THE TWINS OF 
 SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 RIDGWELL CULLUM 
 

THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 THE ONE-WAY TRAIL 
 THE TRAIL OF THE AXE 
 THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE 
 THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS 
 
V 
 
"Say Jessie," he breathed hotly, "you're you're fine !" 
 
THE TWINS OF 
 SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 BY 
 
 RIDGWELL CULLUM 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE ONE-WAY TRAIL," " THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS," ETC. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO, 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
TO 
 
 MY TWO LITTLE CHUMS 
 
 CHRIS AND RIDGE 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 R18063 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I POTTER'S CLAY 9 
 
 II THE HARVEST OF PASSION 23 
 
 III THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO . 37 
 
 IV SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 54 
 
 V HUSBAND AND LOVER 69 
 
 VI SUNNY OAK PROTESTS 87 
 
 VII SUNNY OAK TRIES His HAND 94 
 
 VIII WILD BILL THINKS HARD AND HEARS NEWS . . 108 
 
 IX THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST 116 
 
 X THE TRUST 124 
 
 XI STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK ....... 136 
 
 XII THE WOMAN 142 
 
 XIII BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 154 
 
 XIV BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE 167 
 
 XV THE TRUST AT WORK 177 
 
 XVI ZIP'S GRATITUDE 188 
 
 XVII JESSIE'S LETTER 196 
 
 XVIII ON THE ROAD 205 
 
 XIX A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 216 
 
 XX How THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 225 
 
 XXI SCIPIO MAKES PREPARATIONS 236 
 
 XXII SUNDAY MORNING IN SUFFERING CREEK 240 
 
 XXIII A BATH AND 247 
 
 XXIV A BIBLE TALK 259 
 
 vii 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXV WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB 267 
 
 XXVI WILD BILL INSPECTS His CLAIM 274 
 
 XXVII SUSPENSE 285 
 
 XXVIII JAMES . . 296 
 
 XXIX THE GOLD- STAGE . , , .304 
 
 XXX ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL 316 
 
 XXXI THE BATTLE '/ . . . . . . 325 
 
 XXXII A MAN'S LOVE . . . , .335 
 
 XXXIII THE REASON WHY 346 
 
 XXXIV THE LUCK OF SCIPIO 353 
 
 XXXV HOME . . 363 
 
THE 
 TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 ^ > v "> " ^ *" i J 
 
 CHAPTER l' ;'liV:i^ 
 
 POTTER'S CLAY 
 
 SCIPIO moved about the room uncertainly. It was 
 characteristic of him. Nature had given him an expression 
 that suggested bewilderment, and, somehow, this expression 
 had got into his movements. 
 
 He was swabbing the floor with a rag mop ; a voluntary 
 task, undertaken to relieve his wife, who was lounging over 
 the glowing cookstove, reading a cheap story book. Once 
 or twice he paused in his labors, and his mild, questioning 
 blue eyes sought the woman's intent face. His stubby, 
 work-soiled fingers would rake their way through his straw- 
 colored hair, which grew sparsely and defiantly, standing 
 out at every possible unnatural angle, and the mop would 
 again flap into the muddy water, and continue its process of 
 smearing the rough boarded floor. 
 
 Now and again the sound of children's voices floated in 
 through the open doorway, and at each shrill piping the 
 man's pale eyes lit into a smile of parental tenderness. But 
 his work went on steadily, for such was the deliberateness 
 of his purpose. 
 
 The room was small, and already three-quarters of it had 
 been satisfactorily smeared, and the dirt spread to the nec- 
 essary consistency. Now he was nearing the cookstove 
 where the woman sat. 
 
io THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " I'd hate to worry you any, Jess," he said, in a gentle, 
 apologetic voice, " but I'm right up to this patch. If you'd 
 kind of lift your feet, an' tuck your skirts around you some, 
 guess you could go right on reading your fiction." 
 
 The woman looked up with a peevish frown. Then 
 something like a pitying smile warmed her expression. She 
 was a handsome creature, of a large, somewhat bold type, 
 witfia passionate glow of strong youth and health in every 
 feature, of .her well-shaped face. She was taller than her 
 ,<$$nijiu$v,e rriisbatid, and, in every detail of expression, his 
 antithesis. She wore a dress with some pretensions to 
 display, and suggesting a considerable personal vanity. But 
 it was of the tawdry order that was unconvincing, and lacked 
 both refinement and tidiness. 
 
 Scipio followed up his words with a glance of smiling 
 amiability. 
 
 " I'm real sorry " he began again. 
 
 But she cut him short. 
 
 " Oh, bother ! " she exclaimed ; and, thrusting her slip- 
 pered feet upon the stove, tucked her skirts about her. 
 Then, utterly ignoring him, she buried herself once more 
 in her book. 
 
 The mop flapped about her chair legs, the water splashed 
 the stove. Scipio was hurrying, and consequently flounder- 
 ing. It was his endeavor not to disturb his wife more than 
 was necessary. 
 
 Finally he wrung out his mop and stood it outside the 
 door in the sun. He emptied his bucket upon the few 
 anaemic cabbages which grew in an untidy patch at the side 
 of the hut, and returned once more to the room. 
 
 He glanced round it with feeble appreciation. It was a 
 hopeless sort of place, yet he could not detect its short- 
 comings. The rough, log-built walls, smeared with a mud 
 plaster, were quite unadorned. There was one solitary 
 opening for a window, and in the center of the room was a 
 
POTTER'S CLAY n 
 
 roughly manufactured table, laden with the remains of 
 several repasts. Breakfast was the latest, and the smell of 
 coffee and fried pork still hung about the room. There were 
 two Windsor chairs, one of which his wife was occupying, 
 and a ramshackle food cupboard. Then there were the 
 cookstove and a fuel box, and two or three iron pots hanging 
 about the walls. 
 
 Out of this opened a bedroom, and the rough bedstead, 
 with its tumbled blankets, was in full view where Scipio 
 stood. Although the morning was well advanced the bed 
 was still unmade. Poor as the place was, it might, in the 
 hands of a busy housewife, have presented a very different 
 appearance. But Jessie was not a good housewife. She 
 hated the care of her little home. She was not a bad wom- 
 an, but she had no sympathy with the harshnesses of life. 
 She yearned for the amplitude to which she had been 
 brought up, and detested bitterly the pass to which her hus- 
 band's incapacity had brought her. 
 
 When she had married Scipio he had money money 
 that had been left to him for the purpose of embarking in 
 business, a purpose he had faithfully carried out. But his 
 knowledge of business was limited to the signing of checks 
 in favor of anyone who wanted one, and, as a consequence, 
 by the time their twins were three years old he had received 
 an intimation from the bank that he must forthwith put 
 them in credit for the last check he had drawn. 
 
 Thus it was that, six months later, the thirty or forty 
 inhabitants of Job's Flat on Suffering Creek a little min- 
 ing camp stowed away in the southwest corner of Mon- 
 tana, almost hidden amongst the broken foothills of the 
 Rocky Mountains basking in the sunshine of a Sunday 
 afternoon haze, were suddenly startled by the apparition of 
 a small wagon, driven by a smaller man with yellow hair, 
 bearing down upon them. But that which stirred them most 
 surely was the additional sight of a handsome girl, sitting 
 
12 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 at his side, and, crowded between them on the seat, a pair of 
 small children. 
 
 Scipio, in a desperate effort to restore his fortunes, and 
 set his precious family once more on a sound financial basis, 
 had come in search of the gold which report said was to be 
 had on Suffering Creek for the trouble of picking it up. 
 
 This vision startled Suffering Creek, which, metaphoric- 
 ally, sat up and rubbed its eyes. Here was something quite 
 unaccustomed. The yellow-haired fragment of humanity at 
 the end of the reins was like nothing they had ever seen ; 
 the children were a source of wondering astonishment ; but 
 the woman ah ! There was one woman, and one woman 
 only, on Suffering Creek until Jessie's arrival, and she was 
 only the " hash-slinger " at Minky's store. 
 
 The newcomer's face pleased them. Her eyes were fine, 
 and full of coquetry. Her figure was all that a woman's 
 should be. Yes, the camp liked the look of her, and so it 
 set out to give Scipio a hearty welcome. 
 - Now a mining camp can be very cordial in its rough way. 
 It can be otherwise, too. But in this case we have only to 
 do with its cordiality. The men of Suffering Creek were 
 drawn from all sorts and conditions of society. The ma- 
 jority of them lived like various grades of princes when 
 money was plentiful, and starved when Fortune frowned. 
 There were men amongst them who had never felt the softer 
 side of life, and men who had been ruthlessly kicked from 
 that downy couch. There were good men and scoundrels, 
 workers and loafers ; there were men who had few scruples, 
 and certainly no morals whatever. But they had met on a 
 common ground with the common purpose of spinning for- 
 tune's wheel, and the sight of a woman's handsome face set 
 them tumbling over each other to extend the hand of friend- 
 ship to her husband. 
 
 And the simple-minded Scipio quickly fell into the fold. 
 Nor was it long before his innocence, his mildness, his never- 
 
POTTER'S CLAY 13 
 
 failing good-nature got hold of this cluster of ruffians. 
 They laughed at him he was a source of endless amuse- 
 ment to them but they liked him. And in such men lik- 
 ing meant a great deal. 
 
 But from the first Scipio's peculiar nature, and it was 
 peculiar, led him into many grievous mistakes. His mind 
 was full of active purpose. He had an enormous sense of 
 responsibility and duty to those who belonged to him. But 
 somehow he seemed to lack any due sense of proportion in 
 those things which were vital to their best interests. Pon- 
 derous thought had the effect of turning his ideas upside 
 down, leaving him with but one clear inspiration. He must 
 do. He must act and at once. 
 
 Thus it was he gave much consideration to the selection 
 of the site of his house. He wanted a southern aspect, it 
 must be high up, it must not be crowded amongst the other 
 houses. The twins needed air. Then the nearer he was to 
 the creek, where the gold was to be found, the better. And 
 again his prospecting must tap a part of it where the diggers 
 had not yet " claimed." There were a dozen and one things 
 to be considered, and he thought of them all until his gentle 
 mind became confused and his sense of proportion com- 
 pletely submerged. 
 
 The result was, he settled desperately upon the one site 
 that common sense should have made him avoid. Nor was 
 it until the foundations of the house had been laid, and the 
 walls were already half their full height, that he realized, 
 from the desolation of refuse and garbage strewn every- 
 where about him, that his home was overlooking the camp 
 " dumps." 
 
 However, it was too late to make any change, and, with 
 characteristic persistence, he completed his work and went 
 into residence with his wife and the twins. 
 
 The pressure of work lessened, he had a moment in 
 which to look around. And with the thought of his twins 
 
14 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 on his mind, and all his wife had once been accustomed to, 
 he quickly realized the necessity of green vegetables in his 
 menage. So he promptly flew to the task of arranging a 
 cabbage patch. The result was a foregone conclusion. He 
 dug and planted his patch. Nor was it until the work was 
 completed that it filtered through to his comprehension that 
 he had selected the only patch in the neighborhood with a 
 heavy underlay of gravel and lime stone. 
 
 But his crowning effort was his search for gold. There 
 are well-established geological laws governing the prospec- 
 tor's craft which no experienced gold-seeker ever departs 
 from. These were all carefully explained to him by willing 
 tongues. Then, after poring over all he had learned, and 
 thought and searched for two days and two nights, he finally 
 discovered a spot where no other prospector had staked the 
 ground. 
 
 It was a curious, gloomy sort of patch, nearly half-a-mile 
 up the creek from the camp, and further in towards the 
 mountains. Just at this spot the banks of the creek were 
 high, there was an unusual blackness about the soil, and it 
 gave out a faint but unrecognizable odor, that, in the bright 
 mountain air, was quite pleasant. For several hundred 
 yards the ground of this flat was rankly spongy, with an 
 oozy surface. Then, beyond, lay a black greasy-looking 
 marsh, and further on again the hills rose abruptly with the 
 facets of auriferous-looking soil, such as the prospector loves 
 to contemplate. 
 
 Scipio pondered. And though the conditions outraged all 
 he had been told of the craft he was embarking upon, he 
 plunged his pick into this flat, and set to work with charac- 
 teristic good-will. 
 
 The men of the camp when they discovered his venture 
 shook their heads and laughed. Then their laugh died out 
 and their hard eyes grew serious. But no one interfered. 
 They were all seeking gold. 
 
POTTER'S CLAY 15 
 
 This was Scipio's position on Suffering Creek, but it does 
 not tell half of what lay somewhere in the back of his 
 quaintly-poised mind. No one who knew him failed to 
 realize his worship for his wife. His was a love such as 
 rarely falls to the lot of woman. And his devotion to his 
 girl and boy twins was something quite beyond words. 
 These things were the mainspring of his life, and drove 
 him to such superlative degrees of self-sacrifice that could 
 surely only have been endured by a man of his peculiar 
 mind. 
 
 No matter what the toil of his claim, he always seemed 
 to find leisure and delight in saving his wife from the 
 domestic cares of their home. And though weary to the 
 breaking-point with his toil, and consumed by a hunger 
 that was well-nigh painful, when food was short he never 
 seemed to realize his needs until Jessie and the children had 
 eaten heartily. And afterwards no power on earth could 
 rob him of an hour's romp with the little tyrants who ruled 
 and worshiped him. 
 
 Now, as he stood before the littered table, he glanced out 
 at the sun. The morning was advancing all too rapidly. 
 His eyes drifted across to his wife. She was still reading. 
 A light sigh escaped him. He felt he should be out on his 
 claim. However, without further thought he took the boiler 
 of hot water off the stove and began to wash up. 
 
 It was the clatter of the plates that made Jessie look 
 up. 
 
 " For goodness' sake ! " she exclaimed, with exasperation. 
 " You'll be bathing the children next. Say, you can just 
 leave those things alone. I've only got a bit more to read 
 to the end of the chapter." 
 
 " I thought maybe it 'ud help you out some. I " 
 
 " You give me a pain, you sure do," Jessie broke in. 
 " You get right out and hustle gold, and leave things of that 
 sort to others." 
 
16 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " But I don't mind doing it, truth I don't," Scipio expos- 
 tulated mildly. " I just thought it would save you " 
 
 Jessie gave an artificial sigh. 
 
 " You tire me. Do you think I don't know my work ? 
 I'm here to do the chores and well I know it. You're 
 here to do a man's work, same as any other man. You get 
 out and find the gold, I can look after the house if you 
 can call it a house," she added contemptuously. 
 
 Her eyes were quite hopeless as she let them wander 
 over the f rowsiness in the midst of which she sat. She was 
 particularly discontented this morning. Not only had her 
 thoughts been rudely dragged back from the seductive con- 
 templation of the doings of the wealthy ones as the dime 
 fiction-writer sees them, but there was a feeling of some- 
 thing more personal. It was something which she hugged 
 to her bosom as a priceless pearl of enjoyment in the midst 
 of a barren, rock-bound life of squalor. 
 
 The sight of him meandering about the room recalled 
 these things. Thoughts, while they troubled her, yet had 
 power to stimulate and excite her; thoughts which she 
 almost dreaded, but which caused her exquisite delight. 
 She must get rid of him. 
 
 But as she looked about the room something very like 
 dismay assailed her. There were the hated household du- 
 ties confronting her ; duties she was longing to be free of, 
 duties which she was tempted to abandon altogether, with 
 everything else that concerned her present sordid life. 
 
 But Scipio knew none of this. His unsuspicious nature 
 left him utterly blinded to the inner workings of her indo- 
 lent, selfish spirit, and was always ready to accept blame for 
 her ill-humors. Now he hurriedly endeavored to make 
 amends. 
 
 "Of course you can, Jess," he said eagerly. " I don't 
 guess there's another woman around who can manage things 
 like you. You don't never grumble at things, and goodness 
 
POTTER'S CLAY 17 
 
 knows I couldn't blame you any, if you did. But but 
 ther' seems such a heap to be done for you to do," he went 
 on, glancing with mild vengefulness at the litter. " Say," 
 he cried, with a sudden lightening and inspiration, " maybe 
 I could buck some wood for you before I go. You'll need 
 a good fire to dry the kiddies by after you washened 'em. 
 It sure wouldn't kep me long." 
 
 But the only effect of his persistent kindliness was to 
 further exasperate his wife. Every word, every gentle in- 
 tention on his part made her realize her own shortcomings 
 more fully. In her innermost heart she knew that she had 
 no desire to do the work ; she hated it, she was lazy. She 
 knew that he was far better than she; good, even noble, 
 in spite of his mental powers being so lamentably at fault. 
 All this she knew, and it weakly maddened her because 
 she could not rise above herself and show him all the woman 
 that was so deeply hidden under her cloak of selfishness. 
 
 Then there was that other thought, that something that 
 was her secret. She had that instinct of good that made it 
 a guilty secret. Yet she knew that, as the world sees 
 things, she had as yet done no great harm. 
 
 And therein lay the mischief. Had she been a vicious 
 woman nothing would have troubled her, but she was not 
 vicious. She was not even less than good in her moral 
 instincts. Only she was weak, hopelessly weak, and so 
 all these things drove her to a shrewish discontent and 
 peevishness. 
 
 " Oh, there's no peace where you are," she cried, passion- 
 ately flinging her book aside and springing to her feet. 
 " Do you think I can't look to this miserable home you've 
 given me? I hate it. Yes, I hate it all. Why I married 
 you I'm sure I don't know. Look at it. Look round you, 
 and if you have any idea of things at all what can you see 
 but a miserable hog pen? Yes, that's it, a hog pen. And 
 we are the hogs. You and me, and and the little ones. 
 
18 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Why haven't you got some ' get up ' about you ? Why 
 don't you earn some money, get some somehow so we can 
 live as we've been used to living? Why don't you do some- 
 thing, instead of pottering around here trying to do chores 
 that aren't your work, an' you can't do right anyway ? You 
 make me mad you do indeed. But there! There's no 
 use talking to you, none whatever ! " 
 
 " I'm sorry, Jess. I'm real sorry you feel like this." 
 
 Scipio left the table and moved to the cupboard, into which 
 he mechanically began to stow the provender. It was an 
 unconscious action and almost pathetic in its display of that 
 kindly purpose, which, where his wife was concerned, was 
 never- failing. Jessie saw, angry as she was, and her fine 
 eyes softened. Perhaps it was the maternal instinct under- 
 lying the selfishness that made her feel something akin to a 
 pitying affection for her little husband. 
 
 She glanced down at the boiler of water, and mechanically 
 gathered some of the tin plates together and proceeded to 
 wash them. 
 
 " I'm kind of sorry, Zip," she said. " I just didn't mean 
 all that. Only only it makes me feel bad seeing all this 
 around, and you you always trying to do both a man's and 
 a woman's work. Things are bad with us, so bad they seem 
 hopeless. We're right here with two kiddies and and 
 ourselves, and there's practically no money and no prospects 
 of there being any. It makes me want to cry. It makes 
 me want to do something desperate. It makes me hate 
 things even those things I've no right to hate. No, no," 
 as the man tried to stop her, " don't you say anything. Not 
 a word till I've done. You see, I mayn't feel like talking of 
 these things again. Maybe I shan't never have a chance of 
 talking them again." 
 
 She sighed and stared out of window. 
 
 " I want you to understand things as I see them, and 
 maybe you'll not blame me if I see them wrong. You're 
 
POTTER'S CLAY 19 
 
 too good for me, and I I don't seem grateful for your 
 goodness. You work and think of others as no other man 
 would do. You don't know what it is to think of yourself. 
 It's me, and the children first with you, and, Zip and 
 you've no call to think much of me. Yes, I know what 
 you'd say. I'm the most perfect woman on earth. I'm not. 
 I'm not even good. If I were I'd be glad of all you try to 
 do ; I'd help you. But I don't, and and I just don't seem 
 able to. I'm always sort of longing and longing for the 
 old days. I long for those things we can never have. I 
 think think always of folks with money, their automo- 
 biles, their grand houses, with lots and lots of good things to 
 eat. And it makes me hate all all this. Oh, Zip, I'm 
 sorry. I'm sorry I'm not good. But I'm not, and I I " 
 
 She broke off and dashed the back of her hand across her 
 eyes in time to wipe away the great tears that threatened to 
 roll down her rounded cheeks. In a moment Scipio was 
 at her side, and one arm was thrust about her waist, and he 
 seized one of her hands. 
 
 " You mustn't to cry," he said tenderly, as though she 
 were a child. " You mustn't, Jess truth. You ain't what 
 you're saying. You ain't nothing like it. You're dear and 
 good, and it's 'cause you're that good and honest you're 
 saying all these things. Do you think I don't know just 
 how you're suffering? Do you? Why, Jess, I know just 
 everything about you, and it nigh breaks my heart to think 
 of all I've brought you to. It ain't you, Jess, it's me who's 
 bad. It's me who's a fool. I hain't no more sense than a 
 buck rabbit, and I ain't sure a new-littered pup couldn't 
 put me to sleep for savvee. Now don't you go to crying. 
 Don't you indeed. I just can't bear to see those beautiful 
 eyes o' yours all red and running tears. And, say, we sure 
 have got better prospects than you're figgering. You see, 
 I've got a claim there's no one else working on. And sure 
 there's minerals on it. Copper or leastways it looks like 
 
20 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 copper, and there's micah, an' lots an' lots of stuff. I'll 
 sure find gold in that claim. It's just a matter of keepin' 
 on. And I'm going to. And then, when we find it, what 
 a blow-out we'll have. We'll get automobiles and houses, 
 and and we'll have a bunch of sweet corn for supper, 
 same as we had at a hotel once, and then " 
 
 But the woman had suddenly drawn away from his 
 embrace. She could stand no more of her little husband's 
 pathetic hopes. She knew. She knew, with the rest of the 
 camp, the hopelessness of his quest, and even in her worst 
 moments she had not the heart to destroy his illusions. It 
 was no good, the hopelessness of it all came more than ever 
 upon her. 
 
 " Zip dear," she said, with a sudden, unwonted tenderness 
 that had something strangely nervous in it, " don't you 
 get staying around here or I'll keep right on crying. You 
 get out to your work. I'm feeling better now, and you've 
 you've made things look kind of brighter," she lied. 
 
 She glanced out of window, and the height of the sun 
 seemed suddenly to startle her. Her more gentle look sud- 
 denly vanished and one of irritability swiftly replaced it. 
 
 " Now, won't you let me help you with all these things ? " 
 Scipio coaxed. 
 
 But Jessie had seemingly quite forgotten her moment of 
 tenderness. 
 
 " No," she said sharply. " You get right out to work." 
 Then after a pause, with a sudden warming in her tone, 
 " Think of Jamie and Vada. Think of them, and not of 
 me. Their little lives are just beginning. They are quite 
 helpless. You must work for them, and work as you've 
 never done before. They are ours, and we love them. I 
 love them. Yes " with a harsh laugh " better than my- 
 self. Don't you think of me, Zip. Think of them, and 
 work for them. Now be off. I don't want you here." 
 
 Scipio reluctantly enough accepted his dismissal. His 
 
POTTER'S CLAY 21 
 
 wife's sudden nervousness of manner was not hidden from 
 him. He believed that she was seriously upset, and it pained 
 and alarmed his gentle heart. But the cause of her condi- 
 tion did not enter into his calculations. How should it? 
 The reason of things seemed to be something which his mind 
 could neither grasp nor even inquire into. She was trou- 
 bled, and he well, it made him unhappy. She said go and 
 work, work for the children. Ah, yes, her thoughts were 
 for the children, womanly, unselfish thoughts just such as a 
 good mother should have. So he went, full of a fresh en- 
 thusiasm for his work and for his object. 
 
 Meanwhile Jessie went on with her work. And strangely 
 enough her nervousness increased as the moments went by, 
 and a vague feeling of apprehension took hold of her. She 
 hurried desperately. To get the table cleared was her chief 
 concern. How she hated it. The water grew cold and 
 greasy, and every time she dipped her cloth into it she shud- 
 dered. Again and again her eyes turned upon the window 
 surveying the bright sunlight outside. The children playing 
 somewhere beyond the door were ignored. She was even 
 trying to forget them. She heard their voices, and they set 
 her nerves jangling with each fresh peal of laughter, or 
 shrill piping cry. 
 
 At last the last plate and enameled cup was washed and 
 dried. The boiler was emptied and hung upon the wall. 
 She swabbed the table carelessly and left it to dry. Then, 
 with a rush, she vanished into the inner room. 
 
 The moments passed rapidly. There was no sound be- 
 yond the merry games of the twins squatting out in the sun, 
 digging up the dusty soil with their fat little fingers. Jessie 
 did not reappear. 
 
 At last a light decided step sounded on the creek side of 
 the house. It drew nearer. A moment or two later a 
 shadow flitted across the window. Then suddenly a man's 
 head and shoulders filled up the opening. The head bent 
 
22 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 forward, craning into the room, and a pair of handsome 
 eyes peered curiously round. 
 
 " Hi ! " he cried in a suppressed tone. " Hi ! Jessie ! " 
 The bedroom curtain was flung aside, and Jessie, arrayed 
 carefully in her best shirtwaist and skirt, suddenly appeared 
 in the doorway. Her eyes were glowing with excitement 
 and fear. But her rich coloring was alight with warmth, 
 and the man stared in admiration. Yes, she was very good 
 to look upon. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE HARVEST OF PASSION 
 
 FOR one passionate moment the woman's radiant face held 
 the gaze of the man. He was swayed with an unwholesome 
 hunger at the sight of her splendid womanhood. The 
 beautiful, terrified eyes, so full of that allurement which 
 ever claims ail-that is vital in man ; the warm coloring of her 
 delicately rounded cheeks, so soft, so downy; the perfect 
 undulations of her strong young figure these things 
 caught him anew, and again set raging the fire of a reckless, 
 vicious passion. In a flash he had mounted to the sill of the 
 window-opening, and dropped inside the room. 
 
 " Say Jessie," he breathed hotly. " You're you're 
 fine/' 
 
 His words were almost involuntary. It was as though 
 they were a mere verbal expression of what was passing 
 through his mind, and made without thought of addressing 
 her. He was almost powerless in his self-control before her 
 beauty. And Jessie's conscience in its weakly life could not 
 hold out before the ardor of his assault. Her eyelids low- 
 ered. She stood waiting, and in a moment the bold invader 
 held her crushed in his arms. 
 
 She lay passive, yielding to his caresses for some mo- 
 ments. Then of a sudden she stirred restlessly. She strug- 
 gled weakly to free herself. Then, as his torrential kisses 
 continued, sweeping her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, her hair, 
 something like fear took hold of her. Her struggles sud- 
 denly became real, and at last she stood back panting, but 
 with her young heart mutely stirred to a passionate response. 
 
24 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Nor was it difficult, as they stood thus, to understand how 
 nature rose dominant over all that belonged to the higher 
 spiritual side of the woman. The wonderful virility in her 
 demanded life in the full flood of its tide, and here, standing 
 before her, was the embodiment of all her natural, if baser, 
 ideals. 
 
 The man was a handsome, picturesque creature bred on 
 lines of the purer strains. He had little enough about him 
 of the rough camp in which she lived. He brought with 
 him an atmosphere of cities, an atmosphere she yearned for. 
 It was in his dress, in his speech, in the bold daring of his 
 handsome eyes. She saw in his face the high breeding of 
 an ancient lineage. There was such a refinement in the 
 delicate chiseling of his well-molded features. His brows 
 were widely expressive of a strong intellect. His nose pos- 
 sessed that wonderful aquilinity associated with the highest 
 type of Indian. His cheeks were smooth, and of a delicacy 
 which threw into relief the perfect model of the frame be- 
 neath them. His clean-shaven mouth and chin suggested all 
 that which a woman most desires to behold in a man. His 
 figure was tall and muscular, straight-limbed and spare; 
 while in his glowing eyes shone an irresistible courage, a fire 
 of passion, and such a purpose as few women could 
 withstand. And so the wife of Scipio admitted her defeat 
 and yielded the play of all her puny arts, that she might 
 appear sightly in his eyes. 
 
 But she only saw him as he wished her to see him. He 
 showed her the outward man. The inner man was some- 
 thing not yet for her to probe. He was one of Nature's 
 anachronisms. She had covered a spirit which was of the 
 hideous stock from which he sprang with a gilding of 
 superlative manhood. 
 
 His name was James, a name which, in years long past, 
 the Western world of America had learned to hate with a 
 bitterness rarely equaled. But all that was almost forgot- 
 
THE HARVEST OF PASSION 25 
 
 ten, and this man, by reason of his manner, which was 
 genial, open-handed, even somewhat magnificent, rarely 
 failed, at first, to obtain the good-will of those with whom 
 he came into contact. 
 
 It was nearly nine months since he first appeared on 
 Suffering Creek. Apparently he had just drifted there in 
 much the same way that most of the miners had drifted, 
 possibly drawn thither out of curiosity at the reports of the 
 gold strike. So unobtrusive had been his coming that even 
 in that small community he at first passed almost unob- 
 served. Yet he was full of interest in the place, and con- 
 trived to learn much of its affairs and prospects. Having 
 acquired all the information he desired, he suddenly set out 
 to make himself popular. And his popularity was brought 
 about by a free-handed dispensation of a liberal supply of 
 money. Furthermore, he became a prominent devotee at 
 the poker table in Minky's store, and, by reason of the fact 
 that he usually lost, as most men did who joined in a game 
 in which Wild Bill was taking a hand, his popularity in- 
 creased rapidly, and the simple-minded diggers dubbed him 
 with the dazzling sobriquet of " Lord James." 
 
 It was during this time that he made the acquaintance of 
 Jessie and her husband, and it was astonishing how swiftly 
 his friendship for the unsuspicious little man ripened. 
 
 This first visit lasted just three weeks. Then, without 
 warning, and in the same unobtrusive way as he had come, 
 he vanished from the scene. For the moment Suffering 
 Creek wondered ; then, as is the way of such places, it ceased 
 to wonder. It was too busy with its own affairs to concern 
 itself to any great extent with the flotsam that drifted its 
 way. Scipio wondered a little more than the rest, but his 
 twins and his labors occupied him so closely that he, too, 
 dismissed the matter from his mind. As for Jessie, she said 
 not a word, and gave no sign except that her discontent 
 with her lot became more pronounced. 
 
26 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 But Suffering Creek was not done with James yet. The 
 next time he came was nearly a month later, just as the 
 monthly gold stage was preparing for the road, carrying 
 with it a shipment of gold-dust bound for Spawn City, the 
 nearest banking town, eighty miles distant. 
 
 He at once took up his old position in the place, stayed 
 two weeks, staked out a claim for himself, and pursued his 
 intimacy with Scipio and his wife with redoubled ardor. 
 
 Before those two weeks were over somehow his popular- 
 ity began to wane. This intimacy with Scipio began to 
 carry an ill-flavor with the men of the place. Somehow it 
 did not ring pleasantly. Besides, he showed a fresh side to 
 his character. He drank heavily, and when under the in- 
 fluence of spirits abandoned his well-polished manners, and 
 displayed a coarseness, a savage truculence, such as he had 
 been careful never to show before. Then, too, his claim re- 
 mained unworked. 
 
 The change in public opinion was subtle, and no one 
 spoke of it. But there was no regret when, finally, he 
 vanished again from their midst in the same quiet manner 
 in which he had gone before. 
 
 Then came the catastrophe. Two weeks later a gold 
 stage set out on its monthly journey. Sixty miles out it 
 was held up and plundered. Its two guards were shot dead, 
 and the driver mortally wounded. But fortunately the 
 latter lived long enough to tell his story. He had been at- 
 tacked by a gang of eight well-armed horsemen. They 
 were all masked, and got clear away with nearly thirty 
 thousand dollars' worth of gold. 
 
 In the first rush of despairing rage Suffering Creek was 
 unable to even surmise at the identity of the authors of the 
 outrage. Then Wild Bill, the gambler, demanded an ac- 
 counting for every man of the camp on the day of the 
 tragedy. In a very short time this was done, and the proc- 
 ess turned attention upon Lord James. Where was he? 
 
THE HARVEST OF PASSION 27 
 
 The question remained unanswered. Suspicions grew into 
 swift conviction. Men asked each other who he was, and 
 whence he came. There was no answer to any of their in- 
 quiries at first. Then, suddenly, news came to hand that 
 the gang, no longer troubling at concealment, was riding 
 roughshod over the country. It was a return to the regime 
 of the " bad man," and stock-raiding and " hold-ups," of 
 greater or less degree, were being carried on in many direc- 
 tions with absolute impunity ; and the man James was at the 
 head of it. 
 
 It was a rude awakening. All the old peace and security 
 were gone. The camp was in a state of ferment. Every 
 stranger that came to the place was eyed askance, and unless 
 he could give a satisfactory account of himself he had a 
 poor chance with the furious citizens. The future dispatch 
 of gold became a problem that exercised every mind, and 
 for two months none left the place. And this fact 
 brought about a further anxiety. The gang of robbers was 
 a large one. Was it possible they might attempt a raid 
 on the place? And, if so, what were their chances of 
 success ? 
 
 Such was the position at Suffering Creek, and the nature 
 of the threat which hung over it. One man's name was in 
 everybody's mind. His personality and doings concerned 
 them almost as nearly as their search for the elusive gold 
 which was as the breath of life to them. 
 
 And yet Lord James was in no way deterred from visit- 
 ing the neighborhood. He knew well enough the position 
 he was in. He knew well enough all its possibilities. Yet 
 he came again and again. His visits were paid in daylight, 
 carefully calculated, even surreptitiously made. He sought 
 the place secretly, but he came, careless of all consequences 
 to himself. His contempt for the men of Suffering Creek 
 was profound and unaffected. He probably feared no man. 
 
 And the reason of his visits was not far to seek. There 
 
28 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 was something infinitely more alluring to him at the house 
 on the dumps than the gold which held the miners an 
 inducement which he had neither wish nor intention to resist. 
 He reveled in the joy and excitement of pursuing this wife 
 of another man, and had the camp bristled with an army of 
 fighting men, and had the chances been a thousand to one 
 against him, with him the call of the blood would just as 
 surely have been obeyed. This was the man, savage, crude, 
 of indomitable courage and passionate recklessness. 
 
 And Jessie was dazzled, even blinded. She was just a 
 weak, erring woman, thrilling with strong youthful life, and 
 his dominating nature played upon her vanity with an ease 
 that was quite pitiful. She was only too ready to believe 
 his denials of the accusations against him. She was only too 
 ready to love. The humility, devotion, the goodness of 
 Scipio meant nothing to her. They were barren virtues, too 
 unexciting and uninteresting to make any appeal. Her pas- 
 sionate heart demanded something more stimulating. And 
 the stimulant she found in the savage wooing of his un- 
 scrupulous rival. 
 
 Now the man's eyes contemplated the girl's ripe beauty, 
 while he struggled for that composure necessary to carry 
 out all that was in his mind. He checked a further rising 
 impulse, and his voice sounded almost harsh as he put a 
 sharp question. 
 
 "Where's Zip?" he demanded. 
 
 The girl's eyelids slowly lifted. The warm glow of her 
 eyes made them limpid and melting. 
 
 " Gone out to his claim," she said in a low voice. 
 
 The other nodded appreciatively. 
 
 " Good." 
 
 He turned to the window. Out across the refuse-heaps 
 the rest of the camp was huddled together, a squalid collec- 
 tion of huts, uninspiring, unpicturesque. His glance satis- 
 fied him. There was not a living soul in view ; not a sound 
 
THE HARVEST OF PASSION 29 
 
 except the prattle of the children who were still playing 
 outside the hut. But the latter carried no meaning to him. 
 In the heat of the moment even their mother was dead to 
 the appeal of their piping voices. 
 
 " You're coming away now, Jess," the man went on, 
 making a movement towards her. 
 
 But the girl drew back. The directness of his challenge 
 was startling, and roused in her a belated defensiveness. 
 Going away? It sounded suddenly terrible to her, and 
 thrilled her with a rush of fear which set her shivering. 
 And yet she knew that all along this this was the end 
 towards which she had been drifting. The rich color faded 
 from her cheeks and her lips trembled. 
 
 " No, no," she whispered in a terrified tone. For the 
 moment all that was best in her rose up and threatened to 
 defeat his end. 
 
 But James saw his mistake. For a second a flash of 
 anger lit his eyes, and hot resentment flew to his lips. But it 
 found no expression. Instead, the anger died out of his 
 eyes, and was replaced by a fire of passion such as had al- 
 ways won its way with this girl. He moved towards her 
 again with something subtly seductive in his manner, and his 
 arms closed about her unresisting form in a caress she was 
 powerless to deny. Passive yet palpitating she lay pressed 
 in his arms, all her woman's softness, all her subtle perfume, 
 maddening him to a frenzy. 
 
 " Won't you ? I love you, Jessie, so that nothing else on 
 earth counts. I can't do without you I can't I can't ! " 
 
 His hot lips crushed against hers, which yielded them- 
 selves all too willingly. Presently he raised his head, and 
 his eyes held hers. " Won't you come, Jess ? There's 
 nothing here for you. See, I can give you all you wish for : 
 money, a fine home, as homes go hereabouts. My ranch is 
 a dandy place, and," with a curious laugh, " stocked with 
 some of the best cattle in the country. You'll have horses 
 
30 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 to ride, and dresses See ! You can have all you want. 
 What is there here? Nothing. Say, you don't even get 
 enough to eat. Scipio hasn't got more backbone in him 
 than to gather five cents when it's raining dollars." He 
 kissed her upturned face again, and the warm responsive 
 movement of her lips told him how easy his task really was. 
 
 But again she pressed him back, so that he held her only 
 at arms' length. Her swimming eyes gazed long and ar- 
 dently into his. 
 
 " It isn't that, Jim," she said earnestly ; " it isn't that. 
 Those things don't count. It's it's you. I I don't want 
 dresses. I don't want the money. I I want you." 
 
 Then she started, terrified again. 
 
 "But, Jim, why did you come up to this hut?" she 
 cried. " Why didn't you wait for me down in the bush at 
 the river, as usual? Oh, Jim, if anybody sees you they'll 
 shoot you down like a dog " 
 
 " Dog, eh ? " cried the man, with a ringing laugh. " Let 
 'em try. But don't you worry, Jess. No one saw me. 
 Anyway, I don't care a curse if they did." 
 
 "Oh, Jim!" 
 
 Then she nestled closer to him for a moment of passionate 
 silence, while he kissed her, prolonging the embrace with all 
 the fire with which he was consumed. And after that she 
 spoke again. But now it was the mother that would no 
 longer be denied, even in the midst of her storm of emo- 
 tion. 
 
 " But I I can't leave them the little ones. I can't, I 
 can't ! " she cried piteously. " Jim, I love you. God knows 
 how badly I love you, but I I love them, too. They are 
 mine. They are part of me, and and I can't do without 
 them. No no. I can't go I won't go," she hurried on, 
 without conviction. " I can't. I want my babies my little 
 boy and girl. You say you love me. I know you love me. 
 Then take them with us, and and I'll do as you wish. 
 
THE HARVEST OF PASSION 31 
 
 Oh, I'm wicked, I know. I'm wicked, and cruel, and vile 
 to leave Scipio. And I don't want to, but but oh, Jim, 
 say you'll take them, too. I can never be happy without 
 them. You can never understand. You are a man, and so 
 strong/' He drew her to him again, and she nestled close 
 in his arms. " You don't know what it is to hear a child's 
 voice, and know that it is part of you, your life, one little 
 tiny atom beginning all over again. No, no I must have 
 them." 
 
 She slowly drew herself away, watching his handsome 
 face, half fearfully, half eagerly. She knew in her heart 
 that she was waiting for his verdict, and, whatever it might 
 be, she would have to abide by it. She knew she must do 
 as he wished, and that very knowledge gladdened her, even 
 in spite of her maternal dread of being parted from her 
 babies. 
 
 She saw his expression change. She saw the look of 
 perplexity in the sudden drawing together of his finely 
 marked brows, she saw the half -angry impatience flash into 
 his eyes, she saw this again replaced with a half-derisive 
 smile. And each emotion she read in her own way, mold- 
 ing it to suit and fall in with her own desires, yet with a 
 willing feeling that his decision should be paramount, that 
 she was there to obey him. 
 
 He slowly shook his head, and a curious hardness set 
 itself about his strong mouth. 
 
 " Not now," he said. " I would, but it can't be done. 
 See here, Jess, I've got two horses hidden away down there 
 in the bush beside the creek one for you, and one for me. 
 We can't fetch those kiddies along with us now. It wouldn't 
 be safe, anyhow. We've got sixty-odd miles to ride 
 through the foothills. But see, I'll fetch 'em one day, after, 
 if you must have 'em. How's that? " 
 
 " But they'll never let you," cried Jessie. " The whole 
 camp will be up in arms when they know I've gone. You 
 
32 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 don't know them, Jim. They're fond of Zip, and they'll 
 stand by him." 
 
 James laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " Say, Jess," he cried, " you come right along with me 
 now. And if you need those kiddies, not all Suffering Creek 
 no, nor hell itself shall stop me bringing 'em along to 
 you." Then he chuckled in an unpleasant manner. " Say, 
 it would tickle me to death to set these mutton-headed 
 gophers jumping around. You'll get those kiddies if you 
 need 'em, if I have to blow hell into this mud-heap of a 
 city." 
 
 Jessie's eyes glowed at the man's note of savage strength 
 and confidence. She knew he could and would do as he 
 said, and this very fact yielded her to him more surely than 
 any other display could have done. It was this wonderful 
 daring, this reckless, savage manhood that had originally 
 won her. He was so different from all others, from her 
 puny husband. He swept her along and dazzled her. Her 
 own virility cried out fpr such a mate, and no moral scruples 
 could hope to stay so strong a tide of nature. 
 
 "You'll do it?" she cried fervently. Then she nodded 
 joyously. " Yes, yes, you'll do it. I know it. Oh, how 
 good you are to me. I love you, Jim." 
 
 Again she was in his arms. Again his kisses fell hot and 
 fast upon her glowing face. Nature was rushing a strong 
 flood tide. It was a moment that could have no repetition 
 in their lives. 
 
 They stood thus, locked in each other's arms, borne along 
 by a passion that was beyond their control lost to all the 
 world, lost to all those things which should have mattered 
 to them. It was the fervid outpouring of two natures which 
 had nothing that was spiritual in them. They demanded 
 the life of the senses, and so strong was the desire that they 
 were lost to all else. 
 
 Then suddenly in the midst of their dream came the dis- 
 
THE HARVEST OF PASSION 33 
 
 turbing patter of small feet and the joyous, innocent laugh- 
 ter of infantile glee. Two tiny mud-stained figures rushed 
 at the doorway and fell sprawling into the hut. They were 
 on their feet again in a moment, laughing and crowing out 
 their delight. Then, as the man and woman sprang apart, 
 they stood round-eyed, wondering and gaping. 
 
 Jamie and Vada paused only till the grown-up eyes were 
 turned in their direction, then their chorus broke out in one 
 breath. 
 
 " We got fi' 'piders " 
 
 "An' two bugs!" 
 
 The important information was fairly shrieked, to the 
 accompaniment of dancing eyes and flushed cheeks. 
 
 Jessie gasped. But her emotion was not at the news so 
 rudely broken. It was the breaking of the spell which had 
 held her. Just for one horrific moment she stood staring 
 helplessly at the innocent picture of her four-year-old twins, 
 beautiful in spite of their grimy exterior, beautiful as a 
 Heaven-inspired picture to the mother. 
 
 The man smiled. Nor was it an unpleasant smile. Per- 
 haps, somewhere in his savage composition, he had a 
 grain of humor; perhaps it was only the foolish smile of 
 a man whose wits are not equal to so incongruous a situa- 
 tion. 
 
 " They're most ev'ry color," piped Vada, with added 
 excitement. 
 
 " Uh ! " grunted Jamie in agreement. " An' the bugs has 
 horns." 
 
 But the man had recovered himself. The interruption 
 had brought with it a realization of the time he had spent in 
 the hut. 
 
 " You'd best go and find more," he said. " There's heaps 
 outside." Then he turned to Jessie. " Come on. We 
 must be going. Have you got the things you need ready? " 
 
 But the mother's eyes were on the small intruders. 
 
34 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Something was gripping at her heart, and somehow it felt 
 like four small and dirty hands. 
 
 " Wher' you goin' ? " demanded Vada, her childish 
 curiosity roused, and all her beautiful spiders forgotten for 
 the moment. 
 
 Her question remained unanswered, leaving the room in 
 ominous silence. Then Jamie's treble blundered into its 
 midst, dutifully echoing his sister's inquiry. 
 
 "'Es, wher'youdoin'?" 
 
 The man's eyes were narrowly watching the woman's 
 face. He noted the tremulous lips, the yearning light in her 
 eyes. In a moment he was answering the children, lest their 
 innocent words should upset his plans. 
 
 " Say, your momma's going for a horse-ride. She's just 
 going right out, and I'm going to show her a dandy place 
 where she can fetch you, so you can catch heaps an' heaps 
 of bugs and spiders. She's just wanting you to stop right 
 here and catch more bugs, till I come along and fetch you." 
 
 " O oh ! " cried Vada, prolonging her exclamation 
 gleefully. " Say, can't us go now ? " 
 
 " Me do too," murmured her faithful shadow. 
 
 One quick glance at the mother's face and the man spoke 
 again. 
 
 " Not now, kiddies. I'll come and fetch you. Run 
 along." Then he turned swiftly upon Jessie. " Where's 
 your bundle ? " he asked in his usual masterful manner. 
 
 And her reply came in a tone of almost heart-broken 
 submission. 
 
 " In there," she said, with a glance at the inner room. 
 
 The man gave her no time to add anything more. He 
 felt the ground he was treading was more than shaky. He 
 knew that with the coming of these children a tremendous 
 power was militating against him a power which would 
 need all his wits to combat. He passed into the inner room, 
 and returned in a moment with the girl's bundle. And with 
 
THE HARVEST OF PASSION 35 
 
 his return one glance showed him how nearly his plans were 
 upset. Jessie was clasping Jamie in her arms, kissing him 
 hungrily, tears streaming down her cheeks, while, out of 
 sheer sympathy, little Vada was clinging to her mother's 
 skirts, her small face buried in amongst them, sobbing as 
 though her heart would break. 
 
 In a moment he was at her side. This was not a time 
 when any drastic methods could serve him, and he adopted 
 the only course which his shrewd sense told him would be 
 likely to avail. Gently but firmly he took the boy out of 
 her arms. 
 
 " You want him to go with us ? " he said kindly. " Very 
 well. Maybe we're doing wrong I mean, for his sake. 
 Anyhow, I'll carry him, and then I'll come back for Vada. 
 It's not good. It's too hard on him, carrying him all that 
 distance too dangerous. Still, I want you to be happy, 
 Jess. I'd do anything for that, even even at his expense. 
 So" 
 
 " No no ! " cried the mother, carried away by the fear 
 he expressed so subtly, and warmed by his carefully ex- 
 pressed sympathy. " Don't take any notice of me. I'm 
 foolish silly. You're right he he couldn't make the 
 journey with us. No, no, we won't take him now. 
 Set him down, Jim. I'll go now, and you'll you'll come 
 back for them. Yes, yes, let's go now. I I can't stay 
 any longer. I've left a letter for Zip. Swear I shall 
 have them both. You'll never never break your word ? 
 I think I'd die without them." 
 
 " You shall have them. I swear it." The man spoke 
 readily enough. It was so easy to promise anything, so long 
 as he got her. 
 
 But his oath brought neither expression of gratitude nor 
 comment. The woman was beyond mere words. She felt 
 that only flight could save her from breaking down alto- 
 gether. And, thus impelled, she tore herself from the 
 
36 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 presence of the children and rushed out of the hut. The 
 horses were down at the creek, and thither she sped, lest her 
 purpose should fail her. 
 
 James followed her. He felt that she must not be left 
 by herself to think. But at the door he paused and glanced 
 keenly around him. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. 
 Not a living soul was to be seen anywhere. It was good ; 
 his plans had worked out perfectly. 
 
 He set Jamie down, and, all unconscious of the little 
 drama being played round his young life, the child stretched 
 out a chubby hand in the direction of the soap-box he and 
 his sister had been playing with. 
 
 " Tiders," he. observed laconically. 
 
 Vada rushed past him to inspect their treasures, her tears 
 already dried into streaks on her dirty little cheeks. 
 
 " An* bugs," she cried gleefully, squatting beside the box. 
 
 They had forgotten. 
 
 The man hurried away down towards the creek, bearing 
 the pitiful bundle of woman's raiment. The girl was ahead, 
 and, as she again came into his view, one thought, and one 
 thought only, occupied his mind. Jessie was his whole 
 world at that moment. 
 
 He, too, had forgotten. 
 
 " They've runned away," cried Vada, peering into the box. 
 
 " Me don't like 'piders," murmured Jamie definitely. 
 
 Vada's great brown eyes filled with tears. Fresh rivulets 
 began to run down the muddy channels on her downy cheeks. 
 Her disappointment found vent in great sobbing gulps. 
 
