The Postmaster Part 25

When I talk that way-it's an old seafarin' habit-most folks usually obey orders. Alpheus set. He started to talk, but I hushed him up and, havin'

filled my pipe and got it to goin', I smoked and thought for much as five minutes.

"Hum!" says I, after the spell was over, "the way I sense it is like this: This ain't any fo'mast hand's job; and it ain't a skipper's job neither. It's a case for all hands and the ship's cat, workin' together and standin' by each other. We've got to find out who's who and what's what, make up our minds and then all read the lesson in concert, like young ones in school. This Frank Windmill critter owes you and he owes me; we're sartin of that. More'n likely he owes Ed Cahoon for chickens and fowls and eggs, and Bill Bangs for milk, and Henry Hall for ice, and land knows how many more. S'pose you skirmish around and find out who he does owe and fetch all the creditors to the store here to-morrer mornin'

at eleven o'clock. It'll be church time, I know, but even the parson will excuse us for this once, 'specially as the 'Sign of the Windmill'

is supposed to sell liquor and he's down on it."

We had consider'ble more talk, but that was the way it ended, finally. I went to bed that night, but it didn't take; I might as well have set up, so fur's sleep was concerned. All I could think of was poor, sick Jim Henry and the trust he put in me.

CHAPTER XI-COOKS AND CROOKS

I was at the store by quarter of eleven, but the gang of creditors was there to meet me, seven of 'em altogether. Cahoon, the chicken man, and Bangs, the milk man, and Hall, the ice man, and Alpheus, and Caleb Bea.r.s.e, who'd been supplyin' meat to that road-house, and Peleg Doane, who'd done carpenterin' and repairs on it, and Jeremiah Doane, his brother, who'd painted the repaired places. Seven was all the creditors Perkins could scare up on short notice, though he cal'lated there was more.

"There's one more, anyway," says Bill Bangs. "That dark-complected woman-the one you call the stewardess, Cap'n Zeb-was sick a spell ago and Frank told Doctor Goodspeed he'd be responsible for the bill. I see the doc this mornin' and he's with us. Says he may be down later."

They elected me chairman of the meetin' and we started deliberatin'. The debts amounted to quite a lot, though the Ostable Store's was the biggest. Some was for doin' one thing and some another, but we all agreed we must see Colcord, the lawyer, afore we did much of anything.

While we was still pow-wowin', somebody knocked at the door. 'Twas Doctor Goodspeed, on the way to see a patient.

"Well," says he, "how's the consultation comin' on? Judgin' by your faces, I should imagine 'twas a autopsy. Time to take desperate measures, if you asked _me_. I never did believe that Frank chap was anything but a crook, so I'm not surprised. I'm with you in spirit, boys, though I can't stop. However, here's a couple of pieces of information which may interest you: One is that 'The Sign of the Windmill's' account was overdrawn yesterday at the bank and the bank folks sent notice. T'other is that Lawyer Colcord is out of town for a couple of days, so you can't get him. Otherwise than that, the patient is normal. By, by. Life's a giddy jag of joy, isn't it?"

He grinned and shut the door with a bang. The eight of us looked at each other. Then Alpheus Perkins riz to his feet.

"Humph!" says he. "Account overdrawn, hey? Well, maybe that Windmill ain't made enough to pay its bills, but it's been takin' in consider'ble cash. If it ain't at the bank, where is it? I'm goin' to find out. And if I can't get a lawyer to help me, I'll do without one. That Frank critter's store clothes are wuth somethin', and, if I can't get nothin'

more, I'll rip _them_ right off his back. So long, fellers. Keep your ear to the ground and you'll hear somethin' drop."

He headed for the door, but he didn't go alone. The rest of us got there at the same time, and I-well, I wouldn't wonder if 'twas me that opened it. I was desperate, and I've commanded vessels in my time.

Anyhow, 'twas me that led the procession up the front steps of the "Sign of the Windmill" and into the dinin'-room. The two waiters was busy.

They had five of the tables set end to end and covered with cloths, and they was layin' plates and knives and forks for a big crowd. 'Twas plain that special customers was expected.

