The Twins of Suffering Creek Part 15

Vada nodded.

"Lots an' lots."

"That's to-morrow," said Sunny, taking his cue wonderingly.

"Poppa ain't back neither," protested Vada.

"He's gone visitin'," said Sunny. "Maybe he'll be late. Guess he's havin' a hand at poker down at the store."

Sunny was getting uncomfortably hot. Lies came easily enough to him in the ordinary way, but with these poor children it was somehow different.

"Poppa don't play poker," defended Vada. "On'y wicked men does."

"'Ess," agreed Jamie.

"That's so." Sunny felt himself on dangerous ground.

He smoked on thoughtfully for some moments. He felt that a desperate move was required, and considered how best to make it. Finally he resolved that he must a.s.sert his authority. So, setting Vada on the ground, he stood up.

"Bed," he said, with a great a.s.sumption of finality.

Vada's eyes rolled ominously, and a pucker came to her little sunburnt brow. Jamie offered no preliminary, but howled at once. And when, after the slightest hesitation, Vada joined in his lament, Sunny's distress became pitiable. However, he managed to ease his feelings by several well-directed mental curses at Wild Bill's head, and all those others concerned in reducing him to his present position. And with this silently furious outburst there came a brain-wave of great magnitude.

"First in bed sure gets most m'la.s.ses," he cried, darting to the cupboard door and holding the well-smeared pot up above his head.

The children's cries ceased, and for a second they stood staring up at him. Then, like a pair of rabbits, they turned and ran for the bedroom, vanishing behind the curtain amidst shrieking excitement.

Sunny followed them with the mola.s.ses and a handful of crackers.

They were both on the bed when he pa.s.sed into the room, huddling down under a couple of cotton blankets. The man glanced round him. On the other side of the room was the big bed where their father and mother slept. Both beds were unmade, and the room was littered with feminine garments in a manner that suggested the mother's hasty flight.

Hardened as he was, the sight and all it suggested depressed him. But he was not allowed much time for reflection. Two childish voices shrieked at him at once.

"Me first!" they cried in one breath.

And Sunny ladled them out mola.s.ses and crackers to their hearts'

content. When they had eaten all he thought good for them Vada scrambled to her knees.

"Prayers," she said, and clasped her hands before her face.

Jamie wobbled up to her side and imitated her. And Sunny stood by listening wonderingly to something that brought back a world of recollection to him. It brought him more. It laid before him a mental picture of his present manhood which somehow nauseated him. But he stood his ground till the final "Amens," then he hustled the twins almost roughly into the blankets, and, having extracted a promise from them not to leave the bed again until he returned, hurried out of the room.

He stood for a moment in the living-room. He was in a doubt that almost confused him. Mechanically he looked at the stove. The fire was quite safe. The window was secure. Then he moved to the door. There was a lock to it and a key. He pa.s.sed out, and, locking the door behind him, removed the key.

"Gee!" he exclaimed, drinking in a breath of the evening air, "five minutes more o' that an' I'd 'a' bin singin' funeral hymns over my past life. Gee!"

Ten minutes later he was in Wild Bill's hut down at the camp, and had finished his account of his adventures.

"Say," he finished up peevishly, "ther's things a feller can do, an'

things he sure can't. I tell you right here I ain't learned how to cluck to my chicks, an' I ain't never scratched a worm in my life. I 'low I'm too old to git busy that ways now. If you're goin' to raise them kids fer Zip while he's away, it'll need a committee o' us fellers. It's more'n one feller's job--much more. It needs a wummin."

Bill listened patiently until his deputy had aired his final grievance. His fierce eyes had in them a peculiar twinkle that was quite lost on Sunny in his present mood. However, when the injured man had finished his tale of woe the gambler stretched his long legs out, and lolled back in his chair with a fresh chew of tobacco in his mouth.

"You ain't done too bad," he said judicially. "That m'la.s.ses racket was a heap smart. Though--say, you'll get around ther' come sun-up to-morrer, an' you'll fix 'em right all day. Maybe Zip'll be back later. Anyways, you'll fix 'em."