 Jamie stared at her in silent speculation. Then one little 
 fat hand reached out and pushed her. She rolled over and 
 buried her wet face in the dusty ground and howled heart- 
 brokenly. Then Jamie crawled close up beside her, and, 
 stretching himself out, wept his sympathy into the back of 
 her gaping frock. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 
 
 AT noon the camp began to rouse. The heavy eyes, the 
 languid stretch, the unmeaning contemplation of the noon- 
 tide sunlight, the slow struggles of a somnolent brain. 
 These things were suggested in the gradual stirring of the 
 place to a ponderous activity. The heavy movement of 
 weary diggers as they lounged into camp for their dinner 
 had no suggestion of the greedy passion which possessed 
 them. They had no lightness. Whatever the lust for gold 
 that consumed them, all their methods were characterized 
 by a dogged endeavor which took from them every particle 
 of that nervous activity which belongs to the finely tem- 
 pered business man. 
 
 The camp was a single row of egregious dwellings, squat, 
 uncouth, stretching away on either side of the veranda- 
 fronted store and " gambling hell " which formed a sort of 
 center-piece around which revolved the whole life of the 
 village. It was a poor, mean place, shapeless, evil-smelling 
 in that pure mountain air. It was a mere shelter, a rough 
 perch for the human carrion lusting for the orgy of gold 
 which the time-worn carcass of earth should yield. What 
 had these people to do with comfort or refinement? What 
 had they to do with those things calculated to raise the hu- 
 man mind to a higher spiritual plane? Nothing. All that 
 might come later, when, their desires satisfied, the weary 
 body sick and aching, sends fearful thoughts ahead towards 
 the drab sunset" awaiting them. For the moment the full 
 tide of youth is still running strong*. Sickness and death 
 
38 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 have no terrors. The fine strength of powerful bodies will 
 not allow the mind to focus such things. 
 
 Out of the rugged hills backing the camp the gold-seekers 
 struggle to their resting-place. Here, one man comes clam- 
 bering over the rough bowlder-strewn path at the base of a 
 forest-clad hill. Here, an atom of humanity emerges from 
 the depths of a vast woodland that dwarfs all but the tower- 
 ing hills. Another toils up a steep hillside from the sluggish 
 creek. Another slouches along a vague, unmade trail. Yet 
 another scrambles his way through a low, dense-growing 
 scrub which lines the sides of a vast ravine, the favored 
 locality of the gold-seeker. 
 
 So they come, one by one, from every direction radiating 
 about the building, which is Minky's store. Their faces 
 are hard. Their skin is tanned to a leathery hue, and is of 
 a texture akin to hide. They are silent, thoughtful men, 
 too. But their silence is of the vast world in which they 
 delve, and their thought is the thought of men absorbed in 
 their quest. No, there is no lightness, even in their happiest 
 moments. To be light, an intelligent swiftness of brain is 
 needed. And these derelicts have little of such. Although, 
 when Minky's spirit has circulated its poison through 
 their veins, they are sometimes apt to assume a burlesque 
 of it. 
 
 Now the camp is wide awake. But it is only the wake- 
 fulness of the mother who is roused by the hungry crying 
 of her infant. It will slumber again when appetites have 
 been duly appeased. 
 
 The milk of human kindness is soured by the intense 
 summer heat. The men are " grouchy." They jostle 
 harshly as they push up to Minky's counter for the 
 " appetizers " they do not need. Their greetings are few, 
 and mostly confined to the abrupt demand, "Any luck?" 
 Then, their noon-day drink gulped down, they slouch off 
 into the long, frowsy dining-room at the back of the store, 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 39 
 
 and coarsely devour the rough fare provided by the buxom 
 Birdie Mason, who is at once the kindliest and worst caterer 
 imaginable. 
 
 This good-natured sours position was not as enviable as 
 one might reasonably have supposed. The only woman in 
 a camp of men, any one of whom might reasonably strike a 
 fortune in five minutes. The situation suggests possibilities. 
 But, alas, Birdie was just a woman, and, in consequence, 
 from a worldly point of view, her drawbacks were many. 
 She was attractive a drawback. She was given to a natural 
 desire to stand first with all men another drawback. She 
 was eminently sentimental a still greater drawback. But 
 greatest of all she was a sort of public servant in her posi- 
 tion as caterer, and, as such, of less than no account from 
 the moment the " beast " had been satisfied. 
 
 She had her moments, moments when the rising good- 
 nature of her customers flattered her, when she was fussed 
 over, and petted, as men are ever ready to treat an attractive 
 member of the opposite sex. But these things led no- 
 whither, from a point of view of worldly advantage, and, 
 being just a woman, warm-hearted, uncalculating and pro- 
 foundly illogical, she failed to realize the pitfalls that lay 
 before her, the end which, all unsuspecting, she was steadily 
 forging towards. 
 
 Scipio, like the rest, came into camp for his dinner. His 
 way lay along the bank of the creek. It was cooler here, 
 and, until he neared his home, there were no hills up which 
 to drag his weary limbs. He had had, as usual, an utterly 
 unprofitable morning amidst the greasy ooze of his claim. 
 Yet the glitter of the mica-studded quartz on the hillside, 
 the bright-green and red-brown shading of the milky-white 
 stone still dazzled his mental sight. There was no waver- 
 ing in his belief. These toilsome days were merely the 
 necessary probation for the culminating achievement. He 
 assured himself that gold lay hidden there. And it was only 
 
40 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 waiting for the lucky strike of his pick. He would find it. 
 It was just a matter of keeping on. 
 
 In his simple mind he saw wonderful visions of all that 
 final discovery. He dreamt of the day when he should be 
 able to install his beautiful Jessie in one of those up-town 
 palaces in New York; when an army of servants should 
 anticipate her every desire; when the twins should be 
 launched upon the finest academies the country possessed, 
 to gorge their young minds to the full with all that which 
 the minds of the children of earth's most fortunate must be 
 stored. He saw his Jessie clad in gowns which displayed 
 and enhanced all those beauties with which his devoted 
 mind endowed her. She should not only be his queen, but 
 the queen of a social world, which, to his mind, had no 
 rival. And the happiness of such dreams was beyond com- 
 pare. His labor became the work of a love which 
 stimulated his puny muscles to a pitch which carried him 
 beyond the feeling of any weariness. For himself he 
 wanted nothing. For Jessie and the twins the world was 
 not great enough as a possession. 
 
 And was she not worth it? Were they not worth it? 
 Look at her, so splendid ! How she bore with him and all 
 his petty, annoying ways ! Her disposition was not of this 
 earth, he told himself. Would any other woman put up 
 with his ill-humors, his shortcomings? He realized how 
 very trying he must be to any bright, clever woman. He 
 was not clever, and he knew it, and it made him pity Jessie 
 for the lot he had brought her to. 
 
 And the twins. Vada was the image of her mother. The 
 big, round, brown eyes, the soft, childish mouth, the waving 
 brown hair. And Jamie. He had her eyes, too, and her 
 nose, and her beautiful coloring. What a mercy of 
 Providence neither of them resembled him. But, then, how 
 could they, with such a mother? How it delighted him to 
 think that he was working for them, for her, A thrill of 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 41 
 
 delight swept over him, and added a spring to his jaded step. 
 What mattered anything else in the world. He was to give 
 them all that which the world counted as good. He, alone. 
 
 But it was not yet. For a moment a shadow crossed 
 his radiant face as he toiled up the hill to his hut. It was 
 gone in a moment, however. How could it stay there with 
 his thought gilded with such high hopes? It was not yet, 
 but it would come must come. His purpose was in- 
 vincible. He must conquer and wrench this wealth which 
 he demanded from the bosom of the hard old earth. And 
 then and then 
 
 " Hello, kiddies/' he cried cheerily, as his head rose above 
 the hilltop and his hut and the two children, playing outside 
 it, came into his view. 
 
 " Pop-pa ! " shrieked Vada, dropping a paper full of loose 
 dirt and stones upon her sprawling brother's back, in her 
 haste to reach her diminutive parent. 
 
 " Uh ! " grunted Jamie, scrambling to his feet and totter- 
 ing heavily in the same direction. 
 
 There was a curious difference in the size and growth of 
 these twins. Probably it utterly escaped the adoring eyes 
 of their father. He only saw the reflected glory of their 
 mother in them. Their resemblance to her was all that 
 really mattered to him, but, as a matter of fact, this resem- 
 blance lay chiefly in Vada. She was like her mother in an 
 extraordinary degree. She was well-grown, strong, and 
 quite in advance of her years, in her speech and brightness 
 of intellect. Little Jamie, while he possessed much of his 
 mother in his face, in body was under-sized and weakly, and 
 his mind and speech, backward of development, smacked of 
 his father. He was absolutely dominated by his sister, and 
 followed her lead in everything with adoring rapture. 
 
 Vada reached her father and scrambled agilely up into his 
 work-soiled arms. She impulsively hugged his yellow head 
 to her cheeks with both her arms, so that when Jamie came 
 
42 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 up he had to content himself by similarly hugging the little 
 man's left knee, and kissing the mud-stains on his trousers 
 into liquid patches. 
 
 But Scipio was impartial. He sat Vada down and picked 
 her brother up. Then, taking the former's hand in his 
 horny clasp, bore the boy towards the house. 
 
 " You found any gold ? " inquired Vada, repeating a ques- 
 tion she had so often heard her mother put. 
 
 " 'Es any dold ? " echoed Jamie, from his height above 
 Scipio's head. 
 
 " No, kiddies," the man replied, with a slight sigh. 
 
 " Oh," said Vada. But his answer had little significance 
 for her. 
 
 " Where's your momma ? " inquired Scipio, after a pause. 
 
 " Momma do hoss-ridin'," replied Jamie, forestalling his 
 sister for once. 
 
 "Yes," added Vada. "She gone ridin'. An' they'll 
 come an' take us wher' ther's heaps an' heaps o' 'piders, an' 
 an' bugs an' things. He said so sure." 
 
 "He? Who?" 
 
 They had reached the hut and Scipio set Jamie on the 
 ground as he put his question. 
 
 " The dark man," said Vada readily, but wrinkling her 
 forehead struggling for the name. 
 
 " Uh! " agreed Jamie.. " Mister Dames." 
 
 Just for a moment a sharp question lit Scipio's pale eyes. 
 But the little ones had no understanding of it. And the 
 next moment, as their father passed in through the doorway, 
 they turned to the sand and stone castle they had been 
 laboriously and futilely attempting to mold into some shape. 
 
 " Now you bring up more stones," cried Vada authori- 
 tatively. " Run along, dear," she added patronizingly, as 
 the boy stood with his small hands on his hips, staring 
 vacantly after his father. 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 43 
 
 Scipio gazed stupidly about the living-room. The slop- 
 stained table was empty. The cookstove fire was out. 
 And, just for a second, the thought flashed through his mind 
 had he returned too early for his dinner ? No, he knew 
 he had not. It was dinner-time all right. His appetite told 
 him that. 
 
 For the moment he had forgotten what the children had 
 told him. His simple nature was not easily open to suspi- 
 cion, therefore, like all people of slow brain, this startling 
 break in the routine of his daily life simply set him wonder- 
 ing. He moved round the room, and, without being aware 
 of his purpose, lifted the curtain of turkey red, which 
 served as a door to the rough larder, and peered in. Then, 
 as he let the curtain fall again, something stirred within 
 him. He turned towards the inner room, and his mild voice 
 called 
 
 "Jess." 
 
 His answer was a hollow echo that somehow jarred his 
 nerves. But he called again 
 
 " Jess." 
 
 Again came the echo. Then Vada's small face appeared 
 round the door-casing. 
 
 " Mom-ma gone hoss-ridin'," she reminded him. 
 
 For an instant Scipio's face flushed. Then it paled icily 
 under its tan. His brain was struggling to grasp something 
 which seemed to be slowly enveloping him, but which his 
 honest heart would not let him believe. He stared stupidly 
 at Vada's dirty face. Then, as the child withdrew to her 
 play, he suddenly crossed the room to the curtained bedroom 
 doorway. He passed through, and the flimsy covering fell- 
 to behind him. 
 
 For a space the music of childish voices was the only 
 sound to break the stillness. The hum of buzzing insects 
 seemed to intensify the summer heat. For minutes no 
 
44 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 movement came from the bedroom. It was like the dread 
 silence before a storm. 
 
 A strange sound came at last. It was something between 
 a moan and the pained cry of some mild-spirited animal 
 stricken to death. It had no human semblance, and yet 
 it came from behind the dingy print curtain over the bed- 
 room doorway. 
 
 A moment later the curtain stirred and the ghastly face 
 of Scipio suddenly appeared. He moved out into the living- 
 room and almost fell into the Windsor chair which had last 
 been occupied by his wife. A sheet of notepaper was in his 
 shaking hand, and his pale eyes were staring vacantly at it. 
 He was not reading. He had read. And that which he had 
 read had left him dazed and scarcely comprehending. He 
 sat thus for many minutes. And not once did he stir a 
 muscle, or lift his eyes from their fixed contemplation. 
 
 A light breeze set the larder curtain fluttering. Scipio 
 started. He stared round apprehensively. Then, as though 
 drawn by a magnet, his eyes came back to the letter in his 
 hand, and once more fixed themselves upon the bold hand- 
 writing. But this time there was intelligence in his gaze. 
 There was intelligence, fear, despair, horror; every painful 
 emotion was struggling for uppermost place in mind and 
 heart. He read again carefully, slowly, as though trying 
 to discover some loophole from the horror of what was 
 written there. The note was short so short there was 
 not one spark of hope in it for the man who was reading it, 
 not one expression of feeling other than selfishness. It was 
 the death-blow to all his dreams, all his desire. 
 
 " I've gone away. I shall never come back. I can't 
 stand this life here any longer. Don't try to find me, for 
 it's no use. Maybe what I'm doing is wicked, but I'm 
 glad I'm doing it. It's not your fault it's just me. I 
 haven't your courage, I haven't any courage at all. I just 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 45 
 
 can't face the life we're living. I'd have gone before when 
 he first asked me but for my babies, but I just couldn't part 
 with them. Zip, I want to take them with me now, but I 
 don't know what Jim's arrangements are going to be. I 
 must have them. I can't live without them. And if they 
 don't go with us now you'll let them come to me after, 
 won't you? Oh, Zip, I know I'm a wicked woman, but I 
 feel I must go. You won't keep them from me? Let me 
 have them. I love them so bad. I do. I do. Good-by 
 forever. 
 
 " JESSIE." 
 
 Mechanically Scipio folded the paper again and sat 
 grasping it tightly in one clenched hand. His eyes were 
 raised and gazing through the doorway at the golden sun- 
 light beyond. His lips were parted, and there was a strange 
 dropping of his lower jaw. The tanning of his russet 
 face looked like a layer of dirt upon a super-whited skin. 
 He scarcely seemed to breathe, so still he sat. As yet 
 his despair was so terrible that his mind and heart were 
 numbed to a sort of stupefaction, deadening the horror of 
 his pain. 
 
 He sat on for many minutes. Then, at last, his eyes 
 dropped again to the crushed paper, and a quavering sigh 
 escaped him. He half rose from his seat, but fell back in it 
 again. Then a sudden spasm seized him, and flinging him- 
 self round he reached out his slight, tanned arms upon the 
 dirty table, and, his head dropping upon them, he moaned 
 out the full force of his despair. 
 
 " I want her ! " he cried. " Oh, God, I want her ! " 
 
 But now his slight body was no longer still. His back 
 heaved with mute sobs that had no tears. All his gentle 
 soul was torn and bleeding. He had not that iron in his 
 composition with which another man might have crushed 
 down his feelings and stirred himself to a harsh defense. 
 
46 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 He was just a warm, loving creature of no great strength 
 beyond his capacity for human affection and self-sacrifice. 
 And for the time at least, his sufferings were beyond his 
 control. 
 
 In the midst of his grief two little faces, and two pairs 
 of round, wondering eyes appeared in the doorway. Two 
 small infantile minds worked hard at the sight they beheld. 
 Vada, whose quickness of perception was so much in ad- 
 vance of her brother's, murmured in his ear 
 
 " Sleep." 
 
 " Uh, seep," nodded the faithful boy. 
 
 Then four little bare feet began to creep into the room. 
 Four big brown eyes shone with gleeful anticipation. Four 
 chubby arms were outstretched as though claiming the vic- 
 tim of their childish prank. Vada led, but Jamie was close 
 behind. They stole in, their small feet making not the 
 slightest sound as they tiptoed towards the stricken man. 
 Each, thrilling with excitement, was desperately intent upon 
 frightening him. 
 
 " Boo-h ! " cried Vada, her round eyes sparkling as she 
 reached Scipio's side. 
 
 " Bo-oh ! " echoed Jamie a second later, chuckling and 
 gurgling a delight he had no other means of expressing at 
 the moment. 
 
 Scipio raised his haggard face. His unsmiling eyes, so 
 pale and unmeaning, stared stupidly at the children. And 
 suddenly the merry smile died out of the young faces, and 
 an odd contraction of their brows suggested a dawning sym- 
 pathy which came wholly from the heart. 
 
 " You'se cryin', poppa," cried Vada impulsively. 
 
 " Uh," nodded the boy. 
 
 And thereupon great tears welled up into their sympa- 
 thetic eyes, and the twins wept in chorus. And somehow 
 the tears, which had thus far been denied the man, now 
 slowly and painfully flooded his eyes. He groped the two 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 47 
 
 children into his arms, and buried his face in the soft wavy 
 hair which fell in a tangle about the girl's head. 
 
 For some moments he sat thus, something of his grief 
 easing in the flood of almost womanish tears. Until, finally, 
 it was Jamie who saved the situation. His sobs died out 
 abruptly, and the boy in him stirred. 
 
 " Me want t' eat," he protested, without preamble. 
 
 The man looked up. 
 
 " Eat? " he echoed vaguely. 
 
 " Yes. Dinner," explained Vada, whose tears were still 
 flowing, but who never failed as her little brother's 
 interpreter. 
 
 There was a moment's pause while Scipio stared down at 
 the two faces lifted so appealingly to his. Then a change 
 came into his expressionless eyes. A smoldering fire be- 
 gan to burn, which seemed to deepen their weakly coloring. 
 His drawn face seemed to gather strength. And somehow 
 even his straw-colored hair, so scanty, ill-grown and 
 disheveled, looked less like the stubble it so much resembled. 
 It was almost as though a latent, unsuspected strength were 
 rousing within him, lifting him from the slough of despair 
 by which he was so nearly submerged. It was as though 
 the presence of his twins had drawn from him an acknowl- 
 edgment of his duty, a sense which was so strongly and 
 incongruously developed in his otherwise uncertain charac- 
 ter, and demanded of him a sacrifice of all personal inclina- 
 tion. They were her children. Yes, and they were his. 
 Her children her children. And she was gone. They 
 had no one to look to, no one to care for them now, but 
 him. 
 
 He sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Why, yes, kiddies," he said, with a painful assumption 
 of lightness. " You're needing food sure. Say, I guess we 
 won't wait for your momma. We'll just hand her an 
 elegant surprise. We'll get dinner ourselves." 
 
48 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Jamie gurgled his joyous approval, but Vada was more 
 intelligible. 
 
 " Bully ! " she cried. " We'll give her a surprise." Then 
 she turned to Jamie. " Surprise is when folks do things 
 that other folks don't guess you're going to, dear," she 
 explained, to his utter confusion. 
 
 Scipio went to the larder and gathered various scraps of 
 food, and plates, and anything that seemed to him as being 
 of any possible use in a meal. He re-kindled the fire in the 
 cookstove and made some coffee. That he understood. 
 There was no sign of his despair about him now. Perhaps 
 he was more than usually silent, but otherwise, for the time 
 at least, he had buried his trouble sufficiently deeply out of 
 sight, so that at any rate the inquiring eyes of the happy 
 children could see nothing of it. 
 
 They, too, busied themselves in the preparation. Vada 
 dictated to her father with never flagging tongue, and Jamie 
 carried everything he could lift to and fro, regardless of 
 whether he was bringing or taking away. Vada chid him 
 in her childishly superior way, but her efforts were quite 
 lost on his delicious self-importance. Nor could there be 
 any doubt that, in his infantile mind, he was quite assured 
 that his services were indispensable. 
 
 At last the meal was ready. There was nearly everything 
 of which the household consisted upon the table or in close 
 proximity to it. Then, when at last they sat down, and 
 Scipio glanced over the strange conglomeration, his con- 
 science was smitten. 
 
 " Seems to me you kiddies need bread and milk," he said 
 ruefully. " But I don't guess there's any milk." 
 
 Vada promptly threw herself into the breach. 
 
 " On'y Jamie has bread an' milk, pop-pa. Y'see his new 
 teeth ain't through. Mine is. You best cut his up into 
 wee bits." 
 
 " Sure, of course," agreed Scipio in relief. " I'll get 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SC1PIO 49 
 
 along down to Minky's for milk after," he added, while he 
 obediently proceeded to cut up the boy's meat. 
 
 It was a strange meal. There was something even tragic 
 in it. The children were wildly happy in the thought that 
 they had shared in this wonderful surprise for their mother. 
 That they had assisted in those things which childhood ever 
 yearns to share in the domestic doings of their elders. 
 
 The man ate mechanically. His body told him to eat, 
 and so he ate without knowing or caring what. His dis- 
 traught mind was traveling swiftly through the barren paths 
 of hopelessness and despair, while yet he had to keep his 
 children in countenance under their fire of childish prattle. 
 Many times he could have flung aside his mask and given 
 up, but the babyish laughter held him to an effort such as 
 he had never before been called upon to make. 
 
 When the meal was finished Scipio was about to get 
 up from his chair, but Vada's imperious tongue stayed 
 him. 
 
 " We ain't said grace," she declared complainingly. 
 
 And the man promptly dropped back into his seat. 
 
 " Sure," he agreed helplessly. 
 
 At once the girl put her finger-tips together before her 
 nose and closed her eyes. 
 
 " Thank God for my good dinner, Amen, and may we 
 help fix up after? " she rattled off. 
 
 "Ess," added Jamie, "tank Dod for my dood dinner, 
 Amen, me fix up, too." 
 
 And with this last word both children tumbled almost 
 headlong from the bench which they were sharing. Nor 
 had their diminutive parent the heart to deny their request. 
 
 The next hour was perhaps one of the hardest in Scipio's 
 life. Nothing could have impressed his hopeless position 
 upon him more than the enthusiastic assistance so cordially 
 afforded him. While the children had no understanding of 
 their father's grief, while with every heart-beat they glowed 
 
50 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 with a loving desire to be his help, their every act was an 
 unconscious stab which drove him until he could have cried 
 aloud in agony. 
 
 And it was a period of catastrophe. Little Vada scalded 
 her hand and had to be petted back to her normal condition 
 of sunny smiles. Jamie broke one of the few plates, and 
 his tears had to be banished by assurances that it did not 
 matter, and that he had done his father a kindness by rid- 
 ding him of such an ugly plate. Then Vada stumbled into 
 the garbage pail and had to be carefully wiped, while Jamie 
 smeared his sparse hair with rancid dripping and insisted he 
 was " Injun," vociferously proclaiming his desire to " talp " 
 his sister. 
 
 But the crowning disaster came when he attempted to 
 put his threat into execution. He seized a bunch of her hair 
 in his two chubby hands and began to drag her round the 
 room. Her howls drew Scipio's attention from his work, 
 and he turned to find them a struggling heap upon the floor. 
 He dashed to part them, kicked over a bucket of drinking 
 water in his well-meant hurry, and, finally, had to rescue 
 them, both drenched to the skin, from the untimely bath. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to strip off all their clothes 
 and dress them up in their nightgowns, for as yet he had 
 no knowledge of their wardrobe, and send them out to get 
 warm in the sun, while he dried their day-clothes at the 
 cookstove. 
 
 It was the climax. The man flung himself into a chair 
 and buried his face in his hands. The mask had dropped 
 from him. There was no longer any need for pretense. 
 Once more the grief and horror of his disaster broke through 
 his guard and left him helpless. The whole world, his life, 
 everything was engulfed in an abyss of black despair. 
 
 He was dry-eyed and desperate. But now somehow his 
 feelings contained an emotion that the first shock of his loss 
 had not brought him. He was no longer a prey to a weak, 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 51 
 
 unresisting submission, the grief of a tortured gentle heart. 
 There was another feeling. A feeling of anger and resent- 
 ment which slowly grew with each moment, and sent 
 the hot blood surging furiously to his brain. Nor was this 
 feeling directed against Jessie. How could it be ? He loved 
 her so that her cruel desertion of him appeared to be a mat- 
 ter for which he was chiefly to blame. Yes, he understood. 
 He was not the husband for her. How could it be other- 
 wise? He had no cleverness. He had always been a 
 failure. No, his anger was not against Jessie. It was the 
 other. It was the man who had robbed him of all he cared 
 for in the world. 
 
 His anger grew hotter and hotter. And with this growing 
 passion there came an absolute revulsion of the motive force 
 that had always governed him. He wanted to hurt. He 
 wanted to hurt this man, Lord James. And his simple mind 
 groped for a means to carry out his desire. He began to 
 think more quickly and clearly, and the process brought him 
 a sort of cold calmness. Again his grief was thrust out 
 of his focus, and all his mental energy was concentrated 
 upon his desire. And he conjured up a succession of 
 pictures of the tortures and sufferings he desired for this 
 villain who had so wronged him. 
 
 But the pictures were too feeble and wholly inadequate 
 to satisfy. So gentle was his nature, that, even stirred as 
 he was, he could not conceive a fitting punishment for so 
 great an offense. He felt his own inadequacy, his own 
 feebleness to cope with the problem before him, and so he 
 sat brooding impotently. 
 
 It was all useless. And as the minutes slipped by his 
 anger began to die out, merging once more into the all- 
 absorbing grief that underlay it. He was alone. Alone! 
 He would never see her again. The thought chilled him to 
 a sudden nervous dread. No, no, it was not possible. She 
 would come back. She must come back. Yes, yes. She 
 
52 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 was his Jessie. His beautiful Jessie. She belonged to him. 
 And the children. She loved them. How she loved them. 
 They were theirs. Yes, she would come back. Maybe she 
 would come back at supper-time. She would understand by 
 then. Because she was good, and and kind, and No, 
 no, Fate could never be so cruel as to take her from him. 
 
 He rose and paced the floor with nervous, uneven strides. 
 He plunged his hand into his coat pocket and drew out the 
 letter again. He re-read it, with hot eyes and straining 
 thought. Every word seemed to sear itself upon his poor 
 brain, and drive him to the verge of distraction. Why? 
 Why? And he raised his bloodshot eyes to the roof of his 
 hut, and crushed the paper in one desperate hand. 
 
 Then suddenly he started. His pale eyes took on a 
 furtive frightened expression. He glanced fearfully round 
 the room as though someone was in hiding to surprise his 
 inspiration. Yes, that was it. Why not? He was not 
 afraid. He was afraid of no one. Yes, yes, he had the 
 means. He must make the opportunity. She was his. No 
 one else had a right to her. It was justifiable. It was no 
 more than justice. 
 
 He moved towards the inner room. He was less furtive 
 now. His purpose had startled him at first, but now he was 
 convinced it was right. To a man of his character his 
 resolve once taken there was only one thing to do to carry 
 it out. 
 
 He passed into the bedroom, and, in a few moments, 
 reappeared. Now he was bearing something in his hand. 
 He held it carefully, and in his eyes was something like 
 terror of what he held. The thing he carried was an old- 
 fashioned revolver. It was rusty. But it had a merciless 
 look about it. He turned it up gingerly. Then he opened 
 the breach, and loaded all the six chambers. Then he 
 carefully bestowed it in his coat pocket, where it bulged 
 obtrusively. 
 
THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO 53 
 
 Now he moved to the open doorway, and somehow his 
 original furtiveness had returned to him. Here he paused 
 as the voices of the twins reached and held him. They were 
 still playing in the sun, banking up the sand and stones in 
 their futile attempt at castle building. He breathed hard, 
 as though summoning up all his decision. Then he spoke. 
 
 " Say, kiddies," he said firmly. " I'll be right back at 
 supper." 
 
 And he moved out without another look in their direc- 
 tion, and walked off in the direction of Minky's store. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 
 
 SCIPIO found an almost deserted camp after floundering 
 his way over the intricate paths amongst the refuse-heaps. 
 
 The miners had departed to their claims with a punctual- 
 ity that suggested Trades Union principles. Such was their 
 existence. They ate to live ; they lived to work, ever track- 
 ing the elusive metal to the earth's most secret places. The 
 camp claimed them only when their day's work was done ; 
 for the rest, it supported only their most urgent needs. 
 
 Sunny Oak, lounging on a rough bench in the shadiest 
 part of the veranda facing Minky's store, raised a pair of 
 heavy eyelids, to behold a dejected figure emerge from 
 amidst the " dumps." The figure was bearing towards the 
 store in a dusty cloud which his trailing feet raised at every 
 step. His eyes opened wider, and interested thought stirred 
 in his somnolent brain. He recognized the figure and won- 
 dered. Scipio should have been out on his claim by this 
 time, like the rest. 
 
 The lean long figure of the lounger propped itself upon 
 its elbow. Curiously enough, lazy as he was, the smallest 
 matter interested him. Had he suddenly discovered a beetle 
 moving on the veranda he would have found food for re- 
 flection in its doings. Such was his mind. A smile stole 
 into his indolent eyes, a lazy smile which spoke of tolerant 
 good-humor. He turned so that his voice might carry in 
 through the window which was just behind him. 
 
 " Say, Bill," he cried, " here's Zip comin' down the trail." 
 
 As though his announcement were sufficient to rouse an 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 55 
 
 equal interest in those inside the store, he returned again to 
 his contemplation of the approaching figure. 
 
 " What's he doin' around camp this hour ? " inquired a 
 harsh voice from beyond the window. 
 
 " Guess I ain't a lightnin' calc'lator," observed Sunny, 
 without withdrawing his gaze. 
 
 " Nope," came the prompt retort from the invisible 
 speaker ; " guess it 'ud keep you busy trackin' a fun'ral." 
 
 " Which don't need contradiction ! I'm kind o' makin' 
 holiday these times. Guess you ain't never heerd tell o' the 
 ' rest cure ' ? " 
 
 A rough laugh broke on the drowsy atmosphere. 
 
 " Sunny's overworked just now," said another voice, 
 amidst the rattle of poker chips. 
 
 " Wher' you bin workin', Sunny ? " inquired the harsh 
 voice of the man addressed as Bill. 
 
 " Workin' ! " cried the loafer, with good-natured scorn. 
 " Say, I don't never let a hobby interfere with the bizness 
 of life." 
 
 A half-smothered laugh answered him. Even the exigen- 
 cies of a poker hand could not quite crush out the natural 
 humor of these men, who always followed on the golden 
 trail of the pioneers. 
 
 " Say, what's your bizness ? " demanded another voice 
 presently. 
 
 " Restin' ! " the man on the veranda answered easily. 
 
 The shuffle of cards and rattle of chips came with a 
 snigger. And the answering lazy smile of Sunny Oak was 
 good to see. It lit his unshaven face from his unwashed 
 brow to his chin. And to an onlooker it might well have 
 appeared a pity that an intense bodily indolence should so 
 dominate his personality. He looked vastly capable, both 
 mentally and physically. 
 
 But his eyes never left the on-coming Scipio. The little 
 man moved with bowed head and trailing footsteps. The 
 
56 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 utter dispiritedness of his gait stirred even the self-centered 
 watcher. But Scipio saw nothing of Sunny Oak. He saw 
 nothing of anything but the despairing picture in his own 
 mind. The ramshackle shanties which lined one side of the 
 trail were passed unheeded. The yapping of the camp dogs 
 at the unusual sight of so deplorable a figure at this hour of 
 the day was quite unnoticed by him. The shelving rise of 
 attenuated grass-land which blocked the view of Suffering 
 Creek on his left never for a moment came into his focus. 
 His eyes were on the trail ahead of him, and never more 
 than a few feet from where he trod. And those eyes were 
 hot and staring, aching with their concentration upon the 
 hideous picture which filled his brain. 
 
 As Scipio drew near Sunny Oak further bestirred him- 
 self, which was a concession not often yielded by that indi- 
 vidual to anyone. He sat up, and his smile broadened. 
 Then it faded out as he beheld the usually mild expression 
 of the yellow-haired prospector now so set and troubled. 
 " Gee ! " he murmured in an undertone. Then, with an 
 evident effort, he offered a greeting. 
 
 " Ho, you, Zip ! Drawn a blank way up ther' on your 
 mud-bank ? " 
 
 Scipio looked up in a dazed fashion. Then he halted and 
 seemed to pull himself together. Finally he spoke. 
 
 " Howdy? " he said in a mechanical sort of way. 
 
 " Guess I'm a heap better," responded Sunny, with 
 twinkling eyes. 
 
 Scipio gazed up at the store in a bewildered way. He 
 saw the great letters in which Minky's name and occupation 
 were inscribed on its pretentious front, and it seemed to 
 bring back his purpose to his distracted mind. Instantly the 
 other's words became intelligible to him, and his native 
 kindliness prompted him. 
 
 " You been sick ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Wai, not rightly sick, but ailinV Sunny's smile 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 57 
 
 broadened till a mouthful of fairly decent teeth showed 
 through the fringe of his ragged mustache. 
 
 "Ailin'?" 
 
 " Yep. Guess I bin overdoin' it." 
 
 " It don't do, working too hard in the heat," said Scipio 
 absently. 
 
 " Sure," replied Sunny. " It's been a hard job avoidin' it. 
 Ther's allus folk ready to set me workin'. That's just the 
 way o' things. What I need is rest. Say, you ain't 
 workin' ? " 
 
 Scipio started. 
 
 " No. I'm looking for Wild Bill." 
 
 Sunny Oak jerked his head backwards in the direction of 
 the window. 
 
 " Guess he's at work in therV 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 Scipio mounted the veranda and passed along to the door 
 of the store. Sunny's eyes followed him, but he displayed 
 no other interest. With ears and brain alert, however, he 
 waited. He knew that all he required to know would reach 
 him through a channel that was quite effortless to himself. 
 Again he stretched himself out on the bench, and his twin- 
 kling eyes closed luxuriously. 
 
 Minky's store was very little different from other plaoes of 
 its kind. He sold everything that could possibly be needed 
 in a newly started mining camp. He did not confine himself 
 to hardware and clothing and canned goods, but carried a 
 supply of drugs, stationery and general dry goods, besides 
 liquor in ample quantities, if of limited quality. There was 
 rye whisky, there was gin, and there was some sort of 
 French brandy. The two latter were in the smallest 
 quantities. Rye was the staple drink of the place. 
 
 The walls of the store were lined with shelves on every 
 side, and the shelves were full, even overflowing to a piled- 
 up confusion of goods which were stacked around on the 
 
58 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 floor. In the somewhat limited floor-space there were tables 
 and benches which could be used for the dual purpose of 
 drink and cards. But wherein Minky's store was slightly 
 out of the usual was the fact that he was not a Jew, and 
 adopted no Jewish methods of trading. He was scrupu- 
 lously honest with his customers, and fairly moderate in his 
 charges, relying on this uncommon integrity and temperate- 
 ness of disposition to make personal liking the basis of his 
 commercial success. 
 
 It was perhaps a much further-sighted policy than one 
 would suppose. Several men had endeavored to start in the 
 store business in opposition to him, but in each case their 
 enterprise had proved an utter failure. Not a man in the 
 place would trade elsewhere. Minky was just " Minky," 
 whom they liked and trusted. And, what was much more 
 to the point, who was ever ready to " trust " them. 
 
 Wild Bill was at the poker table with Minky, Sandy Joyce 
 and Toby Jenks when Scipio entered the place. He was a 
 gambler out and out. It was his profession. He was 
 known as Wild Bill of Abilene, a man whose past was never 
 inquired into by even the most youthful new-comer, whose 
 present was a thing that none ever saw sufficient reason to 
 question, and whose future suggested nothing so much as 
 the general uncertainty of things human. He was a man of 
 harsh exterior and, apparently, harsh purpose. His eyes 
 were steely and his tongue ironical ; he possessed muscles of 
 iron and a knowledge of poker and all its subtleties that had 
 never yet failed him. He was a dead shot with a pistol, and, 
 in consequence, fear and respect were laid at his feet by his 
 fellow-townsmen. He was also Minky's most treasured 
 friend. 
 
 Sandy Joyce had to his credit a married past, which some- 
 how gave him a certain authority in the place. He was 
 expected to possess a fund of wisdom in matters worldly, 
 and he did his best to live up to this demand. He was also, 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 59 
 
 by the way, an ex-cowpuncher suffering from gold fever, 
 and between whiles played poker with Wild Bill until he had 
 lost the result of his more regular labors. He was a slight, 
 tall, bright-eyed man of thirty, with an elaborate flow of 
 picturesque language. He was afraid of no man, but all 
 women. 
 
 Toby Jenks was as short and squat as his friends were 
 long and thin. He was good-tempered, and spent large 
 remittances which reached him at regular intervals in the 
 lulls which occurred in his desultory search for gold. 
 
 Minky, a plain, large man of blunt speech and gruff man- 
 ners, looked up swiftly as Scipio entered, and a moment 
 later three more pairs of eyes were fixed inquiringly upon 
 the new-comer. 
 
 " Struck color ? " inquired Minky, with his gruffest 
 cordiality. 
 
 " No." 
 
 Scipio's entire attitude had distinctly undergone a change 
 since Sunny Oak's lazy eyes first discovered his approach. 
 Where before the hopelessness of despair had looked out 
 from every line of his mild face, now his mouth was set 
 obstinately, and a decided thrust to his usually retiring chin 
 became remarkable. Even his wispy hair had an aggression 
 in the manner in which it obtruded from under the brim of 
 his slouch hat. His eyes were nearly defiant, yet there was 
 pleading in them, too. It was as if he were sure of the 
 Tightness of his purpose, but needed encouragement in its 
 execution. 
 
 For the moment the poker game was stopped, a fact which 
 was wholly due to the interest of the steely eyes of Wild 
 Bill. 
 
 " Layin' off?" inquired the gambler, without a moment's 
 softening. 
 
 " Guess you're passin' on that mud lay-out of yours," sug- 
 gested Sandy, with a laugh. 
 
60 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Scipio shook his head, and his lips tightened. 
 
 " No. I want to borrow a good horse from Bill here." 
 
 The gambler set down the cards he had been shuffling. 
 The statement seemed to warrant his action. He sat back 
 in his chair and bit a chew of tobacco off a black plug. 
 Minky and the others sat round and stared at the little man 
 with unfeigned interest. 
 
 " You're iieedin' a hoss ? " demanded Bill, without at- 
 tempting to disguise his surprise. " What for? " 
 
 Scipio drew a hand across his brow; a beady sweat had 
 broken out upon it. 
 
 " Oh, nothing to bother folk with," he said, with a painful 
 attempt at indifference. "I've got to hunt around and find 
 that feller, ' Lord ' James." 
 
 A swift glance flashed round the table from eye to eye. 
 Then Sunny Oak's voice reached them from beyond the 
 window 
 
 " Guess you've a goodish ways to travel." 
 
 " Time enough," said Scipio doggedly. 
 
 " What you need to find him for ? " demanded Wild 
 Bill, and there was a change in the glitter of his fierce 
 eyes. It was not that they softened, only now they had the 
 suggestion of an ironical smile, which, in him, implied curi- 
 osity. 
 
 Scipio shifted his feet uneasily. His pale eyes wandered 
 to the sunlit window. One hand was thrust in his jacket 
 pocket, and the fingers of it fidgeted with the rusty metal of 
 the gun that bulged its sides. This pressure of interrogation 
 was upsetting the restraint he was putting on himself. All 
 his grief and anger were surging uppermost again. With a 
 big effort, which was not lost upon his shrewd audience, he 
 choked down his rising emotion. 
 
 " Oh, I I'd like to pay him a ' party call,' " he blurted 
 out. 
 
 Minky was about to speak, but Wild Bill kept him silent 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 61 
 
 with a sharp glance. An audible snigger came from beyond 
 the window. 
 
 " Guess you know jest wher' you'll locate him? " inquired 
 the gambler. 
 
 " No, but I'm going to find him, sure," replied Scipio 
 doggedly. Then he added, with his eyes averted, " Guess I 
 shan't let up till I do." 
 
 There was a weak sparkle in the little man's eyes. 
 
 " What's your game? " rasped Bill curiously. 
 
 " Oh, just nothin'." 
 
 The reply caused a brief embarrassed pause. Then the 
 gambler broke it with characteristic force. 
 
 " An' f er that reason you're carryin' a gun," he said, 
 pointing at the man's bulging pocket. 
 
 Sandy Joyce ceased stacking his " chips " ; Toby squared 
 his broad shoulders and drained an already empty glass. 
 Minky blinked his astonishment, while Wild Bill thrust his 
 long legs out and aggressively pushed his hat back on his 
 head. It was at that moment that curiosity overcame Sunny 
 Oak's habitual indolence, and his face appeared over the 
 window-sill. 
 
 " He's stole from me," said Scipio in a low tone. 
 
 " What's he stole ? " demanded the gambler savagely. 
 
 " My wife." 
 
 The stillness of the room remained unbroken for some 
 moments. Actions came far easier to these men than mere 
 words. Scipio's words had a paralyzing effect upon their 
 powers of speech, and each was busy with thoughts which 
 they were powerless to interpret into words. " Lord " 
 James was a name they had reason to hate. It was a name 
 synonymous with theft, and even worse to them. He had 
 stolen from their community, which was unforgivable, but 
 this this was something new to them, something which 
 did not readily come into their focus. Wild Bill was the 
 first to recover himself. 
 
62 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " How d'you know ? " he asked. 
 
 " She wrote telling me." 
 
 " She went 'cos she notioned it ? " inquired Sandy. 
 
 " He's stole her he's stole my Jessie," said Scipio sul- 
 lenly. 
 
 "An' you're goin' to fetch her back?" Bill's question 
 whipped the still air. 
 
 " Sure she's mine." 
 
 Scipio's simplicity and single-mindedness brought forth a 
 sigh of intense feeling from his hearers. 
 
 "How?" Wild Bill's method of interrogation had a 
 driving effect. 
 
 " She's mine, an' I'm going to get her back." There 
 was pity at the man's obstinate assertion in every eye except 
 Wild Bill's. 
 
 " Say, Zip, he'll kill you," said the gambler, after a 
 pause. 
 
 " She's my wife. She's mine," retorted Scipio intensely. 
 " An' I'll shoot him dead if he refuses to hand her 
 over." 
 
 " Say," the gambler went on, ignoring the man's protest 
 the idea of Scipio shooting a man like James was too ludi- 
 crous " you're up agin a bad proposition, sure. James has 
 stole your wife. He's stole more. He's a stage-robber," 
 
 " A cattle-thief," broke in Sandy. 
 
 " A ' bad man ' of the worst," nodded Minky. 
 
 " He's all these, an' more," went on Bill, scowling. 
 " He's a low-down skunk, he's a pestilence, he's a murderer. 
 You're goin' to hunt him back ther' to his own shack in 
 the foothills with his gang of toughs around him, an' you're 
 goin' to make him hand back your wife. Say, you're sure 
 crazy. He'll kill you. He'll blow your carkis to hell, an' 
 charge the devil freightage for doin' it." 
 
 There was a look of agreement in the eyes that watched 
 Scipio's mild face. There was more: there was sympathy 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 63 
 
 and pity for him, feelings in these men for which there was 
 no other means of expression. 
 
 But Scipio was unmoved from his purpose. His underlip 
 protruded obstinately. His pale eyes were alight with 
 purpose and misery. 
 
 " He's stole my Jessie," he cried, " an' I want her back." 
 Then, in a moment, his whole manner changed, and his 
 words came with an irresistible pleading. Hard as was the 
 gambler, the pathos of it struck a chord in him the existence 
 of which, perhaps, even he was unaware. 
 
 " You'll lend me a horse, Bill ? " the little man cried. 
 " You will, sure ? I got fifty dollars saved for the kiddies' 
 clothes. Here it is," he hurried on, pulling out a packet of 
 bills from his hip pocket. " You take 'em and keep 'em 
 against the horse. It ain't sufficient, but it's all I got. I'll 
 pay the rest when I've made it, if your horse gets hurted. 
 I will, sure. Say," he added, with a happy inspiration, " I'll 
 give you a note on my claim ha'f of it. You'll do it? 
 You " 
 
 Bill's face went suddenly scarlet. Something made him 
 lower his eyelids. It was as though he could not look on 
 that eager face unmoved any longer. Somehow he felt in a 
 vague sort of way that poor Scipio's spirit was altogether too 
 big for his body. Bigger by far than that of those sitting 
 there ready to deride his purpose, and crush it to a weak 
 yielding such as, in their minds, was the only possible thing 
 for a man of his like. 
 
 " You set them bills right back in your dip," he cried, 
 with a savageness that was only a mask to his real feelings ; 
 " I don't need 'em. You ken get right out to the barn an' 
 have your pick o' my plugs, an' anythin' you need else. 
 Guess you best take the black mare. She'll carry you all 
 day for a week, sure, an' then laff at you. Get right on, an' 
 an' good luck ! " 
 
 There are actions performed in every man's life for which 
 
64 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 he can never account, even to himself. Such was the act 
 Wild Bill performed at that moment. Gambling was his 
 living, but his horses were a passion with him. He pos- 
 sessed, perhaps, some of the finest in the country, and he 
 worshiped them. He had never been known to lend a 
 horse to his best friend, and no one but himself had ever 
 been allowed to feed or groom them. He was prouder of 
 them than a father might be of his firstborn son, and as 
 careful of them as any doting mother. Therefore his assent 
 to Scipio's request was quite staggering to his companions. 
 Nor did he know why he did it, and a furious anger followed 
 immediately upon this unusual outburst of good-nature. 
 
 Scipio was profuse in his thanks. But he was cut short 
 with a violence that seemed quite unnecessary. For the 
 moment, at least, Bill hated the little man almost as much 
 as he hated this " Lord " James he was setting out in 
 search of. 
 
 After that no word passed until Scipio had left the store 
 for the barn. Bill sat wrapt in moody thought, his fierce 
 eyes lowered in contemplation of his well-shod feet. His 
 cards were forgotten, the men around him were forgotten. 
 Sandy and the storekeeper were watching his harsh face in 
 wonder, while Toby's head was turned in the direction of 
 the departing man. It was Sunny Oak from his post at the 
 window who finally broke the silence. 
 
 " Guess you gone plumb * bug/ Bill/' he said, with an 
 amiable grin. Then, as only a flicker of a smile from the 
 others answered him, and Bill ignored his charge altogether, 
 he hurried on, " You're helpin' that misguided feller to a 
 dose of lead he'll never have time to digest. If ever Zip 
 runs foul of James, he'll blow him to hell as sure as ther's 
 allus work for those as don't need it. An', wot's more, 
 you'll never set. eyes on your black mare agin, 'less it's 
 under James' saddle. You're sure ' bug.' You oughter be 
 seen to." 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 65 
 
 It was only Sunny Oak who would have dared to say so 
 much to the gambler. But then, for some unstated reason, 
 Sunny was a privileged person on Suffering Creek. Nobody 
 paid much attention to the manner in which he allowed his 
 tongue to run on, and, besides, he was too lazy to be afraid 
 of anybody. 
 
 Bill looked round. 
 
 " You're side-tracked," he observed contemptuously. 
 " James won't shoot Jessie's husband. Maybe he'll kick 
 him out, maybe he'll roast him bad, and tongue-lash him. 
 Anyways, every man's got to play his own hand. An' it's 
 good to see him playin' hard, win or lose. But Zip'll git 
 back, sure. An' he'll bring my mare with him. Go to 
 sleep, Sunny ; your thinkin'-pan's nigh hatched out." 
 
 " I don't guess he'll ever get alongside James," observed 
 Minky thoughtfully. " We've all looked for him a piece. 
 We know he's got a shanty back in the foothills, but I don't 
 seem to remember hearin' of anybody findin' it. I don't 
 guess Zip's wise to where it is." 
 
 Bill's eyes lit with a curious fire. 
 
 " Guess Zip'll find him," he said quietly. " Maybe it'll 
 take him time " 
 
 "An'," cried Sunny, "how's them pore kiddies to live 
 meanwhiles ? " 
 
 The loafer fired his little bomb with the desired effect. 
 The men had no answer for some moments. And gradually 
 all eyes fixed themselves upon Bill's face, as though acknowl- 
 edging his leadership. He answered the challenge in char- 
 acteristic fashion. 
 
 " Guess we'll turn Sunny loose to wet-nurse 'em." 
 
 An announcement which set Sunny plunging headlong to 
 his own defense. 
 
 " Say, ain't ther' no sort o' peace for a 'feller as needs 
 rest? You're all mighty smart settin' folks to work. But 
 this is your game, Bill, an' it's up to you to put it thro'. 
 
66 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 I 'low you'd make an elegant wet-nurse so soft and 
 motherish." 
 
 But Bill had had enough, and turned upon the face at the 
 window in his most savage manner. 
 
