitted her to have her way, and I know that she would be delighted to live up there. And you--I mean the man---wouldn't have any of the trees cut down, would he?"

"Not one. He would build the house in that open place."

"Charming," she said. "How sweet a religion could be made of a life up there, with the river and the hills and the island--beautiful."

"Guinea, I wish you would tell me something. Did you ever really love--him?"

"When I have come to you as I told you I would come, you will not have to ask me anything."

"But can you give me some idea as to how long I may have to wait? My confidence in you is complete, but you must know that to wait is painful. Suppose that a certain something that you are waiting for--suppose that nothing should come of it? What then?"

"No matter what takes place, I will come to you. I know that it must appear foolish, I know that I am but vague in what I try to make you understand, but--you will wait a while longer, won't you?"

Her voice was so pleading, her manner was so full of distress, that I hastened to tell her that I would wait no matter how long she might deign to hold me off, and that never again could she find cause to reprove my impatience. She thanked me with a smile and with many an endearing word, and onward we went, the boats pa.s.sing us, the songs of lovers reaching us from above and below. We landed and climbed the bluff, and I selected the exact spot whereon the house was to be; we loitered in the shade and counted the minutes as they flew away like pigeons from a trap, but we could not shoot them and bring them back; so they were gone, and it was soon time for us to go, for the light of the sun was weakening. Down the river we went, singing "Juanita," she rippling the water with her hand, I half-hearted in my rowing, dreamily wishing that the train might leave me.

Close to me at the door she stood. The old man was outside, waiting to go with me to the railway station. She bowed her head and I kissed her hair.

CHAPTER XX.

The sun had just gone down, and a man was beating a triangle to announce that it was lodge-night, when I stepped upon the sidewalk in front of Conkwright's office. The old man was locking his door. I spoke to him and he turned about, and, seeing me, merely nodded, threw open the door and bade me go in. "Mighty glad you've got back," he said. "They are going to bring that trial on right away, and it will be none too soon for us, I a.s.sure you. Let me open this window. Been about as hot a day as I ever felt. Well, what have you got to say?"

"So much that I scarcely know how to begin."

He grunted. "The prelude to an unimportant story. But, go on."

Long before I was done with my recital he sat with his eyes wide open, seeming to wonder whether my reason had slipped a cog.

"Wonderful," he said. "No, it is not wonderful, nothing is wonderful.

The mere fact that a thing happens proves that there is about it no element of the marvelous. It is the strange thing that does not occur.

When it does occur it ceases to be strange. And you say he will be here to-morrow? Now, you let me take charge of him as soon as he arrives. If you don't he will not only get the mine for nothing, but will go away with your eye teeth. I'll go home to-night and study up this question, and by to-morrow night I'll know more about it than he does. Yes, sir, a good deal more, or at least make him think so. You were long-headed in deciding to slip out there and buy more land, and by the way, Parker is in town. No, sir, there is no telling what may happen. See Parker to-night and meet me here to-morrow morning."

I found Alf reading a letter which Millie had contrived to send him.

Under the light of the smoky lamp his face looked sallow and thin, but his eyes were full of happiness. "She's got the n.o.blest spirit that ever suffered, and n.o.ble spirits must suffer," he said as he handed me the letter. "See, she begs my forgiveness for having kept me on the gridiron. But doesn't one letter atone for a whole year of broiling? Ah, and you have been broiled, too, haven't you, Bill? Now let them put the balm on us. The Judge tells me that I am soon to be turned out, and I'll come out wiser than I was when I came in, for I have improved my time with reading. Have you heard from the folks?"

I told him my story, and I told it quietly, but it greatly excited him, and time and again he thrust his hands through the iron lattice to grasp me. "So you will go out not only wiser, but a richer man," I said. "You will not have to go into a field and plow in the blistering heat while other men are sitting in the shade. All our trouble has been for the best, and with deep reverence we must acknowledge it. And soon we will go together out to the old place and peacefully smoke our pipes up under the rafters. Well, I have left you the subject for a pleasant dream, and I must go now to look for Parker. As I said to your father, there is no telling how much money we may get, but whatever comes we share."

"Not if it's very much, Bill. I don't need much; I wouldn't know what to do with it. But if you could only do one thing it would make me the happiest man that ever lived."

"Tell me what it is. It can surely be done."

"Why, if I could only get the old Morton place. It's about three miles from the General's, and it used to belong to his grandfather. One of his aims in life has been to get it back into the family, and if you could get it for me----"

"You shall have it."

"Don't say so, Bill, unless you think there's a chance."

"It's not a chance, but a certainty. You shall have the place. And what a delight it will be to the General to visit his daughter there. Now, don't speculate--let it be settled. Well, I'll see you to-morrow and tell you how it's all to turn out, but have no fears about getting the farm."

I found Parker at the tavern. He told me that I might have a few acres of land down about the spring, but that I would have to pay a little more for it than he had paid. "We can't afford to trade for the mere fun of it," he said. "My father used to do such things and they came mighty nigh having to haul him to the poor house."

I offered him a sum that pleased him, that must, indeed, have delighted him, for he offered to go out and set up a feast of cove oysters and crackers, a great and liberal ceremony in the country; and over the tin plates in a grocery store the transaction was celebrated. I met him again early at morning, and before the day was half-grown I saw our transaction spread upon the records. And at night Ging arrived. I introduced him to Conkwright. "The Judge will represent me," said I, "and I will stand by any agreement he may enter into with you."

"All right," Ging replied. "How far is it out to the mine?"

"About five miles."

"Better go out to-night. Haven't any time to lose. Get a rig and we'll go out."

"Might as well wait until morning," said the Judge. "We can't do anything to-night."

"I know, but by staying there to-night we'll be there right early in the morning. Get a rig."

They drove away and I went round to the jail to tell Alf that the old Morton place was rapidly coming his way. I slept but little that night and I was nervous the next day, as I sat in the Judge's office waiting for him to return. At 11 o'clock he drove up alone.

"Where is Ging?" I asked as the old man got out of the buggy.

"Gone to the telegraph office. Come in and I'll tell you all about it."

We entered the office and I stood there impatient at his delay, for instead of telling me, he was silent, walking up and down the room with his hands under his coat behind him.

"Did you say he had gone to the telegraph office?"

"Yes; said he had to communicate with his partner. Think he must have been somewhat startled at my knowledge of mica; but if he should spring the subject on me a week from now he would be still more startled--at my ignorance. In this instance I have been what is termed a case lawyer."

And still I waited and still he continued to walk up and down the room, his hands behind him.

"Communicate with his partner. Did he make an offer?"

"Well, he hunted around in that neighborhood, but his gun hung fire. The truth is I set the price myself. There is no doubt as to the value of the mine--finest in the world, I should think."

"What did you tell him he could have it for?"

"Well, I suppose we could get more for it, but I told him that he might have it for six hundred thousand dollars. I--why, what's wrong with that offer? Isn't it enough?"

"Enough! It is more than I dared to dream!" I cried.

"Ah, hah. And because you don't know anything about mica. It didn't startle him; simply remarked that he would telegraph to his partner.

He'll take it. He'll give you a check and I'll send it over to Knoxville, Tenn.--don't want this little bank to handle that amount.

What are you going to do with the money?"

"I'm going to buy the old Morton place for Alf, give the old man as much as I can compel him to take, and I'm going to build a home on a high bluff overlooking the St. Jo river, in Michigan. And I don't know yet what else I may do. It is so overwhelming that my mind is in a tangle.

But I am going to give you----"