"Not on your life--" began Sunny, in fierce rebellion. But Bill cut him short.

"You'll do it, Sunny," he cried, "an' don't you make no mistake."

The man's manner was irresistibly threatening, and Sunny was beaten back into moody silence. But if looks could have killed, Bill's chances of life were small indeed.

"Guess you're off duty now," the gambler went on icily. "You're off duty till--sun-up. You're free to get drunk, or--what in h.e.l.l you like."

Sunny rose from his seat. His rebellious eyes were fiercely alight as he regarded his master.

"May your soul rot!" he cried venomously. And with this final impotent explosion he slouched out of the hut.

"Dessay it will," Bill called after him amiably. "But it ain't started yet."

But his jibe was quite lost on the angry Sunny, for he had left him with the haste of a man driven to fear of whither his anger might carry him.

Left alone, Wild Bill chuckled. He liked Sunny, but despised his mode of life with all the arrogant superiority of a man of great force, even if of indifferent morals. He had no patience with a weakened manhood. With him it was only strength that counted. Morality was only for those who had not the courage to face a mysterious future unflinchingly. The future concerned him not at all. He had no fears of anybody or anything, either human or superhuman. Death offered him no more terrors than Life. And whichever was his portion he was ready to accept it unquestioningly, unprotestingly.

He allowed the hoboe time to get well clear of his shack. Then he stood up and began to pace the room thoughtfully. A desperate frown depressed his brows until they met over the bridge of his large thin nose. Something was working swiftly, even pa.s.sionately, in his brain, and it was evident that his thoughts were more than unpleasant to himself. As the moments pa.s.sed his strides became more aggressive, and his movements were accompanied by gesticulations of a threatening nature with his clenched fists.

At last he paused in his walk, and dropped again into his chair. Here he sat for a long while. Then, of a sudden, he lifted his head and glanced swiftly about his bare room. Finally he sprang to his feet and crushed his slouch hat on his head, and, crossing over to the oil-lamp on the table, blew it out. Then he pa.s.sed out into the night, slamming and locking the door behind him.

The night was dark, and the moon would not rise for at least another hour. The air was still laden with the heat of the long summer's day, and it hummed with the music of stirring insect life. He strode along the trail past the store. He glanced at the lighted windows longingly, for he had an appointment for a game in there that night. But he pa.s.sed on.

As he came to the camp dumps he paused for a moment to take his bearings. Then he continued his way with long, decided strides, and in a few minutes the dim outline of Scipio's house loomed up before him.

He came close up, and walked slowly round it. At one window he paused, listening. There was not a sound to be heard outside. At the window of the bedroom he listened a long time. No, he could not even hear the children breathing.

At last he reached the door which Sunny had locked. He cautiously tried the handle, and the sound brought a whimper from the yellow pup within. He cursed the animal softly under his breath and waited, hoping the wretched creature would settle down again. He heard it snuff at the foot of the door, and then the soft patter of its feet died away, and he knew that the poor thing had satisfied itself that all was well.

He smiled, and sat down at the foot of the door. And, with his knees drawn up into his arms, he prepared for his long vigil. It was the posting of the night sentry over Scipio's twins.

CHAPTER VIII

WILD BILL THINKS HARD--AND HEARS NEWS

Wild Bill stretched himself drowsily. It was noon. He knew that by the position of the patch of sunlight on the floor, which he gazed at with blinking eyes. Presently he reached out his long arms and clasped his hands behind his head. He lay there on his stretcher bed, still very sleepy, but with wakefulness gaining ascendancy rapidly. He had completed two successive nights of "sentry-go" over Scipio's twins, never reaching his blankets until well after sun-up.

For some minutes he enjoyed the delicious idleness of a still brain.

Then, at last, it stirred to an activity which once again set flowing all the busy thought of his long night's vigil. Further rest became impossible to a man of his temperament, and he sprang from his blankets and plunged his face into a bucket of fresh water which stood on an adjacent bench. In five minutes he was ready for the business of the day.