The Triumph of John Kars Part 34

He handed his yarn to me to hand on to you. Get me? I don't know how much there is to it. I can't figger if you need to worry any. But Josh is a wise guy, as well as tough. Anyway, I'm glad you're quitting."

He held out a hand in warm cordiality, and Alec wrung it without a shadow of concern. He laughed.

"Why say, that's fine," he cried, his eyes shining recklessly. "If it wasn't for that darn pile I'd stop right around here. If Pap gets busy, why, there's going to be some play. I don't give a whoop for all the Paps in creation. Nor for his 'gunmen' either."

He was gone, and Murray was standing at his window gazing upon surroundings of squalid shacks, the tattered fringe of the main street.

But he was not looking at these things. His thought was upon others that had nothing to do with the mire of civilization in which he stood.

But he gave no sign, except that all his smile was swallowed up by the fierce fires burning deep down in his dark eyes.

The dance hall revel at the Elysian Fields was in full swing. The garish brilliancy of the scene was in fierce contrast with the night which strove to hide the meanness prevailing beyond Pap Shaunbaum's painted portals. The filthy street, the depth of slush, melting under a driving rain, which was at times a partial sleet. The bleak, biting wind, and the heavy pall of racing clouds. Then the huddled figures moving to and fro. Nor were they by any means all seeking the pleasures their money could buy. The "down-and-outs" shuffled through the uncharitable city day and night, in rain, or sunshine, or snow.

But at night they resembled nothing so much as the hungry coyotes of the open, seeking for that wherewith to fill their empty bellies. The knowledge of these things only made the scenes of wanton luxury and vice under the glare of light the more offensive.

It was the third night of Alec Mowbray's last two weeks in Leaping Horse. How he had fared in his settlement of affairs with the woman who had taken possession of his moral being was not much concern of any one but himself. Neither Kars nor Bill Brudenell had heard of any contemplated change in his plans. They had not heard from him at all.

Nor was this a matter for their great concern. Their concern was Pap Shaunbaum and the pa.s.sing of the days of waiting while their outfit was being prepared at the camp ten miles distant from the city, for their invasion of Bell River. They were watching out for the shadow of possible disaster before the youth could be got away.

Kars had verified the last detail of the situation in so far as the proprietor of the Elysian Fields was concerned. Nor was he left with any illusions. Pap had no intention of sitting down under this terrible public and private hurt a boy from the "inside" had inflicted upon him. The stories abroad were lurid in detail. It was said that the storm which had raged in the final scene between Pap and his mistress, when she quit the shelter he had provided for her for good, had been terrible indeed. It was said he had threatened her life in a moment of pa.s.sion. It was said she had dared him to his face. It was also said that he, the great "gunman," Pap, had groveled at her feet like any callow school-youth. These things were open gossip, and each repet.i.tion of the tales in circulation gained in elaboration of detail, till all sorts of wild extravagances were accepted as facts.

But Kars and Bill accepted these things at a calm valuation. The side of the affair that they did not treat lightly was the certainty that Pap would not sit down under the injury. They knew him. They knew his record too well. Whatever jeopardy the woman stood in they were certain of the danger to young Alec. Of this the stories going about were precise and illuminating. Jack Beal, the managing director of the Yukon Amalgam Corporation, and a great friend of John Kars, had spoken with a certainty which carried deep conviction, coining from a man who was one of the most important commercial magnates of the city.

"Pap'll kill him sure," he said, in a manner of absolute conviction.

"Maybe he won't hand him the dose himself. That's not his way these days. But the boy'll get his physic, and his folks best get busy on his epitaph right away."

The position was more than difficult. It was well-nigh impossible.

None knew better than Kars how little there was to be done. They could wait and watch. That seemed to be about all. Warning would be useless. It would be worse. The probable result of warning would be to drive the hothead to some dire act of foolishness. Even to an open challenge of the inscrutable Pap. Kars and Bill were agreed they dared risk no such calamity. There were the police in Leaping Horse. But the Mounted Police were equally powerless, until some breach was actually committed.

The interim of waiting was long. To Kars, those remaining days before he could get Alec away were perhaps the longest and most anxious of his life. For all the sweet eyes of Jessie were urging him on behalf of her foolish brother, he felt utterly helpless.

But neither he nor Bill remained idle. Their watch, their secret watch over their charge, was prosecuted indefatigably. Every night saw them onlookers of the scene on the dance-floor of the Elysian Fields. And their vantage ground was the remote interior of one of the boxes.