 " See here," he cried, with fierce irony, " we've all know'd 
 you since Sufferin' Creek was Sufferin' Creek, an' nobody 
 ain't never kicked. But it's kind o' ne'ssary for every feller 
 around these parts to justify 'emselves. Get me? You 
 need ' justifyinY Wai, I guess you'll see to them kiddies 
 till Zip comes back. It's going to be your work seein' they 
 don't get fixed into any sort o' trouble, an' when Zip gets 
 back you'll hand 'em over clean an' fixed right. Get that? 
 I'm payin' for their board, an' I'm payin' you a wage. An' 
 you're goin' to do it, or light right out o' here so quick your 
 own dust'll choke you." 
 
 " Here, here ! " cried Toby, with a delighted laugh. 
 
 Sandy grinned into the loafer's angry face, while Minky 
 nodded an unsmiling approval. 
 
 " Gee, you beat hell for nerve ! " cried Sunny. 
 
 " Guess I ken do better. I ken beat you," retorted Bill 
 contemptuously. " You'll do it, or you ken start gettin' 
 out now," he added. 
 
 Sunny realized his position by the expression of the other 
 men's faces, and, quickly resuming his good-humored plaint, 
 he acquiesced with a grumble. 
 
 " Gee ! but it's a tough world," he complained, dropping 
 back on to his bench hurriedly, lest fresh demands should be 
 made upon him, and just in time to witness Scipio leading a 
 beautiful black mare up to the ty ing-post. 
 
 The men in the store turned out at the sound of horse's 
 hoofs, and stood gathered on the veranda. Bill's keen eyes 
 were fixed regretfully on the shining sides of his favorite 
 animal. She was a picture of lean muscle and bone, with a 
 beautiful small head, and ears that looked little larger than 
 well-polished mussel-shells. She stood pawing the ground 
 
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE 67 
 
 impatiently while Scipio tied her to the post, and she nuzzled 
 his ribs playfully with her twitching lips in the most friendly 
 spirit. But Bill's eyes were suddenly arrested by the man- 
 ner in which she was saddled and bridled. Poor Scipio had 
 blundered in a hopeless fashion. 
 
 Other eyes, too, had seen the blunder, and Sandy Joyce 
 suddenly pointed. 
 
 " Mackinaw ! Jest get that," he cried. 
 
 " By Gee ! " laughed Sunny. 
 
 But Wild Bill cut them all short in a surprising manner. 
 
 " Say, guess you fellers ain't never made no sort o' mis- 
 takes any o' you. You're laffin' a heap. Quit it, or " 
 His eyes flashed dangerously. Then, as the men became 
 silent, he darted across to where Scipio was still fumbling 
 with the neck rope. 
 
 The little man's attempt at saddling, under any other 
 circumstances, would have brought forth Bill's most scathing 
 contempt. The saddle was set awry upon an ill-folded 
 blanket. It was so far back from the mare's withers that 
 the twisted double cinchas were somewhere under her belly, 
 instead of her girth. Then the bit was reversed in her 
 month, and the curb-strap was hanging loose. 
 
 Bill came to his rescue in his own peculiar way. 
 
 " Say, Zip," he cried in a voice that nothing could soften, 
 " I don't guess you altered them stirrups to fit you. I'll jest 
 fix 'em." And the little man stood humbly by while he set 
 to work. He quickly unfastened the cinchas, and set the 
 blanket straight. Then he shifted the saddle, and refastened 
 the cinchas. Then he altered the stirrups, and passed on 
 to the mare's bridle Scipio watching him all the while 
 without a word. But when the gambler had finished he 
 glanced up into his lean face with an almost dog-like grati- 
 tude. 
 
 " Thanks, Bill," he said. " I never done it before." 
 
 " So I guessed." And the gambler's words, though wholly 
 
68 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 harsh, had no other meaning in them. Then he went on, 
 as Scipio scrambled into the saddle, " You don't need to 
 worry any 'bout things here. Your kiddies '11 be seen to 
 proper till you get back, if you're on the trail a month." 
 
 Scipio was startled. He had forgotten his twins. 
 
 "Say you " 
 
 But Bill wanted no thanks or explanations. 
 
 " We're seein' to them things us, an' that all-fired lazy 
 slob, Sunny Oak. Ther' won't be no harm " He flicked 
 the restive mare, which bounded off with the spring of a 
 gazelle. " Ease your hand to her," he called out, so as 
 to drown Scipio's further protestations of gratitude, " ease 
 your hand, you blamed little fule. That's it. Now let her 
 
 go-" 
 
 And the mare raced off in a cloud of dust. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HUSBAND AND LOVER 
 
 WHERE all the trail-wise men of Suffering Creek and 
 the district had failed, Scipio, the incompetent, succeeded. 
 Such was the ironical pleasure of the jade Fortune. Scipio 
 had not the vaguest idea of whither his quest would lead 
 him. He had no ideas on the subject at all. Only had he 
 his fixed purpose hard in his mind, and, like a loadstone, it 
 drew him unerringly to his goal. 
 
 There was something absolutely ludicrous in the manner 
 of his search. But fortunately there are few ready to laugh 
 at disaster. Thus it was that wherever he went, wherever 
 he paused amongst his fellows in search of information he 
 was received perfectly seriously, even when he told the ob- 
 ject of his search, and the story of its reason. 
 
 An ordinary man would probably have hugged such a 
 story to himself. He would have resorted to covert prob- 
 ing and excuse in extracting information. But then it is 
 doubtful if, under such circumstances, his purpose would 
 have been so strong, so absolutely invincible as Scipio's. 
 As it was, with single-minded simplicity, Scipio saw no rea- 
 son for subterfuge, he saw no reason for disguising the trag- 
 edy which had befallen him. And so he shed his story 
 broadcast amongst the settlers of the district until, by means 
 of that wonderful prairie telegraphy, which needs no instru- 
 ments to operate, it flew before him in every direction, 
 either belittled or exaggerated as individual temperament 
 prompted. 
 
 At one ranch the news was brought in from the trail by 
 
70 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 a hard-faced citizen who had little imagination, but much 
 knowledge of the country. 
 
 " Say, fellers," he cried, as he swung out of the saddle 
 at the bunkhouse door, " ther's a tow-headed sucker on the 
 trail lookin' fer the James outfit. Guess he wants to shoot 
 'em up. He's a sawed-off mut, an' don't look a heap like 
 scar in' a jack-rabbit. I told him he best git back to hum, 
 an' git busy fixin' his funeral right, so he wouldn't have no 
 trouble later." 
 
 " Wher's he from ? " someone asked. 
 
 " Sufferin' Creek," replied the cowpuncher, " an' seems 
 to me he's got more grit than savvee." 
 
 And this opinion was more or less the general one. The 
 little man rode like one possessed, and it was as well that of 
 all his six treasured horses Wild Bill had lent him his 
 black beauty, Gipsy. She was quite untiring, and, with 
 her light weight burden, she traveled in a spirit of sheer 
 delight. 
 
 At every homestead or ranch Scipio only paused to make 
 inquiries and then hurried on. The information he received 
 was of the vaguest. James or some of his gang were often 
 seen in the remoter parts of the lower foothills, but this was 
 all. At one farm he had a little better luck, however. 
 Here he was told that the farmer had received an intimation 
 that if he wished to escape being burnt out he must be 
 prepared to hand over four hundred dollars when called 
 upon by the writer to do so; and the message was signed 
 " James." 
 
 " So ye see," said the farmer a man named Nicholls 
 despondently, " he's som'eres skulkin' around hyar." 
 
 " Seems like it," acquiesced Scipio. 
 
 Then, of a sudden, a suspicion flashed through the other's 
 mind, and the man-hunter spent an uncomfortable few 
 seconds. 
 
 "Say, you're lookin' fer him?" the farmer questioned 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 71 
 
 harshly. Then he leant forward, his eyes lighting with 
 sudden anger. " If I tho't you was " 
 
 But Scipio's mild blue eyes, and his simple reply had a 
 pacific effect at once. 
 
 " I'm looking for him because he's stole my wife. And 
 I'm goin' on chasin' till I find him." 
 
 There was such mild sincerity in his visitor's manner 
 that it was impossible for the farmer to retain his sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " What you goin' to do about that four hundred ? " 
 inquired Scipio later. 
 
 " He'll get no dollars out o' me. I ain't got 'em," replied 
 Nicholls hopelessly. Then his temper rose. " But I'm just 
 goin' to slep with a gun to my hand, an' he'll get it good 
 an' plenty, if he shoots the life out of me, an' burns every 
 stick I got, after." 
 
 Scipio nodded sympathetically. 
 
 " I'd feel that ways," he said. " Well, I guess I'll be 
 gettin' on. My mare'll be fed an' rested by this. Thanks 
 for the feed. Guess I'll hunt around this district a piece. 
 Maybe I'll find" 
 
 But suddenly the farmer awoke from the contemplation 
 of his own troubles and eyed the diminutive figure of his 
 guest wonderingly, as he stood up to go. 
 
 " Say," he observed critically, " guess you must be bustin' 
 with grit chasin' this feller." 
 
 Scipio shook his head. 
 
 " No," he said, with a wan smile. " But he's got my 
 wife." 
 
 " Ah." 
 
 And there was a world of understanding in the man's 
 monosyllable. 
 
 Five minutes later the man-hunter was on the trail again. 
 It was the afternoon of the second day of his quest. He was 
 saddle-sore and weary, but his purpose knew no weakening. 
 
72 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Gipsy was going fresh and strong, and though she had al- 
 ready traveled probably a hundred miles in her rider's aim- 
 less wanderings, she moved as though she was out for a 
 morning's exercise on a liberal diet of oats. 
 
 True to his intention Scipio scoured the district with an 
 excess of enthusiasm which carried him far, and sundown 
 found him amongst the beehive hummocks which form the 
 approach to the greater hills. Up and down these wonder- 
 ful grassy dunes he roamed searching a resting-place for 
 himself and his mare. There was nothing of the sort in 
 sight, nothing but the endless series of grassy knolls, and 
 the dividing hollows which might conceal anything, from 
 a ranch house to an outlying cattle station. And finally 
 he abandoned all hope of shelter. 
 
 He had certainly lost himself. But, even so, he was not 
 greatly concerned. Why should he be? What did it mat- 
 ter? He knew that if the worst came to the worst his 
 mare could eat her fill of grass, and, for himself, sleep in 
 the open had no terrors. Of food for himself he had not 
 even begun to think. So he rode on until the last blaze 
 of the setting sun dropped behind the sky-line. 
 
 He was descending into a hollow, something deeper than 
 usual. Hope ran high that it was one of those hidden 
 breaks, which, at intervals, cross the sea of grassy dunes, 
 and mark a mountain waterway. Nor was he disappointed. 
 A few moments later, to his delight, he found himself gazing 
 into the depths of one of the many rivulets trickling its 
 shallow way between low cut banks. Promptly he made 
 up his mind that it was the place for him to camp. 
 
 At the water's edge he scrambled out of the saddle and 
 began to seek a place where his mare could drink. It was 
 a little difficult, for the banks were sharp, and the bushes 
 plentiful, and he had wandered at least a hundred yards in 
 his search for an opening when a human voice abruptly 
 hailed him from the far side of the stream. He looked 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 73 
 
 across without answering, and, to his intense surprise, beheld 
 a horseman on the opposite bank. The man, judging by 
 his appearance, was a cowpuncher, and, to Scipio's simple 
 mind, was, like himself, benighted. 
 
 " Hello," he replied at last, after a thoughtful stare. 
 
 The man was eyeing the yellow-headed figure with no 
 very friendly eyes, but this fact was lost upon Scipio, who 
 saw in him only a fellow man in misfortune. He saw the 
 lariat on the horn of the saddle, the man's chapps, his hard- 
 muscled broncho pony gazing longingly at the water. The 
 guns at the man's waist, the scowling brow and shifty eyes 
 passed quite unobserved. 
 
 " Wher' you from ? " demanded the man sharply. 
 
 " Suffering Creek," replied Scipio readily. 
 
 " Guess you've come quite a piece," said the other, after 
 a considering pause. 
 
 " I sure have." 
 
 "What you doin' here?" 
 
 The man's inquiry rapped out smartly. But Scipio had 
 no suspicion of anybody, and answered quite without 
 hesitation. 
 
 " I'm huntin' a man called James. You ain't seen him? " 
 
 But the man countered his question with another. 
 
 " What's your name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Scipio and yours ? " 
 
 In the dying light the man's saturnine features seemed to 
 relax for a moment into something like a smile. But he 
 spoke at once. 
 
 " Come right over," he invited. " Guess my name's Abe 
 Abe Conroy. I'm out chasin' cattle." And the fact that 
 he finished up with a deliberate laugh had no meaning at all 
 for his companion. 
 
 Scipio gladly accepted the invitation, and, in response to 
 the man's instructions, moved farther along the stream until 
 he came to a shelving in the bank where his mare could climb 
 
74 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 down. He crossed over, letting his horse drink by the way, 
 and a few moments later was at his new acquaintance's side. 
 
 The stranger's mood seemed to have entirely changed 
 for the better by the time Scipio came up. His smile was 
 almost amiable, and his manner of speech was comparatively 
 jocular. 
 
 " So you're chasm' that crook, James/' he said easily. 
 "Queer, ain't it?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Why, he's run off a bunch of our stock. Leastways, 
 that's how I'm guessin'. I'm makin' up to his place right 
 now to spy out things. I was jest waitin' fer the sun to go. 
 Y'see we're organizin' a vigilance party to run Say, I'd 
 a notion fer a moment you was one of his gang." 
 
 But Scipio disclaimed the honor promptly. 
 
 " No. I just need to find him. I'm needin' it bad." 
 
 "Wot fer?" 
 
 For once the man-hunter hesitated. A quite unaccount- 
 able feeling gave him a moment's pause. But he finally 
 answered frankly, as he always answered, with a simple 
 directness that was just part of him. 
 
 " He's stole my wife," he said, his eyes directly gazing 
 into the other's face. 
 
 " Gee, he's a low-down skunk," declared the other, with a 
 curse. But the ironical light in his eyes quite escaped his 
 companion's understanding. 
 
 Scipio was full of his good fortune in falling in with a 
 man who knew of James' whereabouts. A dozen questions 
 sprang into his mind, but he contented himself with stating 
 his intention. 
 
 " I'll ride on with you," he said. 
 
 " What, right up to James' lay-out? " 
 
 " Sure. That's wher' I'm makin'." 
 
 For a moment the man calling himself Conroy sat gazing 
 out at the afterglow of the setting sun. His whole appear- 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 75 
 
 ance was ill-favored enough to have aroused distrust in 
 anybody but a man like Scipio. Now he seemed to be 
 pondering a somewhat vexed question, and his brows were 
 drawn together in a way that suggested anything but a clear 
 purpose. But finally he seemed to make up his mind to a 
 definite course. He spoke without turning to his companion, 
 and perhaps it was for the purpose of hiding a lurking 
 derisive smile. 
 
 " If you're set on makin' James' shanty, you best come 
 right along. Only " he hesitated for the barest fraction 
 of a second " y'see, I'm out after this cattle racket, an' I 
 guess I owe it to my folks to git their bizness thro' without 
 no chance of upset. See ? " 
 
 Scipio nodded. He saw the man's drift, and thought it 
 quite splendid of him. 
 
 " Now, I got to spy out things," the man went on, " an' 
 if you get right up ther' first it'll likely upset things fer me 
 you goin' ther' to hold him up as it were." His smile 
 was more pronounced. " Now I guess I'll show you where 
 his lay-out is if you'll sure give me your promise to let me 
 hunt around fer ha'f-an-hour around his corrals 'fore you 
 butt in. Then I'll get right back to you an' you can go 
 up, an' shoot him to hell, if you notion that fancy." 
 
 Scipio almost beamed his thanks. The man's kindness 
 seemed a noble thing to him. 
 
 " You're a real bully fellow," he said. " Guess we'll start 
 right now ? " 
 
 The man turned and his shrewd eyes fixed themselves 
 piercingly on the little man's face. 
 
 " Yes," he said shortly, " we'll get on." 
 
 He led the way, his horse slightly in advance of the mare, 
 and for some time he made no attempt to break the silence 
 that had fallen. The twilight was rapidly passing into the 
 deeper shadows of night, but he rode amongst the hills as 
 though he were traveling a broad open trail. There was no 
 
76 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 hesitation, no questioning glance as to his direction. He 
 might have been traveling a trail that he had been accus- 
 tomed to all his life. At last, however, he glanced round at 
 his companion. 
 
 " Say, what you goin' to do when you get there ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Fetch my wife back," replied Scipio earnestly. 
 
 "What'll James be doin'?" 
 
 " He can't keep her she's mine." 
 
 " That's so. But if he notions to keep her ? " 
 
 Scipio was silent for some moments. His pale eyes were 
 staring straight ahead of him out into the growing darkness. 
 
 " Maybe, I'll have to shoot him," he said at last, as though 
 there could be no question about the matter. 
 
 The man nodded. 
 
 " Got useful guns ? " he inquired casually. 
 
 " Got one." 
 
 " Ah, what is it ? Magazine ? " 
 
 Scipio pulled his antique possession out of his pocket and 
 handed it over for the man's inspection. 
 
 " It's all right," he said. " Guess the sights ain't good 
 over a distance, but at close range it'll make a nasty hole." 
 
 Conroy took the weapon in his hand. His keen eyes 
 noted the age of the pattern. He also saw the battered 
 condition of the sights, and the clumsy, rusted, protruding 
 hammer. It was six-chambered, and he knew that it must 
 be all of forty years old. One of the earliest pattern 
 revolvers. The sight of it filled him with cruel amusement, 
 but he kept a serious face. 
 
 " I 'lows that should bring James to his senses," he 
 observed, as he handed it back to its owner. 
 
 Scipio read his answer as approval, and warmed towards 
 him. 
 
 " I'd say so," he said, returning his antiquity to his pocket. 
 "You see, a gun's li'ble to rattle a feller like James. A 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 77 
 
 man who can get around when a feller's back's turned, an' 
 make love to his wife, ain't much of a man, is he ? I mean 
 he hasn't much grit. He's a coward sure. If he'd got grit 
 he wouldn't do it. Well, that's how I figger 'bout this 
 James. He's mean, an' a cowardly dog. I don't guess I'll 
 have to use that gun, but I jest brought it along to scare him 
 to his senses, if he needs it. Maybe though he won't need 
 it when he sees me come along y'see, I'm Jessie's husband 
 guess that'll fix him sure." 
 
 " Guess you got James sized up good," observed the man, 
 with his eyes fixed ahead. " No, I don't see you'll need 
 that gun." 
 
 They rode on, Scipio's spirits rising with every yard they 
 traveled. He knew he was nearing his wife with every 
 passing moment. He had no doubts, no fears. So long as 
 he could reach her side he felt that all would be well. In 
 spite of her letter it never entered his head that she cared 
 for the man she had gone off with. He blamed James, and 
 it was no mere figure of speech when he said that he believed 
 he had " stolen " her. He believed such to be the case. 
 He believed she had gone unwillingly. In his mind it was 
 a case of abduction. Again and again he thanked Provi- 
 dence that he had fallen in with this man, Conroy. He was 
 a good fellow, he told himself, a good friend. And his ideas 
 were so coincident with his own about James. 
 
 They were approaching the higher hills. Towering, 
 broken crags loomed ahead darkly in the gathering gloom. 
 The vast riven facets cut the sky-line, and black patches 
 of pine forests, and spruce, gave a ghostly, threatening out- 
 look. They must have been riding over two hours when 
 Scipio realized they were passing over a narrow cattle track 
 on the summit of a wooded hill. Then presently their 
 horses began a steep shelving descent which required great 
 caution to negotiate. And as they proceeded the darkness 
 closed in upon them, until they appeared to be making an 
 
78 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 almost precipitate descent into a vast black pit. There was 
 no light here at all except for the stars above, for the last 
 glow of twilight was completely shut off by the great wall 
 they were now leaving behind them. 
 
 No word was spoken. Each man was busy with his horse, 
 and the animals themselves were stumbling and floundering 
 as they picked their uncertain way. A quarter of an hour 
 of this went by, then, suddenly, ahead, still farther down 
 the slope, two or three dim lights shone up at them like will- 
 o'-the-wisps. They seemed to dance about before Scipio's 
 eyes as they rode. Nor, as he pointed them out to his com- 
 panion, did he realize that this peculiarity was due to the 
 motion of his mare under him. 
 
 " Yep," replied Conroy dryly. " Them's James' lights." 
 
 " He's got a large place," said Scipio, with some awe in 
 his tone. 
 
 " He sure has," agreed Conroy, smiling in the darkness. 
 " He's got the biggest an' best-stocked ranch in Montana." 
 
 " You say he's a cattle thief ? " Scipio was struggling 
 to get things into proper focus. 
 
 " He sure is." And Conroy's tone of satisfaction had the 
 effect of silencing further comment by his companion. 
 
 A few moments later the descent was completed, and the 
 soft grass under her feet set Gipsy dancing to get on, but 
 Conroy pulled up. 
 
 " Here," he said authoritatively, " you set right here while 
 I get on an* get thro' with my business. I'll come along 
 back for you." 
 
 Without demur Scipio waited, and his companion van- 
 ished in the darkness. The little man had entered into an 
 agreement, and had no desire, in spite of his eagerness to be 
 doing, of departing from the letter of it. So he possessed 
 himself in what patience he could until Conroy's return. 
 
 The soft pad of the retiring horse's hoofs on the thick 
 grass died away. And presently one of the twinkling lights 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 79 
 
 ahead was abruptly shut out. The horseman had intervened 
 on Scipio's line of vision. Then the yellow gleam as sud- 
 denly reappeared, and the last sign of Conroy passed. The 
 waiting man watched with every faculty alert. His ears and 
 eyes straining for the least unusual sound or sight. But 
 there was none forthcoming. 
 
 Then he began to think. He began to consider the 
 situation. He began to picture to himself something of the 
 scene that he hoped would shortly take place between him- 
 self and the man James. It was the first time he had 
 thought of the matter deliberately, or attempted to estimate 
 its possibilities. Hitherto he had been too torn by his emo- 
 tions to consider anything in detail. And, even now, so 
 imbued was he with the right of his cause that he only saw 
 his own point of view, which somehow made James a mere 
 plaything in his hands. 
 
 He found himself dictating his will upon the thief in firm 
 tones. He demanded his wife without heat, but with the 
 knowledge of the power of his gun lying behind his words. 
 He felt the restraint he would use. He would not bully. 
 Who was he to bully after having had Jessie restored to 
 him ? James should be dealt with as. gently as his feelings 
 would permit him. Yes, thank God, he had no actual desire 
 to hurt this man who had so wronged him. The man was 
 foolish, and he could afford to be generous, having had 
 Jessie restored to him. No, he would try hard to forgive 
 him. It would be a tremendous struggle, he knew, yet he 
 felt, with Jessie restored to him, he ought to make the effort. 
 Somehow, even now, he almost felt sorry for so misguided 
 a 
 
 But his reflections were suddenly cut short by the sound 
 of horses' hoofs returning, and, a moment later, Conroy 
 loomed up in the darkness. He came quite close up before 
 he spoke, and then it was almost in a whisper. 
 
 " I've located things," he said, with an air of deep satis- 
 
8o THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 faction. " Guess we'll make Mr. ' Lord ' James hunt his 
 hole 'fore we're thro' with him. I rigger a rawhide fixed 
 neat about his neck'll 'bout meet his case. An' say, I've 
 news fer you. Ther's some o' his boys around. He's jest 
 right in ther' wher' you ken see that biggish light," he went 
 on, pointing at the illuminated square of a window. " I see 
 him through an open door round back. He's lyin' on a 
 heap o' blankets readin' a book. Ef you git along now 
 you'll get him wher' you need him, an' an' I wouldn't take 
 no chances. Get a drop on him from outside the door, an' 
 wal, guess a feller like you'll know what to do after that. 
 I'm gettin' back to home." 
 
 Scipio glowed. He felt he could have hugged this good- 
 natured stranger. But he did not altogether agree with the 
 man's suggestion of getting the drop on James. He felt it 
 would hardly be playing the game. However, he intended 
 to be guided by circumstances. 
 
 " Thanks, friend," he said, in his simple fashion. " You 
 must let me call you that," he went on eagerly. " You 
 see, you've done something for me to-night I can't never 
 forget. Maybe you've got a wife of your own, and if so 
 you'll sure understand." 
 
 " Can't rightly say I've got a wife," the man replied, 
 " but I ken understan' all right. James is low doggone 
 low," he added. And his face was turned well away so 
 that he could grin comfortably without fear of the other 
 seeing it. 
 
 " Well, so long," said Scipio hastily. " Seeing I shan't 
 see you here when I get back, I'd just like to thank you 
 again." 
 
 " So long," replied the other. " An' you needn't to thank 
 me too much." 
 
 Scipio urged his mare forward, and the man sat looking 
 after him. And somehow his face had lost something of its 
 satisfied expression. However, he sat there only a moment. 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 81 
 
 Presently he lifted his reins and set his horse at a canter in 
 the direction of one of the more distant lights. 
 
 " He's a pore fule," he muttered, " but it's a lousy trick 
 anyways." Thus he dismissed the matter from his mind 
 with a callous shrug. 
 
 In the meantime Scipio neared the house from which 
 shone the larger light. As he drew towards it he saw its 
 outline against the starlight. It was a large, two-storied 
 frame house of weather-boarding, with a veranda fronting 
 it. There were several windows on the hither side of it, but 
 light shone only in one of them. It was by this light the 
 horseman saw a tie-post some yards from the house. And 
 without hesitation he rode up to it, and, dismounting, secured 
 his mare. Then, following Conroy's directions, he pro- 
 ceeded on foot to the back of the house where he was to 
 find an open door. He turned the angle of the building. 
 Yes, the door was there all right, but whereas Conroy had 
 said that James was lying on his blankets reading, he now 
 discovered that the doorway was filled by that handsome 
 thief's presence. 
 
 Before he realized what had happened, Scipio found him- 
 self in the full glare of the light from the doorway, and 
 James was smiling down upon his yellow head with a 
 curious blending of insolence and curiosity. 
 
 " I was wondering when you'd get around," he said, with- 
 out shifting his position. Then, as Scipio made no answer, 
 he bestirred himself. " Come right in," he added, and, 
 lounging out of the doorway, he dropped back into the room. 
 " You'll find things a bit untidy," he went on calmly, " you 
 see I'm making changes in my domestic arrangements. 
 This is temporary, I guess. However, if you don't just 
 mind that, why come right in." 
 
 The man's whole manner was one of good-humored 
 indifference. There was an unruffled assurance about him 
 that was quite perfect, if studied. Scipio's presence there 
 
82 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 seemed the last thing of concern to him. And the effect of 
 his manner on his visitor entirely upset all the latter's pre- 
 conceived intentions. Astonishment was his first feeling. 
 Then a sudden diffidence seized him, a diffidence that was 
 nearly akin to fear of his rival. But this passed in a mo- 
 ment, and was instantly replaced by a hot rush of blood 
 through his small body. All his pictured interview died out 
 of his recollections, and, in place of that calmness with 
 which he had intended to meet the man, he found his pulses 
 hammering and hot anger mounting to his head. The 
 commonest of human passions stirred in him, and he felt 
 it would be good to hurt this man who had so wronged 
 him. 
 
 "Where's my wife?" he demanded, with a sudden 
 fierceness. 
 
 " Oh it's that. Say, come right in ? " 
 
 James was still smiling pleasantly. This time Scipio 
 accepted the invitation without thought of trap or anything 
 else. He almost precipitated himself into the room. 
 
 Nor in his fury did he observe his surroundings. He had 
 no eyes for the furnishings, the cheap comfort with which 
 he was surrounded. And though, as James had said, the 
 place was untidy, he saw nothing and none of it. His eyes 
 were on the man ; angry, bloodshot eyes, such eyes as those 
 of a furiously goaded dog, driven into a corner by the cruel 
 lash of a bully's whip. 
 
 " Yes, that's it. Wher's my wife ? " Scipio demanded 
 threateningly. " You've stole her, and taken her from me. 
 I've come to take her back." 
 
 The force of his demands was tinged with the simplicity 
 of a naturally gentle disposition. And maybe, in conse- 
 quence, something of their sting was lost. The forceful 
 bluster of an outraged man, determined upon enforcing his 
 demands, would probably have stirred James to active pro- 
 test, but, as it was, he only continued to smile his insolence 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 83 
 
 upon one whom he regarded as little better than a harmless 
 worm. 
 
 " One moment," he said, with an exasperating patience, 
 " you say I stole her. To have stolen her suggests that she 
 was not willing to come along. She came with me. Well, 
 I guess she came because she fancied it. You say you're 
 going to take her back. Well," with a shrug, " I kind of 
 think she'll have something to say about going back." 
 
 For a moment Scipio stood aghast. He glanced about 
 him helplessly. Then, in a flash, his pale-blue eyes came 
 back to the other's face. 
 
 "She's mine, I tell you! Mine! Mine! Mine!" he 
 cried, in a frenzy of rage and despair. " She's mine by the 
 laws of God an' man. She's mine by the love that has 
 brought our kiddies into the world. Do you hear? She's 
 mine by every tie that can hold man and wife together. An' 
 you've stole her. She's all I've got. She's all I want. She's 
 just part of me, and I can't live without her. Ther's the 
 kiddies to home waitin' for her, and she's theirs, same as 
 they are hers and mine. I tell you, you ain't going to 
 keep her. She's got to come back." He drew a deep breath 
 to choke down his fury. " Say," he went on, with a sudden 
 moderating of his tone and his manner, taking on a pitiful 
 pleading, "do you think you love her? You? Do you 
 think you know what love is? You don't. You can't. 
 You can't love her same as I do. I love her honest. I love 
 her so I want to work for her till I drop. I love her so 
 there's nothin' on earth I wouldn't do for her. My life is 
 hers. All that's me is hers. I ain't got a thought without 
 her. Man, you don't know what it is to love my Jessie. 
 You can't, 'cos your love's not honest You've taken her 
 same as you'd take any woman for your pleasure. If I was 
 dead, would you marry her? No, never, never, never. 
 She's a pastime to you, and when you've done with her you'd 
 turn her right out on this prairie to herd with the cattle, 
 
84 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 if ther' wasn't anywher' else for her to go." Then his voice 
 suddenly rose and his fury supervened again. " God ! " he 
 cried fiercely. " Give me back my wife. You're a thief. 
 Give her back to me, I say. She's mine, d'you understand 
 mine ! " 
 
 Not for an instant did the smile on James' face relax. 
 Maybe it became more set, and his lips, perhaps, tightened, 
 but the smile was there, hard, unyielding in its very setness. 
 And when Scipio's appeal came to an end he spoke with an 
 underlying harshness that did not carry its way to the little 
 man's distracted brain. 
 
 " She wouldn't go back to you, even if I let her which 
 I won't," he said coldly. 
 
 The man's words seemed to bite right into the heart of 
 his hearer. Nothing could have been better calculated to 
 goad him to extremity. In one short, harsh sentence he had 
 dashed every hope that the other possessed. And with a 
 rush the stricken man leapt at denial, which was heart- 
 rending in its impotence. 
 
 " You lie ! " he shouted. The old revolver was dragged 
 from his pocket and pointed shakingly at his tormentor's 
 head. " Give her back to me ! Give her back, or " 
 
 James* desperate courage never deserted him for an in- 
 stant. And Scipio was never allowed to complete his sen- 
 tence. The other's hand suddenly reached out, and the 
 pistol was twisted from his shaking grasp with as little 
 apparent effort as though he had been a small child. 
 
 Scipio stared helpless and confused while James eyed the 
 pattern of the gun. Then he heard the man's contemptuous 
 laugh and saw him pull the trigger. The hammer refused 
 to move. It was so rusted that the weapon was quite use- 
 less. For a moment the desperado's eyes sought the pale 
 face of his would-be slayer. A devilish smile lurked in their 
 depths. Then he held out the pistol for the other to take, 
 while his whole manner underwent a hideous change. 
 
HUSBAND AND LOVER 85 
 
 "Here, take it, you wretched worm," he cried, with 
 sudden savagery. " Take it, you miserable fool," he added, 
 as Scipio remained unheeding. " It wouldn't blow even 
 your fool brains out. Take it ! " he reiterated, with a com- 
 mand the other could no longer resist. " And now get out 
 of here,'' he went on mercilessly, as Scipio's hand closed over 
 the wretched weapon, " or I'll hand you over to the boys. 
 They'll show you less mercy than I do. They're waiting 
 out there," he cried, pointing at the door, " for my orders. 
 One word from me and they'll cut the liver out of you with 
 rawhides, and Abe Conroy'll see it's done right. Get you 
 right out of here, and if ever you come squealing around 
 my quarters again I'll have you strung up by your wretched 
 neck till you're dead dead as a crushed worm dead as 
 is your wife, Jessie, to you from now out. Get out of here, 
 you straw-headed sucker, get right out, quick ! " 
 
 But the tide of the man's fury seemed to utterly pass the 
 little man by. He made no attempt to obey. The pistol 
 hung in his tightly gripping hand, and his under-lip pro- 
 truded obstinately. 
 
 " She's mine, you thief ! " he cried. " Give her back to 
 me." 
 
 It was the cry of a beaten man whose spirit is 
 unquenchable. 
 
 But James had finished. All that was worst in him was 
 uppermost now. With eyes blazing he stepped to the door 
 and whistled. He might have been whistling up his dogs. 
 Perhaps those who responded were his dogs. Three men 
 came in, and the foremost of them was Abe Conroy. 
 
 " Here," cried James, his cruel eyes snapping, " take him 
 out and set him on his horse, and send him racing to hell 
 after m'squitoes. And don't handle him too easy." 
 
 What happened to him after that Scipio never fully under- 
 stood. He had a vague memory of being seized and buffeted 
 and kicked into a state of semi-unconsciousness. Nor did he 
 
86 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 rouse out of his stupor, until, sick and sore in every limb, 
 his poor yellow head aching and confused, he found himself 
 swaying dangerously about in the saddle, with Gipsy, racing 
 like a mad thing, under his helpless legs. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 SUNNY OAK PROTESTS 
 
 WILD BILL was gazing out across the camp dumps. His 
 expression suggested the contemplation of a problem of life 
 and death, and a personal one at that. Sandy Joyce, too, 
 bore traces suggestive of the weightiest moments of his life. 
 Toby Jenks stood chewing the dirty flesh of a stubby fore- 
 finger, while the inevitable smile on Sunny Oak's face made 
 one think of a bright spring morning under cover of a yellow 
 fog. 
 
 " How am I to see to them pore kiddies ? " the latter was 
 complaining. " I've had to do with cattle, an' mules, an' 
 even hogs in my time, but I sure don't guess you ken set 
 them bits o' mites in a brandin' corral, nor feed 'em oats an' 
 hay, nor even ladle 'em swill for supper, like hogs. Fer 
 other things, I don't guess I could bile a bean right without 
 a lib'ry o' cook-books, so how I'm to make 'em elegant pap 
 for their suppers 'ud beat the Noo York p'lice force. An' 
 as fer fixin' their clothes, an' bathing 'em, why, it 'ud set 
 me feelin' that fulish you wouldn't know me from a patient 
 in a bug-house. It makes me real mad, folks is allus astin' 
 me to get busy doin' things. I'm that sick, the sight of a 
 ha'f-washened kid 'ud turn my stummick to bile, an' set me 
 cacklin' like a hen with a brood o' ducklings she can't no 
 ways account fer. You'se fellers are a happy lot o' Jonahs 
 to a man as needs rest." 
 
 " You're sure doing the cacklin' now," observed Bill con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " Maybe he's layin' eggs," murmured Toby vaguely. 
 
88 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 The men were standing on the veranda, gathered round 
 the bench on which Sunny Oak was still resting his indolent 
 body. And the subject of their discourse was Scipio's two 
 children. The father had ridden off on his search for James, 
 and the responsibility of his twins was weighing heavily on 
 those left behind. 
 
 " Kind o' handy ladlin' it out to folks," said Sunny, grin- 
 ning lazily. " But, with all your brightness, I don't guess any 
 o' you could mother them kiddies. No, it's jest ' send Sunny 
 along to see to 'em/ That bein' said, you'll git right back 
 to your poker with a righteous feelin' which makes it come 
 good to rob each other all you know. Psha! You ain't 
 no better'n them lousy birds as lays eggs sizes too big, an' 
 blames 'em on to some moultin' sparrer that ain't got 
 feathers 'miff to make it welcome at a scratchin' bee." 
 
 Sunny's flow was a little overwhelming, and perhaps there 
 was just enough truth in his remarks to make it unadvisable 
 for the others to measure wits with him. Anyway, he re- 
 ceived no reply. Bill continued to gaze out at Scipio's hut 
 in a way that suggested great absorption, while Toby had 
 not yet lunched sufficiently off his tattered forefinger. 
 Sandy was the only one of the three apparently alive to the 
 true exigencies of the case, and Sunny addressed himself 
 more exclusively to him. 
 
 " Say," he went on, his good-humored eyes smiling cun- 
 ningly up into the widower's face, " I've heerd tell that you 
 once did some pore unsuspicious female the dirty trick of 
 marryin' her. Mebbe you'll sure hev' notions 'bout kiddies 
 an' such things. Now, if Wild Bill had come along an' 
 pushed a shootin'-iron into your map, an' said you'll handle 
 Zip's kiddies wal, I ask you, wot 'ud you ha' done ? " 
 
 " Told him to git his head cooled some," retorted Sandy 
 promptly. 
 
 " Ah, guess you bin saved a heap o' trouble," murmured 
 Sunny. " But if you hadn't said that which yon said you 
 
SUNNY OAK PROTESTS 89 
 
 would ha' said an' you'd got busy as he suggested wal, 
 what then ? " 
 
 Sandy cleared his throat, and, in his sudden interest, Toby 
 deferred the rest of his meal. 
 
 " Wal, I'd ha' gone right up to the shack an' looked into 
 things." 
 
 Sandy's first effort seemed to please him, and, hitching his 
 moleskin trousers up deliberately, he proceeded with some 
 unction 
 
 " Y'see, ther' ain't nothin' like gettin' a look around. 
 Then you kind o' know wher' you are. You sure need to 
 know wher' you are 'fore you get busy proper. It's most 
 like everything else. If you get on the wrong trail at the 
 start, it's li'ble to lead you wher' you don't want to go. 
 What I says is, hit the right trail at the start, then you got 
 a chance o' gettin' thro' right, which, I take it, is an elegant 
 way o' doin' most things. Wal, havin' located the right 
 trail" 
 
 " We're talkin' o' Zip's twins," murmured Sunny gently. 
 
 " Sure, that's where I'm gettin' to " 
 
 " By trail ? " inquired Toby seriously. 
 
 " Say, you make me tired," retorted Sandy angrily. 
 
 " Best quit the trail, then," said Sunny. 
 
 " Go to blazes ! " cried Sandy, and promptly relapsed into 
 moody silence. 
 
 At that moment Bill turned from his contemplation of the 
 house beyond the dumps and fixed his fierce eyes on Sunny's 
 grinning face. 
 
 " Here, you miser'ble hoboe," he cried, " get right up out 
 of that, and hump across to Zip's shack. You're doin' 
 enough gassin' fer a female tattin' bee. Your hot air makes 
 me want to sweat. Now, them kiddies '11 need supper. 
 You'll jest ast Minky fer all you need, an' I pay. An' you'll 
 see things is fixed right for 'em." 
 
 Sunny lurched reluctantly to his feet. He knew the 
 
90 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 gambler far too well to debate the point further. He had 
 made his protest, which had been utterly ineffective, so there 
 was nothing left him but to obey the fiercely uttered mandate. 
 
 But Sandy Joyce felt that somehow his first effort on 
 behalf of the children had missed fire, and it was his duty 
 not to allow himself to be ousted from the council. So he 
 stayed the loafer with a word. 
 
 " Say, you'll be knowin' how to feed 'em ? " he inquired 
 gravely. 
 
 Sunny's eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Wai, mebbe you ken give me pointers," he retorted, with 
 apparent sincerity. 
 
 " That's how I was figgerin'," said Sandy cordially. He 
 felt better now about his first effort. " Y'see, Minky's stock 
 is limited some ; ther' ain't a heap o' variety, like. An' kid- 
 dies do need variety. Y'see, they're kind o' delicate feeders, 
 same as high-bred bosses, an' dogs an' things. Now, dogs 
 need diff'rent meat every day, if you're goin' to bring 'em 
 up right. A friend o' mine sure once told me that meat, 
 good meat, was the best feed fer prize dogs, an' he was a 
 feller that won a heap o' prizes. He had one, Boston bull, 
 I" 
 
 ;< '11 I need to git dog-biscuit for them kiddies ? " in- 
 quired Sunny sarcastically. 
 
 " Say, you make me sick," cried Sandy, flushing 
 angrily. 
 
 " Guess that's how you'll make them kiddies," interposed 
 Toby. 
 
 Sandy glanced viciously from one to the other. Then, 
 assuming a superiority that scarcely hid his chagrin, he 
 ignored the interruptions. 
 
 " You best ast Minky fer some dandy canned truck," he 
 said decisively, deliberately turning his back on Toby Jenks. 
 " Mebbe a can o' lobster an' one o' them elegant tongues 
 stewed in jelly stuff, an' set in a glass bowl. Y'see, they 
 
SUNNY OAK PROTESTS 91 
 
 kids needs nourishin', an' that orter fix them 'bout right. I 
 don't know 'bout them new sides o' sow-belly Minky's jest 
 had in. Seems to me they'll likely need teeth eatin' that. 
 Seein' you ain't a heap at fixin' beans right, we best cut that 
 line right out though I 'lows there's elegant nourishin' 
 stuff in 'em for hosses. Best get a can o' crackers an' some 
 cheese. I don't guess they'll need onions, nor pickles. But 
 a bit o' butter to grease the crackers with, an' some molasses 
 an' fancy candy, an' a pound o' his best tea seems to me 'bout 
 right. After that " 
 
 " Some hoss physic," broke in Toby, recommencing the 
 chewing of his forefinger. 
 
 But Wild Bill's fierce eyes were on Sandy, and the erst- 
 while married man felt their contempt boring into his very 
 soul. He was held silent, in spite of his anger against the 
 broad-shouldered Toby, and was possessed of a feeling that 
 somehow his second effort had been no more successful than 
 his first. And forthwith the impression received confirma- 
 tion in a sudden explosion from Wild Bill. 
 
 " Jumpin' mackinaw ! " he cried, with a force calculated 
 to crush entirely the remnants of Sandy's conceit. " You'd 
 sure shame a crazy sheep fer intellect." Then he added, 
 with withering sarcasm, " Say, don't you never leave your 
 mouth open more'n two seconds at a time, or you'll get the 
 flies in it, an' they'll start riestin'." 
 
 Then without pause he turned on Sunny and delivered 
 his ultimatum. 
 
 " Get busy," he ordered in a tone there was no denying. 
 
 And somehow Sunny found himself stirring far more 
 rapidly than suited his indolent disposition. 
 
 Having thoroughly disturbed the atmosphere to his liking, 
 Bill left the veranda without another look in his companions' 
 direction, and his way took him to the barn at the back of 
 the store. 
 
 The gambler was a man of so many and diverse peculiar- 
 
92 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 ities that it would be an impossibility to catalogue them with 
 any degree of satis factoriness. But, with the exception of 
 his wholesale piratical methods at cards indeed, at any 
 kind of gambling perhaps his most striking feature was 
 his almost idolatrous worship for his horses. He simply 
 lived for their well-being, and their evident affection for 
 himself was something that he treasured far beyond the gold 
 he so loved to take from his opponents in a gamble. 
 
 He possessed six of these horses, each in its way a jewel 
 in the equine crown. Wherever the vagaries of his gam- 
 bler's life took him his horses bore him thither, harnessed to 
 a light spring cart of the speediest type. Each animal had 
 cost him a small fortune, as the price of horses goes, and for 
 breed and capacity, both in harness and under saddle, it 
 would have been difficult to find their match anywhere in the 
 State of Montana. He had broken and trained them him- 
 self in everything, and, wherever he was, whatever other 
 claims there might be upon him, morning, noon and evening 
 he was at the service of his charges. He gloried in them. 
 He reveled in their satin coats, their well-nourished, muscu- 
 lar bodies, in their affection for himself. 
 
 Now he sat on an oat-bin contemplating Gipsy's empty 
 stall, with a regret that took in him the form of fierce anger. 
 It was the first time since she had come into his possession 
 that she had been turned over to another, the first time 
 another leg than his own had been thrown across her ; and 
 he mutely upbraided himself for his folly, and hated Scipio 
 for having accepted her services. W T hy, he asked himself 
 again and again, had he been such an unearthly fool ? Then 
 through his mind flashed a string of blasphemous invective 
 against James, and with its coming his regret at having lent 
 Gipsy lessened. 
 
 He sat for a long time steadily chewing his tobacco. And 
 somehow he lost all desire to continue his poker game in the 
 store. His whole mind had become absorbed by thoughts of 
 
SUNNY OAK PROTESTS 93 
 
 this James, and though he, personally, had never suffered 
 through the stage-robber's depredations, he found himself 
 resenting the man's very existence. There were no ethical 
 considerations in his mind. His inspiration was purely per- 
 sonal. And though he did not attempt to reduce his hatred 
 to reason, nor to analyze it in any way, the truth of its 
 existence lay in the fact of a deadly opposition to this sudden 
 rise to notoriety of a man of strength, and force of character 
 similar, in so many respects, to his own. Perhaps it was 
 mere jealousy; perhaps, all unknown to himself, there was 
 some deeper feeling underlying it. Whatever it was, he had 
 a strong sympathy with Scipio, and an unconquerable desire 
 to have a hand in the smoothing out of the little man's 
 troubles. 
 
 He did not leave the barn, and scarcely even took his eyes 
 off Gipsy's empty stall, until nearly sundown. Then, as he 
 heard the voices of returning prospectors, he set to work on 
 his evening task of grooming, feeding, watering and bedding 
 down his children for the night. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 
 
 IN the meantime Sunny Oak was executing his orders 
 with a care for detail quite remarkable in a man of his ex- 
 cessive indolence. It was a curious fact, and one that told a 
 great deal of his own character, as well as that of the gam- 
 bler. His implicit obedience to Wild Bill's orders was born 
 of a deeper knowledge of that individual than was possessed 
 by most of his comrades in Suffering Creek. Maybe Minky, 
 who was Bill's most intimate friend, would have understood. 
 But then Sunny Oak possessed no such privilege. He knew 
 Bill through sheer observation, which had taught him to 
 listen when the gambler spoke as he would listen to a man 
 in high authority over him or to a man who, without 
 scruple, held him helpless under an irresistible threat. 
 Which power it was inspired his obedience he did not pause 
 to consider. He simply accepted the fact that when Bill 
 ordered he preferred to obey it was so much easier. 
 
 " Hoboe " the local term for one suffering from his 
 indolent malady as he was, Sunny Oak was a man of some 
 character. Originally this cloak of indolence in which he 
 wrapped himself had been assumed for some subtle reason 
 of his own. It was not the actual man. But so long had he 
 worn it now that he had almost forgotten the real attributes 
 enshrouded in its folds. As a matter of fact, he was very 
 much a man, and a " live " man, too. He really possessed 
 an extraordinary energy when he chose to exercise it. But 
 it was generally his habit to push his intere'st aside for the 
 easier course of indifference. However, his capacity was 
 none the less there. 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 95 
 
 His other possessions, too, were excellent in their way, 
 although he had encouraged the germ of rust in a deplorable 
 degree. His good-nature would not be denied, and was 
 obvious to all. But an extremely alert mind, an infinite 
 resource of keen, well-trained thought, a profound love of 
 the beautiful, a more commonplace physical courage sup- 
 ported by the rarer moral courage, he contrived to keep well 
 hidden from the vulgar gaze. 
 
 These were some of the features so long concealed under 
 the folds of his cloak of indolence that even he had almost 
 forgotten their existence. Thus it was, in all seriousness, he 
 cried out bitterly in protest when an attempt was made to 
 lift the covering and lay bare the man beneath it. And his 
 lamentations were perfectly genuine. 
 
 After leaving the store with a sack of provisions over his 
 shoulder he grumbled his way across the dumps to Scipio's 
 house. He cursed the weight he was forced to carry, and 
 anathematized the man who had driven him to so bestir 
 himself. He lamented over this waste of his precious 
 energies, he consigned Scipio and his children to eternity, 
 and metaphorically hurled Jessie headlong to the depths of 
 the uttermost abyss of the nether-world. But he went on. 
 In spite of his foulest language and vilest epithets, it was 
 his full intention to do his best for the children. 
 
 What he found on entering Scipio's hut set his small eyes 
 twinkling again. His unclean face creased up into a grin, 
 and, softly tiptoeing to a far corner of the room, he de- 
 posited his sack with the greatest care. Then he stood up, 
 and his eyes fixed themselves on a curious heap under the 
 table. It was a tumbled pile of pale blue, dirty white, with 
 a four-legged dash of yellow. And out of the heap he made 
 the forms of two small sleeping children, each hugging in 
 their arms an extremity of a yellow cur pup, also sound 
 asleep, in the shaft of sunlight which flooded in through the 
 open doorway. 
 
