The Last Straw Part 18

A small man stood beside him. He wore a green, battered derby hat, band and binding of which were sadly frayed. He wore spectacles, steel rimmed, over searching gray eyes. He was unshaven. A celluloid collar, b.u.t.toned behind, made an overly large cylinder for his wrinkled neck.

He wore a frock coat, also green with age, the pockets of which bulged and sagged and their torn corners spoke of long overloading. His overalls, patched and newly washed, were tucked into boots with run-down heels. In his hand he held a fountain pen.

At the entrance of Two-Bits all talk had ceased; at Curtis'

introduction, Two-Bits stopped. He swallowed, setting his Adam's apple in sharp vibration. He took off his hat. He flushed and his mild eyes wavered. Then he advanced across the room, extending a limp hand and said in a thin, embarra.s.sed voice:

"Please to meet you, Mister Beal."

Tom Beck bit his lips but one or two of the others laughed outright; they ceased, however, when the Reverend Beal, in a voice that was tremendously deep and impressive for such a small man, said:

"My brother, I extend to you the right hand of fellowship! It is a deed of G.o.d that enables me to look once more into your beloved face after these years of separation. Give me your hand, brother. May the blessings of Heaven descend upon and abide with thee!"

He shook Two-Bits' paw, looking up earnestly into his face, while the blushing became more furious.

"Marvelous are the ways of Providence!" he boomed. "Let us give thanks."

He doffed his hat, and still clinging to Two-Bits' hand, lowered his head.

"Almighty Father, whose blessings are diverse and manifold, we, brothers of the flesh, give our thanks to Thee for bringing about this reunion on earth. We realize, oh Lord, that these mundane moments are but brief forerunners of greater joys that are to come, that they are but pa.s.sing pleasures; but joy here below is a rare thing and from this valley of tears and sin we lift our hearts and our voices in thanks that such blessings have been visited upon us by Thy blessed magnanimity!"

He lifted his head and honest tears showed behind his spectacles.

"And now, brother,"--in a brusk, business-like manner, "you, too, will be interested in this article which I was about to demonstrate to the congregation."

He replaced his hat with a dead _punk_, held the pen aloft in gesture, drew a pad of paper from one of his sagging pockets and continued:

"Made of India rubber, combined in a secret process with Belgian talc and Swedish, water-proof sh.e.l.lac, this pen will withstand the acid action of the strongest inks. It is self-filling, durable, compact, artistic in design. The clip prevents its falling from the pocket and consequent loss.

"The point is of the finest, specially selected California, eighteen carat gold. It was designed by that peerless inventor, Thomas Edison.

Its every feature, from the safety shank to the velvet tip, is covered by patents granted by the authority of this great republic!

"It does not leak!"--shaking it vigorously. "It does not fail to flow.

It does not scratch or p.r.i.c.k. Follow me closely, men; watch every move."

With facility he guided the point across the paper in great flourishes, sketching a crudely designed bird on the wing.

"See? See what can be done with this invention? How can any mature man or woman do without this article? _Such_ an article!

"This, men, is a three dollar commodity, but for the purposes of advertising I am permitted by the firm to charge you--Two-fifty? No!

Two dollars? _No!_ One fifty? NO! For the sum of one dollar, American money, E Pluribus Unum and In G.o.d We Trust, I will place this invaluable article in your possession. One dollar, men! _One dollar!_

"But wait. Further"--diving into another pocket, "we will give away absolutely free of charge to every purchaser one of these celebrated key rings and chains, made of a new conglomerate called white metal, guaranteed not to rust, tarnish or break except under excessive strain.

Keeps your keys safe and always handy. Free, with each and every individual purchase!

"Still more!"--making another dive into the inexhaustable pockets--"Another article used by every gentleman and lady. A hand mirror, a magnifying hand mirror. Carry it in your pocket, have it always handy for the thousand and one uses to which it may be put.

"Think! This magnificent fountain pen, this key-ring and chain, this pocket mirror, a collection which regularly would retail for from four to five dollars, are yours for one dollar....