Their purpose was simple. It was a certainty in their minds that Pap would seek a public vengeance. Nor could he take it better than in his own dance hall where Maude and Alec flouted him every night. Thus, if their expectations were fulfilled, they would be on the spot to succor.

A watchful eye might even avert disaster.

It was the third night of their watch. Nor was their vigil without interest beyond its object. Bill, who knew by sight every frequenter of the place, spent his time searching for newcomers. But newcomers were scarce at this season of the year. The arrivals had not yet begun from Seattle, and the "inside" was already claiming those who belonged to it. Kars devoted himself to a distant watch on Pap Shaunbaum.

However the man's vengeance was to come, he felt that he must discover some sign in him of its imminence.

Pap was at his post amongst the crowd at the bar. His dark face hid every emotion behind a perfect mask. He talked and smiled with his customers, while his quick eyes kept sharp watch on the dancers. But never once did he display any undue interest in the tall couple whose very presence in his hall must have maddened him to a murderous pitch.

The clatter of the bar was lost under the joyous strains of the orchestra. Its pleasant quality drew forth frequent applause from the light-hearted crowd. Many were there who had no thought at all for that which they regarded as a _comedy_. Others again, like the men in the box, watched every move, every shade of expression which pa.s.sed across the face of the Jewish proprietor. None knew for certain. But all guessed. And the guess of everybody was of a denouement which would serve the city with a topic of interest for at least a year.

"It's thinner to-night."

Bill spoke from the shadow of his curtain.

"The gang?" Kars did not withdraw his gaze.

"Sure. There's just one guy I don't know. But he don't look like cutting any ice. He's half soused anyhow, with four bottles of wine on the table between him and his dame. When he's through I don't think he'll know the Elysian Fields from a steam thresher. That blond dame of his looks like rolling him for his 'poke' without a worry. He'll hit the trail for his claim to-morrow without the color of a dime."

"Which is he?" Kars demanded, with a certain interest.

"Why, right there by that table under the balcony. See that dude with the greased head, and the five dollar nosegay in his coat. There, that one with Sadie Long and the 'Princess.' Get the Princess with the cream bow and her hair trailing same as it did when she was a child forty years ago. Next that outfit."

There was deep disgust in the doctor's tones, but there was something like pity in his half-humorous eyes.

"He hasn't even cleaned himself," he went on. "Looks like he's just quit the drift bottom of a hundred foot shaft, and come right in full of pay dirt all over him. Get his outfit. If you ran his pants through a sluice-box you'd get an elegant 'color.' Guess even Pap won't stand for him if he gets his eyes around his way."

Kars offered no comment, but he was studying the half-drunken miner closely.

At that moment the orchestra struck up again. It was a two step, and for once Alec and the beautiful Maude failed to make an appearance.

"Where's the--kid?" said Kars sharply.

"Sitting around, I guess."

Bill craned carefully. Then he sat back.

"See him?" demanded Kars.

"Sure. They're together. A bottle of wine's keeping them busy."

A look of impatience flashed into the eyes of Kars. His rugged face darkened.

"It's swinish!" he cried. "It's near getting my patience all out.

Wine. Wine and women. What devil threw his spell over the boy's mother letting him quit her ap.r.o.n strings----"

"Murray, I guess," interjected Bill.

"Murray! Yes!"

Kars relapsed into silence again. Nor did either of them speak again till the music ceased. A vaudeville turn followed. A disgustingly clad, bewigged soubrette murdered a rag time ditty in a rasping soprano, displaying enough gold in her teeth to "salt" a barren claim.

No one gave her heed. The lilt of the orchestra elicited a fragmentary chorus from the audience. For the rest the people pursued the prescribed purpose of these intervals in the dance.

Bill was regarding the stranger from the "inside."

"He's not getting noisy drunk," he said. "Seems dopey. Guess she'll hustle him off in a while."

"You guess he's soused?"

Kars' question startled his companion.

"What d'you make it then?"

"He hasn't taken a drink since you pointed him out. Nor has his dame."

Both men continued to watch the mud-stained creature. Nor was he particularly prepossessing, apart from his general uncleanness. His shock of uncombed, dark hair grew low on his forehead. His dark eyes were narrow. There was something artificial in his lounging att.i.tude, and the manner in which he was pawing the woman with him.

"You guess he's acting drunk?" There was concern in Bill's voice.

"Can't say for sure."