The Winds of Chance Part 55

"It's come tails every time lately," grumbled the former speaker.

Jerry giggled. "I always was right lucky, except in pickin'

pardners," he declared. In a cracked and tuneless voice he began humming a roundelay, evidently intended to express gaiety and contentment.

Unable longer to withstand his gnawing hunger, Tom secured for himself a large round hardtack, and with this he tried to ward off the pangs of starvation. But he had small success with the endeavor, for his teeth were poor. He flung the thing of adamant aside, finally, and cried, testily:

"My G.o.d! Ain't it bad enough to EAT a phonograph record without having to listen to the d.a.m.n' machine? Shut up, will you? You've got the indecentest singing voice I ever heard."

"Say!" Jerry looked up belligerently. "You don't have to listen to my singin'. There's plenty of room outside--all the room from here south to Seattle. And you don't have to gum that pilot-bread if your teeth is loose. You can boil yourself a pot of mush--when your turn comes. You got a free hand. As for me, I eat anything I want to and I SING anything I want to whenever I want to, and I'd like to see anybody stop me. We don't have to toss up for turns at singin'." More loudly he raised his high-pitched voice; ostentatiously he rattled his dishes.

Tom settled back in exasperated silence, but as time wore on and his hungry nostrils were a.s.sailed with the warm, tantalizing odor of frying ham fat he fidgeted nervously.

Having prepared a meal to his liking, Jerry set the table with a single plate, cup, and saucer, then seated himself with a luxurious grunt. He ate slowly; he rolled every mouthful with relish; he fletcherized it with calculated deliberation; he paused betweentimes to blow loudly upon his coffee and to smack his lips- -sounds that in themselves were a provocation and an insult to his listener. When he had cleaned up his interminable repast and was finishing the last sc.r.a.p, Tom rose and made for the stove.

Jerry watched him, paralyzed in mid-motion, until his partner's hand was outstretched, then he suddenly shouted:

"Get away from there!"

Tom started. "What for?" he queried, a light of rebellion flaring into his eyes. "Ain't you through with your supper? You been at it long enough."

"You see me eatin', don't you? After I get fed up and my teeth picked I got all my dishes to wash."

"That wasn't our arrangement."

"It was so."

"You'll eat all night," Tom complained, almost tearfully. "You'll set there and gorge till you bust."

"That's my privilege. I don't aim to swaller my grub whole. I'm shy a few teeth and some of the balance don't meet, so I can't consume vittles like I was a pulp-mill. I didn't start this row--"

"Who did?"

"Now ain't that a fool question?" Jerry leaned back comfortably and began an elaborate vacuum-cleaning process of what teeth he retained. "Who starts all our rows, if I don't? No. I'm as easy- going as a greased eel, and 'most anybody can get along with me, but, tread on my tail and I swop ends, p.r.o.nto. That's me. I go my own even way, but I live up to my bargains and I see to it that others do the same. You get the h.e.l.l away from that stove!"

Tom abandoned his purpose, and with the resignation of a martyr returned to teeter upon the edge of his bunk. He remained there, glum, malevolent, watchful, until his cabin-mate had leisurely cleared the table, washed and put away his dishes; then with a sigh of fat repletion, unmistakably intended as a provocation, the tormentor lit his pipe and stretched himself luxuriously upon his bed.

Even then Tom made no move. He merely glowered at the rec.u.mbent figure. Jerry blew a cloud of smoke, then waved a generous gesture.

"Now then, fly at it, Mr. Linton," he said, sweetly. "I've et my fill; I've had an ample sufficiency; I'm through and in for the night."

"Oh no, you ain't! You get up and wash that skillet."

Mr. Quirk started guiltily.

"Hustle your creaking joints and scrub it out."

"Pshaw! I only fried a slice--"

"Scrub it!" Linton ordered.

This command Jerry obeyed, although it necessitated heating more water, a procedure which, of course, he maliciously prolonged.

"Waited till I was all spread out, didn't you," he sneered, as he stooped over the wood-box. "That's like you. Some people are so small-calibered they'd rattle around in a gnat's bladder like a mustard seed in a ba.s.s drum."

"I'm particular who I eat after," Tom said, "so be sure you scrub it clean."

"Thought you'd spoil my smoke. Well, I can smoke standin' on my head and enjoy it." There was a silence, broken only by the sound of Jerry's labors. At last he spoke: "Once again I repeat what I told you yesterday. I took the words out of your own mouth. You said the woman was a h.e.l.lion--"

"I never did. Even if I had I wouldn't allow a comparative stranger to apply such an epithet to a member of my family."

"You did say it. And she ain't a member of your family."

Tom's jaws snapped. "If patience is a virtue," he declared, in quivering anger, "I'll slide into heaven on skids. a.s.sa.s.sination ought not to be a crime; it's warranted, like abating a nuisance; it ain't even a misdemeanor--sometimes. She was a n.o.ble woman--"

"h.e.l.lion! I got it on the authority of her own husband--you!"

Tom rose and stamped over to the stove; he slammed its door and clattered the coffee-pot to drown this hateful persistence. Having had the last word, as usual, Jerry retreated in satisfaction to his bed and stretched his aching frame upon it.

The dingy cabin was fragrant with the odor of cooking food for a second time that evening when the sound of voices and a knock at the door brought both old men to their feet.

Before they could answer, the door flew open and in and out of the frosty evening came Rouletta Kirby and 'Poleon Doret. The girl's cheeks were rosy, her eyes were sparkling; she warmly greeted first one partner, then the other. Pausing, she sniffed the air hungrily.

"Goody!" she cried. "We're just in time. And we're as hungry as bears."

"Dis gal 'ain't never got 'nough to eat since she's seeck in W'ite 'Orse," 'Poleon laughed. "For las' hour she's been sayin': 'Hurry!

Hurry! We goin' be late.' I 'mos' keel dem dog."

Linton's seamed face softened; it cracked into a smile of genuine pleasure; there was real hospitality and welcome in his voice when he said:

"You're in luck, for sure. Lay off your things and pull up to the fire. It won't take a jiffy to parlay the ham and coffee--one calls three, as they say. No need to ask if you're well; you're prettier than ever, and some folks would call that impossible."

Jerry nodded in vigorous agreement. "You're as sweet as a bunch of jessamine, Letty. Why, you're like a breath of spring! What brought you out to see us, anyhow?"

"Dat's long story," 'Poleon answered. "Sapre! We got plenty talkin' to do. Letty she's goin' he'p you mak' de supper now, an'

I fix dem dog. We goin' camp wit' you all night. Golly! We have beeg tam."

The new-comers had indeed introduced a breath of new, clean air.

Of a sudden the cabin had brightened, it was vitalized, it was filled with a magic purpose and good humor. Rouletta flung aside her furs and bustled into the supper preparations. Soon the meal was ready. The first pause in her chatter came when she set the table for four and when Jerry protested that he had already dined.

The girl paused, plate in hand. "Then we WERE late and you didn't tell us," she pouted, reproachfully.

"No. I got through early, but Tom--he was held up in the traffic.

You see, I don't eat much, anyhow. I just nibble around and take a cold snack where I can get it."

"And you let him!" Rouletta turned to chide the other partner.

"He'll come down sick, Tom and you'll have to nurse him again. If you boys won't learn to keep regular meal hours I'll have to come out and run your house for you. Shall I? Speak up. What am I offered?"

Now this was the most insidious flattery. "Boys" indeed! Jerry chuckled, Tom looked up from the stove and his smoke-blue eyes were twinkling.