96 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Sunny rubbed his eyes and thought hard, nor did he find 
 the process irksome. From the miserable camp pup he 
 glanced at the grubby face of Jamie. Then his eyes passed 
 on to Vada's pretty but equally dirty features. And swift 
 action at once followed his thought. He glanced at the 
 dying fire in the cookstove, and saw the small clothes hang- 
 ing on the chair in front of it. He felt them; they were 
 quite dry. Then he tried the kettle on the stove ; it still had 
 water in it. Then he went to .the fuel-box ; yes, there was 
 fuel. 
 
 Now with his fingers he replenished the fire, and noise- 
 lessly re-filled the kettle. Then he removed the clothes 
 and put the chair aside. The children still slept on. He 
 further investigated the resources of Scipio's menage. He 
 found a wash-bowl and soap and a towel, three things he 
 rarely sought for any purposes of his own. Then, after 
 looking into the cupboard, he shook his head. It was de- 
 plorably bare of all but uncleanliness. And it was the for- 
 mer that caused his headshake, not the latter. With some 
 pride he re-stocked the shelves with the liberal purchases he 
 had made at Bill's expense. He had provided everything 
 that a man's mind could conceive as being necessary for the 
 interior of healthy childhood. True, he had made no pro- 
 vision for a yellow pup. 
 
 By this time the kettle was boiling, and it served him as 
 a signal. In a harsh, untuneful voice he began to chant 
 an old coon-ditty. The effect of his music was instan- 
 taneous as regards the more sensitive ears of the pup. Its 
 eyes opened, and it lifted its head alertly. Then, with a 
 quick wriggle, he sat up on his hind quarters, and, throwing 
 his lean, half-grown muzzle in the air, set up such a howl 
 of dismay that Sunny's melody became entirely lost in a 
 jangle of discords. He caught up his empty sack and flung 
 it at the wailing pup's head. It missed its aim, and in a 
 moment the twins had joined in their yellow friend's lament. 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 97 
 
 Sunny never quite understood the real cause of that dis- 
 mal protest whether it was the sight of him, his doleful 
 singing, or the flinging of the sack. All he knew was that it 
 was very dreadful, and must be stopped as quickly as pos- 
 sible. So, to that end, he began to cajole the children, 
 while he surreptitiously let fly a kick at the pup. 
 
 " Say, you bonny kids, you ain't scairt o' poor Sunny 
 Oak," he cried, while a streak of yellow flashed in the 
 sunlight and vanished through the door, a departure 
 which brought with it renewed efforts from the weeping 
 children. " It's jest Sunny Oak wot nobody J ll let rest," 
 he went on coaxingly. " He's come along to feed you sup- 
 per. Say," he cried, laboring hard for inspiration, " it's 
 such a bully supper. Ther's molasses, an' candy, an' an' 
 lob-ster!" 
 
 Whether it was the smacking of his lips as he dwelt on 
 the last word, or whether it was merely the fact that their 
 fright was passing, matters little ; anyhow, the cries of the 
 twins died out as suddenly as they began, and their eyes, 
 big and round, gazed wonderingly up at Sunny's unkempt 
 face. 
 
 " Who's you, ugly man ? " asked Vada at last, her brain 
 working more quickly than her brother's. 
 
 " 'Ess ug'y man," added Jamie unmeaningly. 
 
 Sunny's hand went up to his face, and he scratched 
 amongst his sparse beard as though to test the accuracy of 
 the accusation. Then he grinned sheepishly. 
 
 " Guess I'm jest an ugly fairy that wants to be kind to 
 two lonesome kiddies," he beamed. 
 
 " O oh ! You'se a fairy ? " said Vada doubtfully. 
 
 " 'Ess," nodded Jamie, thrilling with wonderment, and 
 eyeing him critically. 
 
 Elated with his success, Sunny went on warmly 
 
 " Yep. Jest a fairy, an' I bro't a heap o' good grub f er 
 you kiddies t' eat." 
 
98 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 But Vada's small brain was following out its own train 
 of thought, and passed the food question by. 
 
 " Awful ugly," she said, half to herself. 
 
 " 'Ess," muttered Jamie abstractedly. 
 
 " Mebbe," said Sunny, with a laugh. " Wai, if you crawl 
 right out o' there an' git around, I got things fixed so we'll 
 hev' a bully time." 
 
 But his proposition hadn't the effect he hoped. Instead 
 of moving, Jamie suddenly beat his head with his little 
 clenched fists. 
 
 " Me wants yaller pup," he cried, and forthwith howled 
 afresh. 
 
 Again Sunny realized his helplessness, and, glancing about 
 for further inspiration, caught sight of an inquiring yellow 
 head peering furtively in through the doorway. 
 
 " Why, ther' he is," he cried, vainly hoping to pacify the 
 child. Then he began at once a clumsy encouragement of 
 the dog. " Here, you yeller feller," he cried, flicking his 
 fingers coaxingly. " Come along ! Gee, you're a pretty 
 feller. Hi ! come along here." 
 
 But the dog made no attempt to move, and Sunny began 
 to lose patience. " Come along, pups," he cried, with 
 increasing force. " Come on, you miser'ble rat. Don't 
 stan' ther' waggin' your fool tail like a whisk-broom. Say, 
 you yaller cur, I'll " He started to fetch the creature, 
 but in a twinkling it had fled, to the accompaniment of a 
 fresh outburst from Jamie. 
 
 " I tho't you was a fairy," protested Vada. " Fairies ken 
 do most anything. You're jest an ugly ole man." 
 
 Sunny stood up and drew the back of his hand across his 
 perspiring forehead. He was worried. The fairy business 
 was played out, and he felt that he must begin again. 
 Children were by no means as easy to handle as he had 
 thought. He racked his brains, and suddenly bethought him 
 of another move. 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 99 
 
 In spite of Jamie's whimpering, he went to the cupboard 
 and produced a tin of molasses. This he carefully opened 
 in full view of Vada's questioning eyes. Jamie had also 
 become silent, watching him intently. He dug his finger 
 into the sticky contents and drew it out. Then he licked 
 his finger with tremendous enjoyment. 
 
 " Bully/' he muttered, apparently ignoring the children. 
 
 Instantly Vada was on her knees, crawling from under 
 the table, followed closely by her faithful shadow. She 
 came cautiously up to Sunny's side and stood up. 
 
 " M'lasses? " she inquired, and her eyes spoke volumes. 
 
 " O-oh ! " muttered Jamie, scrambling to his feet beside 
 her holding up one fat hand. 
 
 Sunny, without replying, allowed them to dip their 
 fingers into the pot and taste the molasses. He felt that 
 the moment was critical, and he would not risk words 
 which might easily set them scuttling back to their strong- 
 hold. 
 
 His strategy was successful. Up came the hands again, 
 and he knew he had won their confidence. He allowed 
 them another dip into the pot, and then began the business 
 in hand. 
 
 "We'll save the rest fer bimeby," he said decidedly. 
 " Meanwhiles we'll fix things right." 
 
 " Wot things? " inquired Vada. 
 
 " M'lasses," said Jamie, with tearful eyes. 
 
 Again Sunny felt the crisis, but he carried the situation 
 with a firm hand. 
 
 " Bimeby, laddie," he said cheerfully. " Meanwhiles we'll 
 jest have a wash all round." 
 
 And forthwith he set the wash-bowl ready and filled it 
 with warm water. Then, after some consideration and 
 trouble, having discovered a rag which had been used in the 
 household " wash-up," and a piece of soap, he prepared to 
 start on little Vada. But she instantly protested. 
 
ioo THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 "You first, Mister Fairy," she said cheerfully. "My 
 poppa allus washes first. Then we has his water." 
 
 " 'Ess," agreed Jamie. 
 
 And, to his disgust, Sunny was forced to an unwilling 
 ablution, which, by strategy, he had hoped to escape. How- 
 ever, the ordeal was manfully borne, and his reward was 
 quite worth his trouble. Vada promptly exclaimed when 
 she saw his face emerge from the dirty towel, shining with 
 grease off the house-flannel. 
 
 " You'se a fairy, sure," she cried, clapping her hands and 
 dancing about gleefully. " On'y fairies can change their- 
 selves. You'se a pretty, pretty man now. Now, Jamie 
 dear. You next," she added, with feminine assurance. 
 And with clumsy but willing enough hands Sunny Oak con- 
 trived to cleanse his charges. 
 
 By the time his task was accomplished perfect good-will 
 reigned all round, and the climax was reached when the 
 yellow pup returned of its own accord, and was promptly 
 hugged to Jamie's affectionate little bosom. 
 
 The next thing was to prepare the children's supper. 
 This was a far more serious matter for the loafer. But he 
 finally achieved it, having learnt, by the process of cross- 
 questioning the girl, what was usual and therefore expected. 
 However, it was not without some difficulty that he suc- 
 ceeded in providing an adequate meal, which consisted of 
 bread and milk, with bread and molasses as a sort of des- 
 sert. For himself, he was forced to fare off a tin of lobster 
 and tea. Still, his difficulties were not of much consequence 
 so long as the children were satisfied. And any bother to 
 himself was his own fault, in having relied for a moment 
 on Sandy Joyce's ideas of a menu. 
 
 Supper over and the table cleared, he decided on further 
 catechizing little Vada on points that still were a mystery 
 to him. So, with Jamie busy on the floor endeavoring to 
 solve the mystery of the pup's wagging tail, he lit his pipe 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 101 
 
 and took Vada on his knee. He n3^y(}ffi<J to 'r^c 
 incidents of his own childhood; tp. remember something 
 of his own early routine. But sonijehow nothing wafe^ry/ 
 clear. 
 
 He had washed the children and given them food. Those 
 things seemed to him to be perfectly sound. Well, what 
 next? It was a little difficult. He glanced at the sun. 
 Surely bed would be quite in order. Bed ah, yes, that 
 was a happy thought. He remembered now, when he was 
 young he always used to get himself into trouble purposely 
 so they would send him to bed. But with this thought came 
 the regretful recollection that his predilection for bed was 
 quickly discovered, and his further penalties took the form 
 of the buckle end of his father's waist-belt. However, he 
 put the proposition with much tact. 
 
 " Say, kiddies," he began, " how soon does your momma 
 put you to bed?" 
 
 Vada shook her wise little head. 
 
 " Momma don't. Poppa does." 
 
 " And when's that ? " he inquired, driving at his point 
 deliberately. 
 
 " When momma says." 
 
 Vada was fastening and unfastening the man's dirty 
 waistcoat with great interest. 
 
 " An' when does your momma say it ? " Sunny persisted. 
 
 " When poppa's done the chores." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 He felt himself on the wrong tack, and cast about for a 
 fresh line of argument. 
 
 " Guess you kiddies like bed some," he hazarded doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " Me like m'lasses," piped Jamie, who had managed to 
 get the pup's tail over his shoulder, and was hanging on 
 to it with both hands. Vada shrieked as the pup began 
 to yelp. 
 
102 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 "- Oh, look at Jamie," she cried. " He's pulling Dougal's 
 tail right out. You're a naughty, naughty boy." 
 "' Not naughty;"/protested Jamie, pulling harder. 
 
 Sunny reached down and released the mongrel, who 
 promptly turned round and licked the boy's face. Jamie 
 fought him with his little clenched fists, and finally began 
 to cry. 
 
 Again Sunny went to the rescue, and with some difficulty 
 peace was restored. Then he went back to his subject. 
 
 " Guess we'll hev to go to bed right now," he suggested, 
 with an air of authority. 
 
 " Momma ain't back," said Vada, her eyes round and 
 wondering. 
 
 " She'll be right along presently," lied Sunny. 
 
 " 'Ess," declared Jamie, " an' an' we go find 'piders 
 an' an' bugs." 
 
 Vada nodded. 
 
 " Lots an' lots." 
 
 " That's to-morrow," said Sunny, taking his cue wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 " 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 assert his 
 authority. So, setting Vada on the ground, he stood up. 
 
 " Bed," he said, with a great assumption of finality. 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 103 
 
 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'lasses," 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 molasses and a handful of crackers. 
 
 They were both on the bed when he passed 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 molasses 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 
 
io 4 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 brought back a world of recollection to him. It brought 
 him more. It laid before him a mental picture of his pres- 
 ent 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 passed 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. How- 
 ever, 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'lasses racket was a heap smart. Though say, you'll get 
 around ther' come sun-up to-morrer, an' you'll fix 'em right 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 105 
 
 all day. Maybe Zip '11 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 hell you like." 
 
 Sunny rose from his seat. His rebellious eyes were 
 fiercly 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 super- 
 human. 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 
 
io6 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 the bridge of his large thin nose. Something was working 
 swiftly, even passionately, in his brain, and it was evident 
 that his thoughts were more than unpleasant to himself. As 
 the moments passed 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 passed 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 
 passed 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 whim- 
 per 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 
 
SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND 107 
 
 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. 
 
 It was to be a day of activity. He felt that. Yet he had 
 made no definite plans. Only all his thoughts of the 
 previous night warned him that something must be done, 
 and that it was " up to him to get busy." 
 
 A long wakeful night is apt to distort many things of 
 paramount interest. But the morning light generally re- 
 duces them to their proper focus. Thus it is with people 
 who are considered temperamental. But Bill had no such 
 claims. He was hard, unimaginative, and of keen decision. 
 And over-night he had arrived at one considerable decision. 
 How he had arrived at it he hardly knew. Perhaps it was 
 
WILD BILL THINKS HARD 109 
 
 one of those decisions that cannot be helped. Certain it 
 was that it had been arrived at through no definite course of 
 reasoning. It had simply occurred to him and received his 
 approval at once. An approval, which, once given, was 
 rarely, if ever, rescinded. This was the man. 
 
 He had first thought a great deal about Scipio. He felt 
 that the time had come when his fate must be closely 
 inquired into. The blundering efforts of Sunny Oak were 
 so hopelessly inadequate in the care of the children, that 
 only the return of their father could save them from some 
 dire domestic catastrophe. 
 
 Sunny apparently meant well by them. But Bill hated 
 well-meaning people who disguised their incompetence un- 
 der the excellence of their intentions. Besides, in this case 
 it was so useless. These two children were a nuisance, he 
 admitted, but they must not be allowed to suffer through 
 Sunny's incompetence. No, their father must be found. 
 
 Then there was his mare, Gipsy ; and when he thought of 
 her he went hot with an alarm which no threat to himself 
 could have inspired. This turn of thought brought James 
 into his focus. That personage was rarely far from it, and 
 he needed very little prompting to bring the outlaw into the 
 full glare of his mental limelight. He hated James. He 
 had seen him rarely, and spoken to him perhaps only a 
 dozen times, when he first appeared on Suffering Creek. 
 But he hated him as though he were his most bitter personal 
 enemy. 
 
 He had no reason to offer for this hatred, beyond the 
 outlaw's known depredations and the constant threat of his 
 presence in the district. At least no reason he would have 
 admitted publicly. But then Wild Bill was not a man to 
 bother with reasons much at any time. And it was the 
 venomous hatred of the man which now drove him to a 
 decision of the first importance. And such was his satisfac- 
 tion in the interest of his decision, that, for the time being, 
 
no THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 at least, poker was robbed of its charm, faro had become a 
 game of no consequence whatever, and gambling generally, 
 with all its subtleties as he understood them, was no longer 
 worth while. He had decided upon a game with a higher 
 stake than any United States currency could afford. It was 
 a game of life and death. James, " Lord " James, as he 
 contemptuously declared, must go. There was no room for 
 him in the same district as Wild Bill of Abilene. 
 
 It would be useless to seek the method by which this 
 decision was reached. In a man such as Bill the subtleties 
 of his motives were far too involved and deeply hidden. 
 The only possible chance of estimating the truth would be 
 to question his associates as to their opinion. And even 
 then such opinions would be biased by personal under- 
 standing of the man, and so would be of but small ac- 
 count. 
 
 Thus Minky would probably have declared that his deci- 
 sion was the result of his desire for the welfare of the com- 
 munity in which he claimed his best friends. Sandy Joyce 
 would likely have shaken his head, and declared it 
 was the possibility of something having happened to his 
 mare Gipsy. Toby Jenks might have had a wild idea 
 that Bill had made his " pile " on the " crook " and was 
 " gettin' religion." Sunny Oak, whose shrewd mind spent 
 most of its time in studying the peculiarities of his fellows, 
 might have whispered an opinion to himself, when no one 
 was about, to the effect that Bill couldn't stand for a rival 
 " boss " around Suffering Creek. 
 
 Any of these opinions might have been right, just as any 
 of them might have been very wide of the mark. Anyhow, 
 certain it is that no citizen of Suffering Creek would, even 
 when thoroughly drunk, have accused Bill of any leaning 
 towards sentimentalism or chivalry. The idea that he cared 
 two cents for what became of Scipio, or his wife, or his 
 children, it would have been impossible to have driven into 
 
WILD BILL THINKS HARD in 
 
 their heads with a sledge-hammer. And maybe they would 
 have been right. Who could tell ? 
 
 His decision was taken without any definite argument, 
 without any heroics. He frankly declared to himself that 
 James must go. And having decided, he, equally frankly, 
 declared that " the proposition was up to him." This was 
 his silent ultimatum, and, having delivered it, there was no 
 turning back. He would carry it out with as little mercy 
 to himself as he would show to any other concerned. 
 
 The men of Suffering Creek thought they knew this man. 
 But it is doubtful if anybody, even the man himself, knew 
 Wild Bill. Probably the nearest approach to a fair estimate 
 of him would have been to describe him as a sort of driving 
 force to a keen brain and hot, passionate heart. Whether 
 he possessed any of the gentler human feelings only his acts 
 could show, for so hard and unyielding was his manner, so 
 ruthless his purpose when his mind was made up, that it 
 left little room for the ordinary observer to pack in a belief 
 of the softer side to the man. 
 
 Ten minutes after performing his primitive ablutions 
 Wild Bill was eating breakfast in the dining-room at the 
 store, with Minky sitting opposite to him. The storekeeper 
 was telling him of something that happened the night before, 
 with a troubled expression in his honest eyes. 
 
 " I was wonderin' when you'd get around," he said, as 
 soon as Birdie Mason had withdrawn to the kitchen. " I'd 
 have given a deal for you to have been playin' last night. I 
 would sure. There was three fellers, strangers, lookin' for 
 a hand at poker. They'd got a fine wad o' money, too, and 
 were ready for a tall game. They got one with Irish 
 O'Brien, an' Slade o' Kentucky, but they ain't fliers, an' 
 the strangers hit 'em good an' plenty. Guess they must 
 ha' took five hundred dollars out of 'em." 
 
 Bill's sharp eyes were suddenly lifted from his plate. He 
 was eating noisily. 
 
U2 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Did you locate 'em the strangers ? " he grated. 
 
 " That's sure the pinch," said Minky, wiping his broad 
 forehead with a colored handkerchief. The heat in the din- 
 ing-room was oppressive. " I've never see 'em before, an' 
 they didn't seem like talkin' a heap. They were all three 
 hard-lookin' citizens, an' might ha' been anything from 
 bum cowpunchers to " 
 
 " Sharps," put in Bill, between noisy sips at his coffee. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Minky watched a number of flies settle on a greasy patch 
 on the bare table. 
 
 " Y'see," he went on, after a thoughtful pause, " I don't 
 like strangers who don't seem ready tongued none of us 
 do, since the stage-robbin' set in." 
 
 " You mean " Bill set his cup down. 
 
 Minky nodded. 
 
 ' We ain't sent out a parcel of gold for months, an' I'm 
 kind o' full up with dust about now. Y'see, the boys has 
 got to cash their stuff, and I'm here to make trade, so wal, 
 I jest got to fill myself with gold-dust, an' take my chances. 
 I'm mighty full just now an' strangers worry me some." 
 
 " You're weakenin'," said Bill sharply, but his eyes were 
 serious, and suggested a deep train of swift thought. 
 Presently he reached a piece of bread and spread molasses 
 on it. 
 
 " Guess you're figgerin' it J ud be safer to empty out." 
 
 Minky nodded. 
 
 " And these strangers ? " Bill went on. 
 
 " They've lit out," said Minky ruefully. " I ast a few 
 questions of the boys. They rode out at sun-up." 
 
 "Where did they slep?" 
 
 " Don't know. Nobody seems to know." 
 
 Minky sighed audibly. And Bill went on eating. 
 
 " Ain't heerd nothing o' Zip ? " the storekeeper inquired 
 presently. 
 
WILD BILL THINKS HARD 113 
 
 " No." 
 
 " 'Bout that mare o' yours ? " 
 
 Bill's face suddenly Hushed, and his fierce brows drew 
 together in an ominous frown, but he made no answer. 
 Minky saw the change and edged off. 
 
 " It's time he was gettin' around." 
 
 Bill nodded. 
 
 " I was kind of wonderin'," Minky went on thought- 
 fully, "if he don't turn up wot's to happen with them 
 kids?" 
 
 " I ain't figgered." 
 
 Bill's interest was apparently wandering. 
 
 " He'll need to be gettin' around or somethin's got to 
 be done," Minky drifted on vaguely. 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " Y'see, Sunny's jest a hoboe." 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " Don't guess Zip's claim amounts to pea-shucks neither," 
 the storekeeper went on, his mind leaning towards the 
 financial side of the matter. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Them kids '11 cost money, too." 
 
 Bill nodded, but no one could have detected any interest 
 in his movement. 
 
 " How'd it be to get that claim worked for him while 
 he's away ? " 
 
 Bill shrugged. 
 
 " Mebbe Zip '11 be gettin' back," he said. 
 
 " An' if he don't." 
 
 "You mean?" 
 
 There was interest enough in Bill now. His interrogation 
 was full of suppressed force. 
 
 " Yes. James." 
 
 Bill sprang to his feet and kicked back his chair. The 
 sudden rage in his eyes was startling, even to Minky, who 
 
H4 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 was used to the man. However, he waited, and in a 
 moment or two his friend was talking again in his usually 
 cold tone. 
 
 " I'll jest git around an' see how Sunny's doin'," he said. 
 
 Then he drew out a pipe and began to cut flakes of 
 tobacco from a black plug. 
 
 " See here, Minky," he went on, after a moment's pause. 
 " You need to do some thinkin'. How much dust have you 
 got in the store ? " 
 
 " 'Bout twenty thousand dollars." 
 
 " Whew ! " Bill whistled softly as he packed the tobacco 
 in his pipe. " An elegant parcel for strangers to handle." 
 
 The storekeeper's face became further troubled. 
 
 " It sure is if they handle it." 
 
 "Jest so." 
 
 Bill's pipe was alight now, and he puffed at it vigorously, 
 speaking between the puffs. 
 
 " Y'see, this feller James plays a big game. Cattle duffin' 
 and ord'n'ry stage-robbin' ain't good enough, nor big enough, 
 to run his gang on. He needs gold stages, and we ain't 
 sendin' gold stages out. Wai, wot's the conclusion? I ast 
 you?" 
 
 " He'll hev to light out, or " 
 
 " Jest so. Or he'll get around here to look into things. 
 Those strangers last night were mebbe ' lookin' into things.' 
 You'll need to stow that dust where the rats can't gnaw it. 
 Later we'll think things out. Meanwhile there's one thing 
 sure, we don't need strangers on Suffering Creek. There's 
 enough o' the boys around to work the gold, an' when they 
 get it they mostly know what to do with it. Guess I'll get 
 on up to Zip's shack." 
 
 The two men walked out into the store. Minky in a 
 pessimistic mood passed in behind his counter. This ques- 
 tion of gold had bothered him for some weeks. Since the 
 first stage-robbing, and James' name had become a " terror " 
 
WILD BILL THINKS HARD 115 
 
 in the district, he had opened a sort of banking business for 
 the prospectors. Commercially it appealed to him enor- 
 mously. The profits under his primitive methods of dealing 
 with the matter were dazzlingly large, and, in consequence, 
 the business became a dominant portion of his trade. Nor 
 was it until the quantity of gold he bought began to grow, 
 and mount into thousands of dollars' worth, that the difficul- 
 ties of his traffic began to force themselves upon him. Then 
 it was that he realized that if it was insecure to dispatch a 
 gold stage laden with the property of the prospectors, how 
 was he to be able to hold his stock at the store with any 
 greater degree of security. 
 
 The more he thought of the matter the greater the difficul- 
 ties appeared. Of course he saw possibilities, but none of 
 them offered the security he needed. Then worry set in. 
 History might easily repeat itself on Suffering Creek. 
 James' gang was reported to be a large one. Well, what if 
 he chose to sweep down upon the camp, and clean the place 
 out. Herein lay the trouble. And in consequence his days 
 and nights were none too easy. 
 
 He had never spoken of the matter before. It was not 
 a subject to be discussed with anybody. But Bill was 
 different from the rest, and, for several days, Minky had 
 sought an opportunity of unburdening himself to his friend. 
 Now, at last, he had done so, and, in return, had received 
 small enough comfort. Still he felt he had done the best 
 thing. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST 
 
 BILL passed straight through the store and set out across 
 the town dumps. And it would have been impossible to 
 guess how far he was affected by Minky's plaint. His face 
 might have been a stone wall for all expression it had of 
 what was passing behind it. His cold eyes were fixed upon 
 the hut ahead of him without apparent interest or meaning. 
 His thoughts were his own at all times. 
 
 As he drew near he heard Sunny's voice raised in song, 
 and he listened intently, wondering the while if the loafer 
 had any idea of its quality. It was harsh, nasal and pos- 
 sessed as much tune as a freshly sharpened " buzz-saw." 
 But his words were distinct. Far too distinct Bill thought 
 with some irritation. 
 
 " A farmer ast the other day if we wanted work. 
 Sez we, ' Ol' man, the labour ? ' Sez he, ' It's binding wheat.' 
 Sez we, ' Ol' man, the rigger? ' ' A dollar an' a ha'f the sum.' 
 Sez we, *O1' man, go an* tickle yerself, we'd a durned sight sooner 
 bum!' 
 
 * Anythin* at all, marm, we're nearly starvin', 
 
 Anything to hel-l-lp the bummers on their wa-ay, 
 
 We are three bums an' jolly good chums, 
 
 An' we live like Royal Turks, 
 
 An' with good luck we bum our chuck, 
 
 An' it's a fool of a man wot works.' " 
 
 Just as Sunny was about to begin the next verse Bill 
 appeared in the doorway, and the vocalist was reduced to a 
 pained silence by his harsh criticism. 
 
THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST 117 
 
 " You'd orter be rootin' kebbeges on a hog ranch wi' that 
 voice," he said icily. " You're sure the worst singer in 
 America." 
 
 Then he glanced round for the children. They were 
 nowhere to be seen. Sunny was at the cookstove boiling 
 milk in a tin " billy." His face was greasy with perspira- 
 tion, and, even to Bill's accustomed eyes, he looked dirtier 
 than ever. He stood now with a spoon poised, just as he 
 had lifted it out of the pot at the moment of the other's 
 entrance. 
 
 " Where's the kids ? " the latter demanded sharply. 
 
 Sunny shifted his feet a little uneasily and glanced round 
 the dirty room. The place looked as though it hadn't been 
 cleaned for a month. There was a hideous accumulation 
 of unwashed utensils scattered everywhere. The floor was 
 unswept, let alone unwashed. And the smell of stale food 
 and general mustiness helped to add to the keenness of the 
 visitor's nervous edge as he waited for the man's reply. 
 
 " Guess they're out on the dumps playin' at findin' gold," 
 Sunny said, with a slightly forced laugh. " Y'see, little 
 Vada's staked out a claim on a patch of elegant garbage, an' 
 is digging fer worms. Them's the gold. An' Jamie's 
 playin' ' bad man ' an' swoopin* down on her and sneakin' 
 her worms. It's a new game. Y'see, I thought it out and 
 taught 'em how to play it. They're a heap struck on it, 
 too. I" 
 
 But words somehow failed him under the baleful stare of 
 the other's eyes. And turning back to the milk he fell into 
 a stupid silence. 
 
 " You'll get right out an* huyk them kiddies ofFn those 
 dumps," cried Bill sharply. " You got no more sense in 
 your idjot head than to slep when your eyes shut. Diggin' 
 worms on the dumps! Gee! Say, if it ain't enough to 
 give 'em bile and measles, an' an' spots, then I don't know 
 a ' deuce-spot ' from a hay-rake. Git right out, you loafin* 
 
ii8 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 bum, an' fetch 'em in, an' then get the muck off'n your face, 
 an' clean this doggone shack up. I'd sure say you was a 
 travelin' hospital o' disease by the look of you. I'm payin' 
 you a wage and a heap good one, so git out an' I'll see to 
 that darn milk." 
 
 Argument was out of the question, so Sunny adopted the 
 easier course of obedience to his employer's orders. He 
 dropped the spoon into the milk with a suddenness that 
 suggested resentment, and shuffled out, muttering. But Bill 
 followed him to the door. 
 
 " How ? " he inquired threateningly. 
 
 " I didn't say nothin'," lied Sunny. 
 
 " I didn't jest guess you did," retorted Bill sarcastically. 
 And he watched his man hurry out into the sunlight with 
 eyes that had somehow become less severe. 
 
 He waited where he was for some moments. Then he 
 turned back into the room and stared disgustedly about him. 
 
 " If a feller can't fix two kiddies right an' cook 'em pap 
 without mussin' things till you feel like dying o' colic at the 
 sight, he ain't fit to rob hogs of rootin' space," he muttered. 
 " I'd Gee-whiz ! Ther's that doggone milk raising blue 
 murder wi' " 
 
 He rushed to the stove where the boiling milk was pouring 
 over the sides of the pot in a hissing, bubbling stream. He 
 clutched at the " billy," scalding his fingers badly, jerked it 
 off the stove, upset the contents on the floor and flung the 
 pot itself across the room, where it fell with a clatter upon 
 a pile of dirty tin plates and pannikins. He swore violently 
 and sucked his injured fingers, while, in angry dismay, he 
 contemplated the additional mess his carelessness had caused. 
 And at that moment Sunny returned, leading two grubby- 
 faced infants by the hand. 
 
 " I got 'em back," he cried cheerfully. Then his shrewd 
 eyes took in the situation at a glance, and they sparkled with 
 malicious glee. 
 
THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST 119 
 
 " Gee," he cried, releasing the youngsters and pointing at 
 the mess on the stove and floor. " Now ain't that a real 
 pity? Say, how d'you come to do that? It sure ain't a 
 heap of trouble heatin' a drop o' milk. Most any fule ken 
 do that. I tho't you savvied that, I sure did, or I'd ha' put 
 you wise. Y'see, you should jest let it ha' come to the bile, 
 an' then whip it off quick. My, but it's real foolish ! Ten 
 cents o' milk wasted for want of a little sense." 
 
 " Our dinner milk," cried Vada in consternation. " All 
 gone." 
 
 " All dorn," echoed Jamie, flinging himself on the floor 
 and dipping his fingers into the mess and licking them with 
 grave appreciation. 
 
 In a moment he was joined by the inevitable yellow pup, 
 which burnt its tongue and set up a howl. Vada ran to the 
 animal's assistance, fell over Jamie's sprawling legs and 
 rolled heavily in the mess. 
 
 For some seconds confusion reigned. Sunny darted to 
 Vada's rescue, sent the pup flying with a well-directed kick, 
 picked the weeping girl up, and tried to shake some of the 
 milk from her dirty clothing. While Bill grabbed Jamie out 
 of the way of any further mischief. The boy struggled 
 furiously to free himself. 
 
 " Me want dinner milk," he shouted, and beat the 
 gambler's chest with both his little fists. 
 
 " You kicked Dougal ! " wailed Vada, from under Sunny's 
 arm. 
 
 And at that moment a mild voice reached them from the 
 open doorway 
 
 " Why, what's happenin' ? " 
 
 Bill and Sunny turned at once. And the next instant the 
 children were shrieking in quite a different tone. 
 
 " Pop-pa," they shouted, with all the power of their 
 childish lungs. The men released them, and, with a rush, 
 they hurled themselves upon the small person of their father. 
 
120 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Scipio set a bundle he was carrying upon the floor and 
 scrambled Jamie into his arms and kissed him. Then he 
 kissed Vada. After that he stood up, and, in a peculiarly 
 dazed fashion gazed about him, out of a pair of blackened 
 and bloodshot eyes, while the children continued to cling 
 to him. 
 
 The two onlookers never took their eyes off him. Sunny 
 Oak gazed with unfeigned astonishment and alarm, but Bill 
 merely stared. The little man was a pitiable object. His 
 clothes were tattered. His face was bruised and cut, and 
 dry blood was smeared all round his mouth. Both eyes 
 were black, and in one of them the white was changed to a 
 bright scarlet. 
 
 James* men had done their work all too well. They had 
 handled their victim with the brutality of the savages they 
 were. 
 
 Scipio let his eyes rest on Bill, and, after a moment's 
 hesitation, as though gathering together his still scattered 
 wits, spoke his gratitude. 
 
 " It was real kind of you lendin* me Gipsy. I set her 
 back in the barn. She's come to no harm. She ain't got 
 saddle-sore, nor nor nothin'. Maybe she's a bit tuckered, 
 but she's none the worse, sure." 
 
 . Bill clicked his tongue, but made no other response. At 
 that moment it would have been impossible for him to have 
 expressed the thoughts passing through his fierce mind. 
 Sunny, however, was more superficial. Words were burst- 
 ing from his lips. And when he spoke his first remark was 
 a hopeless inanity. 
 
 " You got back ? " he questioned. 
 
 Scipio's poor face worked into the ghost of a smile. 
 
 " Yes," he said. And the awkwardness of the meeting 
 drove him to silently caressing his children. 
 
 Presently Sunny, who was not delicate-minded, pointed 
 at his face. 
 
THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST 121 
 
 "You you had a fall?" 
 
 Scipio shook his head. 
 
 " You see, I found him and his boys got rough/' he 
 explained simply. 
 
 "Gee!" 
 
 There was no mistaking Sunny's anger. He forgot his 
 usual lazy indifference. For once he was stirred to a rage 
 that was as active and volcanic as one of Wild Bill's sudden 
 passions. 
 
 But the gambler at last found his tongue, and Sunny was 
 given no further opportunity. 
 
 " What you got there ? " he asked, pointing at the parcel 
 Scipio had deposited on the floor. 
 
 The little man glanced down at it. 
 
 "That?" he said hazily. "Oh, that's bacon an' things. 
 I got 'em from Minky on my way up. He told me you'd 
 sure got grub up here, an' I didn't need to get things. But 
 I guessed I couldn't let you do all this now I'm back. Say," 
 he added, becoming more alert. " I want to thank you both, 
 you bin real good helping me out." 
 
 Bill swallowed some tobacco juice, and coughed violently. 
 Sunny was eaten up with a rage he could scarcely restrain. 
 But Scipio turned to the children, who were now clinging 
 silently to his moleskin trousers. 
 
 " Guess we'll get busy an' fix things up," he said, laying 
 caressing hands upon them. " You'll need your dinners, 
 sure. Poppa's got nice bacon. How's that ? " 
 
 " Bully," cried Vada promptly. Now that she had her 
 father again everything was " bully." But Jamie was 
 silently staring up at the man's distorted features. He 
 didn't understand. 
 
 Wild Bill recovered from his coughing, suddenly bestirred 
 himself. 
 
 " Guess we'd best git goin', Sunny," he said quietly. 
 " Zip'll likely need to fix things up some. Y'see, Zip," he 
 
122 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 went on, turning to the father, " Sunny's done his best to 
 kep things goin' right. He's fed the kiddies, which was the 
 most ne'ssary thing. As for keppin' the place clean," he 
 pointed at the small sea of milk which still stood in pools 
 on the floor " I don't guess he's much when it comes to 
 cleanin' anything not even hisself. I 'low he's wrecked 
 things some. Ther's a heap of milk wasted. Howsum " 
 
 " Say! " cried the outraged Sunny. But Bill would allow 
 no interruption. 
 
 " We'll git goin'," he said, with biting coldness. " Come 
 right along. So long, Zip," he added, with an unusual touch 
 of gentleness. " I'll be along to see you later. We need 
 to talk some." 
 
 He moved over to Sunny's side, and his hand closed upon 
 his arm. And somehow his grip kept the loafer silent until 
 they passed out of the hut. Once outside the gambler threw 
 his shoulders back and breathed freely. But he offered no 
 word. Only Sunny was inclined to talk. 
 
 " Say, he's had a desprit bad time," he said, with eyes 
 ablaze. 
 
 But Bill still remained silent. Nor did another word pass 
 between them until they reached Minky's store. 
 
 The moment they had departed Scipio glanced forlornly 
 round his home. It was a terrible home-coming. Three 
 days ago in spite of all set-backs and shortcomings, hope had 
 run high in his heart. Now He left the twins standing 
 and walked to the bedroom door. He looked in. But the 
 curtains dropped from his nerveless fingers and he turned 
 back to the living room, sick in mind and heart. For one 
 moment his eyes stared unmeaningly at the children. Then 
 he sat down on the chair nearest the table and beckoned 
 them over to him. They came, thrilled with awe in their 
 small wondering minds. Their father's distorted features 
 fascinated yet horrified them. 
 
THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST 123 
 
 Jamie scrambled to one knee and Vada hugged one of 
 the little man's arms. 
 
 " We'll have to have dinner, kiddies," he said, with 
 attempted lightness. 
 
 " Ess," said Jamie absently. Then he reached up to the 
 wound on his father's right cheek, and touched it gently 
 with one small finger. It was so sore that the man flinched, 
 and the child's hand was withdrawn instantly. 
 
 " Oose's hurted," he exclaimed. 
 
 " Pore poppa's all hurt up," added Vada tearfully. 
 
 " Not hurt proper," said Scipio, with a wan smile. 
 " Y'see, it was jest a game, an' an' the boys were rough. 
 Now we'll git dinner." 
 
 But Vada's mind was running on with swift childish 
 curiosity, and she put a sudden question. 
 
 " When's momma comin' back ? " she demanded. 
 
 The man's eyes shifted to the open doorway. The golden 
 sunlight beyond was shining with all the splendor of a 
 summer noon. But for all his blackened eyes saw there 
 might have been a gray fog of winter outside. 
 
 " Momma ? " he echoed blankly. 
 
 " Ess, momma," cried Jamie. " When she tomin' ? " 
 
 Scipio shook his head and sighed. 
 
 " When she comin' ? " insisted Vada. 
 
 The man lowered his eyes till they focused themselves 
 upon the yellow pup, 'now hungrily licking up the cold milk. 
 
 " She won't come back," he said at last, in a low voice. 
 Then with a despairing gesture, he added : " Never ! never ! " 
 And his head dropped upon Jamie's little shoulder while he 
 hugged Vada more closely to his side as though he feared 
 to lose her too. 
 
CHAPTER X . 
 
 THE TRUST 
 
 IT was a blazing afternoon of the " stewing " type. The 
 flies in the store kept up a sickening hum, and tortured 
 suffering humanity in the form of the solitary Minky 
 with their persistent efforts to alight on his perspiring face 
 and bare arms. The storekeeper, with excellent fore- 
 thought, had showered sticky papers, spread with molasses 
 and mucilage, broadcast about the shelves, to ensnare the un- 
 wary pests. But though hundreds were lured to their death 
 by sirupy drowning, the attacking host remained undimin- 
 ished, and the death-traps only succeeded in adding disgust- 
 ing odors to the already laden atmosphere. Fortunately, 
 noses on Suffering Creek were not over-sensitive, and the 
 fly, with all his native unpleasantness, was a small matter in 
 the scheme of the frontiersman's life, and, like all other ob- 
 structions, was brushed aside physically as well as mentally. 
 
 The afternoon quiet had set in. The noon rush had 
 passed, nor would the re-awakening of the camp occur until 
 evening. Ordinarily the quiet of the long afternoon would 
 have been pleasant enough to the hard-working storekeeper. 
 For surely there is something approaching delight in the 
 leisure moments of a day's hard and prosperous work. But 
 just now Minky had little ease of mind. And these long 
 hours, when the camp was practically deserted, had become 
 a sort of nightmare to him. The gold-dust stored in the dim 
 recesses of his cellars haunted him. The outlaw, James, was 
 a constant dread. For he felt that his store held a bait 
 which might well be irresistible to that individual. Experi- 
 
THE TRUST 125 
 
 enced as he was in the ways of frontier life, the advent of 
 the strangers of the night before had started a train of alarm 
 which threatened quickly to grow into panic. 
 
 He was pondering this matter when Sunny Oak, accom- 
 panied by the careless Toby Jenks, lounged into the store. 
 With a quick, almost furtive eye the storekeeper glanced 
 up to ascertain the identity of the newcomers. And, when 
 he recognized them, such was the hold his alarm had upon 
 him, that his first thought was as to their fitness to help in 
 -case of his own emergency. But his fleeting hope received 
 a prompt negative. Sunny was useless, he decided. And 
 Toby well, Toby was so far an unknown quantity in all 
 things except his power of spending on drink the money 
 he had never earned. 
 
 " Ain't out on your claim ? " he greeted the remittance 
 man casually. 
 
 " Too blamed hot," Toby retorted, winking heavily. 
 
 Then he mopped his face and ordered two whiskies. 
 
 " That stuff won't cool you down any," observed Minky, 
 passing behind his counter. 
 
 " No," Toby admitted doubtfully. Then with a bright 
 look of intelligence. " But it'll buck a feller so it don't 
 seem so bad the heat, I mean." His afterthought set 
 Sunny grinning. 
 
 Minky set out two glasses and passed the bottle. The 
 men helped themselves, and with a simultaneous " How ! " 
 gulped their drinks down thirstily. 
 
 Minky re-corked the bottle and wiped a few drops of 
 water from the counter. 
 
 " So Zip's around," he said, as the glasses were returned 
 to the counter. And instantly Sunny's face became un- 
 usually serious. 
 
 " Say," he cried, with a hard look in his good-natured 
 eyes. " D'you ever feel real mad about things ? So mad, 
 I mean, you want to get right out an' hurt somebody or 
 
126 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 somethin'? So mad, folks is likely to git busy an* string 
 you up with a rawhide? I'm sure mostly dead easy as a 
 man, but I feel that away jest about now. I've sed to my- 
 self I'd do best settin' my head in your wash-trough. I've 
 said it more'n oncet in the last half -hour. But I don't guess 
 it's any sort o' use. So so, I'll cut out the wash-trough." 
 
 " You most generally do," said Toby pleasantly. 
 
 " You ain't comic 'cep' when you're f eedin'," retorted 
 Sunny, nettled. Then he turned to Minky, just as the 
 doorway of the store was darkened by the advent of Sandy 
 Joyce. But he glanced back in the newcomer's direction 
 and nodded. Then he went on immediately with his talk. 
 
 "Say, have you seen him?" he demanded of anybody. 
 " I'm talkin' o' Zip," he added, for Sandy's enlightenment. 
 " He found James. Located his ranch, an' an' nigh got 
 hammered to death for his pains. Gee ! " 
 
 " We see him," said Minky, after an awed pause. " But 
 he never said a word. He jest set Bill's mare back in the 
 barn, an' bo't bacon, and hit off to hum." 
 
 " I didn't see him," Sandy admitted. " How was he? " 
 
 " Battered nigh to death, I said," cried Sunny, with 
 startling violence. " His eyes are blackened, an' his pore 
 mean face is cut about, an' bruised ter'ble. His clothes is 
 torn nigh to rags, an' " 
 
 "Was it the James outfit did it?" inquired Minky 
 incredulously. 
 
 " They did that surely," cried Sunny vehemently. " You 
 ain't seen Bill, have you? He's that mad you can't git a 
 word out o' him. I tell you right here somethin's goin' to 
 happen. Somethin's got to happen," he added, with a fresh 
 burst of rage. " That gang needs cleanin' out. They need 
 shootin' up like vermin, an' " 
 
 " You're goin' to do it ? " inquired Sandy sarcastically. 
 
 Sunny turned on him in a flash. 
 
 "I'll take my share in it," he cried, "an' it'll need to 
 
THE TRUST 127 
 
 be a big share to satisfy me/' he added, with such evident 
 sincerity and fiery determination that his companions stared 
 at him in wonder. 
 
 " Guess Sunny's had his rest broke," observed Toby, with 
 a grin. 
 
 " I have that sure. An' an' it makes me mad to git 
 busy," the loafer declared. " Have you seen that pore feller 
 with his face all mussed ? Gee ! Say, Zip wouldn't hurt a 
 louse; he's that gentle-natured I'd say if ther' was only a 
 baulky mule between him an' starvation he'd hate to live. 
 He ain't nd more savvee than a fool cat motherin' a china 
 dog, but he's got the grit o' ten men. He's hunted out 
 James with no more thought than he'd use firm' a cracker 
 on the 4th o' July. He goes after him to claim his right, 
 as calm an' foolish as a sheep in a butcherin' yard. An' 
 I'd say right here ther' ain't one of us in this store would 
 have had the grit chasin' for his wife wher' Zip's bin 
 chasm' " 
 
 " Not for a wife, sure," interjected Sandy. 
 
 Toby smothered a laugh, but became serious under 
 Sunny's contemptuous eye. 
 
 " That's like you, Sandy," he cried. " It's sure like you. 
 But I tell you Zip's a man, an' a great big man to the marrer 
 of his small backbone. His luck's rotten. Rotten every 
 ways. He's stuck on his wife, an' she's gone off with a 
 tough like James. He works so he comes nigh shamin' even 
 me, who hates work, on a claim that couldn't show the 
 color o' gold on it, if ther' wa'an't nothin' to the earth but 
 gold. He's jest got two notions in his silly head. It's his 
 kids an' his wife. Mackinaw ! It makes me sick. It does 
 sure. Here's us fellers without a care to our souls, while 
 that pore sucker's jest strugglin' an' strugglin' an' every thin's 
 wrong with him wrong as oh, hell ! " 
 
 For once Sandy forgot his malicious jibe at the loafer's 
 expense. And Toby, too, forgot his pleasantry. Sunny's 
 
128 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 outburst of feeling had struck home, and each man stood 
 staring thoughtfully at the mental picture he had conjured 
 for them. Each admitted to himself in his own way the 
 pity the other's words had stirred, but none of them had 
 anything to add at the moment. 
 
 Sunny glanced from one to the other. His look was half 
 questioning and wholly angry. He glanced across at the 
 window and thrust his hands in his ragged trousers pockets. 
 
 And presently as he began to tap the floor with his foot 
 a fresh rush of fiery anger was mounting to his head. He 
 opened his lips as though about to continue his tirade, but 
 apparently changed his mind. And, instead, he drew a 
 dollar bill from his pocket, and flung it on the counter. 
 
 " Three more drinks," he demanded roughly. 
 
 Minky in unfeigned surprise produced the glasses. 
 Sandy leant over, and, with face thrust forward, inspected 
 the bill. Toby contented himself with a low whistle of 
 astonishment. 
 
 Sunny glared at them contemptuously. 
 
 " Yes," he said roughly, " I've earned it. I've worked for 
 it, do you understand? Wild Bill set me to look after 
 Zip's kids, an' he's paid me for it. But but that money 
 burns burns like hell, an' I want to be quit of it. Oh, I 
 ain't bug on no sort o' charity racket, I'm jest about as soft 
 as my back teeth. But I'm mad mad to git busy doin' 
 anythin' so we ken git Zip level with that low-down skunk, 
 James. An' if ther's fT cents' worth o' grit in you, Mister 
 Sandy Joyce, an' an atom o' savvee in your fool brain, Toby, 
 you'll take a hand in the game." 
 
 Minky looked on in silent approval. Anything directed 
 against James was bound to meet with his approval just 
 now. But Sandy cleared his throat, and lounged with his 
 back against the counter. 
 
 "An' wot, I'd ast, is goin' to hurt this tough?" he in- 
 quired^ with a dash of his usual sarcasm. 
 
THE TRUST 129 
 
 Sunny flew at his drink and gulped it down. 
 
 " How do I know? " he cried scornfully. 
 
 " Jest so." 
 
 Toby grinned. 
 
 " You're a bright one, Sunny. You're so bright, you 
 dazzle my eyes," he cried. 
 
 But Sunny was absorbed in a thought that was hazily 
 hovering in the back of his brain, and let the insult pass. 
 
 " How ken I tell jest wot we're goin' to do," he cried. 
 " Wot we want to do is to kind o' help that pore crittur Zip 
 out first. Ther' he is wi' two kids to see to, which is sure 
 more than one man's work, an* at the same time he's got 
 to dig up that mudbank claim of his. He don't see the 
 thing's impossible, 'cos he's that big in mind he can't see 
 small things like that. But I ain't big that aways, an' I ken 
 see. If he goes on diggin' wot's his kids goin' to do, an* if 
 he don't dig wot's they goin' to do anyways. We'll hev to 
 form a committee " 
 
 " Sort o' trust," grinned Toby. 
 
