The Law-Breakers Part 11

"Good morning, Dirty," she greeted him cheerfully, as she came up, smiling into his bearded face.

Dirty O'Brien turned. In a moment his wicked eyes were smiling. With an adept twist of the tongue his chew of tobacco ceased to bulge one cheek, and promptly distended the other.

"Howdy," he retorted, with as much amiability as it was possible for him to display.

The girl nodded in the direction of the other onlookers.

"It's wonderful the interest you all take in the building of this church."

"Int'rest?" The man's eyes opened wide. Then a gleam of scorn replaced the surprise in them. "Guess you'd be mighty int'rested if you was sittin' on a roof with the house afire under you, an' you just got a peek of a ladder wagon comin' along, an' was guessin' if it 'ud get around in time."

Helen's eyes twinkled.

"I s'pose I should," she admitted.

"S'pose nuthin'." The saloonkeeper laughed a short, hard laugh. "It's dead sure. But most of them boys are feelin' mighty good. You see, the ladders mostly fixed for 'em. I'd say they reckon that fire's as good as out."

The interest of the onlookers was purely pa.s.sive. They displayed none of the enthusiasm one might have expected in men who considered that the safety of their souls was a.s.sured. Helen remarked upon the fact.

"Their enthusiasm's wonderful," she declared, with a satirical laugh.

"Do you think they'll ever be able to use swear words again?"

Dirty O'Brien grinned till his discolored teeth parted the hair upon his face.

"Say, I don't reckon to set myself up as a prophet at most things," he replied, "but I'd like to say right here, the fixin' of that all-fired chu'ch is jest about the limit fer the morals of this doggone city.

Standin' right here I seem to sort o' see a vision o' things comin' on like a pernicious fever. I seem to see all them boys--good boys, mind you, as far as they go--only they don't travel more'n 'bout an inch--lyin', an' slanderin', an' thievin', an' shootin', an'--an'

committin' every blamed sin ever invented since Pharo's daughter got busy makin' up fairy yarns 'bout them bulrushes----"

"I don't think you ought to talk like that," Helen protested hastily.

"There's no necessity to make----"

But Dirty O'Brien was not to be denied. He promptly cut her short without the least scruple.

"No necessity?" he cried, with a sarcasm that left the girl speechless. "How in h.e.l.l would you have me talk standin' around a swell chu'ch like that? I tell you what, Miss Helen, you ain't got this thing right. Within a month this durned city'll all be that mussed up with itself an' religion, the folks'll grow a crop o' wings enough to stock a chicken farm, an' the boys'll get scratchin' around for worms, same as any other feathered fowl. They'll get that out o'

hand with their own glory, they'll get shootin' up creation in the name of religion by way o' pastime, and robbin' the stages an'

smugglin' liquor fer the fun o' gettin' around this blamed church an'

braggin' of it to the parson. Say, if I know anything o' the boys, in a week they'll be shootin' c.r.a.ps with the parson fer his wages, an', in a month, they'll set up tables around in the body o' the chu'ch so they ken play 'draw' while the old man argues the shortest cut to everlastin' glory. You ain't got the boys in this city right, miss.

Indeed, you ain't. Chu'ch? Why they got as much notion how to act around a chu'ch as an unborn babe has of sh.e.l.lin' peanuts. Folks needs eddicatin' to a chu'ch like that. Eddicatin'? An' that's a word as ain't a cuss word, and as the boys of this yer city ain't wise to."

"It seems rather hopeless, doesn't it?" said Helen, stifling a violent inclination to laugh outright.

Dirty O'Brien was less scrupulous. He laughed with a vicious snort.

"Hopeless?--well, say, hopeless ain't a circ.u.mstance. Guess you've never seen a 'Jonah-man' buckin' a faro bank run by a Chinaman sharp?"

Helen shook her head while the saloonkeeper spat out his chew of tobacco with all the violence of his outraged feelings.

"He surely is a gilt-edged winner beside it," he finally admitted impressively, before clipping off a fresh chew from his plug with his strong teeth.

Helen turned away, partly to hide the laugh that would no longer be denied, and partly to watch the approach of a team of horses hauling a load of logs. In a moment swift anger shone in her pretty eyes.

"Why!" she cried, pointing at them. "Look, Dirty! That's our team; and Pete Clancy is driving it."

The man followed the direction in which she was pointing.

"Sure," he agreed indifferently.

"Sure? Of course it's sure," retorted Helen sharply; "but what--what--impertinence!"

Dirty O'Brien saw nothing remarkable in the matter, and his face displayed a waning interest.

"Don't he most gener'ly drive your team?" he inquired without enthusiasm.

"Of course he does. But he's s'posed to be right out in the hay sloughs--cutting. I heard Kate tell him this morning."

O'Brien's eyes twinkled, and a deep chuckle came from somewhere in the depths of his beard.

"Ken you beat it?" he inquired, with cordial appreciation. "Do you get his play?"

"Play?" The girl turned a pair of angry, bewildered eyes upon her companion. "Impertinence!"

The man nodded significantly.

"Sure. Them two scallywags of yours ain't got nothin' to give to the building of the chu'ch. Which means they'll need to get busy workin'

on it. Guess work never did come welcome to Mister Peter Clancy and Nick. They hate work worse'n washin'--an' that's some. Guess they borrowed your team to do a bit o' haulin', which--kind o' squares their account. They're bright boys."

"Bright? They're impertinent rascals and--and--oh!"

Helen's exasperation left her almost speechless.

"Which is mighty nigh a compliment to them," observed the man.

But Helen's sense of humor utterly failed her now.

"It's--too bad, Dirty," she cried. "And poor Kate thinks they're out cutting our winter hay. I begged of her only this morning to 'fire'

them both. I'm--I'm sure they're going to get us into trouble when--when the police come here. I hate the sight of them both. Last time Pete got drunk he--he very nearly asked me to marry him. I believe he would have, only I had a bucket of boiling water in my hand."

Again came the man's curious chuckle.

"It won't be you folks they get into trouble," he declared enigmatically. "An' I guess it ain't goin' to be 'emselves, neither.

But when the p'lice get hot after 'em, why, they'll shift the scent--sure."

Helen's eyes had suddenly become anxious.

"You mean--Charlie Bryant," she half whispered.

The man nodded.

"Sure. An' anybody else, so--_they_ get clear." O'Brien's eyes hardened as they contemplated the distant teamster. "Say," he went on, after a brief pause, "there are some low-down b.u.ms in this city.