The Land of Strong Men Part 42

"Is that so?" snorted Mrs. Foley. "But, be me sowl, I b'lieve ye're tellin' the stark, naked trut' as ye see ut. That's all the loikes iv yez sees in a woman."

"Soome time," said Gus reflectively, "mebbe Ay gat me a voman."

"Hiven help her!" said Mrs. Foley piously. Gus surveyed her calmly.

"If Ay gat a voman," he announced, "Ay skall gat one dat ent no fule."

"Any woman ye get will be," Mrs. Foley retorted with a meaning which got past Gus entirely.

"Vell, Ay don't know," he returned. "Some vomans is gat soome sense ven dey gat old enough. Ay don't vant no good-lookin' young dancin' girl dat don't know how to cook. Ay gat me soome day a rench, and a gude strong voman like you, and settle down."

Faith smothered her mirth with difficulty. "There's a pointer for you, Angus!" she whispered.

"Mrs. Foley will murder him now," he returned.

"Ye have ut down fine," Mrs. Foley snorted, "an' all I hope is that ye get a woman that'll lay ye out wid a rowlin' pin in life, an' wid a cleaner shirt nor ye have on now, when yer time comes. An' ut's me that's lit candles, head an' feet, for foour men already. Though belike ut's no candles ye'll have to light yer way up or down. Phwat belief are ye, ye big Swede?"

Gus scratched his head and pondered.

"Ay vote democrat in Meenneesota," he replied, "but Ay tank Ay ban socialist now."

"Agh-r-r!" snarled Mrs. Foley. "I mean phwat religion are ye, or ain't ye?"

Gus scratched his head again.

"Ay tank mebbe Ay ban Christian," he said doubtfully.

"Ay tank mebbe ye're a Scandahoovian haythen," Mrs. Foley mimicked.

But the entrance of Faith and Angus cut short her further theological research. Faith explained her wants.

"It's for Blake French, Mary," she said. "He's--well, we thought he might feel better if--"

"Is he dhrunk, bad scran till him?"

"Half," Angus nodded.

"Then, instid of feedin' him why don't ye t'run him out?"

"I'd be glad to, but--"

"No, no," Faith broke in, "he may be better--"

"A bad actor an' a raw wan is that same lad," Mrs. Foley announced with conviction, "an' comin' around here too much. I am not yer mother, but if I was--"

"Please, Mary!" Faith cried, her cheeks scarlet.

"Well, well," Mrs. Foley observed, "coffee an' pickles is th' best thing f'r him, barrin' p'ison. Go yer ways, an' I'll bring ut in whin ready."

They returned to the living room and the society of Blake. He met them with a scowl. He chose to interpret the fact that he had been left alone in the light of an insult. He was surly, glaring at Angus. The coffee, cold meat and pickles which presently appeared did not change his mood.

The liquor dying in him left a full-sized grouch as a legacy.

Angus ignored his att.i.tude. Faith tried to make conversation, but it was a failure. Time pa.s.sed and it grew late. Apparently Blake was waiting out Angus. The latter did not know what to do, but he had no intention of leaving Blake behind him. Finally, however, he was forced to make a move. He bade Faith good night. She turned to Blake.

"Good night, Blake."

"Oh, I'm not going yet," he announced.

"It's late, Blake, and I'm tired."

"I want to talk to you."

"Not to-night, please. Come to-morrow."

"No, I'll talk to you to-night."

"Not to-night, Blake."

"Well, you will," Blake declared with an oath. "Trying to get rid of me, are you? And I suppose this Mackay--"

"That will do now," Angus interrupted. "Be careful what you say."

"Say!" Blake roared, his temper getting the better of his prudence, "I'll say what I like. What business have you hanging around here? It's time--"

"It's time you went," Angus told him, "and you're going, do you savvy?

Come along, or I'll take you."

"You--" Blake began, but got no further, for Angus slapped the words back against his teeth and caught him by wrist and collar.

The struggle was short and sharp. A couple of chairs went over. And then Angus got his grip.

"Give him th' b.u.mmer's run!" shrieked Mrs. Foley from the door.

"Open the front door!" Angus commanded Gus.

When it was open he shot Blake through with a rush and outside released him.

"Now, Blake French, I want to tell you something," he said. "You have a dirty tongue in your head. See that you keep it between your teeth, and mind that never again do you come here drunk. For as sure as you do and I hear of it, I will break half the bones in your body. Is that plain enough for you?"

Blake swore deeply. "I'll get you for this," he threatened.

"Then get me right," said Angus, "for the next time I lay my hands on you I will break you. Remember that."

Riding homeward beside Gus he thought over the events of the evening. It seemed fated that he should lock horns with Blake. He regretted that he had not thrown him out sooner. For the latter's threat he did not care at all. As he looked at it Blake had not enough sand to make his words good.

"Ay tank," said Gus, "dat faller, Blake, he'd do purty dirty trick."

"Maybe."