"Mr. Frank in his office?" says I, headin' for the skipper's cabin. The waiters looked at each other and jabbered in some sort of foreign lingo.

"No, sare," says one of 'em. "No, sare. Meester Frank, he is away-out."

"Away out, hey?" says I. "You're wrong, son. We're the ones that are out, but we ain't goin' to be out another cent's wuth. Come on, boys, we'll find him."

You can see I was mighty mad, or I wouldn't have been so reckless. I walked acrost that dinin'-room and flung open the office door. Frank himself wa'n't there, but who should be settin' at his roll-top desk, but the fleshy, dark-complected stewardess woman. She glowered at me, ugly as a settin' hen.

"This is a private room," she snaps.

"I know, ma'am," says I; "but the business we've come on is sort of private, too. Come in, boys."

The seven of 'em come in and they filled that office plumb full. The stewardess woman's black eyes opened and then shut part way. But there was fire between the lashes.

"What do you mean by comin' in here?" says she. "And what do you want?"

The rest of the fellers looked at me, so I answered.

"Ma'am," says I, "we don't want nothin' of you and we're sorry to trouble you. We've come to see Mr. Frank on a matter of business, important business-that is, it's important to us."

"Mr. Frank is out," says she. "You must call again. Good day."

She turned back again to the desk, but none of us moved.

"Out, is he?" says I. "Well then, I cal'late we'll wait till he comes in."

"He is out of town. He won't be in till to-morrer," she snaps.

I looked 'round at the rest of the crowd. Every one of 'em nodded.

"Well, then, ma'am," I says, "I cal'late we'll stay here and wait till to-morrer."

That shook her. She got up from the desk and turned to face us. If I'm any judge of a temper she had one, and she was holdin' it in by main strength.

"You may tell me your business," she says. "I am Mr.

Frank's-er-secretary."

So I told her. "We've waited for our money long as we can," says I.

"None of us are well-off and every one of us needs what's owin' him.

We've called and we've wrote. Now we're goin' to stay here till we're paid. Of course, ma'am, I realize 'tain't none of your affairs, and we ain't goin' to make you any more trouble than we can help. We'll just set down on the piazza or in the dinin'-room or somewheres and wait for your boss, that's all."

I said that, 'cause I didn't want her to think we had anything against her personal. I cal'lated 'twould smooth her down, but it didn't. She looked as if she'd like to murder us, every livin' soul.

"You get out of here!" she screamed, her hands openin' and shuttin'.

"You get right out of here this minute!"

"Yes, ma'am," says I, "we'll get out of your office, of course.

Further'n that you'll have to excuse us. We're goin' to stay right in this house till we see Mr. Frank."

"I'll put you out!" she sputtered. "I'll have the waiters put you out."

I thought of them two puny lookin' waiters and, to save me, I couldn't help smilin'. You'd think she'd have seen the ridic'lous side of it, too, but apparently she didn't, for she bust right through between Alpheus and me and rushed into the dinin'-room.

"Boys," says I, to the crowd, "maybe we'd better step out of here. We may need more room."

She was in the dinin'-room talkin' foreign language in a blue streak to the waiters. They was lookin' scared and spreadin' out their hands and hunchin' their shoulders.

"Ma'am," says I, "if I was you I wouldn't do nothin' foolish. We ain't goin' and we won't be put out, but, on the other hand, we won't make any fuss. We'll just set down here and wait for the boss, that's all. Set down, boys."

So all hands come to anchor on chairs around that dinin'-room and grinned and looked silly but determined. The stewardess glared at us some more and then rushed off upstairs. In a minute she was back with her hat on.

"You wait!" says she. "You just wait! I'll put you in prison! I'll-Oh-"

The rest of it was French or Italian or somethin', but we didn't need an interpreter. She shook her fists at us and run down the front steps and away up the road.

"Well, gents all," says I, "man born of woman is of few days and full of trouble. To-day we're here and to-morrer we're in jail, as the sayin'

is. Anybody want to back out? Now's the accepted time."