 But Sunny passed over his levity and seized upon his 
 suggestion. 
 
 " I 'lows your fool head's tho't somethin' wiser than it 
 guessed," he said. " That's just wot we need. Ther' 
 should be a trust to see after him. An' after it's got his 
 kids fixed right " 
 
 Sunny broke off as the tall figure of Wild Bill threw its 
 shadow across the window of the store. The next moment 
 the man himself entered the room. 
 
 He nodded silently, and was about to fling himself into 
 one of the chairs, when Toby, in jocular anticipation, threw 
 Sunny's proposition at him. 
 
 " Say, Sunny's woke up an' bin thinkin'," he cried. " I 
 allow his brain is shockin' wonderful. Guess he's got sick 
 o' restin' an' reckons he got a notion for makin' a trust lay- 
 out." 
 
 
I 3 o THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " The Zip Trust," added Sandy, with a laugh, in which 
 Toby joined heartily. 
 
 " Yes. He guesses Zip needs lookin' after," declared the 
 remittance man in the midst of his mirth, glancing round 
 for appreciation of the joke. 
 
 But the encouragement he received fell short of his expec- 
 tations, and his laugh died out quite abruptly. There was 
 no responsive smile on Minky's face. Sunny was glowering 
 sulkily; while Bill's fierce brows were drawn together in 
 an angry frown, and his gimlet eyes seemed to bore their 
 way into the speaker's face. 
 
 " Wai? " he demanded coldly. 
 
 " Wai, I think he's " 
 
 But Bill cut him short in his coldest manner. 
 
 "Do you?" he observed icily. "Wai, I'd say you best 
 think ag'in. An' when you done thinkin' jest start right 
 over ag'in. An' mebbe some day you'll get wise if you 
 don't get took meanwhiles." 
 
 Bill flung himself into the chair and crossed his long 
 legs. 
 
 " Sunny's on the right lay," he went on. " Ther' ain't 
 many men on Sufferin' Creek, but Zip's one of 'em. Say, 
 Toby, would you ride out to James' outfit to call him all 
 you think of the feller whose stole your wife? " 
 
 " Not by a sight," replied Toby seriously. 
 
 " Wai, Zip did. He's big," went on Bill in cold, harsh 
 tones. Then he paused in thought. But he went on almost 
 immediately. " We got to help him. I'm sure with 
 Sunny." He turned on the loafer with a wintry smile. 
 " You best organize right away, an' count me in." 
 
 Sunny's eyes glowed with triumph. He had feared the 
 man's ridicule. He had expected to see his lean shoulders 
 go up in silent contempt. And then, he knew, would have 
 followed a storm of sarcasm and " jollying " from Sandy 
 and the other. With quick wit he seized his opportunity, 
 
THE TRUST 131 
 
 bent on using Bill's influence to its utmost. He turned on 
 Minky with a well calculated abruptness. 
 
 "You'll help this thing out too?" he challenged 
 him. 
 
 And he got his answer on the instant 
 
 " I sure will to any extent." 
 
 Sandy and Toby looked at the storekeeper in some doubt. 
 Bill was watching them with a curious intentness. And 
 before Sunny could challenge the two scoffers, his harsh 
 voice filled the room again. 
 
 " I don't know we'll need any more," he said, abruptly 
 turning his gaze upon the open window, " otherwise we'd 
 likely hev ast you two fellers. Y'see, we'll ned folks as ken 
 do things " 
 
 " Wot sort o' things ? " demanded Sandy, with a sudden 
 interest. 
 
 " Wai, that ain't easy to say right now, but " 
 
 " I ain't much seein' to kids," cried Sandy, " but I ken do 
 most anythin' else." 
 
 A flicker of a smile crept into Bill's averted eyes, while 
 Sunny grinned broadly to see the way the man was now 
 literally falling over himself to follow the leadership of W T ild 
 Bill. 
 
 " Wai, it ain't no use in saying things yet, but if you're 
 dead set on joining this Zip Trust, I guess you can. But 
 get this, what you're called upon to do you'll need to do 
 good an* hard, an* without argument." 
 
 Sandy nodded. 
 
 " I'm in," he cried, as though a great privilege had been 
 bestowed upon him. 
 
 And at once Toby became anxious. 
 
 " Guess you ain't no use for me, Bill ? " he hazarded, 
 almost diffidently. 
 
 Bill turned his steely eyes on him in cold contemplation. 
 Minky had joined in Sunny's grin at the other men's ex- 
 
132 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 pense. Sandy, too, now that he was accepted as an active 
 member of the trust, was indulging in a superior smile. 
 
 " I don't allow I have," Bill said slowly. " Y'see, you 
 ain't much else than a ' remittance ' man, an' they ain't no 
 sort o' trash anyway." 
 
 " But," protested Toby, " I can't help it if my folks hand 
 me money ? " 
 
 " Mebbe you can't." Bill was actually smiling. And this 
 fact so far influenced the other members of the trust that 
 an audible titter went round the room. Then the gambler 
 suddenly sat forward, and the old fierce gleam shone once 
 more in his cold eyes. " Say," he cried suddenly. " If a 
 feller got the ' drop ' on you with six bar'ls of a gun well 
 loaded, an' guessed you'd best squeal, wot 'ud you do? " 
 
 " Squeal," responded the puzzled Toby, with alacrity. 
 
 " You ken join the Trust. You sure got more savvee 
 than I tho't." 
 
 Bill sat back grinning, while a roar of laughter concluded 
 the founding of the Zip Trust. 
 
 But like all ceremonials, the matter had to be prolonged 
 and surrounded with the frills of officialdom. Sunny called 
 it organization, and herein only copied people of greater 
 degree and self-importance. He plunged into his task with 
 whole-hearted enthusiasm, and, with every word he uttered, 
 preened himself in the belief that he was rapidly ascending 
 in the opinion of Wild Bill, the only man on Suffering Creek 
 for whose opinion he cared a jot. 
 
 He explained to his comrades, with all the vanity of a 
 man whose inspiration has met with public approval, that 
 in forming such a combine as theirs, it would be necessary 
 to allot certain work, which he called " departments," 
 to certain individuals. He assured his fellow-members 
 that such was always done in " way-up concerns." It saved 
 confusion, and ensured the work being adequately per- 
 formed. 
 
THE TRUST 133 
 
 " Sort o' like a noo elected gover'ment," suggested Sandy 
 sapiently. 
 
 "Wai, I won't say that," said Sunny. "Them fellers 
 traipse around wi' portyfolios hangin' to 'em. I don't guess 
 we need them things. It's too hot doin' stunts like that." 
 
 " Portfolios ? " questioned Toby artlessly. " Wot's them 
 for?" 
 
 " Oh, jest nuthin' o' consequence. Guess it's to make 
 folks guess they're doin' a heap o' work. No, what we need 
 is to set each man his work this aways. Now Bill here 
 needs to be president sure. Y'see, we must hev a ' pres.' 
 Most everything needs a ' pres.' He's got to sit on top, so 
 if any one o' the members gits gay he ken hand 'em a daisy 
 wot'll send 'em squealin' an' huntin' their holes like gophers. 
 Wai, Bill needs to be our ' pres.' Then there's the ' general 
 manager.' He's the feller wot sets around an' blames most 
 everybody fer everything anyway, an' writes to the noos- 
 papers. He's got to have savvee, an' an elegant way o' 
 shiftin' the responsibility o' things on them as can't git 
 back at him. He's got to be a bright lad " 
 
 " That's Sunny, sure," exclaimed Toby. " He's a dandy 
 at gettin' out o' things an' leaving others in. Say " 
 
 " Here, half-a-tick," cried Joyce, with sudden inspiration. 
 " Who's goin' to be ' fightin' editor ' ? " 
 
 " Gee, what a brain ! " cried Sunny derisively. " Say, we 
 ain't runnin' a mornin' noos sheet. This is a trust. Sandy, 
 my boy, you need educatin'. A trust's a corporation of 
 folks wot is so crooked, they got to git together, an' pool 
 their cash, so's to git enough dollars to kep 'em out o' peni- 
 tentiary. That's how they start. Later on, if they kep 
 clear o' the penitentiary, they start in to fake the market till 
 the Gover'ment butts in. Then they git gay, buy up a vote 
 in Congress, an' fake the laws so they're fixed right fer 
 themselves. After that some of them git religion, some of 
 'em give trick feeds to their friends, some of 'em start in to 
 
134 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 hang jewels on stage females. Some of 'em have heen 
 known to shoot theirselves or git divorced. It ain't no sort 
 o' matter wot they do, pervided they're civil to the noospaper 
 folk. That's a trust, Sandy, an' I don't say but what the fel- 
 ler as tho't o' that name must o' bin a tarnation amusin' 
 feller." 
 
 " Say, you orter bin in a cirkis," sneered Sandy, as the 
 loafer finished his disquisition. 
 
 " Wai, I'd say that's better'n a museum/' retorted Sunny. 
 
 But Toby was impatient to hear how Sunny intended to 
 dispose of him. 
 
 " Wher' do I figger in this lay-out ? " he demanded. 
 
 " You ? " Sunny's eyes twinkled. " Don't guess we'll 
 need to give you hard work. You best be boss o' the 
 workin' staff." 
 
 " But ther' ain't no workin' staff," protested Toby. 
 
 " Jest so. That's why you'll be boss of it." Then Sunny 
 turned to Sandy. 
 
 " We'll need your experience as a married man, tho'," he 
 said slyly. " So you best be head o' the advisory board. 
 You'll need to kep us wise to the general principles of vittlin' 
 a family of three, when the woman's missin'. Then we'll 
 need a treasurer." Sunny turned to Minky, and his twin- 
 kling eyes asked the question. 
 
 " Sure," said Minky promptly, " I'll be treasurer. Seems 
 to me I'll be safer that ways." 
 
 " Good," cried Sunny, " that's all fixed." He turned to 
 Bill. " Say, pres," he went on, " I'd like to pass a vote o' 
 thanks fer the way you conducted this yer meetm, an' put 
 it to the vote, that we accept the treasurer's invitation to 
 take wine. All in favor will " 
 
 " Mine's rye," cried Sandy promptly. 
 
 " An* mine," added Toby. 
 
 " Rye for me," nodded Sunny at Minky's grinning face. 
 "Bill?" 
 
THE TRUST 135 
 
 But Bill shook his head. 
 
 " Too early for me," he said, " you fellers can git all you 
 need into you though. But see here, folks," he went on, 
 with a quietness of purpose that promptly reduced every eye 
 to seriousness. " This ain't no play game as Sunny may ha' 
 made you think. It's a proposition that needs to go thro', 
 an' I'm goin' to see it thro'. Zip's kids is our first trouble. 
 They ain't easy handlin'. They got to be bro't up reg'lar, 
 an' their stummicks ain't to be pizened with no wrong sort 
 o' vittles. Ther's such a heap o' things to kids o' that age 
 it makes me nigh sweat at the tho't. Howsum, Zip's down 
 an' out, an' we got to see him right someways. As ' pres ' 
 of this lay-out, I tell you right here, every mother's son of 
 us had best git out an' learn all we ken about fixin' kids 
 right. How to feed 'em, how to set their pretties on right, 
 how to clean 'em, how to well, jest how to raise 'em. If 
 any o' you got leddy friends I'd say git busy askin' 'em. 
 
 <srk " 
 
 Ov """" 
 
 At that moment the sound of footsteps on the veranda 
 came in through the window, and Bill looked round. The 
 next instant he spoke more rapidly, and with greater 
 authority. 
 
 " Git goin'," he cried, " an' we'll meet after supper." 
 There was no doubt of this man's rule. Without a word 
 the men filed out of the store, each one with his thoughts 
 bent upon the possibilities of acquiring the knowledge 
 necessary. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 BILL watched the men depart. The stolid Minky, too, 
 followed them with his eyes. But as they disappeared 
 through the doorway he turned to the gambler, and, in sur- 
 prise, discovered that he was reclining in a chair, stretched 
 out in an attitude of repose, with his shrewd eyes tightly 
 closed. He was about to speak when the swing-doors 
 opened, and two strangers strolled in. 
 
 Minky greeted them, " Howdy ? " and received an amiable 
 response. The newcomers were ordinary enough to satisfy 
 even the suspicious storekeeper. In fact, they looked like 
 men from some city, who had possibly come to Suffering 
 Creek with the purpose of ascertaining the possibilities of 
 the camp as a place in which to try their fortunes. Both 
 were clad in store clothes of fair quality, wearing hats of the 
 black prairie type, and only the extreme tanning of their 
 somewhat genial faces belied the city theory. 
 
 Minky noted all these things while he served them the 
 drinks they called for, and, in the most approvedly casual 
 manner, put the usual question to them. 
 
 " Wher' you from ? " he inquired, as though the matter 
 were not of the least consequence. 
 
 He was told Spawn City without hesitation, and in re- 
 sponse to his remark that they had " come quite a piece," 
 they equally amiably assured him that they had. 
 
 Then one of the men addressed his companion. 
 
 " Say, Joe," he said, " mebbe this guy ken put us wise to 
 things." 
 
STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK 137 
 
 And Joe nodded and turned to the storekeeper. 
 
 " Say, boss," he began, " we've heerd tell this lay-out is a 
 dead gut bonanza. There's folks in Spawn City says ther's 
 gold enough here to drown the United States Treasury de- 
 partment. Guess we come along to gather some." He 
 grinned in an ingratiating manner. 
 
 Minky thought before answering. 
 
 " Ther' sure is a heap o' gold around. But it ain't easy. 
 I don't guess you'd gather much in a shovel. You'll get 
 pay dirt that aways, but " 
 
 " Ah ! Needs cap'tal," suggested Joe. 
 
 " That's jest how we figgered," put in the other quietly. 
 
 Minky nodded. Many things were traveling swiftly 
 through his mind. 
 
 " Drove in ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Sure," replied Joe. " Unhooked down the trail a piece." 
 
 Bill's eyes opened and closed again. Then he shifted 
 noisily in his chair. The men turned round and eyed him 
 with interest. Then the man called Joe called back to the 
 storekeeper. 
 
 " My name's Joe Manton," he said, by way of introduc- 
 tion. " An' my friend's called Sim Longley. Say," he 
 went on, with a backward jerk of the head, " mebbe your 
 friend '11 take something? " 
 
 Minky glanced over at Wild Bill. The gambler drowsily 
 opened his eyes and bestirred himself. 
 
 " I sure will," he said, rearing his great length up, and 
 moving across to the counter. " I'll take Rye, mister, an' 
 thank you. This is Mr. Minky, gents. My name's Bill." 
 
 The introduction acknowledged, talk flowed freely. Wild 
 Bill, in carefully toned down manner, engaged the strangers 
 in polite talk, answering their questions about the gold pros- 
 pects of the place, which were often pointed, in the most 
 genial and even loquacious manner. He told them a great 
 deal of the history of the place, warned them that Suffering 
 
I 3 8 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Creek was not the sinecure the outside world had been told, 
 endorsed Minky's story that what Suffering Creek really 
 needed was capital to reach the true wealth of the place. 
 And, in the course of the talk, drink flowed freely. 
 
 Bill was always supplied with his drink from a different 
 bottle to that out of which the strangers were served. As 
 a matter of fact, he was probably the most temperate man 
 on Suffering Creek, and, by an arrangement with Minky, so 
 as not to spoil trade, drank from a bottle of colored water 
 when the necessity for refreshment arose. But just now 
 his manner suggested that he had drunk quite as much 
 whisky as the strangers. His spirits rose with theirs, and 
 his jocularity and levity matched theirs, step by step, as they 
 went on talking. 
 
 The man Longley had spoken of the settlement as being 
 " one-horsed/' and Billy promptly agreed. 
 
 " It sure is," he cried. " We ain't got nothing but this 
 yer canteen, with oF Minky doin' his best to pizen us. Still, 
 we get along in a ways. Mebbe we could do wi' a dancin'- 
 hall if we had females around. Then I'd say a bank 
 would be an elegant addition to things. Y'see, we hev to 
 ship our gold outside. Leastways, that's wot we used to do, 
 I've heard. Y'see, I ain't in the minin' business," he 
 added, by way of accounting for his lack of personal 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Joe. " Maybe you're ' commercial ' ? " 
 
 Bill laughed so genially that the others joined in it. 
 
 "In a ways, mebbe I am. You see, I mostly sit around, 
 an' when anything promisin' comes along, why, I ain't above 
 plankin' a few dollars by way of speculation." 
 
 Joe grinned broadly. 
 
 " A few shares in a poker hand, eh ? " he suggested 
 shrewdly. 
 
 " You're kind o' quick, mister," Bill laughed. " I'm stuck 
 on f draw ' some." 
 
STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK 139 
 
 Then the talk drifted suddenly. It was Longley who 
 presently harked back to the commercial side of Suffering 
 Creek. 
 
 " You was sayin' ther' wasn't no bank on Suffering 
 Creek/' he said interestedly. " What do folks do with their 
 dust now, then? " 
 
 A quick but almost imperceptible glance passed between 
 Bill and the storekeeper. And Bill's answer came at once. 
 
 " Wai, as I sed, we used to pass it out by stage. But " 
 
 Longley caught him up just a shade too quickly. 
 
 Yes but ? " 
 
 "Wai," drawled Bill thoughtfully, " y'see, we ain't 
 shipped dust out for some time on account of a gang that's 
 settin' around waitin'. You comin' from Spawn City '11 
 likely have heard of this feller James an' his gang. A most 
 ter'ble tough is James. I'll allow he's got us mighty nigh 
 wher' he wants us scairt to death. No, we ain't sent out 
 no gold stage lately, but we're goin' to right soon. We'll 
 hev to. We've ast for an escort o' Gover'ment troops, but 
 I guess Sufferin' Creek ain't on the map. The Gover'ment 
 don't guess they've any call to worry." 
 
 " Then what you goin' to do ? " inquired Longley, pro- 
 foundly interested. 
 
 " Can't say. The stage'll hev to take its chances." 
 
 " An' when " began Longley. But his comrade cut him 
 short. 
 
 " Say, I'll allow the gold racket's mighty int'restin', but 
 it makes me tired this weather. You was speakin' 
 draw ' " 
 
 " Sure," responded Bill amiably. " We're four here, if 
 you fancy a hand. Minky ? " 
 
 The storekeeper nodded, and promptly produced cards and 
 ' chips.' And in five minutes the game was in progress. 
 Used as he was to the vagaries of his gambling friend, 
 Minky was puzzled at the way he was discussing Suffering 
 
140 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Creek with these strangers. His talk about James and the 
 gold-stage was too rankly absurd for anything, and yet he 
 knew that some subtle purpose must be underlying his talk. 
 However, it was no time to question or contradict now, so 
 he accepted the situation and his share in the game. 
 
 And here again astonishment awaited him. Bill lost 
 steadily, if not heavily. He watched the men closely, but 
 could discover none of the known tricks common to the 
 game when sharps are at work. They not only seemed to 
 be playing straight, but badly. They were not good poker 
 players. Yet they got the hands and won. For himself, he 
 kept fairly level. It was only Bill who lost. 
 
 And all through the game the gambler allowed himself 
 to be drawn into talking of Suffering Creek by the interested 
 Longley, until it would have been obvious to the veriest 
 greenhorn that the stranger was pumping him. 
 
 The newcomers seemed to be enjoying themselves enor- 
 mously, and the greatest good-will prevailed. Nor was it 
 until nearly supper-time that Bill suddenly stood up and 
 declared he had had enough. He was a loser to the extent 
 of nearly a hundred dollars. 
 
 So the party broke up. And at Minky's suggestion the 
 men departed to put their horses in the barn, while they 
 partook of supper under his roof. It was the moment they 
 had gone that the storekeeper turned on his friend. 
 
 " Say, I ain't got you, Bill. Wot's your game ? " he de- 
 manded, with some asperity. 
 
 But the gambler was quite undisturbed by his annoyance. 
 He only chuckled. 
 
 " Say," he countered, " ever heerd tell of Swanny Long, 
 the biggest tough in Idaho? " 
 
 "Sure. But" 
 
 " That's him that feller Sim Longley." 
 
 The storekeeper stared. 
 
 "You sure?" 
 
STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK 141 
 
 " Sure ? Gee ! I was after him f er nigh three Say," 
 he broke off it was not his way to indulge in reminiscence 
 " I guess he's workin' with James." Then he laughed. 
 " Gee ! I allow he was rigged elegant most like some Bible- 
 smashin' sky-pilot." 
 
 Minky was still laboring hard to understand. 
 
 " But all that yarn of the gold-stage ? " he said sharply. 
 
 "That?" Bill at once became serious. "Wai, that's 
 pretty near right. You ain't yearnin' fer that gang to come 
 snoopin' around Suffering Creek. So I'm guessin' we'll hev 
 to pass a gold-stage out o' her some time." 
 
 " You're mad," cried Minky in consternation. 
 
 "That's as may be," retorted Bill, quite unruffled. 
 " Anyways, I guess I spent a hundred dollars in a mighty 
 good deal this day if it was rotten bad poker." 
 
 And he turned away to talk to Slade of Kentucky, who 
 entered the store at that moment with his friend O'Brien. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE WOMAN 
 
 THE woman turned from the window at the sound of 
 footsteps somewhere behind her. That was her way now. 
 She started at each fresh sound that suggested anyone ap- 
 proaching. Her nerves were on edge for some reason she 
 could never have put into words. She did not fear, yet a 
 curious nervousness was hers which made her listen acutely 
 at every footstep, and breathe her relief if the sound died 
 away without further intrusion upon her privacy. 
 
 Presently she turned back to the window with just such 
 relief. The footstep had passed. She drew her feet up into 
 the ample seat of the rocking-chair, and, with her elbow 
 resting upon its arm, heavily pressed her chin into the palm 
 of her hand, and again stared at the rampart of mountains 
 beyond. 
 
 Nor had all the beauties spread out before her yearning 
 gaze the least appeal for her. How should they? Her 
 thoughts were roaming in a world of her own, and her eyes 
 were occupied in gazing upon her woman's pictures as she 
 saw them in her mind. The wonders of that scene of natu- 
 ral splendor laid out before her had no power to penetrate 
 the armor of her preoccupation. All her mind and heart 
 were stirred and torn by emotions such as only a woman can 
 understand, only a woman can feel. The ancient battle of 
 titanic forces, which had brought into existence that world 
 of stupendous might upon which her unseeing eyes gazed, 
 was as nothing, it seemed, to the passionate struggle going 
 on in her torn heart. To her there was nothing beyond her 
 
THE WOMAN 143 
 
 own regretful misery, her own dread of the future, her 
 passionate revulsion at thoughts of the past. 
 
 The truth was, she had not yet found the happiness she 
 had promised herself, that had been promised to her. She 
 had left behind her all that life which, when it had been 
 hers, she had hated. Her passionate nature had drawn her 
 whither its stormy waves listed. And now that the tempest 
 was passed, and the driving forces had ceased to urge, leav- 
 ing her in a rock-bound pool of reflection, she saw the 
 enormity of the step she had taken, she realized the strength 
 of Nature's tendrils which still bound her no less surely. 
 
 The mild face of Scipio haunted her. She saw in her 
 remorseful fancy his wondering blue eyes filled with the 
 stricken look of a man powerless to resent, powerless to 
 resist. She read into her thought the feelings of his simple 
 heart which she had so wantonly crushed. For she knew his 
 love as only a woman can. She had probed its depth and 
 found it fathomless fathomless in its devotion to herself. 
 And now she had thrown him and his love, the great 
 legitimate love of the father of her children, headlong out 
 of her life. 
 
 A dozen times she bolstered her actions with the assurance 
 that she did not want his love, that he was not the man she 
 had ever cared for seriously, could ever care for. She told 
 herself that the insignificance of his character, his personal- 
 ity, were beneath contempt. She desired a man of strength 
 for her partner, a man who could make himself of some 
 account in the world which was theirs. 
 
 No, she did not want Scipio. He was useless in the 
 scheme of life, and she did not wish to have to " mother " 
 her husband. Far rather would she be the slave of a man 
 whose ruthless domination extended even to herself. And 
 yet Scipio's mild eyes haunted her, and stirred something in 
 her heart that maddened her, and robbed her of all satisfac- 
 tion in the step she had taken. 
 
144 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 But this was only a small part of the cause of her present 
 mood. She had not at first had the vaguest understanding 
 of the bonds which really fettered her, holding her fast to 
 the life that had been hers for so long. Now she knew. 
 Arid the knowledge brought with it its bitter cost. Some 
 forewarning had been hers when she appealed to her lover 
 for the possession of her children. But although her 
 mother's instinct had been stirred to alarm at parting, she 
 had not, at that time, experienced the real horror of what 
 she was doing in abandoning her children. 
 
 She was inconsolable now. With all her mind and heart 
 she was crying out for the warm, moist pressure of infant 
 lips. Her whole body yearned for those who were flesh of 
 her flesh, for the gentle beating hearts to which her body 
 had given life. They were hers hers, and of her own 
 action she had put them out of her life. They were hers, 
 and she was maddened at the thought that she had left them 
 to another. They were hers, and yes, she must have 
 them. Whatever happened, they must be restored to her. 
 Life would be intolerable without them. 
 
 She was in a wholly unreasoning state of mind. All the 
 mother in her was uppermost, craving, yearning, panting for 
 her own. For the time, at least, all else was lost in an 
 overwhelming regret, and such a power of love for her 
 offspring, that she had no room for the man who had 
 brought about the separation. 
 
 She was a selfish woman, and had always craved for the 
 best that life could give her, but now that her mother-love 
 was truly roused her selfishness knew no bounds. She had 
 no thought for anybody, no consideration. She could have 
 none until her desire was satisfied. 
 
 Her tortured heart grew angry against Scipio. She was 
 driven to fury against James. What mattered it that her 
 lover had so far fulfilled all his other promises to her, if he 
 did not procure the children and return them to her arms ? 
 
THE WOMAN 145 
 
 What mattered it that she was surrounded with luxury 
 uncommon on the prairie, a luxury she had not known for 
 so many years ? 
 
 She had her own rooms, where no one intruded without 
 her consent. The spacious house had been ransacked to 
 make them all that she could desire. All the outlaw's 
 associates were herded into the background, lest their pres- 
 ence should offend her. Even James himself had refrained 
 from forcing his attentions upon her, lest, in the first rush of 
 feeling at her breaking with the old life, they should be 
 unwelcome. His patience and restraint were wonderful in 
 a man of his peculiar savagery. And surely it pointed his 
 love for her. Had it been simply the momentary passion of 
 an untamed nature, he would have waited for nothing, when 
 once she had become his possession. 
 
 It was a curious anachronism that she should be the 
 mistress of the situation with such a man as James. Yet so 
 far she was mistress of the situation. The question was, 
 how long would she remain so? It is possible that she had 
 no understanding of this at first. It is possible that she 
 would have resented such a question, had it occurred to 
 her when she first consented to break away from her old 
 life. 
 
 But now it was different. Now that she began to under- 
 stand all she had flung away for this man, when the mother 
 in her was at last fully aroused, and all her wits were driven 
 headlong to discover a way by which to satisfy her all-con- 
 suming desire for her children, now the native cunning of 
 the woman asserted itself. She saw in one revealing flash 
 her position, she saw where lay her power at the moment, 
 and she clung to it desperately, determined to play the man 
 while she could to gain her ends. 
 
 Thus it was she was nervous, apprehensive, every time 
 she thought it likely that her lover was about to visit her. 
 She dreaded what might transpire. She dreaded lest her 
 
I 4 6 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 power should be weakened before she had accomplished her 
 end. It was difficult ; it was nerve-racking. She must keep 
 his love at fever-heat. It was her one chance. 
 
 Again she started. It was the sound of a fresh footstep 
 beyond the door. She glanced at the door with half-startled 
 eyes and sat listening. Then her lips closed decidedly and 
 a look of purpose crept into her eyes. A moment later she 
 stood up. She was pale, but full of purpose. 
 
 " Is that you, Jim ? " she called. 
 
 " Sure," came the ready response. 
 
 The next instant the door was flung open and the man 
 came in. 
 
 His bronzed face was smiling, and the savage in him was 
 hidden deep down out of sight. His handsome face was 
 good to look upon, and as the woman's eyes surveyed his 
 carefully clad slim figure she felt a thrill of triumph at the 
 thought that he was hers at the raising of her finger. 
 
 But she faced him without any responsive smile. She had 
 summoned him with a very definite purpose in her mind, 
 and no display of anything that could be interpreted into 
 weakness must be made. 
 
 " I want to talk to you/' she said, pointing at the rocking- 
 chair she had just vacated. 
 
 James glanced at the chair. Then his eyes turned back 
 to her with a question in them. Finally he shrugged his 
 shoulders and flung himself into the seat, and stretched out 
 his long legs luxuriously. 
 
 Apparently Jessie had not noticed the shrug. It would 
 have been better had she done so. She might then have 
 understood more fully the man she was dealing with. How- 
 ever, she turned to the window and spoke with her back to 
 him. 
 
 " It's about things," she said a little lamely. 
 
 The man's smile was something ironical, as his eyes 
 greedily devoured the beauty of her figure. 
 
THE WOMAN 147 
 
 " I'm glad," he said in a non-committing way. Then, as 
 no reply was immediately forthcoming, he added, " Get 
 going." 
 
 But Jessie made no answer. She was thinking hard, and 
 somehow her thoughts had an uneasy confusion in them. 
 She was trying hard to find the best way to begin that which 
 she had to say, but every opening seemed inadequate. She 
 must not appeal, she must not dictate. She must adopt some 
 middle course. These things she felt instinctively. 
 
 The man shifted his position and glanced round the 
 room. 
 
 " Kind of snug here," he said pleasantly, running his eyes 
 appreciatively over the simple decorations, the cheap bric-a- 
 brac which lined the walls and, in a world where all decora- 
 tion was chiefly conspicuous by its absence, gave to the place 
 a suggestion of richness. The red pine walls looked warm, 
 and the carpeted floor was so unusual as to give one a feeling 
 of extraordinary refinement. Then, too, the chairs, scat- 
 tered about, spoke of a strain after civilized luxury. The 
 whole ranch-house had been turned inside out to make 
 Jessie's quarters all she could desire them. 
 
 " Yes," he muttered, " it's sure snug." Then his eyes 
 came back to the woman. " Maybe there's something I've 
 forgotten. Guess you've just got to fix a name to it." 
 
 Jessie turned instantly. Her beautiful eyes were shining 
 with a sudden hope, but her face was pale with a hardly 
 controlled emotion. 
 
 " That's easy," she said. " I want my children. I want 
 little Vada. I I must have her. You promised I should. 
 If you hadn't, I should never have left. I must have her." 
 She spoke breathlessly, and broke off with a sort of nervous 
 jolt. 
 
 In the pause that followed James' expression underwent a 
 subtle change. It was not that there was any definite move- 
 ment of a single muscle. His smile remained, but, some- 
 
148 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 how, through it peeped a hard look which had not been there 
 before. 
 
 " So you want the kids," he said at last, and a curious 
 metallic quality was in his voice. " Say," he added thought- 
 fully, " you women are queer ones." 
 
 " Maybe we are," retorted Jessie. She tried to laugh as 
 she spoke, but it was a dismal failure. Then she hurried 
 on. " Yes," she cried a little shrilly, " it was part of our 
 bargain, and so far you have not carried it out." 
 
 " Bargain ? " The man's brows went up. 
 
 " Yes, bargain." 
 
 " I don't remember a bargain." James' eyes had in 
 them an ominous glitter. 
 
 " Then you've got a bad memory." 
 
 " I sure haven't, Jess. I sure haven't that. I generally 
 remember good. And what I remember now is that I prom- 
 ised you those kids if you needed them. I swore that you 
 should have 'em. But I made no bargain. Guess women 
 don't see things dead right. This is the first time you've 
 spoken to me of this, and you say I haven't fulfilled my 
 bargain. When I refuse to give you them kiddies, it's time 
 to take that tone. You want them kids. Well go on." 
 
 The change in her lover's manner warned Jessie that 
 danger lay ahead. In the brief time she had spent under his 
 roof she had already learned that, as yet, she had only seen 
 the gentlest side of the man, and that the other side was 
 always perilously near the surface. 
 
 In the beginning this had been rather a delight to her to 
 think that she, of all people, was privileged to bask in the 
 sunny side of a man who habitually displayed the storm 
 clouds of his fiercer side to the world in general. But since 
 that time a change, which she neither knew nor understood, 
 had come over her, and, instead of rejoicing that he pos- 
 sessed that harsher nature, she rather feared it, feared that 
 it might be turned upon her. 
 
THE WOMAN 149 
 
 It was this change that had helped to bring her woman's 
 cunning into play. It was this change which had brought 
 her her haunting visions of the old life. It was this change 
 which had prompted her that she must keep her lover at 
 arm's length as yet. It was this change, had she paused 
 to analyze it, which might have told her of the hideous mis- 
 take she had made. That the passion which she had be- 
 lieved to be an absorbing love for the man was merely a pas- 
 sion, a base human passion, inspired in a weak, discontented 
 woman. But as yet she understood nothing of this. The 
 glamour of the man's personality still had power to sway 
 her, and she acknowledged it in her next words. 
 
 " Don't be angry, Jim dear," she said, with a smile of 
 seductive sweetness which had immediate effect upon the 
 man. " You don't understand us women. We're sure un- 
 reasonable where our love is concerned." 
 
 Then a flush spread itself slowly over her handsome face, 
 and passion lit her eyes. 
 
 " But I must have my children," she broke out suddenly. 
 " One of them, anyhow little Vada. You you can't 
 understand all it means to be away from them. They are 
 mine. They are part of me. I I feel I could kill anyone 
 who keeps them from me. You promised, Jim, you sure 
 did. Get her for me. My little girl my little Vada." 
 
 The man had risen from his chair and moved to the 
 window. He sat on the rough sill facing her. His eyes 
 were hot with passion, too, but it was passion of a very 
 different sort. 
 
 " And if I do? " he questioned subtly. 
 
 "If you do?" Jessie's eyes widened with a world of 
 cunning simplicity. 
 
 " Yes, if I do? " The man's face was nearer. 
 
 " You'll have fulfilled your promise." 
 
 Jessie had turned again to the window, and her eyes were 
 cold. 
 
150 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 The man's brows drew together sharply, and his dark eyes 
 watched the perfect outline of her oval cheek. Then he 
 drew a sharp breath, and biting words leapt to his lips. But 
 he held them back with a sudden grip that was perilously 
 near breaking. Jessie's power was still enormous with him. 
 But this very power was maddening to a man of his nature, 
 and the two must not come into too frequent conflict. 
 
 He suddenly laughed, and the woman turned in alarm at 
 the note that sounded in it. 
 
 " Yes," he said tensely. " I'll fulfill my promise. It'll 
 amuse me, sure, getting back at that Sufferin' Creek lay-out. 
 I owe them something for keepin' back the gold-stages. 
 You shall have Vada, sure." 
 
 He broke off for an instant and drew nearer. He leant 
 forward, and one arm reached out to encircle her waist. 
 But with an almost imperceptible movement the woman 
 stood beyond his reach. 
 
 " And and after ? " he questioned, his arm still out- 
 stretched to embrace her. 
 
 The woman made no answer. 
 
 "And after?" 
 
 There was a hot glow in his tone. He waited. Then he 
 went on. 
 
 " Then I'll have done everything," he said " all that a 
 man can do to make you happy. I'll have fulfilled all my 
 promises. I'll And you ? " he went on, coming close up 
 to her. 
 
 This time she did not repulse him. Instinct told her that 
 she must not. Before all things she wanted Vada. So his 
 arms closed about her, and a shower of hot, passionate kisses 
 fell upon her face, her hair, her lips. 
 
 At last she pushed him gently away. For the moment all 
 the old passion had been stirred, but now, as she released 
 herself, an odd shiver passed through her body, and a great 
 relief came to her as she stood out of his reach. It was the 
 
THE WOMAN 151 
 
 first real, definite feeling of repulsion she had had, and as 
 she realized it a sudden fear gripped her heart, and she 
 longed to rush from his presence. But, even so, she did not 
 fully understand the change that was taking place in her. 
 Her predominating thought was for the possession of little 
 Vada, and she urged him with all the intensity of her 
 longing. 
 
 " You'll get her for me ? " she cried, with an excitement 
 that transfigured her. " You will. Oh, Jim, I can never 
 thank you sufficiently. You are good to me. And when 
 will you get her now ? Oh, Jim, don't wait. You must do 
 it now. I want her so badly. I wonder how you'll do it. 
 Will you take her ? Or will you ask Zip for her ? I I 
 believe he would give her up. He's such a queer fellow. I 
 believe he'd do anything I asked him. I sure do. How 
 are you going to get her ? " 
 
 The man was watching her with all the fire of his love in 
 his eyes. It was a greedy, devouring gaze of which Jessie 
 must have been aware had she only been thinking less of her 
 child. Nor did he answer at once. Then slowly the pas- 
 sionate light died out of his eyes, and they became thoughtful. 
 
 " Tell me," the woman urged him. 
 
 Suddenly he looked into her face with a cruel grin. 
 
 " Sit down, Jess," he said sharply, " and write a letter to 
 Zip asking him, in your best lingo, to let you have your kid. 
 An' when you done that I'll see he gets it, an' I'll see you 
 get the kid. But make the letter good an' hot. Pile up the 
 agony biz. I'll fix the rest." 
 
 For a moment the woman looked into his face, now lit 
 with such a cruel grin. Something in her heart gave her 
 pause. Somehow she felt that what she was called upon to 
 do was intended to hurt Zip in some subtle way, and the 
 thought was not pleasant. She didn't want to hurt Zip. 
 She tried in those few seconds to probe this man's purpose. 
 But her mind was not equal to the task. Surely a letter 
 
152 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 appealing to Zip could not really hurt him. And she wanted 
 little Vada so much. It was this last thought that decided 
 her. No, nothing should stand in her way. She steeled her 
 heart against her better feelings, but with some misgivings, 
 and sat down to write. 
 
 James watched her. She procured paper and pen, and he 
 watched her bending over the table. No detail of her face 
 and figure escaped his greedy eyes. She was very beautiful, 
 so beautiful to him that he stirred restlessly, chafing irritably 
 under the restraint he was putting upon himself. Again and 
 again he asked himself why he was fool enough to do as he 
 was doing. She was his. There was no one to stop him, 
 no one but her. 
 
 Ah ! There was the trouble. Such was the man's temper 
 that nothing could satisfy him that gave him no difficulty of 
 attaining. His was the appetite of an epicure in all things. 
 Everything in its way must be of the best, and to be of the 
 best to him it must be the most difficult of achievement. 
 
 He waited with what patience he could until the letter 
 was written. Then he watched Jessie seal and address it. 
 Then she rose and stood staring down at the cruel missive. 
 She knew it was cruel now, for, trading on the knowledge 
 of the man who was to receive it, she had appealed 
 through the channel of her woman's weakness to all that 
 great spirit which she knew to abide in her little husband's 
 heart. 
 
 James understood something of what was passing in her 
 mind. And it pleased him to think of what he had forced 
 her to do pleased him as cruelty ever pleases the truly 
 vicious. 
 
 At last she held the missive out to him. 
 
 " There it is," she said. And as his hand closed upon it 
 her own was drawn sharply away, as though to avoid contact 
 with his. 
 
 " Good," he said, with a peculiar grin. 
 
THE WOMAN 153 
 
 For a moment the silence remained unbroken. Then the 
 woman raised appealing eyes to his face. 
 
 " You won't hurt Zip ? " she said in a voice that would 
 surely have heartened the object of her solicitude had he 
 heard it. 
 
 The man shook his head. His jaws were set, and his 
 smile was unpleasing. 
 
 " Guess any hurtin' Zip gets '11 be done by you." 
 
 "Ah, no, no!" 
 
 The woman reached out wildly for the letter, but James 
 had passed swiftly out of the room. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 
 
 THE derelicts of a mining camp must ever be interesting 
 to the student of human nature, so wide is the field for study. 
 But it were better to be a student, simply, when probing 
 amongst the refuse heaps of life's debris. A sentimentalist, 
 a man of heart, would quickly have it broken with the pity 
 of it all. A city's tragedies often require search to reveal 
 them, but upon the frontier tragedy stalks unsepulchered 
 in the background of nearly every life, ready to leap out 
 in all its naked horror and settle itself leech-like upon 
 the sympathetic heart, stifling it with the burden of its 
 misery. 
 
 No, it is not good to delve into the dark pages of such 
 folks' lives too closely, unless armored with impenetrable 
 callousness. But one cannot help wondering whence all 
 those living tragedies come. Look at the men. For the 
 most part strong, able creatures, apparently capable of fight- 
 ing the lusty battle of life with undiminished ardor. Look 
 at the women. They are for the most part thinking women, 
 healthy, capable. And yet well, nine-tenths of them are 
 not so cut off from their home cities, their friends and 
 relatives, without some more than ordinary reason. 
 
 It is a sad sight to see the women plunged headlong into 
 the fight for existence in such places, to witness the cruel 
 iron thrust upon them its searing brand, to watch all the 
 natural softness of their sex harden to the necessary degree 
 for a successful issue to the battle, to witness their frequent 
 unsexing and ultimate degradation. Such results are com- 
 
BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 155 
 
 mon enough when a woman enters the lists. It is so often a 
 mere question of time. And when the end is achieved, how 
 awful, how revolting, but how natural. 
 
 How Birdie Mason came to find herself the one woman 
 on Suffering Creek leaving out the later advent of Scipio's 
 wife it is not for us to ask. Whatever her little tragedy 
 it is hers alone, and does not concern us. All that we need 
 think of is her future, and the pity that so well-favored a 
 woman has not found her lot cast in places where her 
 womanhood has its best chances. However, she is there, 
 living the life of all such hired " helps," drudging from 
 morning till night in one long round of sordid labor, in 
 an atmosphere stinking with the fetid breath of debased 
 humanity. 
 
 But as yet the life has made no inroads upon her moral 
 health. Her sunny good nature sets her singing over the 
 most grinding labors. Her smiling face, and ready tongue, 
 give her an air of happiness and joy of life which seems 
 well-nigh invincible. And her popularity contrives her 
 many thrilling moments and advantages which she is too 
 much a woman and a child to deny herself. 
 
 Her day's work ends with the after supper " wash up," a 
 dreary routine which might well crush the most ardent spirit. 
 Yet she bends over her tubs full of crockery dreaming her 
 sunny dreams, building her little castles to the clink of 
 enameled tin cups, weaving her romances to the clatter of 
 cutlery, smiling upon the mentally conjured faces of her 
 boys amidst the steaming odors of greasy, lukewarm water. 
 The one blot upon her existence is perhaps the Chinese cook, 
 with whom she has perforce to associate. She dislikes him 
 for no other reason than that he is a " yaller-faced doper that 
 ought to been set to herd with a menagerie of measly 
 skunks." But even this annoyance cannot seriously damp 
 her buoyancy, and, with wonderful feminine philosophy, she 
 puts him out of her mind as a " no account feller, anyway." 
 
156 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 She was putting the finishing touches to the long dining- 
 table, making it ready for the next day's breakfast. It was 
 not an elaborate preparation. She " dumped " a box of 
 knives and forks at each end of it, and then proceeded to 
 chase any odd bits of debris from the last meal on to the floor 
 with a duster. Then, with a hand-broom and pan, she took 
 these up and with them any other rubbish that might be 
 lying about. Finally, she set jugs of drinking water at 
 intervals down the center of the table, and her work was 
 done. 
 
 She looked about her, patting her fair hair with that 
 eminently feminine touch which is to be seen in every 
 woman from the millionaire's wife down to the poorest 
 emigrant. Then, with less delicacy, she lifted her apron 
 and wiped the moisture from her round young face. 
 
 " Guess that's 'most everything," she murmured, her eyes 
 brightening at the contemplation of her completed task. 
 " I'll just cut out them" 
 
 She went to a cupboard and drew out a parcel of white 
 lawn and paper patterns, which she carefully spread out on 
 the table. And, in a few moments, she was bending 
 absorbedly over the stuff, lost in the intricacies of hewing 
 out an embryonic garment for her personal adornment. 
 
 It was at this task that Toby Jenks found her. He was 
 worried to death at the thought that, as a member of the 
 newly formed Zip Trust, it was his duty to gather informa- 
 tion concerning the management of children. However, in 
 the midst of his trouble he hit on the brilliant idea of con- 
 sulting the only woman of his acquaintance. 
 
 Toby wanted to do something startling in the interests 
 of the Trust. He felt that his membership had been con- 
 ferred in a rather grudging spirit. And, to his mildly re- 
 sentful way of thinking, it seemed it would be a good thing 
 if he could surprise his friends with the excellence of his 
 services in the general interests of the concern. 
 
BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 157 
 
 Birdie heard the door open, and raised a pair of startled 
 eyes at the intruder. It was not that such visits were out 
 of order, or even uncommon, but they generally occurred 
 after pre-arrangement, which gave her the opportunity of 
 " fixing herself right." 
 
 With a wild grab she scrambled her material, and the 
 pattern, so that its identification would be quite impossible 
 to male eyes, and hugged it in her arms. Turning swiftly 
 she thrust it into the cupboard, and slammed the door. But 
 she had no resentment at the interruption. Toby was quite 
 a new visitor, and, well the more the merrier. 
 
 She turned to him all smiles, and Toby returned her 
 welcome something sheepishly. He cut a quaint figure with 
 his broad, ungainly shoulders supporting his rather pumpkin 
 face. Then his arms were a little too long and terminated 
 in two " leg-of-mutton " hands. 
 
 " Evenin', Birdie," he said bashfully. " Guess you were 
 sewin'?" 
 
 " Guess again," cried the girl readily, her eyes dancing at 
 the contemplation of a few moments' badinage with a new 
 candidate for her favors. 
 
 " Well, you wa'an't playin' the planner." 
 
 But Birdie was quite equal to the best efforts of her 
 candidates. 
 
 " My, but ain't you slick? " she cried, allowing her smiling 
 gaze to remain looking straight into his face in a way she 
 knew never failed to confuse her admirers on Suffering 
 Creek. She watched till the sturdy man's eyes turned away, 
 and knew that he was groping for an adequate retort. This 
 effect was the result of practice with her, a practice she 
 thoroughly enjoyed. 
 
 The " leg-of-mutton " hands fumbled their way into the 
 tops of Toby's trousers, and, with a sudden self-assertion, 
 which fitted him badly, he lurched over to the table, beyond 
 which Birdie was standing. It was his intention to seat 
 
158 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 himself thereon, but his tormentor had not yet reached the 
 point where she could allow such intimacy. 
 
 " Say, I ain't ast you to sit around," she said, with an 
 alluring pout. " Men-folk don't sit around in a lady's 
 parlor till they're ast. 'Sides, the table's fixed f er breakfast. 
 And anyway it ain't for settin' on." 
 
 Toby moved away quickly, his attempt at ease deserting 
 him with ludicrous suddenness. At sight of his blushing 
 face Birdie relaxed her austerity. 
 
 "Say, ain't you soft?" she declared, with a demure 
 lowering of her lids. " I've allus heerd say, you only got 
 to tell a feller don't, an* he sure does it quick. Men-folk is 
 that contrary. Now " 
 
 The encouragement brought its reward. Toby promptly 
 sat himself on the table and set it creaking. 
 
 " Well, I do declare ! " cried Birdie, in pretended indigna- 
 tion. " And I never ast you, neither. I don't know, I'm 
 sure. Some folks has nerve." 
 
 But this time Toby was not to be intimidated. Perhaps 
 it was the girl's bright smile. Perhaps, with marvelous 
 inspiration, he saw through her flirtatious methods. Any- 
 way, he remained where he was, grinning sheepishly up into 
 her face. 
 
 " Guess you best push me off. I ain't heavy," he dared 
 her clumsily. 
 
 " I sure wouldn't demean myself that way," she retorted. 
 " Gee, me settin' hands on a feller like you. It would need 
 a prize-fighter." 
 
 The acknowledgment of his size and strength was a subtle 
 tribute which pleased the man, as it was intended to. He 
 preened himself and drew his knees up into his arms, in 
 an attitude intended to be one of perfect ease and to show 
 his confidence. 
 
 " I sure ain't much of a feller for strength," he said 
 modestly, eyeing his enormous arms and hands affection- 
 
BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 159 
 
 ately. " You ought to see Wild Bill. He he could eat 
 me, an' never worry his digestion." 
 
 Birdie laughed happily. She was always ready to laugh 
 at a man's attempt at humor. That was her way. 
 
 " You are a queer one," she said, seating herself on the 
 opposite edge of the table, so that she was sufficiently adja- 
 cent, and at the requisite angle at which to carry on her 
 flirtation satisfactorily. " Say," she went on, with a down 
 drooping of her eyelids, " why ain't you in there playin' 
 poker? Guess you're missin' heaps o' fun. I wish I was 
 a 'boy/ I wouldn't miss such fun by sitting around in 
 here." 
 