"Now, who's first?"

Two-Bits who had watched and listened with a growing amazement, mouth open, Adam's apple jumping, was roused.

"I am, Mister Beal," he said eagerly, digging in a pocket for the money.

"Ah, brother, part of being a Beal is knowing a bargain! Who else, now?"

He sold six of the pens before the big bell at the ranch house summoned the men to supper; then slipped his stock back in the pockets of that clerical looking garment and, grasping Two-Bits by the arm, beaming up into his face, stumped along by his side.

At the table he ate and talked, at one and the same time, doing both with astonishing ease. No matter how great the excess of food in his mouth, he was still able to articulate, and no matter how rapidly he talked, he could always thrust more nourishment between his lips.

"Oh, it warms the heart of a seeker after strays from the herds of the Master to look upon the bright, honest faces of stalwart men!" he cried, brandishing his fork and helping himself to more syrup with the other hand.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, it is written, and I know that when in the presence of such men as you, I am among the blessed of the Father!

I can see integrity, devotion to duty, uprightness and honor in all your faces. Or, that is, in _most_ of your faces. What contrast!"--heedless of the uproar his qualification of a broad statement caused. "What contrast to the iniquitous ways of those who dwell in the tents of the wicked.

"Why, brethren, only last night I stood in the hotel in yonder settlement and watched and listened to the cries of a lost soul, a young man sunk hopelessly in sin. He was a stranger in a strange land, but he had not yet felt the heavy hand of a slowly-roused G.o.d, had not yet become the Prodigal. He had tasted of the wine when it was red and out of his mouth flowed much evil.

"A man possessed of a devil, I am sure, and I spoke to him, asking if he did not desire to seek redemption in the straight and narrow way which leads to the only righteous life.

"'Righteousness, h.e.l.l!' he shouted at me, his face black with unG.o.dly thoughts.

"'That's what I want _less_ of: righteousness! That's what's raised h.e.l.l in me!'

"Oh, it was terrible, brothers! He drank continually and finally they carried him off to bed, cursing and swearing, cherishing bitterness in his heart, which is against the word of the Almighty. A definite wrong was in his mind, I was led to presume, for he cried again and again: 'I'll break her if it's the last thing I do! I'll ruin her and bring her back!'

"I tell you, my fellow men, I prayed fervently for that lost soul through the night. Something heavy is upon him, something tremendous."

"Likely some of that high-pressure booze," remarked one, at which everybody except the Reverend and Two-Bits laughed.

"Goin' to stay long?" Oliver asked.

"Alas, I am not my own master. My feet are guided from up Yonder. To tarry with my dear brother is my most devout prayer and wish, but we have no promise of the morrow. I may remain in your midst a day, a month. I cannot tell when the call will come."

Tom Beck had watched with a glimmer in his eye until the newcomer told of the scene in the hotel. It was not difficult for him to identify the sin beset young man as Hilton and at that he became less attentive to the garrulous talk of the itinerant preacher-peddler. In fact, he gave no heed at all until, returned to the bunk house, the Reverend made a point of seeking out Dad Hepburn and talking to him in confidence.

Dad's bed was directly across from Tom's and he could not help hearing.

"I waited to get you alone," Beal said, dropping his elocutionary manner, "because what others don't know won't hurt 'em, and so forth.

But just before I was leaving town, saddling my mare in the corral, I heard two men talking and it may interest you.

"This outfit uses the HC on horses as well as cattle, don't it?"

"That's right."

"Exactly! One of the men said (they didn't know I was near, understand). 'So there's eight more HC horses gone west.' And the other one said, 'Yes, they was camped at the mouth of Twenty Mile this mornin'. It's easy. They had the horses in a box gulch, with a tree down across the mouth, most natural.'

"Have you sold any horses lately?"

Hepburn glanced about cautiously and just before he turned to reply his eyes met Beck's gaze, cold and hard this time, flinging an unmistakable challenge at him.