 "Wouldn't you?" Toby grinned, while his brains 
 struggled to find a happy reply. " Well, you see," he 
 hazarded at last, " poker an* whisky ain't to be compared to 
 talkin' to a dandy fine gal with yaller hair an' elegant blue 
 eyes." 
 
 He passed one of his great hands across his forehead as 
 though his attempt had made him perspire. But he had his 
 reward. Birdie contrived a blush of pleasure, and edged a 
 little nearer to him. 
 
 " Gee, you can talk pretty," she declared, her lips parted 
 in an admiring smile. " It makes me kind o' wonder how 
 you fellers learn it." Then she added demurely, " But I 
 ain't pretty, nor nothing like you fellers try to make out. 
 I'm jest an ord'nary sort of girl." 
 
 " No you ain't," broke in Toby, feeling that his initial 
 success had put him on the top of the situation, and that he 
 had nothing now to fear. Besides, he really felt that Birdie 
 was an uncommonly nice girl, and, in a vague way, won- 
 dered he had never noticed it before. 
 
 "That you ain't," he went on emphatically. Then he 
 added as though to clinch his statement, " not by a sight." 
 
 This brought him to a sudden and uncomfortable stop. 
 He knew he ought to go on piling up compliment on com- 
 
160 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 pliraent to make good his point. But he had emptied his 
 brain cells by his threefold denial, and now found himself 
 groping in something which was little better than a vacuum. 
 And in his trouble he found himself wishing he was gifted 
 with Sunny's wit. Wild Bill's force would have carried him 
 through, or even Sandy Joyce's overweening confidence 
 would have kept his head above water. As it was he was 
 stuck. Hopelessly, irretrievably at the end of his resources. 
 
 He perspired in reality now, and let his knees drop out of 
 his arms. This movement was his salvation. With the 
 relaxing of his physical effort the restraining grip upon 
 his thinking powers gave way. Inspiration leaped, and he 
 found himself talking again almost before he was aware 
 of it. 
 
 " You're a real pretty gal, Birdie," he heard himself say- 
 ing. " Now, maybe you got some kids ? " he added, with an 
 automatic grin of ingratiation. 
 
 How the inquiry slipped out he never knew. How it had 
 been formulated in his brain remained a riddle that he was 
 never able to solve. But there it was, plain and decided. 
 There was no shirking it. It was out in all its naked 
 crudeness. 
 
 There was a moment's pause which might have been 
 hours, it seemed so horribly long to the waiting man. He 
 became dimly aware of a sudden hardening in Birdie's eyes, 
 a mounting flush to her cheeks and forehead, a sudden, as- 
 tounding physical movement, and then the work-worn palm 
 of her hand came into contact with his cheek with such 
 force as to prove the value to her physical development of 
 the strenuous labors which were hers. 
 
 He never thought a woman's hand could sting so much. 
 He never thought that he could be made to feel so mean as 
 this girl's sudden vehemence made him feel. 
 
 " How dare you, you bumming remittance feller ? " she 
 cried, with eyes blazing and bosom heaving. " How dare 
 
BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 161 
 
 y OU you you " And then she further punished him 
 with that worst of all feminine punishments- she burst 
 into tears. 
 
 The next few moments were never quite clear to the dis- 
 tracted and unthinking Toby. He never really knew what 
 actually happened. He had a confused memory of saying 
 things by way of apology, of making several pacific over- 
 tures, which met with physical rebuffs of no mean order, 
 and tearful upbraidings which were so mixed up with chok- 
 ing sniffs as to be fortunately more or less unintelligible. 
 Finally, when he came to his ordinary senses, and the dead 
 level of his understanding was fully restored, he found him- 
 self grasping the girl firmly by the waist, her golden head 
 lying snugly on his massive shoulder, and with a distinct 
 recollection of warm ripe lips many times pressed upon his 
 own. All of which was eminently pleasing. 
 
 When once these comfortable relations were thoroughly 
 established, he had no difficulty in clearing the clouds from 
 her horizon, and relegating her tears into the background. 
 Her nature was of a much too smiling order to need a great 
 deal of coaxing. But explanation was needed, and explana- 
 tion never came easily to this stalwart dullard. 
 
 " Y'see, what I meant was," he said, with a troubled frown 
 of intense concentration, " maybe you know about kids. I 
 didn't mean offense, I sure didn't. Everybody knows our 
 Birdie to be jest a straight, up-standing proper gal, who 
 wouldn't hurt nobody, nor nuthin', 'cep' it was a buzzin' 
 fly around the supper hash. No feller don't take no account 
 o' her bein' a pot-wallopin', hash-slingin' mutton rustler. It 
 sure ain't no worse than ladlin' swill to prize hogs. It's jest 
 in the way o' business. 'Sides, she don't need to care what 
 no fellers thinks. She ain't stuck on men-folk wuth a cent." 
 
 :( That I sure ain't," asserted a smothered voice from the 
 bosom of his dirty shirt. 
 
 "That you ain't," he reassured her. "You're jest a 
 
i62 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 dandy gal as 'ud make any feller with a good patch o' pay 
 dirt a real elegant sort o' wife." 
 
 The golden head snuggled closer into his shirt. 
 
 " You ain't got no patch o' pay dirt, Toby ? " she inquired. 
 
 Toby shook his head all unsuspiciously. 
 
 " No sech luck," he asserted. Then with a sudden burst 
 of gallantry, " If I had I don't guess there'd be no Birdie 
 Mason chasm' around these parts unbespoke." 
 
 The girl's eyes developed an almost childish simplicity as 
 they looked up into his foolish face. 
 
 " What d'you mean?" 
 
 " Mean ? Why, jest nothin', only " 
 
 Toby laughed uneasily. And a shadow crossed Birdie's 
 face. 
 
 " I don't guess the patch o' pay dirt matters a heap," she 
 said, with subtle encouragement. 
 
 " That's so," agreed Toby. 
 
 " Y'see, a gal don't marry a feller fer his patch o' pay 
 dirt," she went on, doing her best. 
 
 " Sure she don't." 
 
 But Toby's enthusiasm was rapidly cooling. The girl 
 breathed a sigh of perfect content. And her heavy breath- 
 ing was fast making a moist patch amidst the gravel stains 
 on his shirt front. 
 
 " She jest loves a feller" 
 
 Toby's arm slipped from her waist, and a hunted look 
 crept into his foolish eyes. 
 
 " An' she don't care nothin' " 
 
 The man was suddenly seized with a racking fit of 
 coughing, which somehow jolted the girl into an upright 
 position. 
 
 " Course she don't," he agreed, when his paroxysm had 
 passed. " Say, you don't think I got newmony ? " he in- 
 quired, feeling the need for an abrupt change of subject. 
 " I was allus weak-chested as a kid. An' talkin' o' kids," 
 
BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 163 
 
 he hurried on, in his terror recalling the object of his visit, 
 " guess you ken put me wise." 
 
 "Kids? I wasn't talkin' of kids," protested the girl a 
 little angrily. 
 
 She was hurt. Cruelly hurt. All her best efforts had 
 gone for nothing. A moment before Toby had seemed so 
 nearly hers, and now 
 
 " No. I didn't guess you were. But that is you 
 see" 
 
 The man floundered heavily and broke off. His look was 
 one of comical confusion and trouble. So much so that it 
 was too much for the girl's good nature. 
 
 " Whose kids ? " she demanded, the familiar smile creep- 
 ing back into her eyes, and her lips pursing dryly. " Yours ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," denied the man quickly. " Not mine. It's 
 Zip's. Y'see, since his wife's lit out he's kind o' left with 
 'em. An' he's that fool-headed he don't know how to raise 
 'em proper. So I guessed I'd help him. Now, if you put 
 me wise " 
 
 "You help raise Zip's kids? Gee!" The girl slid off 
 the table and stood eyeing him, her woman's humor tickled 
 to the limit. 
 
 But Toby did not realize it. He was in deadly earnest 
 now. 
 
 " Yes," he said simply. Then, with a gleam of intelli- 
 gence, " How'd you raise 'em? " 
 
 The girl was suddenly stirred to a feeling of good-hu- 
 mored malice. 
 
 " How'd I raise 'em? Why, it ain't jest easy." 
 
 "It sure ain't," agreed Toby heartily. "Now, how'd 
 you feed 'em ? " 
 
 Birdie became judicially wise. 
 
 " Well," she began, " you can't jest feed 'em same as 
 ord'nary folks. They need speshul food. You'll need to 
 give 'em boiled milk plain or with pap, you kin git fancy 
 
164 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 crackers an' soak 'em. Then ther's beef -tea. Not jest 
 ord'nary beef -tea. You want to take a boilin' o' bones, an' 
 boil for three hours, an' then skim well. After that you 
 might let it cool some, an' then you add flavorin'. Not 
 too much, an' not too little, jest so's to make it elegant 
 tastin'. Then you cook toasties to go with it, or give 'em 
 crackers. Serve it to 'em hot, an' jest set around blowin' it 
 so it don't scald their little stummicks. Got that? You 
 can give 'em eggs, but not too much meat. Meat well done 
 an' cut up wi' vegetables an' gravy, an' make 'em eat it with 
 a spoon. Knives is apt to cut 'em. Eggs light boiled, an' 
 don't let 'em rub the yolk in their hair, nor slop gravy over 
 their bow-ties. Candy, some, but it ain't good for their 
 teeth, which needs seein' to by a dentist, anyway. Say, 
 if they're cuttin' teeth you ken let 'em chew the beef bones, 
 it helps 'em thro'. Fancy canned truck ain't good 'less it's 
 baked beans, though I 'lows beans cooked reg'lar is best. 
 You soak 'em twenty-four hours, an' boil 'em soft, an' see 
 the water don't boil away. Fruit is good if they ain't sub- 
 jec' to colic, which needs poultices o' linseed, an' truck like 
 that. Don't let 'em eat till they're blown up like frogs, an' 
 you got all that?" 
 
 " Ye-es," replied the bewildered man a little helplessly. 
 
 " Well," continued the smiling girl, " then there's their 
 manners an' things." 
 
 Toby nodded vaguely. 
 
 " You'll need to give 'em bed at sundown," Birdie hurried 
 on. " An' up at sunrise. Clothes needs washin' at least 
 once a month with soap. See they says their prayers, 
 an' bath 'em once a week reg'lar with soap. But do it 
 Sundays. An' after that give 'em a Bible talk for an hour. 
 Then I dessay they'll need physic once a week best give 
 it Saturday nights. Don't fix 'em that way same as a 
 horse, their stummicks ain't made of leather. You got all 
 that?" 
 
BIRDIE AND THE BOYS 165 
 
 Toby gave a bewildered nod. 
 
 " How 'bout when they're sick ? " he asked. 
 
 " Sick ? Why, see they don't muss their clothes," Birdie 
 answered cheerfully. " Guess that's put you wise to most 
 everything." 
 
 " Sure." Toby slid from the table, feeling dazed. Nor 
 had he the courage to ask any more questions. He was 
 trying hard to fix the salient points of the information in his 
 whirling brain, but all he could remember was that all wash- 
 ing must be done with soap, and the children must have 
 bones to keep their teeth right. He clung to these things 
 desperately, and felt that he must get away quickly before 
 they, too, should slip through the sieve of his memory. 
 
 " Guess I'll git along an' an' see to things," he mur- 
 mured vaguely, without glancing in Birdie's direction. 
 "You said beef bones?" he added, passing a hand per- 
 plexedly across his forehead. 
 
 " Sure," smiled the girl. 
 
 " Good. Thanks." Then he moved heavily off. " Beef 
 bones and soap bath an' Bible talk; beef bones an* 
 soap " 
 
 The girl watched him vanish behind the closing door, 
 muttering as he went to " see to things." 
 
 She stood for some moments where he had left her. The 
 smile was still in her eyes, but its humor had died out. She 
 was unfeignedly sorry he had gone. He was such a good- 
 natured simpleton, she thought. A real good-hearted sort. 
 Just the sort to make a husband worth having. Ah, well, 
 he had gone ! Better luck next time. 
 
 She turned away with a deep, sentimental sigh, and 
 crossed over to the cupboard. She drew out her work once 
 more and again spread out the crumpled paper pattern upon 
 the gossamer lawn. 
 
 Yes, Toby would have suited her well. She heaved an- 
 other sigh. He had remittances from home, too. And he 
 
166 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 wouldn't be difficult to manage. His head was rather a 
 funny shape, and his face didn't suggest brightness, but 
 then 
 
 She began to snip at the material with her rusty scissors. 
 But just as her mind had fully concentrated upon her task 
 a sudden sound startled her. She looked up, listening, and 
 the next moment the door was flung wide, and Sandy Joyce 
 stood framed in the opening. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE 
 
 THE ordinary woman would probably have resented this 
 second interruption, taking into consideration the nature of 
 Birdie's occupation, and the fact that Toby's visit had hardly 
 proved a success from her point of view. But Birdie was 
 only partially ordinary. Her love and admiration for the 
 opposite sex was so much the chief part of her composition 
 that all other considerations gave way before it. Her heart 
 thrilled with a sickly sentiment at all times. To her men 
 were the gods of the universe, and, as such, must be propiti- 
 ated, at least in theory. In practice it might be necessary to 
 flout them, to tease them, even to snub them on rare occa- 
 sions. But this would only come after intimacy had been 
 established. After that her attitude would be governed by 
 circumstances, and even then her snubs, her floutings, her 
 teasing, would only be done as a further lure, a further pro- 
 pitiation. She loved them all with a wonderful devotion. 
 Her heart was large, so large that the whole race of men 
 could have been easily lost in its mysterious and obscure re- 
 cesses. 
 
 Again her work was bundled into the cupboard, the poor 
 flimsy pattern further suffering. But beyond a casual won- 
 der if the garment would eventually be wearable, cut from 
 so mangled a pattern, she had no real care. 
 
 Her smiling eyes turned readily upon the newcomer the 
 moment her secret labors had been hidden from prying male 
 eyes. And there was no mistaking her cordiality for this 
 cold-eyed visitor. 
 
i68 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Sakes alive! but you do look fierce," she cried challen- 
 gingly. " You sure must be in a bad temper." 
 
 But Sandy's expression was simply the outcome of long 
 and difficult consideration. As a matter of fact, in his hard 
 way, he was feeling very delighted. His past married 
 experience had brought him to the conviction that here was 
 the only person in Suffering Creek who could help him. 
 
 And, furthermore, he was well satisfied to think that only 
 his experience as a married man could have suggested to 
 him this means of gaining the information required by their 
 president, and so shown him the way to surpass his com- 
 rades in his efforts on behalf of the Trust. 
 
 But his knowledge of womankind warned him that he 
 must not be too hasty. He must not show his hand until he 
 had established himself in a favorable position in the sus- 
 ceptible Birdie's heart. With this object in view he set him- 
 self to offer his blandishments in characteristic fashion. He 
 did not suffer from Toby's complaint of bashfulness. Mar- 
 ried life had cured him of that. In consequence, his 
 method, if crude, was direct. 
 
 " I can't say the same of you, Birdie," he declared unsmil- 
 ingly. " You're bloomin' as as a kebbige." 
 
 " Kebbige? " sniffed the girl. 
 
 " Kebbige, sure," nodded the man of married experience. 
 " Guess mebbe it ain't a bokay f er smell. But f er taste 
 with corned beef ? Gee ! " 
 
 Birdie took no umbrage. 
 
 " You got to it after awhiles," she remarked slyly. 
 Then she added, with a gush, " D'you know, I'm allus most 
 scared to death of you men. You're that big an' strong, it 
 makes me feel you could well-nigh eat me." 
 
 Sandy availed himself of the invitation. 
 
 " A tasty mouthful," he declared. And without more ado 
 he passed round the table, caught her quickly in his arms, 
 and, without the smallest expression of interest, kissed her, 
 
BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE 169 
 
 If interest were lacking, his movements were so swift that, 
 had the girl the least idea of avoiding the embrace which 
 she hadn't she would have found it difficult to do so. 
 
 " You men are ones ! " she declared, with a little gasp, as 
 his arms fell from about her. 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 " I never did the cheek of some of you ! " 
 
 " A feller needs cheek," replied the self -satisfied widower. 
 " 'Specially with pretty gals around," he added condescend- 
 ingly. 
 
 Birdie eyed him archly. 
 
 " Gals ? " she inquired. 
 
 " I should have said ' gal/ " 
 
 The laughing nod that rewarded him assured Sandy that 
 he was well on the right track, and at once he took the op- 
 portunity of introducing the object of his visit. 
 
 " Say," he began, " guess you never tho't o' gettin' hitched 
 up to a feller ? " 
 
 Birdie lowered her eyelids and struggled for a blush, which 
 somehow defied her best efforts. But her subtleties were 
 quite lost upon Sandy, and in his eagerness he waited for no 
 reply. 
 
 " No, course you hain't. You got so many beaus to 
 choose from. 'Sides," he added thoughtfully, " gettin' mar- 
 ried sure needs special savvee. What I mean," he ex- 
 plained, seeing the amused wonder in the girl's now wide 
 eyes, " you kind o' need eddicatin' to git married. Y'see, 
 when you get fixed that way you sort of, in a manner of 
 speakin', got to unlearn things you never learnt, an' learn 
 them things what can't never be taught. What I mean is, 
 marriage is a sort of eddication of itself, wot don't learn you 
 nuthin' till you git unmarried. Savee ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head in bewilderment. 
 
 " That's sure too bright fer me." 
 
 " That's 'cos you ain't been married. Y'see, I have." 
 
170 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Can't you put it easier seein' I ain't been married ? " 
 
 " Sure I can." Sandy took up a position on the edge of 
 the table with such a judicial air that the girl started to 
 giggle. 
 
 " See here," he began largely. " Now what d'you know 
 'bout kids raisin' 'em, I mean ? " 
 
 The girl's eyes twinkled on the verge of laughing outright. 
 
 " Zip's kids ? " she inquired shrewdly. 
 
 Sandy started and frowned. 
 
 " What d'you mean Zip's kids ? " 
 
 " Oh, just nothing," said Birdie airily. " Seein' kids was 
 in your mind, I naturally tho't o' Zip's." 
 
 Sandy nodded. But he was only half convinced. How 
 on earth, he wondered, did she know he was thinking of 
 Zip's kids ? He felt that it would be best to nip that idea in 
 the bud. It was undignified that he should appear to be 
 interested in Zip's twins. 
 
 " I ain't interested in no special kids," he said, with some 
 dignity. "I was just theorizin' like. Now, if you got 
 married, wot you know of raisin' kids? Guess you're that 
 ignorant of the subject maybe you'd feed 'em hay? " 
 
 Birdie laughed dutifully, but her retort was rather discon- 
 certing. 
 
 " You bin married how'd you feed 'em ? I'm learning." 
 
 " How'd I feed 'em ? " Sandy eyed his tormentor severely. 
 " That ain't the question. How'd you feed 'em ? " 
 
 The girl thought for a moment, and then looked up 
 brightly. 
 
 "If they was Zip's kids " 
 
 " I said they ain't." 
 
 " Well, if they were, I'd say" 
 
 " See here, cut Zip's kids out. They ain't in this shootin* 
 match," cried Sandy testily. 
 
 But Birdie persisted slyly. 
 
 " Y'see, I must get some kids in my eye if I'm to answer 
 
BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE 171 
 
 you right," she said. " I can see things better that way. 
 Now, if they were Zip's kids " 
 
 " Which they ain't," asseverated the man doggedly. 
 
 " Which they ain't," nodded Birdie, " I'd feed 'em cereals 
 an' pap " 
 
 Sandy's face suddenly cleared. His whole being seemed 
 to expand. 
 
 " Say, you're a bright gal," he declared. " Cereals an' 
 pap. That's dead right. Say, you know more than 
 You'd give 'em milk to drink now ? " he suggested. 
 
 " Oh no, nothing like that. Water." 
 
 The man looked disappointed. 
 
 "Water?" he said. "You sure of that? But I guess 
 you'd give 'em banannys ? " 
 
 Again the girl shook her head. 
 
 " Fruit gives 'em colic." 
 
 "Ah, yes, that's so. They'd need physic then, wouldn't 
 they?" ' 
 
 " You need to be easy with physic, too," declared the girl, 
 with sparkling eyes. " Don't give 'em physic ever unless 
 they're real sick." 
 
 The man's crestfallen appearance set Birdie giggling. She 
 was enjoying the situation. She meant to upset all Sandy's 
 preconceived ideas. 
 
 " Now, pork ? " he suggested, but with less assurance. 
 
 But Birdie was obdurate. 
 
 " Never," she declared emphatically. " Beans, yes. 
 There's good nourishment in beans. Then ther's fresh vege- 
 tables heaps of 'em." 
 
 " Ah ! Now, how 'bout fixin' them right the kids, I 
 mean ? Guess they'll need bathin'." 
 
 But Birdie fell upon him with a strong denial. 
 
 " Bath ? " she cried. " Gee ! you do run on. Guess you 
 want to hand 'em newmony. Kids sure don't never need 
 bathin'. Jest a lick with soap an* hot water once a week. 
 
172 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 An', say," she went on, suddenly remembering something 
 she had told Toby in a fit of mischief, " kep their food soft, 
 or you'll break their young teeth." 
 
 Sandy's eyes lit, and in an unguarded moment he admitted 
 that the thought had occurred to him. Birdie caught him 
 up at once. 
 
 " I tho't you was just astin' me these questions to see if I 
 was right for gettin' married ? " she protested innocently. 
 
 " That's so course," he said hastily. Then he wriggled 
 out of it. " But how'd I be able to say you was right if I 
 hadn't tho't on things some myself ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I didn't just think of that." 
 
 " Course not. Gals never see the fine points of good 
 argyment." 
 
 Sandy's superiority was overwhelming, but Birdie had 
 borne with him with amused patience until now. She 
 had known him a long time as a boarder, but never until now 
 had she realized the blundering conceit that was his. She 
 felt that she had given him rope enough, and it was time to 
 bring him up with a jerk. 
 
 " Thank you kindly, sir," she mocked him, curtseying. 
 
 " You're welcome, ma'am," Sandy returned, with a 
 clumsy bow, failing to realize her change of attitude. 
 
 " If you guess I'm right for marryin', maybe you'll hand 
 me my diploma," she said, with a demure down-drooping of 
 her eyelids. 
 
 She waited, and finally glanced up into his flushed face. 
 Her sarcasm had struck home at last, and without hesitation 
 she went on mercilessly 
 
 " Say, if you ain't goin' to hand me a diploma, guess you 
 can let me get on with my sewin'. Havin' been a married 
 man, maybe you'll understand men-folk ain't a heap of use 
 around when a woman's sewin'. Guess they're handy ladlin' 
 out most things, but I'd say a man ain't no more use round 
 the eye of a needle than a camel." 
 
BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE 173 
 
 Sandy's dignity and temper were ruffled. It was incon- 
 ceivable that Birdie or, as he mentally apostrophized her, 
 " this blamed hash-slinger " should so flout him. How 
 dared she? He was so angry that words for once utterly 
 failed him, and he moved towards the door with gills as scar- 
 let as any blustering turkey-cock. But Birdie had no idea 
 of sparing him, and hurled her final sarcasm as she turned 
 again to her cupboard. 
 
 " I'd hate to be one o' Zip's kids with you gettin' busy 
 around me," she cried, chuckling in an infuriating manner. 
 
 It was too much for Sandy. He turned fiercely as he 
 reached the door. 
 
 " You're ' bug/ " he declared roughly. " I tell you, Zip's 
 kids ain't nothin' to do with me " 
 
 " Which, I'd say, was lucky for them," cried Birdie airily. 
 
 " An' I'd jest like to say that when a genelman gits around 
 to do the perlite by a no-account mutton-worrier, he figgers 
 to be treat right " 
 
 Birdie turned on him with cold eyes. 
 
 " I'll sure be treatin' you right," she said, " when I tell you 
 that door don't need shuttin' after you. It's on the swing." 
 
 She did not wait to witness her guest's departure. She 
 felt it would not be graceful, under the circumstances. So, 
 pushing her head into the cupboard, she once more gathered 
 up her work. 
 
 When the soft swish of the swing-door told her that 
 Sandy's departure had been taken, she emerged with her 
 bundle and spread it out on the table for the third time. 
 She was all smiles. She was not a bit angry with the foolish 
 widower. This dogmatic attitude of mind, this wonderful 
 self-satisfaction, were peculiar to the creature; he couldn't 
 help it. But it had roused a mischievous spirit in her, and 
 the temptation was too great to resist. The only thing she 
 regretted was having let him kiss her, and she at once put 
 up her hand to wipe the spot where the operation had been 
 
174 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 performed. At any rate, she had certainly taken him 
 down a peg or two, and the thought set her in high good- 
 humor. 
 
 Nor could she help wondering at his stupidity in imagining 
 she couldn't see through his desire for information about 
 children. It was laughable, coming after Toby's. Oh, these 
 men! They were dear, foolish creatures. Poor kids, she 
 thought, her mind reverting to Zip's twins. What had they 
 done to have this pack of foolish people worrying over 
 them ? Were they all going to take a hand in bringing the 
 youngsters up ? Well, anyhow, she pitied them. 
 
 She smiled at her thoughts as the busy scissors snipped 
 their way round the pattern. These men were too funny. 
 First Toby, now Sandy who next ? 
 
 She started and looked up, her scissors poised in the air. 
 The swing-door had swished open, and Wild Bill stood be- 
 fore her. 
 
 " Good sakes ! " she cried. " How you scared me ! " 
 Then, realizing what lay before her, she grabbed up her 
 work, and was for returning it to the cupboard. 
 
 But Wild Bill was in a hurry. Besides, he had nothing of 
 the ingratiating ways of the other men about him. He saw 
 her object, and stayed her in his own peculiar authoritative 
 fashion. 
 
 " Say, you can quit huggin' them fixin's," he cried. " I 
 ain't come pry in' around a leddy's wardrobe. You ken jest 
 set down with paper an' ink an' things, an* write down how 
 best Zip's kids can be raised. I'll git right back for it in 
 ha'f-an-hour." 
 
 Nor did he wait for any reply. It was taken for granted 
 that his demands would be promptly acceded to, and he 
 vanished as abruptly as he came. The swing-door closed, 
 and Birdie gave a sigh. 
 
 " An' him, too," she murmured. " Well, I do declare. It 
 just licks creation." 
 
BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE 175 
 
 But this was a different proposition to either Toby or 
 Sandy. She sprang to her task for the great Wild Bill in a 
 way that spoke volumes for her sentimental heart. Wild 
 Bill? Well, she would never have owned it, but there was 
 just one man in the world that scared Birdie to death, and at 
 the same time made her think her path was a bed of roses, 
 and that was Wild Bill. In an astonishingly short time she 
 was sitting at the table poring over a writing-pad, and biting 
 the already well-chewed end of a pen. 
 
 Outside, in the smoke-laden atmosphere of the store, 
 amidst the busy click of poker chips and clink of glasses, 
 Wild Bill was talking earnestly to Minky, who was standing 
 behind the counter. 
 
 They had been talking for some time. Minky's eyes fre- 
 quently wandered in the direction of a table where four 
 strangers were playing. But no one could have guessed, in 
 his quiet scrutiny, the anxiety that lay behind it. 
 
 " You must git out to-night ? " he inquired of his hawk- 
 visaged friend. 
 
 " Sure," responded Bill absently. 
 
 "High finance?" 
 
 Bill nodded, with the ghost of a smile. 
 
 " A gang of rich guys," he said. " They're gathering at 
 Spawn City for a financial descent on Suffering Creek. 
 They're all minin' folk. Guess they'll be yearning for a big 
 game." 
 
 "When'll you git back?" 
 
 " Noon, day after to-morrow, maybe." 
 
 Bill had turned away, and was abstractedly contemplating 
 the strangers. Suddenly he turned again, and his steely eyes 
 fixed themselves on the troubled Minky. 
 
 " Say, things is gettin' on your nerves. It ain't yet. 
 Those folks is only lookin' fer pointers." 
 
 "An'findin"em?" 
 
i;6 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Mebbe. But it takes time. Say, we ain't dead in Suf- 
 fering Creek yet. I'll be around before " 
 
 " Trouble gits busy." Minky laughed hollowly. 
 
 " Sure. I'm most gener'ly around when trouble gits 
 busy. I'm made like that." 
 
 " I'm glad." 
 
 Bill drank up the remains of his drink and began to move 
 away. 
 
 " Wher' you going now ? " inquired Minky. 
 
 " See my plugs fed an' watered, and then gittin' around 
 my shack. I've got to see some folks before I hit the trail. 
 Say, I ain't got big enough wad. Best hand me a couple o' 
 thousand." 
 
 Minky dived under his counter, and, after fumbling for 
 some time, reappeared with the required sum in United 
 States currency. 
 
 " Good luck," he said, as he passed it across the counter 
 cautiously. 
 
 " Thanks. An', say see the boys keep a close eye on 
 Zip an' the kids. So long." 
 
 He moved away, but instead of passing out of the front 
 door he disappeared into the dining-room at the back. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE TRUST AT WORK 
 
 WILD BILL'S hut presented an unusually animated appear- 
 ance. The customary oil-lamp was receiving the support 
 of two vilely smelling yellow candles. The additional light 
 thus obtained was hardly in proportion to the ofTensiveness 
 of the added aroma. Still, the remoter corners of the place 
 were further lit up, and the rough faces of the four occu- 
 pants of the room were thrown into stronger relief. 
 
 But the animation of the scene was rather a matter of 
 visual illusion than actuality. For Wild Bill, in his right 
 of proprietorship, was lounging on his blanketed bunk, while 
 Toby's inanimate form robbed him of the extreme foot of 
 it. Sunny Oak was hugging to himself what comfort there 
 was to be obtained from the broken chair, which usually 
 supported Bill's wash bucket, set well within elbow-reach 
 of the table on which the illuminations had been placed. 
 Sandy Joyce with unusual humility possibly the result of 
 his encounter with Birdie was crouching on an upturned 
 cracker box. 
 
 There was a wonderful intentness, expectancy in every 
 eye except Bill's. In Toby's there was triumphal anticipa- 
 tion, in Sandy's a conscious assurance. Bill had just come 
 in from preparing his horses for their night journey, and, 
 with an hour and more to spare, and the prospect of a long 
 night before him, was anxious to take things as easy as 
 possible. 
 
 Reaching his arms above his head he pushed his hands 
 behind it for support, and opened the proceedings. 
 
178 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " You fellers been busy ? " he inquired. 
 
 And promptly every mouth opened to give proud assur- 
 ance. But the gambler checked the impulse with grating 
 sarcasm. 
 
 " I ain't got but one pair ears," he said, " so you'll each 
 wait till you're ast questions. Bein' president o' this yer 
 Trust I'll do most of the yappin'," he added grimly. " I'm 
 goin' away to-night fer a couple o' days. That's why this 
 meetin's called. An' the object of it is to fix things right 
 for Zip, an' to 'range so he gits a chance to put 'em through. 
 Now, I seen enough of him an' others," with a swift, 
 withering glance in Sunny's direction, " to know he's right 
 up again a proposition that ain't no one man affair. Com- 
 bination is the only bluff to fix them kids of his right. 
 We've most of us got ideas, but like as not they ain't all 
 we guess 'em to be. In some cases ther' ain't a doubt of it. 
 Without sayin' nothin' of anybody, I sure wouldn't trust 
 Toby here to raise a crop of well-grown weeds without 
 help. An' Sandy, fer all he's a married man, don't seem 
 to have prospered in his knowledge of kids. As for Sunny, 
 well, the sight of him around a kid ain't wholesome. An' 
 as fer me, guess I may know a deal about cookin' a jack-pot, 
 but I'd hate to raise the bet about any other kind o' pot. 
 Seein' things is that way with us we'll git to work systematic. 
 Ther' ain't a gamble in life that ain't worked the better fer 
 a system. So, before we get busy, I'll ast you, Sunny, to 
 grab the grip under my bunk, an' you'll find in it, som'eres 
 under the card decks, paper an' ink. You'll jest fix them 
 right, an' take things down, so we don't make no sort o' 
 mistake." 
 
 He waited until Sunny had procured the necessary writing 
 materials and set them out on the table. Then he went on 
 in his strong, autocratic fashion. 
 
 " Now," he said, fixing his eyes on Toby. " You'se fel- 
 lers has had time to make inquiries, an' knowing you fer 
 
THE TRUST AT WORK 179 
 
 bright boys I don't guess you lost any time. The subject is 
 the raisin' of kids. Mebbe Toby, you bein' the youngest 
 member of this doggone Trust, an' a real smart lad, mebbe 
 you'll open your face an' give us pointers." 
 
 By the time he finished speaking every eye was turned 
 on the triumphantly grinning Toby. 
 
 " I sure will," he said, with a confidence surprising in a 
 man who had been so bashful in his interview with Birdie. 
 Just for a moment one of his great hands went up to his 
 cheek, and he gently smoothed it, as though the recollection 
 of the slap he had received in the process of gathering in- 
 formation was being used to inspire his memory. " Y'see," 
 he began, " I got friends around Suffering Creek what knows 
 all about kids. So so I jest asted 'em, Mr. President." 
 
 He cleared his throat and stared up at the roof. He was 
 evidently struggling hard with memory. 
 
 Bill lolled over and drew a closely written document from 
 his pocket and began to peruse it. Sandy tapped the floor 
 impatiently with one foot. He was annoyed that his evi- 
 dence was not demanded first. Sunny sat with pen poised, 
 waiting for the word to write. 
 
 Toby's eyes grew troubled. 
 
 " What they chiefly need," he murmured, his face becom- 
 ing more and more intent, " what they chiefly need 
 is" He was laboring hard. Then suddenly his face 
 brightened into a foolish smile. " I got it," he cried trium- 
 phantly, " I got it. What kids need is beef bones an' soap ! " 
 
 In the deathly silence that followed his statement Toby 
 looked for approving glances. But he looked in vain. 
 Sunny had dropped his pen and made a blot on his paper. 
 Sandy's annoyance had changed into malicious triumph. 
 But the president of the Trust made no move. He merely 
 let his small eyes emit a steely glance over the top of his 
 paper, directed with stern disapproval on the hopeful " re- 
 mittance " man. 
 
i8o THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " An' what * bug-house,' " he inquired, with biting sar- 
 casm, " is your bright friends spendin' their va-cation at ? " 
 
 Toby flushed to the roots of his unkempt hair. The 
 sudden death of his triumph was almost tragic. His face 
 fell, and his heavy jaw dropped in pathetic astonishment. 
 But it was not Bill's sarcasm alone that so bit into his bones, 
 it was the jeering light he witnessed in Sandy's eyes, com- 
 bined with the undisguised ridicule of Sunny's open grin. 
 His blood began to rise ; he felt it tingling in the great ex- 
 tremities of his long arms. The obvious retort of the wit- 
 less was surging through his veins and driving him. 
 
 But the Trust president was talking, and the calm of 
 coming storm was held for a moment. But it is doubtful if 
 the object of his harangue grasped anything of his meaning, 
 so great was his anger against his grinning comrades. 
 
 " Beef bones an' soap ! " cried Bill harshly, at the unheed- 
 ing man. " If they was asses bones we'd sure only need to 
 open up your family mausoleum to git enough bones to 
 raise a farm o' babbies on. I'd like to say right here, the 
 feller wot don't know the natural use o' soap is a danger 
 to the health an' sanitary fixin's o' this yer camp. Beef 
 bones an' soap ! " he went on, as though the very combina- 
 tion of the words was an offense to his gastronomical senses. 
 " You pumpkin-faced idjut, you mush-headed tank o' wis- 
 dom, you masterpiece of under-done mule brain, how in 
 sizzlin' torment you're figgerin' to ladle soap into the vitals 
 of inoffendin' babbies, an' push beef bones through their 
 innercent stummicks, 'ud par'lize the brains of every science 
 society in this yer country to know, an' drive the whole world 
 o' physic dealers barkin' like a pack o' mangy coyotes wi' 
 their bellies flappin' in a nor'-east blizzard. Gosh dang it, 
 you misfortunate offspring of Jonah parents, we're settin' 
 out to raise kids. We ain't startin' a patent manure fact'ry, 
 nor runnin' a Chinese hand laundry " 
 
 But the president's picturesque flow was lost in a sudden 
 
THE TRUST AT WORK 181 
 
 commotion. The calm was broken, and the storm burst. 
 The weight of ridicule in his comrades' faces was too much 
 for Toby, and he leapt from the foot of the bunk on which 
 he was sitting. He projected himself with more force than 
 cunning in the direction of the grinning loafer, bent on 
 bodily hurt to his victim. But his leap fell short by reason 
 of Sunny 's agility. The latter snatched up the oil-lamp 
 and dodged behind the table, with the result that Toby's 
 great body sent the candles flying, and itself fell amidst the 
 legs of the upset table. He was on his feet in an instant, 
 however, ready to continue with all his might his vengeful 
 pursuit. But the heavy hand of Bill fell upon his coat collar 
 with irresistible force, and, with a jerk, he was hurled across 
 the room out of harm's way. 
 
 " Ther's more hell to the back o' that if you come ag'in, 
 Toby," the gambler cried, with cold threat. " An' as for 
 you, Sunny/' he went on, turning on the Trust secretary, 
 " I'll set the boys to wash you clean in Minky's trough if 
 you so much as smile ag'in till we're through. Fix them 
 candles, an' sit right down the lot of you." 
 
 He stood for a moment eyeing the lurid face of Toby. 
 Nor did he move until the burly remittance man had pulled 
 himself together. He watched him settle himself again on 
 the foot of the bunk, passive but inwardly raging. Then, 
 as the candles were once more replaced in the bottles and 
 lit, he calmly picked up his document and returned to his 
 couch. The whole episode passed in a few moments, and 
 outward equanimity was quickly restored. Such was the 
 hot, impulsive nature of these men. 
 
 The president lost no time in proceeding with the business 
 in hand. He addressed his friends generally. 
 
 " I ain't goin' to say a word 'bout the elegant information 
 gathered by our bright junior member," he said slowly. 
 " You've all heard it, an' I guess that's sure all that's needed. 
 Wher' he got it, is his funeral or should be. Leastways, 
 
i82 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 if it ain't satisfactory it shows laudable enterprise on his part 
 which is good for this yer Trust." 
 
 He paused and referred to his document. And in that 
 moment, burning to further crush Toby, and add to his own 
 glorification by reason of the superiority of his information, 
 Sandy cleared his throat to speak. This was to be the mo- 
 ment of his triumph. He meant to wipe out the memory 
 of past failures in one sweep. 
 
 " I consulted a lady friend of mine " he began. But 
 Bill waved him to silence. 
 
 " You needn't worry nothin','' he said coldly. " I got it 
 all wrote down here." 
 
 " How you got it? " cried Sandy. " I ain't said it." 
 
 Bill's eyes met the other's angry glance with that cold 
 irony that was so much a part of his nature. 
 
 " Guess your leddy friend wrote it," he said. And, as he 
 heard the words, the last of Toby's ill-humor vanished. His 
 stupid face wreathed itself into a broad grin as he watched 
 the blank look of disappointment spread itself over Sandy's 
 face. 
 
 " Listen here, all of you," the president went on, quite 
 undisturbed by the feelings he had stirred in the widower. 
 " This is wot the leddy says. She's writ it all so ther' can't 
 be no mistake." 
 
 Then he began to read from his document with careful 
 distinctness. * 
 
 " l Don't take no notice of what I told Toby Jenks an' 
 Sandy Joyce. I jest fooled 'em proper. Toby's a nice boy, 
 but he ain't got brains enough to kep himself warm on a 
 summer day, so I didn't waste nothin' on him, 'cep' time. 
 As fer Sandy, he's sech a con-se-quenshul ' Have I 
 got that word right, Sunny?" Bill inquired blandly of the 
 secretary. 
 
 " You sure have," grinned Sunny, enjoying himself. 
 
 " * Sech a consequenshul fool of an idjut man/ " Bill read 
 
THE TRUST AT WORK 183 
 
 on, with a glance into Sandy's scarlet face, " ' that I hadn't 
 no time but to push him out of this dinin'-room.' ' 
 
 " The miser'ble hash-slinger," exploded the exasperated 
 Sandy, springing to his feet, his eyes blazing with impotent 
 fury. 
 
 " Sit down," commanded the president. " This yere is a 
 proper meetin' of the Zip Trust, an' don't call fer no lang- 
 widge ag'in a defenseless woman." 
 
 " Then she ain't no right to say things," cried the outraged 
 man. 
 
 " She ain't. She's wrote 'em," retorted Bill, in a manner 
 that left nothing more to be said. " ' Consequenshul,' was 
 the word," he went on, rolling it off his tongue as though 
 he enjoyed its flavor, " an' I allow it must have took her 
 thinking some to be so elegant. You'll set," he added, 
 glancing up severely at the still standing man. 
 
 Sandy dropped back on his box, but he was anything but 
 appeased. His dignity was hurt sorely. He, who under- 
 stood women so well, to be treated like this. Then he tried 
 to console himself with the opinion that after all Birdie was 
 not exactly a woman, only a " pot-rustler." But Bill was 
 pushing the business forward. He wanted to get the matter 
 in hand settled. 
 
 " Here," he went on, " this is how she says of them kids : 
 ' You can't jest lay down reflations fer feedin'. Jest feed 
 'em natural, an' if they git a pain dose 'em with physic. 
 Ther's some things you must kep 'em from gittin' into their 
 stummicks. Kindlin' wood is ridiculous fer them to chew, 
 ther' ain't no goodness in it, an' it's li'ble to run slivvers into 
 their vitals. Sulphur matches ain't good fer 'em to suck. 
 I ain't got nothing to say 'bout the sulphur, but the phos- 
 pherus is sure injurious, an', anyway, it's easy settin' 'em- 
 selves afire. Kids is ter'ble fond of sand, an' gravel, an' 
 mud, inside an' out. Outside ain't no harm, 'cep' it keps you 
 washin' 'em, but inside's likely to give 'em colic. Don't let 
 
184 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 'em climb on tables an' things. Ther' never was a kid who 
 could climb on to a table but what could fall off. Don't 
 let 'em lick stove-black off a hot cookstove. This don't need 
 explainin' to folk of ordinary intelligence. Coal is for 
 makin' a fire, an' ain't good eatin'. Boilin' water has its 
 uses, but it ain't good play fer kids. Guns an' knives ain't 
 needed fer kids play in' Injun. These things is jest general 
 notions to kep in your head fer ord'nary guidance. Kids' 
 clothes needs wash in' every Monday with soap. Mebbe 
 you'll need to wash every day if kids is frolicsome. Bow- 
 ties is for Sunday wear. Girl's hair needs braidin' every 
 night, an' don't leave chewin' t'baccer around. Kids is sure 
 to eat it. Best give 'em physic every Saturday night, an' 
 bath 'em Sunday mornin'. Don't use no hand scrubber. If 
 you can't git through the dirt by ord'nary washin', best leave 
 it. Kids is tender-skinned anyway. After their bath set 
 'em out in the sun, an' give 'em an elegant Bible talk. Ther' 
 ain't nothin' like a Bible talk fer kids. It sets 'em wise to 
 religion early, an' gives 'em a good impression o' the folks 
 raisin' 'em. Ef they ast too many questions you need to 
 answer 'em with discretion ' " 
 
 " Wot's she mean by that ? " asked Toby, all interest in 
 the mass of detail. 
 
 " Mean ? Why " Bill paused considering. 
 
 Sunny looked up from his writing. 
 
 " Why, don't say fool things fer the sake of gassin' ! " he 
 explained readily. " Everything you tell 'em needs a moral." 
 
 " Moral ? " murmured Toby vaguely. 
 
 " Yes, moral." 
 
 But Sandy saw a chance of restoring his fallen prestige, 
 and promptly seized upon it. 
 
 " Moral," he said, beaming with self-satisfaction, " is 
 handin' a lesson all wrop up in fancy words so's to set folks 
 cussin' like mad they can't understand it, an' hatin' them- 
 selves when they're told its meanin'. Now, if I was goin' 
 
THE TRUST AT WORK 185 
 
 to show you what a blamed id jut you was without jest 
 sayiir so " 
 
 " Shut up ! " cried Bill. And without waiting for a reply 
 he read on, "' with discretion. If you treat kids proper 
 they mostly raise themselves, which is jest Natur'. Don't 
 worry yourself, 'less they fall into a swill-barrel, or do 
 some ridiculous stunt o' that natur' an' don't worry them. 
 Ther' ain't no sense to anybody goin' around with notions 
 they ken flap their wings, an' cluck like a broody hen; an' 
 scratchin' worms is positive ridiculous. Help 'em when they 
 need help, otherwise let 'em fall around till they knock sense 
 into theirselves. Jest let 'em be kids as long as Natur' fan- 
 cies, so's when they git growed up, which they're goin' to 
 do anyways, they'll likely make elegant men an* women. 
 Ef you set 'em under glass cases they'll sure get fixed into 
 things what glass cases is made to hold that's images. I 
 don't guess I kin tell you nothin' more 'bout kids, seein' I 
 ain't a mother, but jest a pot-wolloper.' " 
 
 Bill folded the paper as he finished reading, and silently 
 handed it across to the secretary. Somehow he seemed 
 impressed with the information the paper contained. The 
 whole meeting seemed impressed. Even Sandy had no 
 comment to offer, while Toby resorted to biting his fore- 
 finger and gazing stupidly at the opposite wall. It was 
 Sunny who finally broke the silence. 
 
 " Guess I'll jest writ' out the chief points fer Zip's guid- 
 ance ? " he asked. 
 
 Bill nodded. 
 
 "'That's it, sure," he agreed. "Jest the chief points. 
 Then you'll hand it to Zip to-morrer mornin', an', ef he 
 needs it, you can explain wot he ain't wise to. I'd like to 
 say right here that this hash-slinger has got savvee. Great 
 big savvee, an* a heap of it. I ain't a hell of a lot on the kid 
 racket, they mostly make me sick to death. In a manner o' 
 speakin', I don't care a cuss for Zip nor his kids. Ef they 
 
i86 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 drown theirselves in a swill-bar'l it's his funeral, an' their 
 luck, an' it don't cut no ice with me. But, cuss me, ef I 
 ken stand to see a low-down skunk like this yer James come 
 it over a feller-citizen o' Suffering Creek, an' it's our duty to 
 see Zip gits thro'. I'm sore on James. Sore as hell. I ain't 
 no Bible-thumpin', mush-hearted, push-me-amongst-the- 
 angels feller anyways. An' you boys has got to git right 
 on to that, quick." He glared round at his friends defiantly, 
 as though daring them to do otherwise. But as nobody gave 
 a sign of doubt on the subject, he had no alternative but to 
 continue. " I'm jest sore on James an' " He hesitated 
 for the fraction of a second, but went on almost immediately. 
 " ther' may come a time when the play gits busy. Get 
 me? Wai/' as Sandy and Sunny nodded assent, and Toby 
 sat all eyes for the speaker, " this yere Trust is a goin' con- 
 cern, an', I take it, we mean business. So, though we ain't 
 runnin' a noospaper, maybe we'll need a fightin' editor after 
 all. If we need a fightin' editor we'll sure need a fightin' 
 staff. That's jest logic. I'll ast you right here, is you boys 
 that fightin' staff ? If so, guess I'm fightin' editor. How ? " 
 
 His eyes were on Sunny Oak. And that individual's 
 unwashed face broadened into a cheerful grin. 
 
 " Fightin' don't come under the headin' of work 
 proper," he said. " Guess I'm in." 
 
 Bill turned on Sandy. 
 
 " You ain't got the modest beauty o' the vi'let," he said, 
 with saturnine levity. " How you f eelin' ? " 
 
 " Sure good," exclaimed the widower. " But I'd feel 
 better lettin' air into the carkis of James." 
 
 " Good," muttered Bill. " An' you, Toby ? " he went on, 
 turning on the " remittance " man. " You're a heap fat, an' 
 need somethin' to get it down. How you fancy things ? " 
 
 " I'd as lief scrap 'side these scalliwags as ag'in 'em," he 
 replied, indicating his companions with an amiable grin. 
 
 Bill nodded. 
 
THE TRUST AT WORK 187 
 
 " This yere Trust is a proper an' well-found enterprise," 
 he said gravely. " As f er Minky, I guess we can count him 
 in most anything that ain't dishonest. So wal, this is jest 
 precautions. Ther's nuthin' doin' yet. But you see," he 
 added, with a shadowy grin, " life's mostly chock-full of 
 fancy things we don't rigger on, an' anyway I can't set 
 around easy when folks gets gay. I'll be back to hum day 
 after to-morrer, or the next day, an', meanwhiles, you'll see 
 things are right with Zip. An' don't kep far away from 
 Minky's store when strangers is around. Minky's a good 
 friend o' mine, an' a good friend to most o' you, so well, 
 guns is good med'cine ef folks git gay, an' are yearnin' to 
 handle dust what ain't theirs." 
 
 " Them strangers ? " suggested Sandy. " Is ? " 
 
 Bill shrugged. 
 
 " Strangers is strangers, an' gold-dust is gold-dust," he 
 said shrewdly. " An' when the two git together ther's 
 gener'ly a disease sets in that guns is the best med'cine for. 
 That's 'bout all." 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ZIP'S GRATITUDE 
 
 WHAT a complicated machinery human nature is! It 
 seems absurd that a strongly defined character should be just 
 as full of surprises as the weakest; that the fantastic, the 
 unexpected, even the illogical, are as surely found in the one 
 as in the other. It would be so nice, so simple and easy, to 
 sit down and foreshadow a certain course of action for a 
 certain individual under a given stress ; and to be sure that, 
 in human psychology, two and two make precisely four, no 
 more and no less. 
 
 But such is not the case. In human psychology two and 
 two can just as easily make ten, or fifteen, or any other 
 number; and prophecy in the matter is about as great a 
 waste of time as worrying over the possibilities of the 
 weather. The constitution of the nervous system cannot be 
 estimated until put to the test. And when the first test has 
 revealed to us the long-awaited secret, it is just as likely to be 
 flatly contradicted by the second. The whole thing is the 
 very mischief. 
 
 Those who knew him would have been quite certain that 
 in Scipio's case there could only be one result from the 
 addition of the two and two of his psychology. In a man 
 of his peculiar mental caliber it might well seem that there 
 could be no variation to the sum. And the resulting proph- 
 ecy would necessarily be an evil, or at least a pessimistic one. 
 He was so helpless, so lacking in all the practicalities of 
 human life. He seemed to have one little focus that was 
 quite incapable of expansion, of adaptability. That focus 
 
ZIP'S GRATITUDE 189 
 
 was almost entirely filled by his Jessie's image, with just a 
 small place in it reserved for his twins. Take the woman 
 out of it, and, to all intents and purposes, he looked out upon 
 a dead white blank. 
 
 Every thought in his inadequate brain was centered round 
 his wife. She was the mainspring of his every emotion. 
 His love for her was his whole being. It was something so 
 great and strong that it enveloped all his senses. She was 
 his, and he was incapable of imagining life without her. 
 She was his, and only death could alter so obvious a fact. 
 She was his vanguard in life's battle, a support that shored 
 up his confidence and courage to face, with a calm determi- 
 nation, whatever that battle had to offer him. 
 
 But with Jessie's going all prophecy would have remained 
 unfulfilled. Scipio did not go under in the manner to have 
 been expected of him. After the first shock, outwardly at 
 least, there appeared to be no change in him. His apparently 
 colorless personality drifted on in precisely the same amia- 
 ble, inconsequent manner. What his moments of solitude 
 were, only he knew. The agony of grief through which he 
 passed, the long sleepless nights, the heartbreaking sense of 
 loss, these things lay hidden under his meaningless exterior, 
 which, however, defied the revelation of his secret. 
 
 After the passing of the first madness which had sent him 
 headlong in pursuit of his wife, a sort of mental evolution set 
 in. That unadaptable focus of his promptly became adapt- 
 able. And where it had been incapable of expansion, it 
 slowly began to expand. It grew, and, whereas before his 
 Jessie had occupied full place, his twins now became the 
 central feature. 
 
 The original position was largely reversed, but it was 
 chiefly the growth of the images of his children, and not the 
 diminishing of the figure of his wife. And with this new 
 aspect came calmness. Nothing could change his great love 
 for his erring Jessie, nothing could wipe out his sense of 
 
190 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 loss ; his grief was always with him. But whereas, judged 
 by the outward seeming of his character, he should have been 
 crushed under Fate's cruel blow, an inverse process seemed 
 to have set in. He was lifted, exalted to the almost sublime 
 heights where his beacon-fire of duty shone. 
 
 Yes, but the whole thing was so absurdly twisted. The 
 care of his children occupied his entire time now, so that his 
 work, in seeking that which was required to support them, 
 had to be entirely neglected. He had fifty dollars between 
 him and starvation for his children. Nor could he see his 
 way to earning more. The struggles of his unpractical mind 
 were painful. It was a problem quite beyond him. He 
 struggled nobly with it, but he saw no light ahead, and, with 
 that curious singleness of purpose that was his, he eventually 
 abandoned the riddle, and devoted his whole thought to the 
 children. Any other man would probably have decided to 
 hire himself out to work on the claims of other men, and so 
 hope to earn sufficient to hire help in the care of the twins, 
 but not so Scipio. He believed that their future well-being 
 lay in his claim. If that could not be worked, then there 
 was no other way. 
 
 He had just finished clearing up his hut, and the twins 
 were busy with their games outside in the sun, aided by their 
 four-legged yellow companion, whose voice was always to be 
 heard above their excited squabblings and laughter. So 
 Sunny Oak found things when he slouched up to the hut with 
 the result of the Trust's overnight meeting in his pocket. 
 
 The loafer came in with a grin of good-nature on his 
 perspiring and dirty face. He was feeling very self-right- 
 eous. It was pleasant to think he was doing a good work. 
 So much so that the effort of doing it did not draw the usual 
 protest from him. 
 
 He glanced about him with a tolerant eye, feeling that 
 henceforth, under the guidance of the Trust he represented, 
 Scipio's condition would certainly be improved. But some- 
 
ZIP'S GRATITUDE 191 
 
 how his mental patronage received a quiet set-back. The 
 hut looked so different. There was a wholesome cleanliness 
 about it that was quite staggering. Sunny remembered it as 
 it was when he had last seen it under his regime, and the 
 contrast was quite startling. Scipio might be incapable .of 
 organization, but he certainly could scour and scrub. 
 
 Sunny raked at his beard with his unclean finger-nails. 
 Yes, Zip must have spent hours of unremitting labor on the 
 place since he had seen it last. 
 
 However, he lost no time in carrying out his mission. 
 
 " Kind o' busy, Zip? " he greeted the little man pleasantly. 
 
 Scipio raised a pair of shadowed eyes from the inside of 
 the well-scoured fry-pan he was wiping. 
 
 " I'm mostly through fixin' these chores for awhiles," 
 he replied quietly. Then he nodded in the direction of the 
 children's voices. " Guess I'm goin' to take the kiddies down 
 to the creek to clean 'em. They need cleanin' a heap." 
 
 Sunny nodded gravely. He was thinking of those things 
 he had so carefully written out. 
 
 " They sure do," he agreed. " Bath oncet a week. But 
 not use a hand-scrubber, though," he added, under a wave of 
 memory. " Kids is tender skinned," he explained. 
 
 " Pore little bits," the father murmured tenderly. Then 
 he went on more directly to his visitor. " But they do need 
 washin'. It's kind o' natural fer kids to fancy dirt. After 
 that," he went on, his eyes drifting over to a pile of dirty 
 clothes stacked on a chair, " I'll sure have to do a bit of 
 washing." He set the frying-pan down beside the stove and 
 moved over to the clothes, picking up the smallest pair of 
 child's knickers imaginable. They were black with dirt, and 
 he held them up before Sunny's wondering eyes and smiled 
 pathetically. " Ridic'lous small," he said, with an odd twist 
 of his pale lips. " Pore little gal." Then his scanty eye- 
 brows drew together perplexedly, and that curious expres- 
 sion of helplessness that was his crept into his eyes. " Them 
 
192 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 frills an' bits git me some," he said in a puzzled way. 
 " Y'see, I ain't never used an iron much, to speak of. It's 
 kind of awkward using an iron." 
 
 Sunny nodded. Somehow he wished he knew something 
 about using an iron. Birdie had said nothing about it. 
 
 " Guess you hot it on the stove," he hazarded, after a 
 moment's thought. 
 
 " Yes, I'd say you hot it," agreed Scipio. " It's after 
 that." 
 
 " Yes/' Sunny found himself thinking hard. " You 
 got an iron? " he inquired presently. 
 
 " Sure two." Scipio laid the knickers aside. " You 
 hot one while you use the other." 
 
 Sunny nodded again. 
 
 " You see," the other went on, considering, " these pretties 
 needs washin' first. Well, then I guess they need to dry. 
 Now, 'bout starch? 'Most everything needs starch. At 
 least, ther' always seems to be starch around washing-time. 
 Y'see, I ain't wise to starch." 
 
 " Blamed if I am either," agreed Sunny. Then his more 
 practical mind asserted itself. " Say, starch kind o' fixes 
 things hard, don't it ? " he inquired. 
 
 " It sure does." 
 
 Scipio was trying to follow out his companion's train of 
 thought. 
 
 Sunny suddenly sat down on the edge of the table and 
 grinned triumphantly. 
 
 " Don't use it," he cried, with finality. " You need to 
 remember kiddies is tender skinned, anyway. Starch'll 
 sure make 'em sore." 
 
 Scipio brightened. 
 
 " Why, yes," he agreed, with relief. " I didn't jest think 
 about that. I'm a heap obliged, Sunny. You always seem 
 to help me out." 
 
 The flush of pleasure which responded to the little man's 
 
ZIP'S GRATITUDE 193 
 
 tribute was quite distinguishable through the dirt on the 
 loafer's face. 
 
 " Don't mention it," he said embarrassedly. " It's easy, 
 two thinkin' together. 'Sides, I've tho't a heap 'bout things 
 since since I started to fix your kiddies right. Y'see, it 
 ain't easy." 
 
 " No, it just ain't. That is, y'see, I ain't grumbling," 
 Scipio went on hurriedly, lest his meaning should be mis- 
 taken. " If you're stuck on kiddies, like me, it don't worry 
 you nuthin'. Kind of makes it pleasant thinkin' how you 
 can fix things f er 'em, don't it ? But it sure ain't easy doing 
 things just right. That's how I mean. An* don't it make 
 you feel good when you do fix things right f er 'em ? But I 
 don't guess that comes often, though," he added, with a sigh. 
 " Y'see, I'm kind of awkward. I ain't smart, like you or 
 Bill." 
 
 " Oh, Bill's real smart," Sunny began. Then he checked 
 himself. He was to keep Bill's name out of this matter, and 
 he just remembered it in time. So he veered round quickly. 
 " But I ain't smart," he declared. " Anything I know I got 
 from a leddy friend. Y'see, women-folk knows a heap 'bout 
 kiddies, which, I 'lows, is kind o' natural." 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket and drew out several sheets of 
 paper. Arranging them carefully, he scanned the scrawling 
 writing on them. 
 
 " Guess you're a scholar, so I won't need to read what I 
 writ down here. Mebbe you'll be able to read it yourself. 
 I sure 'low the spellin' ain't jest right, but you'll likely under- 
 stand it. Y'see, the writin's clear, which is the chief thing. 
 I was allus smart with a pen. Now, this yer is jest how our 
 my leddy f rien' reckons kids needs fixin'. It ain't rea- 
 sonable to guess everything's down ther*. They're jest sort 
 o' principles which you need to foller. Maybe they'll help 
 you some. Guess if you foller them reflations your kids'll 
 sure grow proper." 
 
194 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 He handed the papers across, and Scipio took them only 
 too willingly. His thanks, his delight, was in the sudden 
 lighting up of his whole face. But he did not offer a ver- 
 bal expression of his feelings until he had read down the 
 first page. Then he looked up with eyes that were almost 
 moist with gratitude. 
 
 " Say," he began, l( I can't never tell you how 'bliged I am, 
 Sunny. These things have bothered me a whole heap. It's 
 kind of you, Sunny, it is, sure. I'm that obliged I " 
 
 "Say," broke in the loafer, "that sort o' talk sort o' 
 worrits my brain. Cut it out/' Then he grinned. " Y'see, 
 I ain't used to thinkin' hard. It's mostly in the natur' o' 
 work, an' well, work an' me ain't been friends for years." 
 
 But Scipio was devouring the elaborated information 
 Sunny had so laboriously set out. The loafer's picturesque 
 mind had drawn heavily on its resources, and Birdie's princi- 
 ples had undergone a queer metamorphosis. So much so, 
 that she would now have had difficulty in recognizing them. 
 Sunny watched him reading with smiling interest. He was 
 looking for those lights and shades which he hoped his illu- 
 minating phraseology would inspire. But Scipio was in 
 deadly earnest. Phraseology meant nothing to him. It was 
 the guidance he was looking for and devouring hungrily. 
 At last he looked up, his pale eyes glowing. 
 
 " That's fine," he exclaimed, with such a wonderful relief 
 that it was impossible to doubt his appreciation. Then he 
 glanced round the room. He found some pins and promptly 
 pinned the sheets on the cupboard door. Then he stood 
 back and surveyed them. " You're a good friend, Sunny," 
 he said earnestly. " Now I can't never make a mistake. 
 There it is all wrote ther'. An' when I ain't sure 'bout noth- 
 ing, why, I only jest got to read what you wrote. I don't 
 guess the kiddies can reach them there. Y'see, kiddies is 
 queer 'bout things. Likely they'd get busy tearing those 
 sheets right up, an' then wher'd I be ? I'll start right in now 
 
ZIP'S GRATITUDE 195 
 
 on those regulations, an' you'll see how proper the kiddies '11 
 grow." He turned and held out his hand to his benefactor. 
 " I'm 'bliged, Sunny ; I sure can't never thank you enough." 
 Sunny disclaimed such a profusion of gratitude, but his 
 dirty face shone with good-natured satisfaction as he gripped 
 the little man's hand. And after discussing a few details 
 and offering a few suggestions, which, since the acceptance 
 of his efforts, seemed to trip off his tongue with an easy con- 
 fidence which surprised even himself, he took his departure. 
 And he left the hut with the final picture of Scipio, still 
 studying his pages of regulations with the earnestness of a 
 divinity student studying his Bible, filling his strongly imag- 
 inative brain. He felt good. He felt so good that he was 
 sorry there was nothing more to be done until Wild Bill's 
 return. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 JESSIE'S LETTER 
 
 SCIPIO'S long day was almost over. The twins were in 
 bed, and the little man was lounging for a few idle moments 
 in the doorway of his hut. Just now an armistice in his 
 conflict of thought was declared. For the moment the 
 exigencies of his immediate duties left him floundering in 
 the wilderness of his desolate heart at the mercy of the pain 
 of memory. All day the claims of his children had up- 
 borne him. He had had little enough time to think of any- 
 thing else, and thus, with his peculiar sense of duty militat- 
 ing in his favor, he had found strong support for the burden 
 of his grief. 
 
 But now with thought and muscles relaxed, and the long 
 night stretching out its black wings before him, the gray 
 shadow had risen uppermost in his mind once more, and a 
 weight of unutterable loneliness and depression bore down 
 his spirit. 
 
 His faded eyes were staring out at the dazzling reflections 
 of the setting sun upon the silvery crests of the distant 
 mountain peaks. In every direction upon the horizon 
 stretched the wonderful fire of sunset. Tongues of flame, 
 steely, glowing, ruddy, shot up and athwart the picture in 
 ever-changing hues before his unseeing eyes. It was all 
 lost upon him. He stared mechanically, while his busy brain 
 struggled amongst a tangle of memories and thought pic- 
 tures. The shadows of his misfortune were hard besetting 
 him. 
 
 Amidst his other troubles had come a fresh realization 
 
JESSIE'S LETTER 197 
 
 which filled him with something like panic. He had been 
 forced to purchase stores for his household. To do so he 
 had had to pay out the last of his fourth ten-dollar bill. His 
 exchequer was thus reduced to ten dollars. Ten dollars 
 stood between him and starvation for his children. Nor 
 could he see the smallest prospect of obtaining more. His 
 imagination was stirred. He saw in fancy the specter of 
 starvation looming, hungrily stretching out its gaunt arms, 
 clutching at his two helpless infants. He had no thought 
 for himself. It did not occur to him that he, too, must 
 starve. He only pictured the wasting of the children's 
 round little bodies, he heard their weakly whimperings at the 
 ravages of hunger's pangs. He saw the tottering gait as 
 they moved about, unconscious of the trouble that was theirs, 
 only knowing that they were hungry. Their requests for 
 food rang in his ears, maddening him with the knowledge of 
 his helplessness. He saw them growing weaker day by day. 
 He saw their wondering, wistful, uncomprehending eyes, so 
 bright and beautiful now, growing bigger and bigger as their 
 soft cheeks fell away. He 
 
 He moved nervously. He shifted his position, vainly try- 
 ing to rid himself of the haunting vision. But panic was 
 upon him. Starvation that was it. Starvation ! God ! 
 how terrible was the thought. Starvation! And yet, be- 
 fore before Jessie had gone he had been no better off. 
 He had had only fifty dollars. But somehow it was all 
 different then. She was there, and he had had confidence. 
 Now now he had none. Then she was there to manage, 
 and he was free to work upon his claim. 
 
 Ah, his claim. That was it. The claim lay idle now 
 with all its hidden wealth. How he wanted that wealth 
 which he so believed to be there. No, he could not work 
 his claim. The children could not be left alone all day. 
 That was out of the question. They must be cared for. 
 How how ? 
 
198 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 His brain grew hot, and he broke out into a sweat. His 
 head drooped forward until his unshaven chin rested upon 
 his sunken chest. His eyes were lusterless, his two rough 
 hands clenched nervously. Just for one weak moment he 
 longed for forgetfulness. He longed to shut out those 
 hideous visions with which he was pursued. He longed for 
 peace, for rest from the dull aching of his poor torn heart. 
 His courage was at a low ebb. Something of the nature of 
 the hour had got hold of him. It was sundown. There was 
 the long black night between him and the morrow. He felt 
 so helpless, so utterly incapable. 
 
 But his moment passed. He raised his head. He stood 
 erect from the door casing. He planted his feet firmly, and 
 his teeth gritted. The spirit of the man rose again. He 
 must not give way. He would not. The children should 
 not starve while there was food in the world. If he had 
 no money, he had two strong hands and 
 
 He started. A sudden noise behind him turned him fac- 
 ing about with bristling nerves. What was it ? It sounded 
 like the falling of a heavy weight. And yet it did not sound 
 like anything big. The room was quite still, and looked, in 
 the growing dusk, just the same as usual. 
 
 Suddenly the children leapt into his thought, and he 
 started for the inner room. But he drew up short as he 
 passed behind the table. A large stone was lying at his feet, 
 and a folded paper was tied about it. He glanced round at 
 the window and understood. 
 
 He stooped and picked the missile up. Then he moved 
 to the window and looked out. There was no one about. 
 The evening shadows were rapidly deepening, but he was 
 sure there was no one about. He turned back to the door 
 where there was still sufficient light for his purposes. He 
 sat down upon the sill with the stone in his hand. He was 
 staring at the folded paper. 
 
 Yes, he understood. And instinctively he knew that the 
 
JESSIE'S LETTER 199 
 
 paper was to bring him fresh disaster. He knew it was a 
 letter. And he knew whence it came. 
 
 At last he looked up. The mystery of the letter remained. 
 It was there in his hand, waiting the severing of the string 
 that held it, but somehow as yet he lacked the courage to 
 read it. And so some moments passed. But at last he 
 sighed and looked at it again. Then he reached round to his 
 hip for his sheath-knife. The stone dropped to the ground, 
 and with it the outer covering of the letter. With trembling 
 fingers he unfolded the notepaper. 
 
 Yes, it was as he expected, as he knew, a letter from 
 Jessie. And as he read it his heart cried out, and the warm 
 blood in his veins seemed to turn to water. He longed for 
 the woman whose hand had penned those words as he had 
 never longed for anything in his life. All the old wound 
 was ruthlessly torn open, and it was as though a hot, searing 
 iron had been thrust into its midst. He cared nothing for 
 what she had done or was. He wanted her. 
 
 It was a letter full of pathetic pleading for the possession 
 of Vada. It was not a demand. It was an appeal. An 
 appeal to all that was his better nature. His honesty, his 
 manliness, his simple unselfishness. It was a letter thrilling 
 with the outpourings of a mother's heart craving for posses- 
 sion of the small warm life that she had been at such pains 
 to bestow. It was the mother talking to him as he had 
 never heard the wife and woman talk. There was a passion, 
 a mother love in the hastily scrawled words that drove 
 straight to the man's simple heart. One little paragraph 
 alone set his whole body quivering with responsive emotion, 
 and started the weak tears to his troubled eyes. 
 
 " Let me have her, Zip. Let me have her. Maybe I've 
 lost my right, but I'm her mother. I brought her into the 
 world, Zip. And what that means you can never under- 
 stand. She's my flesh and blood. She's part of me. I 
 
200 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 gave her the life she's got. I'm her mother, Zip, and I'll go 
 mad without her." 
 
 He read and re-read the letter. He would have read it a 
 third time, but the tears blinded his eyes and he crushed it 
 into his pocket. His heart yearned for her. It cried out 
 to him in a great pity. It tore him so that he was drawn 
 to words spoken aloud to express his feelings. 
 
 " Poor gal/' he murmured. " Poor gal. Oh, my Jessie, 
 what you done what you done ? " 
 
 He dashed a hand across his eyes to wipe away the mist 
 of tears that obscured his vision and stood up. He was face 
 to face with a situation that might well have confounded 
 him. But here, where only his heart and not his head was 
 appealed to, there was no confusion. 
 
 The woman had said he could not understand. She had 
 referred to her motherhood. But Scipio was a man who 
 could understand just that. He could understand with his 
 heart, where his head might have failed him. He read into 
 the distracted woman's letter a meaning that perhaps no 
 other man could have read into it. He read a human soul's 
 agony at the severing of itself from all that belonged to its 
 spiritual side. He read more than the loss of the woman's 
 offspring. He read the despairing thought, perhaps uncon- 
 scious, of a woman upon whom repentance has begun its 
 work. And his simple heart went out to her, yearning, lov- 
 ing. He knew that her appeal was granted even before he 
 acknowledged it to himself. 
 
 And strangely enough the coming of that letter he did 
 not pause to think how it had come produced a miraculous 
 change in him. His spirit rose thrilling with hope, and 
 filled with a courage which, but a few moments before, 
 seemed to have gone from him forever. He did not under- 
 stand, he did not pause to think. How could he? To him 
 she was still his Jessie, the love and hope of his life. It was 
 
JESSIE'S LETTER 201 
 
 her hand that had penned that letter. It was her woman's 
 heart appealing to his mercy. 
 
 " God in heaven," he cried, appealing to the blue vault 
 above him in which the stars were beginning to appear. " I 
 can't refuse her. I just can't. She wants her so my 
 poor, poor Jessie." 
 
 It was late in the evening when Scipio returned from the 
 camp driving Minky's buckskin mule and ancient buckboard. 
 His mind was made up. He would start out directly after 
 breakfast on the morrow. He had resorted to a pitiful 
 little subterfuge in borrowing Minky's buckboard. He had 
 told the storekeeper that he had heard of a prospect some 
 distance out, and he wanted to inspect it. He said he in- 
 tended to take Vada with him, but wished to leave Jamie be- 
 hind. Minky, as a member of the Trust, had promptly lent 
 him the conveyance, and volunteered to have Jamie looked 
 after down at the store by Birdie until he returned. So 
 everything was made easy for him, and he came back to his 
 home beyond the dumps with the first feeling of contentment 
 he had experienced since his wife had deserted him. 
 
 Having made the old mule snug for the night on the lee- 
 ward side of the house, he prepared to go to bed. There 
 was just one remaining duty to perform, however, before he 
 was free to do so. He must set things ready for breakfast 
 on the morrow. To this end he lit the lamp. 
 
 In five minutes his preparations were made, and, after 
 one final look round, he passed over to the door to secure 
 it. He stood for a moment drinking in the cool night air. 
 Yes, he felt happier than he had done for days. Nor could 
 he have said why. It was surely something to do with 
 Jessie's letter, and yet the letter seemed to offer little 
 enough for hope. 
 
 He was going to part with Vada, a thought which filled 
 him with dismay, and yet there was hope in his heart. But 
 
202 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 then where the head might easily enough fail his heart had 
 accepted responsibility. There was a note in the woman's 
 appeal which struck a responsive chord in his own credulous 
 heart, and somehow he felt that his parting with Vada was 
 not to be for long. He felt that Jessie would eventually 
 come back to him. He felt, though he did not put the 
 thought into words, that no woman could feel as she did 
 about her children, and be utterly dead to all the old affection 
 that had brought them into the world. 
 
 He turned away at last. The air was good to breathe to- 
 night, the world was good after all. Yes, it was better than 
 he had thought it. There was much to be done to-morrow, 
 so he would " turn in." 
 
 It was at that moment that something white lying at his 
 feet caught his eye. Instantly he remembered it, and, stoop- 
 ing, picked it up. How strange it was the difference of his 
 feelings as he lifted the outer wrapping of Jessie's letter now. 
 There was something almost reverent in the way he handled 
 the paper. 
 
 He closed the door and secured it, and went across to the 
 lamp, where he stood looking down at the stained and dirty 
 covering. He turned it over, his thoughts abstracted 
 and busy with the woman who had folded it ready for 
 its journey to him. Yes, she had folded it, she had sent it, 
 she 
 
 Suddenly his abstraction passed, and he bent over the dis- 
 figuring finger-marks. There was writing upon the paper, 
 and the writing was not in Jessie's hand. He raised it closer 
 to his eyes and began to read. And, with each word he 
 made out, his faculties became more and more angrily 
 concentrated. 
 
 " You'll hand the kid over at once. I'll be on the Spawn 
 City trail ten miles out. If you ain't there with the kid noon 
 to-morrow there's going to be bad trouble. JAMES/' 
 
JESSIE'S LETTER 203 
 
 " James ! James ! " Scipio almost gasped the name. 
 His pale eyes were hot and furious, and the blood surged to 
 his brain. 
 
 He had forgotten James until now. He had forgotten 
 the traitor responsible for his undoing. So much was Jessie 
 in his life that James had counted for little when he thought 
 of her. But now the scoundrel swept all other thoughts 
 pell-mell out of his head. He was suddenly ablaze with a 
 rage such as he had never before experienced. All that was 
 human in him was in a state of fierce resentment. He hated 
 James, and desired with all his small might to do him a bodily 
 hurt. Yes, he could even delight in killing him. He would 
 show him no mercy. He would revel in witnessing his death 
 agonies. This man had not only wronged him. He had 
 killed also the spiritual purity of the mother of his children. 
 Oh, how he hated him. And now now he had dared to 
 threaten. He, stained to his very heart's core with villainy, 
 had dared to interfere in a matter which concerned a 
 mother's pure love for her children. The thought mad- 
 dened him, and he crushed the paper in his hand and ground 
 it under his heel. 
 
 He would not do it. He could not. He had forgotten 
 the association to which he was sending the innocent Vada. 
 No, no. Innocent little Vada. Jessie must do without her. 
 
 He flung himself into a chair and gave himself up to 
 passionate thought. For two hours he sat there raging, half 
 mad with his hideous feelings against James. But as the 
 long hours slipped away he slowly calmed. His hatred re- 
 mained for the man, but he kept it out of his silent struggle 
 with himself. In spite of his first heated decision he was 
 torn by a guiding instinct that left him faltering. He real- 
 ized that his hatred of the man, and nothing else, was really 
 responsible for his negative attitude. And this was surely 
 wrong. What he must really consider was the welfare of 
 Vada, and Jessie. The whole thing was so difficult, so 
 
204 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 utterly beyond him. He was drawn this way and that, 
 struggling with a brain that he knew to be incompetent. 
 But in the end it was again his heart that was victorious. 
 Again his heart would take no denial. 
 
 Confused, weary, utterly at a loss to finally decide, he 
 drew out Jessie's letter again. He read it. And like a cloud 
 his confusion dispersed and his mind became clear. His 
 hatred of James was thrust once more into the background. 
 Jessie's salvation depended on Vada's going. Vada must go. 
 
 He sighed as he rose from his chair and blew out the 
 lamp. 
 
 " Maybe I'm wrong," he murmured, passing into the bed- 
 room. " Maybe. Well, I guess God'll have to judge me, 
 and He knows." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ON THE ROAD 
 
 WILD BILL had many things to think of on his way back 
 to Suffering Creek. He was a tremendously alert-minded 
 man at all times, so alert-minded that at no time was he given 
 to vain imaginings, and to be alone for long together chafed 
 and irritated him to a degree. His life was something more 
 than practicality; it was vigor in an extreme sense. He 
 must be doing; he must be going ahead. And it mattered 
 very little to him whether he was using vigor of mind or 
 body. Just now he was using the former to a purpose. 
 Possibilities and scheming flashed through his head in such 
 swift succession as to be enough to dazzle a man of lesser 
 mental caliber. 
 
 The expressed object of his visit to Spawn City was only 
 one of several purposes he had in hand. And though he 
 turned up at the principal hotel at the psychological moment 
 when he could drop into the big game of poker he had prom- 
 ised himself, and though at that game he helped himself, 
 with all the calm amiability in the world, to several thousand 
 dollars of the " rich guys' " money, the rest of his visit to the 
 silver city was spent in moving about amongst the lower 
 haunts where congregated the human jackals which hunt on 
 the outskirts of such places. 
 
 And in these places he met many friends and acquaint- 
 ances with whom he fraternized for the time being. And 
 his sojourn cost him a good many dollars, dollars which he 
 shed unstintingly, even without counting. Nor was he the 
 man to part with his money in this casual manner without 
 
206 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 obtaining adequate return, and yet all he had to show as a 
 result of his expedition was a word of information here and 
 there, a suggestion or two which would scarcely have re- 
 vealed to the ousider the interest which they held for him. 
 Yet he seemed satisfied. He seemed very well satisfied 
 indeed, and his reckless spirit warmed as he progressed in 
 his peregrinations. 
 
 Then, too, he " dined " the sheriff of the county at the 
 only restaurant worth while. He spent more than two hours 
 in this man's company, and his wine bill was in due propor- 
 tion to the hardy official's almost unlimited capacity for 
 liquid refreshment. Yet even to the most interested his 
 purpose would have needed much explanation. He asked 
 so few questions. He seemed to lead the conversation in 
 no particular direction. He simply allowed talk to drift 
 whither it would. And somehow it always seemed to drift 
 whither he most desired it. 
 
 Yes, his movements were quite curious during his visit, 
 and yet they were commonplace enough to suggest nothing 
 of the depth of subtlety which really actuated them. There 
 was even an absurd moment which found him in a candy- 
 store purchasing several pounds of the most sickly candy he 
 could buy in so rough a place as the new silver town. 
 
 However, the time came for him at last to get out on the 
 road again for home. And, having prepared his team for 
 the journey, he hitched them up to his spring-cart himself, 
 paid his bill, and, with a flourish of his whip, and a swagger 
 which only a team of six such magnificent horses as he pos- 
 sessed could give him, left the hotel at a gallop, the steely 
 muscles of his arms controlling his fiery children as easily as 
 the harsh voice of a northern half-breed controls a racing 
 dog-train. 
 
 And on the journey home his thoughts were never idle for 
 a moment. So busy were they that the delicious calm of the 
 night, the wonders of the following dawn, the glory of a 
 
ON THE ROAD 207 
 
 magnificent sunrise over a green world of mountain, valley 
 and plain, were quite lost to his unpoetic soul. The only 
 things which seemed able to distract his concentrated 
 thoughts were the fiercely buzzing mosquitoes, and these he 
 cursed with whole-hearted enthusiasm which embraced a 
 perfect vocabulary of lurid blasphemy. 
 
 Twice on the journey he halted and unhitched his horses 
 for feed and drink and a roll. But the delays were short, 
 and his vigorous methods gave them but short respite. He 
 cared for his equine friends with all his might, and he drove 
 them in a similar manner. This was the man. A life on a 
 bed of roses would not have been too good for his horses, 
 but if he so needed it they would have to repay him by driv- 
 ing over a red-hot trail. 
 
 Now the home stretch lay before him, some twenty miles 
 through a wonderful broken country, all spruce and pine 
 forests, crag and valley, threaded by a white hard trail which 
 wound its way amidst Nature's chaos in a manner similar 
 to that in which a mountain stream cuts its course, percolat- 
 ing along the path of the least resistance. 
 
 Through this splendid country the untiring team traveled, 
 hauling their feather-weight burden as though there was 
 nothing more joyous in life. In spite of the length of the 
 journey the gambler had to keep a tight pressure on the reins, 
 or the willing beasts would, at any moment, have broken into 
 a headlong gallop. Their barn lay ahead of them, and their 
 master sat behind them. What more could they want ? 
 
 Up a sharp incline, and the race down the corresponding 
 decline. The wide stretch of valley bottom, and again a 
 steep ascent. There was no slackening of gait, scarcely a 
 hard breath. Only the gush of eager nostrils in the bright 
 morning air of the mountains. Now along a forest-bounded 
 stretch of level trail, winding, and full of protruding tree- 
 stumps and roots. There was no stumbling. The sure- 
 footed thoroughbreds cleared each obstruction with mechan- 
 
208 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 ical precision, and only the spring-cart bore the burden of 
 impact. 
 
 On, up out of the darkened valley to a higher level above, 
 where the high hills sloped away upwards, admitting the 
 dazzling daylight so that the whole scene was lit to a perfect 
 radiance, and the nip of mountain air filled the lungs with 
 an invigorating tonic. 
 
 At last the traveler dropped down into the wide valley, in 
 the midst of which he first came into touch with the higher 
 reaches of Suffering Creek. Here it flowed a sluggish, tur- 
 gid stream, so sullen, so heavy. It was narrow, and at points 
 curiously black in tone. There was none of the freshness, 
 the rushing, tumultuous flow of a mountain torrent about it 
 here. Its banks were marshy with a wide spread of oozy 
 soil, and miry reeds grew in abundance. The trail cut well 
 away from the bed of the creek, mounting the higher land 
 where the soil, in curious contrast, was sandy, and the sur- 
 face deep in a silvery dust. To an observer the curiosity of 
 the contrast must have been striking, but Wild Bill was not 
 in an observant mood. He was busy with his horses and 
 his thoughts. 
 
 He was traveling now in a cloud of dust. And it was 
 this, no doubt, which accounted for the fact that he did not 
 see a buckboard drawn by an aged mule until he heard a 
 shout, and his horses swung off the trail of their own accord. 
 Quick as lightning he drew them up with a violent curse. 
 
 "What in hell !" he roared. But he broke off sud- 
 denly as the dust began to clear, and he saw the yellow- 
 headed figure of Scipio seated in the buckboard, with Vada 
 beside him, just abreast of him. 
 
 " Mackinaw ! " he cried. " What you doin' out here ? " 
 
 So startled was the gambler at the unexpected vision that 
 he made no attempt to even guess at Scipio's purpose. He 
 put his question without another thought behind it. 
 
 Scipio, whose mule had jumped at the opportunity of dis- 
 
ON THE ROAD 209 
 
 continuing its laborious effort, and was already reaching out 
 at the grass lining the trail, passed a hand across his brow 
 before answering. It was as though he were trying to fix 
 in his mind the reason of his own presence there. 
 
 " Why," he said hesitatingly, " why, I'm out after a a 
 prospect I heard of. Want to get a peek at it." 
 
 The latter was said with more assurance, and he smiled 
 vaguely into his friend's face. 
 
 But Bill had gathered his scattered wits, and had had time 
 to think. He nodded at little Vada, who was interestedly 
 staring at the satin coats of his horses. 
 
 "An' you takin' her out to help you locate it?" he in- 
 quired, with a raising of his shaggy brows. 
 
 " Not just that," Scipio responded uncomfortably. He 
 found it curiously difficult to lie with Bill's steady eyes fixed 
 on him. " Y'see Say, am I near ten miles out from 
 the camp ? " 
 
 " Not by three miles." Bill was watching him intently. 
 He saw the pale eyes turn away and glance half fearfully 
 along the trail. Then they suddenly came back, and Scipio 
 gazed at the child beside him. He sighed and lifted his 
 reins. 
 
 " Guess I'll get on then," he said in the dogged tone of a 
 man who has made up his mind to an unpleasant task. 
 
 But Bill had no intention of letting him go yet. He 
 sat back in his seat, his hand holding his reins loosely in 
 his lap. 
 
 :f That wher' your prospect is ? " he inquired casually. 
 
 Scipio nodded. He could not bring himself to frame any 
 further aggravation of the lie. 
 
 "Wher' did you hear of the prospect?" Bill demanded 
 shrewdly. 
 
 T 
 
 But little Vada broke in. Her interest had been diverted 
 by the word prospect. 
 
2io THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Wot's ' prospect ' ? " she demanded. 
 
 Bill laughed without any change of expression. 
 
 " Prospect is wher' you expect to find gold," he explained 
 carefully. 
 
 The child's eyes widened, and she was about to speak. 
 Then she hesitated, but finally she proceeded. 
 
 " That ain't wot we're goin' for," she said simply. 
 " Poppa's goin' to take me wher' momma is. I'm goin' to 
 momma, an' she's ever so far away. Pop told me. Jamie's 
 goin' to stay with him, 'an' I'm goin' to stay with momma, 
 an' an' I want Jamie to come too." Tears suddenly 
 crowded her eyes, and slowly rolled down her sunburned 
 cheeks. 
 
 Just for a moment neither man spoke. Bill's fierce eyes 
 were curiously alight, and they were sternly fixed on the 
 averted face of the father. At last Scipio turned towards 
 him ; and with his first words he showed his relief that fur- 
 ther lying was out of the question. 
 
 " I forgot somehow she knew. Y'see " 
 
 But Bill, who had just bitten off a fresh chew of tobacco, 
 gave him no chance to continue. 
 
 " Say," he interrupted him, " ther's lies I hate, an' ther's 
 lies that don't make no odds. You've lied in a way I hate. 
 You've lied 'cos you had to lie, knowin' you was doin' wrong. 
 If you hadn't know'd you was doin' wrong you wouldn't 
 have needed to lie sure. Say, you're not only hanclin'' 
 over that kiddie to her mother, you're handin' her over to 
 that feller. Now, get to it an' tell me things. An' you 
 needn't to lie any." 
 
 Scipio hung his head. These words coming from Wild 
 Bill suddenly put an entirely different aspect upon his action. 
 He saw something of the horror he was committing as Bill 
 saw it. He was seeing through another man's eyes now, 
 where before he had only seen through his own simple heart, 
 torn by the emotions his Jessie's letter had inspired. 
 
ON THE ROAD 211 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket and drew out his wife's letter. 
 He looked at it, holding it a moment, his whole heart in 
 his eyes. Then he reached out and passed it to the 
 gambler. 
 
 " She's got to have her," he said, with a touch of his native 
 obstinacy and conviction. " She's her mother. I haven't a 
 right to keep her. I " 
 
 But Bill silenced him without ceremony. 
 
 " Don't yap," he cried. " How ken I read this yer muck 
 with you throwin' hot air ? " 
 
 Scipio desisted, and sat staring vacantly at the long ears 
 of Minky's mule. He was gazing on a mental picture o 
 Jessie as he considered she must have looked when writing 
 that letter. He saw her distress in her beautiful eyes. 
 There were probably tears in her eyes, too, and the thought 
 hurt him and made him shrink from it. He felt that her poor 
 heart must have been breaking when she had written. Per- 
 haps James had been cruel to her. Yes, he was sure to have 
 been cruel to her. Such a blackguard as he was sure to be 
 cruel to women- folk. No doubt she was longing to escape 
 from him. She was sure to be. She would never have will- 
 ingly gone away 
 
 " Tosh ! " cried Bill. And Scipio found the letter thrust 
 out for him to take back. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " I said ' tosh ! ' " replied the gambler. " How'd you get 
 that letter?" 
 
 " It was flung in through the window. It was tied to a 
 stone." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " There was a wrappin* to it." Then Scipio's eyes began 
 to sparkle at the recollection. "It was wrote on by the 
 feller James," he went on in a low voice. 
 
 Then suddenly he turned, and his whole manner partook 
 of an impotent heat. 
 
212 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " He'd wrote I was to hand her, Vada, over to him ten 
 miles out on this trail or there'd be trouble." 
 
 Wild Bill stirred and shifted his seat with a fierce dash of 
 irritation. His face was stern and his black eyes blazing. 
 He spat out his chew of tobacco. 
 
 "An* you was scared to death, like some silly skippin' 
 sheep. You hadn't bowel enough to tell him to go to hell. 
 You felt like handin' him any other old thing you'd got 
 ' Here, go on, help yourself.' " He flung out his arms to 
 illustrate his meaning. " ' You got my wife ; here's my 
 kiddies. If you need anything else, you can sure get my 
 claim. Guess my shack'll make you an elegant summer 
 palace.' Gee ! " 
 
 The gambler's scorn was withering, and with each burst 
 of it he flourished his arms as though handing out posses- 
 sions to an imaginary James. And every word he spoke 
 smote Scipio, goading him and lashing up the hatred which 
 burnt deep down in his heart for the man who had ruined 
 his life. 
 
 But the little man's thought of Jessie was not so easily set 
 aside, and he jumped to defend himself. 
 
 " You don't understand " he began. But the other cut 
 him short with a storm of scathing anger. 
 
 " No, I sure don't understand," he cried, " I don't. I sure 
 don't. Guess I'm on'y jest a man. I ain't no sort o' bum 
 angel, nor sanctimonious sky-bustin' hymn-smiter. I'm on'y 
 a man. An' I kind o' thank them as is responsible that I ain't 
 nuthin' else. Say " his piercing eyes seemed to bore their 
 way right down to the little man's heart like red-hot needles 
 " I ain't got a word to say to you but you orter be herdin' 
 wi' a crowd o' mangy gophers. Tchah ! A crowd o' mag- 
 gots 'ud cut you off'n their visitin' list in a diseased carkis. 
 Here's a feller robs you in the meanest way a man ken be 
 robbed, an' you're yearnin' to hand him more a low-down 
 cur of a stage-robber, a cattle-thief, the lowest down bum 
 
ON THE ROAD 213 
 
 ever created an' you'd hand over this pore innercent little 
 kiddie to him. Was there ever sech a white-livered sucker ? 
 Say, you're responsible fer that pore little gal's life, you're 
 responsible fer her innercent soul, an' you'd hand her over 
 to James, like the worstest cur in creation. Say, I ain't got 
 words to tell you what you are. You're a white-livered bum 
 that even hell won't give room to. You're " 
 
 " Here, hold on," cried Scipio, turning, with his pale eyes 
 mildly blazing. " You're wrong, all wrong. I ain't doing 
 it because I'm scared of James. I don't care nothing for his 
 threats. I'm scared of no man not even you. See ? My 
 Jessie's callin' for her gal my Jessie ! Do you know what 
 that means to me? No, of course you don't. You don't 
 know my Jessie. You ain't never loved a wife like my Jes- 
 sie. You ain't never felt what a kiddie is to its mother. 
 You can't see as I can see. This little gal," he went on, ten- 
 derly laying an arm about Vada's small shoulders, " will, 
 maybe, save my pore Jessie. That pore gal has hit the wrong 
 trail, an' an' I'd sacrifice everything in the world to save 
 her. I'd I'd sell my own soul. I'd give it to save her." 
 
 Scipio looked fearlessly into the gambler's eyes. His 
 pale cheeks were lit by a hectic flush of intense feeling. 
 There was a light in his eyes of such honesty and devotion 
 that the other lowered his. He could not look upon it un- 
 moved. 
 
 Bill sat back, for once in his life disconcerted. All his 
 righteous indignation was gone out of him. He was con- 
 fronted with a spectacle such as, in his checkered career, he 
 had never before been brought into contact with. It was 
 the meeting of two strangely dissimilar, yet perfectly human, 
 forces. Each was fighting for what he knew to be right. 
 Each was speaking from the bottom of a heart inspired by 
 his sense of human right and loyalty. While the gambler, 
 without subtlety of emotion, saw only with a sense of hu- 
 man justice, with a hatred of the man who had so wronged 
 
214 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 this one, with a desire to thwart him at every turn, the other 
 possessed a breadth of feeling sufficient to put out of his 
 thoughts all recollection of his personal wrong, if only he 
 could help the woman he loved. 
 
 It was a meeting of forces widely different, yet each in its 
 way thrilling with a wonderful honesty of purpose. And, 
 curiously enough, the purpose of Scipio, who lacked so much 
 of the other's intellect and force, became, in a measure, the 
 dominating factor. It took hold of the gambler, and stirred 
 him as he had never been stirred before. 
 
 Suddenly Wild Bill leaned forward. Once more those 
 swift, relentless eyes focused and compelled the others. 
 
 " Zip," he said in a tone that was strangely thrilling, 
 " maybe I didn't get all you felt all you got in that tow- 
 head of yours. That bein' so, guess I owe you amends. 
 But I'm goin' to ast you to sure f ergit that gal's letter f er 
 awhiles. I'm goin' to ast you to turn that bussock-headed 
 mule you're drivin' right around, and hit back for the Creek. 
 You do this, Zip, an' I'll tell you what I'm goin' to do. I 
 ain't no sentimental slob. I ain't got the makin's in me of 
 even a store-mussed angel. See? But if you do this I 
 swar to you right here I'm goin' to see your Jessie right. 
 I swar to you I'll rid her of this ' Lord ' James, an' it'll jest 
 be up to you to do the rest. Git me ? " 
 
 Scipio took a breath that was something like a gasp. 
 
 " You'll you'll help me get her back?" he breathed, 
 with a glow of hope which almost shocked his companion. 
 
 " I'm not promisin' that," said Bill quickly. " That's sure 
 up to you. But I give it you right here, I'll shift this 
 doggone skunk out of your way." 
 
 Scipio made no verbal reply. Just for a moment he 
 looked into the gimlet eyes of the other. He saw the iron 
 purpose there. He saw the stern, unyielding compression of 
 the lean, muscular jaws. There was something tremendous 
 in the suggestion of power lying behind this ruffian's exte- 
 
ON THE ROAD 215 
 
 rior. He turned away and gathered up the old mule's 
 
 reins. 
 
 " You've allus been friendly to me, Bill, so " 
 
 He pulled off the trail and turned the mule's head in the 
 
 direction of home. And the rest of the gambler's journey 
 
 was done in the wake of Minky's buckboard. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 
 
 SCIPIO was washing clothes down at the creek. So much 
 had happened to him that day, so many and various had been 
 the emotions through which he had passed, that there was 
 only one thing left him to do. He must work. He dared 
 not sit down and think. Hard physical labor was what 
 he required. And the rubbing out of the children's small 
 clothes, and his own somewhat tattered garments, became a 
 sort of soothing drug which quieted his troubled mind, and 
 lulled his nerves into a temporary quiescence. The children 
 were with him, playing unconcernedly upon the muddy 
 banks of the creek, with all the usual childish zest for any- 
 thing so delickmsly enticing and soft as liquid river mud. 
 
 Vada had forgotten her journey of that morning, it had 
 quite passed out of her little head in the usual way of such 
 trifling unpleasantnesses which go so frequently to make up 
 the tally of childhood's days. Jamie had no understanding 
 of it. His Vada was with him again, hectoring, guiding him 
 as was her wont, and, in his babyish way, he was satisfied. 
 
 As for Scipio he gave no sign of anything. He was con- 
 centrating all his mental energies on the work in harfld, thus 
 endeavoring to shut out memory which possessed nothing 
 but pain for him. Every now and then a quick, sidelong 
 glance in the children's direction kept him informed of their 
 doings and safety, otherwise his eyes were rarely raised from 
 the iron bath, filled to the brim with its frothing suds. 
 
 Striding down the slope from the hut where he had come 
 in search of Scipio, this was the picture Wild Bill discov- 
 
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 217 
 
 ered. The little yellow-headed man was standing in the 
 midst of a small clearing in the bushes, a clearing long since 
 made for the purposes of his wife's weekly wash. His back 
 was turned, and his small figure was bowed over the tub in 
 front of him. Every bush around him was decorated with 
 clothes laid out on their leafy surfaces, where the sun could 
 best operate its hygienic drying process. He saw the bob- 
 bing heads of the mudlarking children a few yards away 
 where the low cut-bank hid their small bodies from view. 
 And somehow an unusual pity stirred his hard, world-worn 
 heart. 
 
 And yet no one could have called him a sentimental man. 
 At least, no one who knew his method of life. How would 
 it be possible to gild a man with humane leanings who would 
 sit in to a game at poker, and, if chance came his way, take 
 from any opponent his last cent of money, even if he knew 
 that a wife and children could be reduced to starvation 
 thereby? How could a kindliness of purpose be read into 
 the acts of a man who would have no scruple in taking life, 
 under provocation, without the least mercy or qualm of con- 
 science? He displayed no tenderness, he hated what he 
 considered such weakness. It was his studied practice to 
 avoid showing consideration for others, and he would have 
 bitterly resented those who considered him. He preferred 
 that his attitude towards the world should be one of un- 
 yielding selfishness. Such was the game of life as he under- 
 stood it. 
 
 Yes, honestly enough, he hated sentiment, and for this 
 very reason he cursed himself bitterly that such a feeling 
 as he now experienced should so disturb hiiru He hurried 
 down the slope a shade quicker than there was any necessity 
 for. And it was as though he were endeavoring to outstrip 
 the feelings which pursued him. 
 
 Scipio heard him coming, and glanced round quickly. 
 When he beheld his visitor he nodded a greeting and con- 
 
218 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 tinued his work. In his heart was a curious feeling towards 
 the gambler. He could not have described it. It was too 
 complicated. He liked Wild Bill. He felt that for some 
 indefinite reason he was his friend. Yet he resented him, 
 too. He did not know he resented him. Only he felt that 
 this man dominated him, and he was forced to obey him 
 against his will. At sight of him his mind went back to 
 the events of that morning. He thought of Bill's promise, 
 and a curious excitement stirred within him. He wondered 
 now what this visit portended. 
 
 For once the gambler did not display his usual readiness. 
 He did not speak for some moments, but took up a position 
 whence he could see the children at their play, and best watch 
 the little washerman, on whom he intended to thrust a prop- 
 osition that had been revolving in his mind some time. He 
 chewed his tobacco steadily, while his expression went 
 through many changes. At last he drew his shaggy brows 
 together and eyed his victim with shrewd suspicion. 
 
 " Say, you're kind o' smart, ain't you ? " he demanded 
 harshly. 
 
 The other looked up with a start, and his mildly inquiring 
 glance should have convinced the most skeptical to the con- 
 trary. But apparently it had no such effect on his visitor. 
 
 " I'd never ha' tho't it," Bill went on coldly. " To look 
 at you one 'ud sure think you was that simple a babby could 
 fool you. Howsum," he sighed, " I don't guess you ken 
 never rightly tell." 
 
 A flush began to warm Scipio's cheeks. He couldn't un- 
 derstand. He wondered hard, vainly endeavoring to grasp 
 wherein he had offended. 
 
 "I I don't get you," he said, in a bewildered fashion, 
 dropping the garment he was washing back into the soap- 
 suds. 
 
 Bill's expression underwent another change as he caught 
 at the words. 
 
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 219 
 
 " You don't get me? " he said ironically. " You don't get 
 me?" Then he shrugged as though he was not angry, but 
 merely deplored the other's unsuspected cunning. ' You 
 can't strike it rich an' guess you're goin' to blind folks. I'd 
 say it needs every sort of a man to do that around these 
 parts." 
 
 Scipio gasped. He had no other feeling than blank as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " I ain't struck it rich," he protested. 
 
 And his denial was received with a forced peal of laughter. 
 
 " Say, you're a heap shrewd/' cried Bill, when his laugh 
 had subsided. " I'd say you're jest about slick. Gee ! Wai, 
 I can't blame you any fer holdin' your face shut. Ther's 
 a mint o' dollars ken drop out of a feller's mouth through 
 an unnatteral openin'. Ef you'd got busy gassin', it's a 
 million dollar bet all the folks around this lay-out 'ud be 
 chasin' you clear to death. Say, it's right, though ? There's 
 chunks of it stickin' right out, fine, yaller, dandy gold. An' 
 the quartz bank cuttin' down wider an' wider ? " 
 
 But Scipio shook his head. His bewilderment had gone, 
 and in place of it was sad conviction. 
 
 " Not yet," he said. " Not yet. I ain't seen it, anyway. 
 I sure think there's gold in plenty on that claim. I know 
 there is," he added, with unusual force, his pulses begin- 
 ning to quicken, and a sudden hope stirring. Bill's accusa- 
 tion was aiding the effect. " But it ain't on the surface. It 
 sure ain't." 
 
 He stood wondering, all his washing forgotten in this 
 newly raised hope so subtly stirred by the gambler. Had 
 someone else discovered what he had missed for so long. 
 He hadn't been near his claim for some days. Had some- 
 one ? 
 
 " Who says about the gold ? " he demanded, with sudden 
 inspiration. 
 
 " The folks." 
 
220 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 The gambler passed the point without committing himself. 
 
 Scipio shook his head, puzzling. Something must surely 
 have transpired, and yet 
 
 " You got me beat, Bill. You have, sure." The smile 
 that accompanied his words was good to see. But somehow 
 the gambler found the far horizon of more interest just then. 
 
 " You're a wide one all right," he said thoughtfully. 
 " There's no gettin' upsides with you. Give me them quiet, 
 simple sort o' fellers every time. They got the gas machine 
 beat so far you couldn't locate him with a forty-foot mi- 
 croscope. Gee ! " He chuckled, and turned again to con- 
 template his companion, much as he would a newly discov- 
 ered wonder of the world. 
 
 But poor Scipio was really becoming distressed. He 
 hoped, merely because the other forced him to hope, by his 
 own evident sincerity. But the charge of shrewdness, of 
 conspiring to keep a secret he had never possessed, worried 
 him. 
 
 " I take my oath I don't know a thing, Bill," he declared 
 earnestly. " I sure don't. You've got to believe me, be- 
 cause I can't say more. I seen my claim days back, an' I 
 hadn't a color. I ain't seen it since. That's fact." 
 
 It was strange to see how readily the disbelief died out 
 of the other's face. It was almost magical. It was as 
 though his previous expression had been nothing but acting 
 and his fresh attitude the result of studied preparation. 
 
 " Well, Zip," he said seriously, almost dejectedly, " if you 
 put it that way, I sure got to b'lieve you. But it's queer. It 
 sure is. There's folks ready to swear ther's rich gold on 
 your claim, an' I'll tell you right here I come along to git 
 in on it. Y'see, I'm a bizness man, an* I don't rigger to 
 git a crop o' weeds growin' around my feet. I sez to myself, 
 I sez, directly I heerd tell, ' Here's Zip with an elegant 
 patch o' pay dirt, an' here am I with a wad of bills handy, 
 which I'd sure like to turn over some/ Then I sez I want 
 
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 221 
 
 you to understand jest how I thought I sez, ' Mebbe I've 
 kind o' bin useful to Zip. Helped him out some, when he 
 was fixed awkward/ You see, it ain't my way to do things 
 for nothing. An' I do allow I bin useful to you. Well, I 
 thought o' these things, so I come along right smart to get 
 in on the plum. Sez I, * Zip, bein' under obligation to me 
 some, mebbe he'll let me buy ha'f share in his claim,' me 
 handin' him a thousand dollars. It 'ud be a spot cash deal, 
 an' me puttin' in a feller to work an' see things right f er 
 me why, I guess there'd be no chance o' you gettin' gay 
 an' f akin' the output. See ? I don't guess you're on the 
 crook, but in bizness a feller don't take chances. Y'see I'm 
 pretty bright when it gits to bizness, an', anyway, I don't 
 stand f er no play o' that kind. Get me ? " 
 
 The gambler's manner was wholly severe as he explained 
 his proposition, and impressed his views of business. Scipio 
 listened without the slightest umbrage. He saw nothing 
 wrong, nothing unfriendly in the precautions the other had 
 intended to take. As a matter of fact, the one thing that 
 concerned him was the disappointment he must cause 
 him. 
 
 " There's nothing like straight talk, Bill," he said, cordially. 
 " I allus like straight talk. You kind of know just where 
 you are then. There's not a doubt you've been real good 
 to me," he went on, with evident feeling, " and I'll 
 never be able to forget it never. I tell you right here, if 
 there was anything in the world I could do in return, I'd 
 do it." 
 
 He smiled quaintly and pushed his stubby fingers through 
 his sparse hair in his most helpless manner. 
 
 " If there was gold on my claim, I'd let you in all you 
 need, and I wouldn't want your dollars. Dollars? No, 
 Bill, I don't want dollars for doing anything for you. I sure 
 don't. I mean that. Maybe you'll understand, y'see I'm 
 not a business man never was." 
 
222 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 The gambler averted his eyes. He could not look into 
 the other's face so shining with honesty and gratitude. 
 
 " But there ain't no gold found on that claim yet," Scipio 
 went on. " Leastways, not that I know of, so what's the 
 use deceivin' you ? An' dollars, why, there's no question of 
 'em between us. You can stand in ha'f my claim, Bill, an' 
 welcome, but you ain't going to pay me dollars for gold that 
 ain't been found. Yes, you're sure welcome to ha'f my 
 claim, an' you ken set a man working for you. I'll not say 
 but I'll be glad of the help. But don't make no mistake, 
 gold ain't been found, as far as I know, an' there may be 
 none there, so I'd be glad if you don't risk a lot of dollars 
 in the work." 
 
 The gambler felt mean as he listened to the quiet words 
 ringing with such simple honesty. Time and again his beady 
 eyes lifted to the steady blue ones, only to drop quickly be- 
 fore their fearless sincerity. He stirred irritably, and a hot 
 impatience with himself drove him so that the moment Scipio 
 finished speaking he broke out at once. 
 
 " Here," he cried, without the least gentleness, " you're 
 talkin' a heap o' foolishness. I'm a bizness man offerin' a 
 bizness proposition. I don't want nuthin' given. I'm out 
 to make a deal. You say there's no gold there. Wai, I say 
 there sure is. That bein' so I'd be a low down skunk takin' 
 ha'f your claim fer nix, jest because you guess you owe me 
 things which I 'low you sure do, speakin' plain. I got a 
 thousand dollars right here," he pulled out a packet of bills 
 from his hip pocket, and held them up for the other's inspec- 
 tion " an' them dollars says ther's gold on your claim. 
 An' I'm yearnin' to touch ha'f that gold. But I'm takin' no 
 chances. I want it all wrote down reg'lar so folks can't 
 say I sneaked around you, an' got it for nix. Gee, I'd look 
 mighty small if you turned around on me afterwards. No, 
 sir, you don't get me that way. I'm only soft around my 
 teeth. If you're the man I take you for, if you're honest 
 
 
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 223 
 
 as you're guessin', if you feel you want to pay me fer any- 
 thing I done for you, why, cut the gas an' take my dollars, 
 an' I'll get the papers made out by a Spawn City lawyer. 
 They're all that crooked they couldn't walk a chalk-line, but 
 I guess they know how to bind a feller good an' tight, an' 
 I'll see they bind you up so ther' won't be no room for fool 
 tricks. That's bizness." 
 
 Scipio shook his head. And Bill flushed angrily. 
 
 " It ain't square," the little man protested. " Maybe 
 you'll lose your money." 
 
 " That's up to me," the gambler began fiercely. Then he 
 checked himself, and suddenly became quite grieved. 
 " Wai, Zip, I wouldn't ha' b'lieved it. I sure wouldn't. But 
 ther' life's jest self. It's all self. You're like all the rest. 
 I've been chasin' a patch o' good pay dirt ever since I bin 
 around Sufferin' Creek, an' it's only now I've found one to 
 suit me. I sure thought you'd let me in on it. I sure did. 
 Howsum, you won't. You want it all yourself. Wall, go 
 ahead. An' you needn't worry about what I told you this 
 morning. My word goes every time. This ain't going to 
 make no difference. I'm not goin' to squeal on that jest 
 because you won't 'blige me." 
 
 He made as though to return his dollars to his pocket. 
 He had turned away, but his shrewd eyes held his companion 
 in their focus. He saw the flush of shame on Scipio's face. 
 He saw him open his mouth to speak. Then he saw it shut 
 as he left his tub and came towards him. Bill waited, his 
 cunning telling him to keep up his pretense. Scipio did not 
 pause till he laid a hand on his arm, and his mild eyes were 
 looking up into his keen, hard face. 
 
 " Bill," he said, " you can have ha'f my claim and and 
 I'll take your dollars. I jest didn't guess I was bein' selfish 
 about it I didn't, truth. I was thinkin' o' you. I was 
 thinkin' you might lose your bills. Y'see, I haven't had the 
 best of luck I " 
 
224 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 But the gambler's face was a study as he pushed his hand 
 off and turned on him. There was a fine struggle going on 
 in his manner between the harshness he wished to display 
 and the glad triumph he really felt. 
 
 "Don't slob," he cried. " Here's the bills. Stuff 'em 
 right down in your dip. Ha'f that claim is mine, an' I'll 
 have the papers wrote reg'lar. I didn't think you was mean, 
 an' I'm glad you ain't." 
 
 Scipio took the money reluctantly enough, and pushed it 
 into his pocket with a sigh. But Bill had had enough of the 
 matter. He turned to go, moving hastily. Then, of a 
 sudden, he remembered. Thrusting his hand into a side 
 pocket of his jacket he produced a paper parcel. 
 
 " Say, Zip, I come nigh forgettin'," he cried cheerfully. 
 " The hash-slinger down at Minky's ast me to hand you 
 this. It's for the kiddies. It's candy. I'd say she's sweet 
 on your kiddies. She said I wasn't to let you know she'd 
 sent 'em. So you ken jest kep your face closed. So long." 
 
 He hurried away like a man ashamed. Scipio had such 
 a way of looking into his eyes. But once out of sight he 
 slackened his pace. And presently a smile crept into his 
 small eyes, that set them twinkling. 
 
 " Guess I'm every kind of a f ule," he muttered. " A 
 thousand dollars ! Gee ! An' ther' ain't gold within a mile 
 of the doggone claim 'cep' when Zip's ther'," he added 
 thoughtfully. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 
 
 WILD BILL ate his supper that evening because it was his 
 custom to do so. He had no inclination for it, and it gave 
 him no enjoyment. He treated the matter much as he would 
 have treated the stoking of a stove on a winter's night. So 
 long as he was filled up he cared little for the class of the 
 fuel. 
 
 Birdie waited on him with an attention and care such as 
 she never bestowed upon any other boarder at the store, 
 and the look in her bright eyes as she forestalled his wishes, 
 compared with the air with which she executed the 
 harshly delivered orders of the rest of the men, was quite 
 sufficient to enlighten the casual onlooker as to the state of 
 her romantic heart. But her blandishments were quite lost 
 upon our hero. He treated her with much the same sort of 
 indifference he might have displayed towards one of the 
 camp dogs. 
 
 To-night, particularly, nothing she could do or say seemed 
 to give him the least satisfaction. He ignored her as he 
 ignored all the rest of the boarders, and devoured his meal 
 in absolute silence in so far as any speech went wrapt 
 in an impenetrable moroseness which had a damping effect 
 upon the entire company. 
 
 Truth to tell, he was obsessed with his thoughts and feel- 
 ings against the man James. With every passing day his 
 resentment against him piled up, till now he could think of 
 nothing much else but a possible way to dislodge him from 
 the pinnacle of his local notoriety, and so rid the district of 
 the threat of his presence. 
 
226 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 How much of this feeling was purely personal, inspired by 
 the natural antagonism of a strong, even violent, nature 
 against a man whose very existence was an everlasting chal- 
 lenge to him, and how far it was the result of an unadmitted 
 sympathy for Scipio, it would have been impossible to tell in 
 a man like Wild Bill. Reason was not in such things with 
 him. He never sought reasons where his feelings were con- 
 cerned. James must go. And so his whole mind and force 
 was given up to a search for adequate means to accomplish 
 his purpose. 
 
 The problem was not easy. And when things were not 
 easy to him, Bill's temper invariably suffered. Besides, 
 scheming was never pleasant to him. He was so essentially 
 a man of action. An open battle appealed to him as nothing 
 else in the world appealed to him. Force of arms that 
 was his conception of the settlement of human differences. 
 
 He admitted to himself that the events of the day had 
 stirred his "bile." He felt that he must hit out to ease 
 himself, and the one direction to hit out in which would 
 have given him any satisfaction was not yet available. So 
 he brooded on, a smoldering volcano which his acquaint- 
 ances avoided with a care inspired by past experience. 
 
 But his mood was bound to find an outlet somehow. It 
 is always so. If the opportunity does not come naturally, 
 ill-temper will make one. It was this way with the gambler. 
 A devilish impulse caught him just as supper was nearing its 
 finish. 
 
 The thought occurred with the entrance of Sandy Joyce, 
 who took the empty place at the table on Bill's right. Birdie 
 was hovering near, and, as Sandy took his seat, she suddenly 
 dumped a fresh cup of coffee before the gambler. She gig- 
 gled coyly as the cup clattered on the bare table. 
 
 " I ain't set sugar in it, Bill," she said sweetly, and reached 
 towards the sugar-bowl. 
 
 But the man pushed her arm roughly aside. 
 
HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 227 
 
 " Oh, skip ! " he cried. " You make me sick." 
 
 His bearishness in no way disconcerted the girl. She per- 
 sisted, and dropped two spoonfuls of granulated sugar into 
 his cup. 
 
 " Some folks need sugar," she remarked, with another 
 giggle, as she moved away. And somehow it was Bill who 
 had suffered loss of dignity. 
 
 This only helped to aggravate his mood, and he turned his 
 small eyes sharply on Sandy. 
 
 " I'm needin' someone to work a claim fer me," he said 
 in a voice intended to reach every ear, and as he spoke a 
 curious look came into his eyes. It was half a grin, half a 
 challenge, and wholly meant mischief. 
 
 The effect was exactly as he had calculated. The entire 
 attention of the room was on him at once, and he warmed 
 as he waited for Sandy's reply. 
 
 " You you got a claim ? " the widower inquired blankly. 
 
 Bill licked his lips after devouring a mouthful of pie. 
 
 " An' why in hell not ? " he retorted. 
 
 Before Sandy could gather an adequate reply, the matter 
 was taken up by a young miner further down the table. 
 
 " Wher' you got it, Bill ? " he inquired, with genuine 
 interest. 
 
 The gambler swallowed another mouthful of pie, and 
 rammed the rim of crust into his cheek with his thumb, and 
 leisurely devoured it before replying. 
 
 " I don't see that my claim has anything to do wi' the 
 company present," he said at last, with a dangerous look in 
 his half -grinning eyes. " But, seein' Mr. Joe Brand is kind 
 o' curious, guess he may as well know first as last." 
 
 " I didn't mean no offense, Bill," apologized the miner, 
 flushing and speaking hurriedly. 
 
 Bill promptly became sarcastic. 
 
 " Course you didn't. Folks buttin' in never don't mean no 
 offense. Howsum, guess my claim's on the banks o' Sufferin' 
 
228 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Creek. Maybe you feel better now ? " He glared down the 
 table, but finally turned again to Sandy. " You ain't per- 
 tickler busy 'bout now, so ther's thirty dollars a week says 
 you ken hev the job. An' I'll give you a percentage o' the 
 gold you wash up," he added dryly. " You on ? " 
 
 Sandy nodded. He didn't quite understand his friend's 
 game. This was the first he had heard of Bill having 
 acquired a claim and on the river, too. There was only 
 one other man on the river, and well, Zip's claim was the 
 joke of the camp. 
 
 He had just formulated a question in his mind, when the 
 words were taken out of his mouth by a heavy-faced pros- 
 pector further down the table. 
 
 " Wher' 'bouts on the Creek, Bill? " he inquired. 
 
 The gambler eyed him intently. 
 
 " Quite a piece up," he said shortly. 
 
 A half-smile spread over the prospector's face. 
 
 " Not nigh Zip's ? " he suggested. 
 
 The half-grin in Bill's eyes was becoming more savage. 
 
 "Yep an' I bought it." 
 
 His information increased the interest with a bound. 
 Every man there knew, or believed, that Zip's claim was the 
 only one on the Creek. 
 
 " I didn't know there was any other but Zip's," said Joe 
 Brand, his interest outrunning his discretion. 
 
 " Ah, you buttin' in again," sneered Bill. " Guess you 
 know right, too. Ther' ain't." 
 
 It was curious to glance down at the double row of faces 
 lining the table and note the perplexity which suddenly 
 gathered on them. Bill saw it and enjoyed it. It suited his 
 mood. Finally the heavy-faced prospector blurted out the 
 question that was in everybody's mind, yet which the others 
 dared not ask. 
 
 " You you bought Zip's claim ? " he asked incredu- 
 lously. 
 
HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 229 
 
 " Ha'f of it. Me an' Zip's partners. You got anything 
 to say?" 
 
 Bill's words rapped out with biting force, and Sandy, 
 knowing the man, waited, solemn-eyed. Just for one mo- 
 ment astonishment held his audience breathless. Then some 
 one sniggered, and it became the cue for an instantaneous 
 and general guffaw of derision. Every face was wreathed 
 in a broad grin. The humor of this thing was too much. 
 Zip's claim ! Bill, the keen, unscrupulous gambler, had fal- 
 len for Zip's mud-hole on the banks of Suffering Creek ! 
 
 Bill waited. The laugh was what he needed, so he waited 
 till it died out. As it did so he kicked back his chair and 
 stood up, his tall figure and hard face a picture of cold 
 challenge. 
 
 " You're that merry, folks," he said, his teeth clipping each 
 word, " that maybe some o' you got something to say. I'd 
 like to hear it. No ? " as he waited. But no one seemed 
 anxious to comment. " Joe Brand kind o' seems fond o' 
 buttin' in mebbe he'll oblige." 
 
 But the young miner was not to be drawn. Bill shrugged 
 his lean shoulders, his fierce eyes alight with a dangerous 
 fire. 
 
 " Wai," he went on, " I don't guess I ken make folks talk 
 if they don't notion it. But I want to say right here I bought 
 ha'f o' Zip's claim fer good dollars, an' I'm goin' to pay 
 Sandy Joyce a tiptop wage fer workin' my share. An' " 
 he paused and glanced swiftly and defiantly at the faces 
 which were no longer smiling " an' I want to say I bought 
 the richest lay-out in this bum camp. Any feller who ain't 
 o' the same opinion ken git right up on to his hind legs an' 
 call me a ' liar ' an' I'm jest yearnin' fer some feller to git 
 around an' call me that. Jest turn it over in your fool heads. 
 You don't need to hurry any. Ther's days an' days to come, 
 an' at any time I'll be glad fer all o' you to come along an* 
 tell me I'm a liar." 
 
230 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 He paused, his fierce eyes gleaming. He felt good. His 
 outburst had relieved his pent feelings. It was a safety- 
 valve which had worked satisfactorily at the right moment. 
 But as he received no answer to his challenge he turned 
 to Sandy. 
 
 " Ther' don't seem to be nuthin' doin'," he said, with a 
 grim smile. " So ef you'll come right along we'll fix 
 things out in the store. Guess you ken finish your hash 
 after." 
 
 Sandy rose. For a moment Bill did not attempt to move. 
 It was as though he were giving the rest of the boarders one 
 last chance of accepting his challenge. But as no one offered 
 any comment or made any attempt to stay him, he turned 
 away at last with a sigh which was probably of disappoint- 
 ment, and led the way out into the store. 
 
 But if the men had made no comment in his presence, it 
 was a different matter after his departure. Loud indigna- 
 tion broke out, and fierce, if impotent, protest passed from 
 lip to lip. It was only for a few moments, however, and 
 presently anger gave place to a realization of the absurdity 
 of the whole thing. 
 
 The humor of these men was tickled. The whole thing 
 was too ludicrous for words. To think that Wild Bill, the 
 renowned sharp, the shrewdest, the widest man on Suffering 
 Creek, had fallen for such a proposition ! It was certainly 
 the funniest, the best joke that had ever come their way. 
 How had it happened? they asked each other. Had Zip 
 been clever enough to " salt " his claim ? It was hardly 
 likely. Only they knew he was hard up, and it was just 
 possible, with his responsibilities weighing heavily on him, 
 he had resorted to an illicit practice to realize on his prop- 
 erty. They thought of and discussed every possible means 
 they could think of by which Bill could have been lured to 
 the hook and caught and landed. That was the joke. 
 It was astounding. It was too good. To-morrow the whole 
 
HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 231 
 
 camp would be ringing with laughter at the news, but 
 but the laughter was not likely to reach the gambler's 
 ears. 
 
 In the meantime it was quite a different man who was 
 lounging over Minky's counter talking to Sandy and the 
 storekeeper. Bill had relieved the pressure of his mood for 
 the moment, and now, like a momentarily exhausted volcano, 
 he was enjoying the calm of reaction. 
 
 " I'll need you to start work right away," he was saying, 
 " an' you ken draw on me fer all the supplies you need. It's 
 a dandy claim/' he went on grimly, " but I don't know fer 
 sure what you'll likely find on it. Maybe you'll find suthin' 
 if you work long enough. Anyways, you'll start by 
 sinkin' a shaft ; an' you'll kep on sinkin' it till till I tell you 
 to quit." 
 
 " But that ain't the regular way gold " 
 
 "Say, whose claim is it? Am I payin' you or not?" 
 demanded the gambler sharply. 
 
 " Sure you are, but you said it was the richest " 
 
 " That was back ther' at supper," said Bill coldly. 
 " Guess supper's over." 
 
 Sandy had no quickness of understanding. He did not 
 appreciate the fineness of the distinction. He shook his 
 head solemnly. 
 
 " Maybe I ain't jest bright enuff to foller " 
 
 " You ain't," agreed Bill shortly. 
 
 He winked at Minky, who was listening interestedly. 
 Then he turned abruptly and pointed at the array of patent 
 medicines adorning one of the shelves. 
 
 " Say," he cried, " 'bout them physics." 
 
 Minky turned and gazed affectionately at the shelf. It 
 was the pride of his store. He always kept it well dusted 
 and dressed. The delicate wrappings and fancy labels al- 
 ways had a strong fascination for him. Then there were the 
 curative possibilities of the contents of the inviting packages 
 
232 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 as set forth by the insistent " drummer " who sold them to 
 him. 
 
 " An elegant stock," he murmured. " Sort of concen- 
 trated health/' Then he glanced round anxiously. " Your 
 hosses ain't ailin' ? " he inquired. " I got most everything 
 fer hosses. Ther's embrocation, hoss iles, every sort of lin'- 
 ments. Hoss balls ? Linseed ? " 
 
 The gambler shook his head. 
 
 " You ain't got physic fer men-folk ? " he inquired. 
 
 " I sure have. But but you ain't sick ? " Minky eyed 
 his friend narrowly. 
 
 Bill's mouth twisted wryly. 
 
 " I ain't jest sick," he replied. " But," he added hopefully, 
 " you can't never be sure." 
 
 Minky nodded. 
 
 " That's so. I'd say you don't look a heap sick, though." 
 
 " You sure don't," agreed Sandy. " But, as you sez, 
 you can't never tell. Now, you buyin' ha'f Zip's claim 
 makes " His words died down to a thoughtful murmur. 
 Bill's look was somehow discouraging as he pointed at the 
 medicine. 
 
 " What you got ? " he demanded abruptly. 
 
 " Why, most everything," said Minky. " Ther', you see 
 that longish bottle? That's a dandy cough cure. Guess 
 you ain't needin' that ? No ? Ah ! " as Bill shook his head, 
 " I didn't guess you'd a cough. Corns ? Now, this yer 
 packet is an elegant fixin' fer corns, soft an' hard. It jest 
 kills 'em stone dead, sure. It's bully stuff, but 'tain't good 
 fer eatin'. You ain't got corns? " he inquired, as Bill again 
 shook his head. " Ah, seems a pity." He turned again to 
 the shelf, determined, if possible, to suit his customer, and 
 lifted down a number of packets and sealed bottles. " Now, 
 here," he cried, holding up a dainty box tied up with a 
 delicate-colored ribbon. For a moment his audience believed 
 it to be candy, but he quickly undeceived them, " Now this 
 
HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 233 
 
 yer is dandy truck, though I don't guess ther's a heap o' use 
 fer it on Suffering Creek. It's fer softening alkali water. 
 When the drummer told me that, I guessed to him ther' 
 wa'an't a heap o' water drunk in this camp. But he said it 
 wa'an't fer drihkin' water ; it was fer baths. I kind o' told 
 him that wouldn't help the sale any, so he said it could be 
 used fer washin'. Seein' he couldn't sell me any that way 
 neither, he got riled an' give me a present of it, an' said he 
 guessed Sufferin' Creek did use water fer washing gold. 
 Y'see, its price is a dollar an' a ha'f, but, seem' it's kind o' 
 dead stock, you ken have it a present." 
 
 Bill took it. 
 
 " It's mine," he said. And Sandy watched him with some 
 concern. 
 
 " You you ain't takin' a bath ? " he inquired nervously. 
 
 " Don't talk foolish," cried Bill, and turned again to his 
 scrutiny of the shelf. " What else you got? Any stummick 
 physic ? " 
 
 " Sure." Minky held up a small bottle of tabloids. 
 " Camel-hell," he said, with the assurance of a man who 
 knows the worth of the article he is offering for sale. 
 " Now this yer is Camel-hell C-a-1-o-m-e-l. And I'd sure 
 say the name is appropriate. That doggone * drummer ' fel- 
 ler said ther' was enough in one o' them bottles to kep the 
 stummicks of a whole blamed menagerie right fer six 
 months. It's real dandy " 
 
 He broke off suddenly, and his look of enthusiasm was 
 abruptly replaced by one of anxious interest that bordered 
 closely on apprehension. His audience realized the change, 
 and both men glanced swiftly in the direction whence the 
 storekeeper's gaze had become so suddenly concentrated. 
 Instantly they became aware that two strangers had quietly 
 entered the store, and had taken their places at one of the 
 tables under the open window. 
 
 Bill thought he recognized one of the men, but was not 
 
234 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 sure where he had seen him. Sandy saw nothing remarkable 
 in their presence, and at once turned back to the counter. 
 
 " More of 'em," said Minky in a low tone, when finally 
 Bill turned back to him. 
 
 " Yes. Many while I bin away ? " 
 
 " Four or five. All. come along fer a game it seems/' 
 Minky's eyes were brooding. 
 
 Suddenly a light of intelligence sprang into Bill's thought- 
 ful face. 
 
 " Ah, I remember one o* them. I see him in Spawn City 
 in a bum gamblin' dive." 
 
 Sandy suddenly roused to a keen interest. 
 
 " Them strangers," he said " that 'minds me I was 
 talkin' to one last night. He was askin' me when a stage 
 was running from here." 
 
 "What d'you tell him?" demanded Bill quickly, and 
 Minky's eyes asked the question too. 
 
 Sandy laughed conceitedly. 
 
 " I sure said ther' wa'an't no stages runnin', with James' 
 gang around. I wa'an't goin' to give nuthin' away to 
 strangers. Y'see, if I'd pretended we was sendin' out stages, 
 we'd have that gang hangin' around waitin'. 'Tain't no use 
 in gatherin' wasps around a m'lasses-pot." 
 
 "No. You didn't tell him nuthin' else?" Bill inquired, 
 eyeing him shrewdly. 
 
 " I did that," said Sandy triumphantly. " I filled him up 
 good. I jest told him we was wise to James an' his gang, 
 an' was takin' no chances, seein' Sufferm' Creek was such a 
 rich lay-out. I told him we was bankin' up the gold right 
 here, an' holdin' it till the pile was so big we could claim a 
 Gover'ment escort that could snap their fingers at James an' 
 his lay-out." 
 
 A swift exchange of glances passed between the gambler 
 and the storekeeper. And then, in a quiet voice, Bill de- 
 manded 
 
HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE 235 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 " Nothing o' consequence," replied Sandy, feeling he had 
 acquitted himself well. " He jest asted if Minky here 
 banked the stuff, an' I 'lowed he did." 
 
 " Ah ! " There was an ominous sparkle in Bill's eyes as 
 he breathed his ejaculation. Then, with a quiet sarcasm 
 quite lost on the obtuse widower, " You'd make an elegant 
 sheriff's officer. You'd raise hell with the crooks." 
 
 Sandy appeared pleased with what he took for praise. 
 
 " I'd show 'em some " 
 
 But Bill had turned to the storekeeper. 
 
 " We've got to git doin'. I've heerd a heap in Spawn 
 City. Anyway, it was bound to git around. What he's 
 said don't matter a heap. What I've heerd tells me we've 
 got to git busy quick. We've got to clean you out of 
 stuff, or ther's goin' to be a most outrageous unhealthy time 
 on Sufferin' Creek. We'll fix things to-morrer. Bern' Sun- 
 day," he added grimly, " it'll be an elegant day fer settin' 
 things right. Meanwhiles, I'll ast you to fix me a parcel o' 
 them physics, jest some of each, an' you ken git Sunny Oak 
 to pass 'em right on to Zip fer his kids. Guess they'll worry 
 out how best to dose 'em right." 
 
 Minky nodded, but his eyes were gloomily watching the 
 two strangers sitting under the window. Sandy, however, 
 suddenly brightened into a wide smile. 
 
 " Sure," he cried delightedly, slapping his thigh in his 
 exuberance. " That's it. Course. It's all writ in the reg'- 
 lations fer raisin' them kids. Gee ! you had me beat clear to 
 death. Physic ev'ry Saturday night. Blamed if this ain't 
 Saturday an' t'-morrer's Sunday. An' I tho't you was 
 sufferin' and needed physic. Say " 
 
 But Bill, too, was watching the strangers with interested 
 eyes. He was paying no sort of attention to this wonderful 
 discovery of his bright friend. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 SCIPIO MAKES PREPARATIONS 
 
 SCIPIO'S impulses were, from his own point of view, 
 entirely practical. Whatever he did, he did with his whole 
 heart. And if his results somehow missed coming out as 
 he intended them, it was scarcely his fault. Rather was it 
 the misfortune of being burdened with a superfluous energy, 
 supported by inadequate thought. 
 
 And he felt something of this as he sat in his living-room 
 and glanced round him at the unaccountable disorder that 
 maintained. It was Sunday morning, and all his spare time 
 in his home on Saturday had been spent in cleaning and 
 scrubbing and putting straight, and yet and yet He 
 passed a stubby hand across his forehead, as though to brush 
 aside the vision of the confusion he beheld. 
 
 He knew everything was wrong, and a subconscious feel- 
 ing told him that he had no power to put things right. It 
 was curious, too. Every utensil, every stick of furniture, 
 the floor, the stove, everything had been scrubbed and 
 garnished at a great expense of labor. Everything had been 
 carefully bestowed in the place which, to his mind, seemed 
 most suited for its disposal. Yet now, as he gazed about 
 him at the result, he knew that only a cleanly untidiness 
 prevailed, and he felt disheartened. 
 
 Look at the children's clean clothes, carefully folded with 
 almost painful exactness; yet they were like a pile of rags 
 just thrown together. And their unironed condition added 
 to the illusion. Every cooking-pot and pan had been cleaned 
 and polished, yet, to his eyes, the litter of them suggested 
 
SCIPIO MAKES PREPARATIONS 237 
 
 one of the heaps of iron scraps out on the dumps. How 
 was it every piece of china looked forlornly suggestive of 
 a wanderer without a home? No, he did not know. He 
 had done his very best, and yet everything seemed to need 
 just that magic touch to give his home the requisite well- 
 cared-for air. 
 
 He was disappointed, and his feelings were plainly to be 
 perceived in the regretful glance of his pale eyes. For some 
 moments his optimistic energy rose and prompted him to be- 
 gin all over again, but he denied himself this satisfaction as 
 he glanced through the window at the morning sun. It was 
 too high up in the sky. There was other work yet before 
 him, with none too much time for its performance before 
 the mid-day meal. 
 
 Instead, he turned to the " regulations " which Sunny Oak 
 had furnished him with, and, with an index finger following 
 out the words, he read down the details of the work for 
 Sunday in so far as his twins were concerned. 
 
 " Ah," he murmured, " I got the wash done yesterday. 
 It says here Monday. That's kind of a pity." Then he 
 brightened into hopefulness. " Guess I kin do those things 
 again Monday. I sort o' fancy they could do with another 
 wash 'fore the kiddies wear them. I never could wash 
 clothes right, first time. Now, Sunday." His finger passed 
 slowly from one detail to another. " Breakfast yes. 
 Bath. Ah, guess that comes next. Now, 'bout that bath." 
 He glanced anxiously round him. Then he turned back to 
 the regulations. " It don't say whether hot or cold," he 
 muttered disappointedly. 
 
 For a moment he stood perplexed. Then he began to 
 reason the matter out with himself. It was summer. For 
 grown-ups it would naturally be a cold bath, but he was not 
 so sure about children. They were very young, and it 
 would be so easy for them to take cold, he thought. No, it 
 had best be hot. He would cook some water. This thought 
 
238 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 prompting him, he set the saucepan on the stove and stirred 
 the fire. 
 
 He was turning back to his regulations, when it occurred 
 to him that he must now find something to bathe the children 
 in. Glancing about amongst the few pots he possessed, he 
 realized that the largest saucepan, or " billy," in the house 
 would not hold more than a gallon of water. No, these 
 were no use, for though he exercised all his ingenuity he 
 could see no way of bathing the children in any of them. 
 Once during his cogitations he was very nearly inspired. It 
 flashed through his mind that he might stand each child out- 
 side of a couple of pots and wash them all over that way. 
 But he quickly negatived the thought. That wasn't his idea 
 of a bath. They must sit in the water. 
 
 He was about to give the matter up in despair, when, in a 
 moment of inspiration, he remembered the washing-tub. Of 
 course, that was the very thing. They could both sit in that 
 together. It was down at the river, but he could easily fetch 
 it up. 
 
 So he turned again in relief to the regulations. What 
 next? He found his place, and read the directions out 
 slowly. 
 
 " ' After their bath kids needs an hour's Bible talk.' " 
 
 He read it again. And then a third time, so as to make 
 quite sure. Then he turned thoughtfully to the door, staring 
 out at the bright sunlight beyond. He could hear the chil- 
 dren's voices as they played outside, but he was not heeding 
 them. He was delving around in a hazy recollection of 
 Bible subjects, which he vaguely remembered having studied 
 when a child. 
 
 It was difficult very difficult. But he was not beaten. 
 There were several subjects that occurred to him in scraps. 
 There was Noah. Then there was Moses. He recalled 
 something of Solomon, and he knew that David slew a 
 giant. 
 
SCIPIO MAKES PREPARATIONS 239 
 
 But none of these subjects amounted to more than a dim 
 recollection. Of details he knew none. Worked into a 
 thorough muddle with his worry, he was almost despairing 
 again when suddenly he remembered that Jessie possessed 
 a Bible. Perhaps it was still in the bedroom. He would go 
 and see. It would surely help him. So he promptly went 
 in search of it, and, in a few moments, was sitting down 
 beside the table poring over it and studiously preparing 
 himself for his forthcoming tutelary duties. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 SUNDAY MORNING IN SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 ON the veranda of the store was the usual Sunday morn- 
 ing gathering of the citizens of Suffering Creek, an im- 
 promptu function which occurred as regularly as the sun rose 
 and set. Some of the men were clad in their best black 
 broadcloth, resplendent, if shiny at the seams, and bespotted 
 with drink and tobacco stains. But the majority had made 
 no such effort to differentiate between the seventh day of the 
 week and the other six. The only concession that everyone 
 yielded, and then with bad enough grace in many instances, 
 was to add to the boredom of their day of rest by performing 
 a scanty ablution in the washing trough at the back of the 
 store. 
 
 Minky was one of the few who clung to the customs of 
 his up-bringing. He was there, ample, and gayly beaming, 
 in " boiled " shirt, and a highly colored vest, which clashed 
 effusively with his brilliantly variegated bow-tie, but of 
 which he was inordinately proud. 
 
 It was the custom at these meetings to discuss any matters 
 which affected the well-being of the community, to listen 
 to any item of interest pointing the prosperity of the local 
 gold industry, to thresh out complaints. In fact, it became 
 a sort of Local Government Board, of which the storekeeper 
 was president, and such men as Wild Bill, Sandy Joyce and 
 one or two of the more successful miners formed the 
 governing committee. 
 
 But it was yet comparatively early, and many sore heads 
 were still clinging to their rough pillows. Saturday night 
 
SUNDAY IN SUFFERING CREEK 241 
 
 was always a heavy occasion, and the Sunday morning 
 sleep was a generally acknowledged necessity. However, 
 this did not prevent discussion amongst those already 
 assembled. 
 
 Wild Bill was not there. Sandy Joyce was still absent, 
 although both had been long since stirring. Someone sar- 
 castically suggested that they had gone off to inspect the 
 gambler's rich strike before Sandy got to work on it on the 
 morrow. This drew a great laugh at Wild Bill's expense. 
 And it was only the loyal Minky's voice that checked it. 
 
 " You'se fellers are laffin'," he said, in good-humored 
 reproval. " Wai, laff. I can't say I know why Bill's bo't 
 that claim, but I'll say this: I'd a heap sooner foller his 
 money than any other man's. I've sure got a notion we best 
 do our laffin' right now." 
 
 "That's so," agreed Joe Brand reluctantly. "Bill's a 
 cur'us feller. He's so mighty cur'us I ain't got much use 
 for him personal. But I'll say right here, he's wide 
 enough to beat most any feller at any bluff he's got savvee to 
 put up. Howsum, every * smart ' falls fer things at times. 
 Y'see, they get lookin' fer rich strikes that hard, an' are so 
 busy keppin' other folks out o' them, it's dead easy gettin' 
 'em trippin'. Guess that tow-headed sucker, Zip, 's got him 
 trippin' about now, sure." 
 
 Minky shook his head. He did not believe it. If Bill 
 had been caught napping, he must have willfully gone to 
 sleep. He knew the man too well. However, he had no 
 intention of arguing the matter with these people. So he 
 turned away and stood staring out at the far distance beyond 
 the creek. 
 
 In a few moments the whole matter was dismissed from 
 his mind, and his thoughts filled with a something that lately 
 had become a sort of obsession to him. It was the safety of 
 his gold-dust that troubled, and as each day passed his appre- 
 hensions grew. He felt that trouble was threatening in the 
 
242 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 air of Suffering Creek, and the thought of how easily he 
 might be taken at a disadvantage worried him terribly. He 
 knew that it was imperative for him to unload his gold. 
 But how? How could it be done in safety, in the light of 
 past events? It was suicidal to send it off to Spawn City 
 on a stage, with the James gang watching the district. And 
 the Government ? 
 
 Suddenly his eyes lit excitedly. He pointed out across the 
 creek with startling abruptness, in a direction where the land 
 sloped gradually upwards towards the more distant foothills, 
 in a broken carpet of pine woods. He was indicating a rift 
 in the forest, where, for a long stretch, a wide clearing had 
 been made by the axes of the pioneers of the camp. 
 
 " Ho, fellers! " he cried. " Get a peek yonder. Who's 
 that?" 
 
 In an instant every eye followed the direction of his out- 
 stretched arm. And the men stood silently watching the 
 progress of a horseman racing headlong through the clearing 
 and making for the creek in front of them as fast as his 
 horse could lay legs to the ground. So silent and intent 
 did the group on the veranda become, that faint, yet sharply 
 distinct, even at that distance, the thrashing of the horse's 
 hoofs floated to their straining ears on the still morning air, 
 and set them wondering. 
 
 On came the man at a furious pace. He was leaning far 
 over his horse's neck, so that the whole weight of his body 
 was well clear of the saddle. And as he came the waiting 
 men could plainly see the rise and fall of his arm, as he 
 mercilessly flogged his straining beast. It was Joe Brand 
 who first broke the silence. 
 
 "Looks like Sid Morton," he hazarded. "I kind o' 
 seem to mind his sorrel with four white legs. He's comin' 
 from the right direction, too. Guess his ranch is ten miles 
 up yonder. Say, he's makin' a hell of a bat." 
 
 " He sure is." Jim Wright, the oldest miner in the camp, 
 
SUNDAY IN SUFFERING CREEK 243 
 
 blinked his red-rimmed eyes as they watered with the strain 
 of watching, " It's trouble that's chasin' him," he added, 
 with conviction. " Trouble o' some kind." 
 
 " What sort o' trouble ? " Minky spoke half to him- 
 self. Just now there was only one idea of trouble in his 
 mind. 
 
 Somebody laughed foolishly. 
 
 " There ain't many sorts o' trouble sets a man chasin' 
 like that," said a voice in the background. 
 
 Minky glanced round. 
 
 " What, are they, Van ? " he inquired, and turned back 
 again to his scrutiny of the on-coming horseman. 
 
 " Sickness, an' guns," replied the man addressed as 
 Van, with another foolish laugh. "If it's Sid he ain't got 
 anybody out on his ranch to be sick, 'cep' his two 'punchers. 
 An' I don't guess he'd chase for them. Must be ' guns.' ' ; 
 
 No one answered him. Everybody was too intent on the 
 extraordinary phenomenon. The man was nearing the 
 creek. In a few seconds he would be hidden from view, 
 for the opposite bank lay far below them, cut off from 
 sight by the height of the rising ground intervening on the 
 hither side. 
 
 A moment later a distinct movement amongst the 
 watchers, which had something almost of relief in it, told 
 that this had happened. Minky turned to Jim Wright, who 
 chanced to be nearest him. 
 
 " It's Sid," he declared definitely. 
 
 The old man nodded. 
 
 " An' I guess Van's right," he agreed. 
 
 " He'll be along up in a minute," said Joe Brand. 
 
 Minky remained where he was watching the point at 
 which he expected to see the horseman reappear. This sud- 
 den apparition had fastened itself upon his general appre- 
 hension and become part of it. What was the news the man 
 was bringing? 
 
244 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Some of the men moved off the veranda to meet the horse- 
 man when he came up, but the majority remained where 
 they were. In spite of their interest, these people were 
 rarely carried away by their feelings in a matter of this sort. 
 Time would tell them all they wanted to know. Perhaps 
 a good deal more than they cared to hear. So they pre- 
 ferred to wait. 
 
 Their patience was quickly rewarded. In less than five 
 minutes a bobbing head rose above the brow of the incline. 
 Then came the man. He was still leaning forward to ease 
 his panting horse, whose dilated nostrils and flattened ears 
 told the onlookers of its desperate journey. The leg-weary 
 beast floundered up the steep under quirt and spur 
 and, in a moment, stood tottering, gasping and steaming be- 
 fore the eager crowd. 
 
 Sid Morton almost fell out of the saddle. And as his feet 
 came to the ground he reeled. But Minky caught him, and 
 he steadied himself. 
 
 " I'm beat," the horseman cried desperately. " For 
 mercy's sake hand me a horn o' whisky." 
 
 He flung himself down on the edge of the veranda, leaving 
 his jaded beast to anyone's care. He was too far spent to 
 think of anything or anybody but himself. Falling back 
 against the post he closed his eyes while the silent crowd 
 looked on stupidly. 
 
 Minky seemed to be the only one who fully grasped the 
 situation. He passed the foundered horse on to his 
 " choreman," and then himself procured a stiff drink of rye 
 whisky for the exhausted man. This he administered 
 without a moment's delay, and the ranchman opened his 
 eyes. 
 
 The next instant he sat up, and, in doing so, disclosed a 
 large dark-red patch on the post he had leaned against. 
 Minky saw the ominous stain. 
 
 " Wounded ? " he inquired sharply. 
 
SUNDAY IN SUFFERING CREEK 245 
 
 " Some." Then he added, after a moment's hesitation, 
 " Yes, guess I'm done." 
 
 The ranchman spoke rapidly. For the moment at least 
 his weakness seemed to have passed, and the weariness to 
 have gone out of his eyes and voice. He strained eagerly, 
 his eyes alight and bloodshot. The whisky had given him 
 momentary courage, momentary strength ; the drawn lines of 
 rapidly draining life had smoothed out of his young cheeks. 
 
 " Here, listen," he cried, almost fiercely. " I'm beat. I 
 know. ' But but I want to tell you things. You needn't 
 to notice that hole in my back." He writhed painfully. 
 " Guess they they got my lung or or somethin'. Y'see, 
 it's the James gang. Some of 'em are " a spasm of pain 
 shot athwart his face as he hesitated " 'bout three miles 
 back ther' " 
 
 At this point a terrible fit of coughing interrupted him, 
 and blood trickled into the corners of his mouth. Minky 
 understood. He dispatched one of the bystanders for some 
 brandy, while he knelt down to the man's support. At once 
 the drooping body sagged heavily upon his arm; but when 
 the paroxysm had passed the weight lightened, and the dying 
 man hurried on with his story, although his voice had lost 
 more than half of its former ring. 
 
 " Ther' ain't much time," he said, with something like a 
 gasp. " He's run off my stock, an' set my hay an' the cor- 
 rals afire. He he got us when we was roundin' 
 roundin' up a bunch o' steers. Y'see y'see, we was in 
 in the saddle." 
 
 Again he paused. This time his breath came in gasps and 
 deep-throated gurglings. He struggled on, however, stum- 
 bling and gasping with almost every second word. 
 
 "We put up a scrap good. An' an' both my 
 boys was was dropped cold. After I I emptied my 
 gun I I hit the trail for here. Then I got it good 
 Say" 
 
246 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Once more he was interrupted by a fit of terrible cough- 
 ing. And the moment it eased the storekeeper held the 
 brandy, which one of the boys had brought, to his blood- 
 flecked lips. The poor fellow's end was not far off. The 
 onlookers knew it. Minky knew there was practically noth- 
 ing to be done for him. All these men had witnessed the 
 approach of death in this form too often before. A lung 
 pierced by a bullet! They could do nothing but look on 
 curiously, helplessly and listen carefully to the story he was 
 trying to tell. 
 
 The man struggled with himself for some moments. The 
 strong young body was yielding reluctantly enough to the 
 death-grip. And at last his words gasped haltingly upon the 
 still air. 
 
 " Their plugs wasn't fresh. Mine was. That 
 give me the legs of 'em. But they rode 
 
 hard, an'" 
 
 His voice died down to a whistling gasp and his eyes 
 closed. He was sinking fast. Minky forced more brandy 
 between his lips. And presently the drooping eyelids 
 widened, and a momentary strength lifted the weakening 
 body. 
 
 " They f ollered," he mumbled, " but I don't know 
 
 how many. 'Bout three. Three miles back 
 
 His eyes were glazing and staring painfully. And as his 
 last words hovered on his lips they were drowned by the 
 gurgling and rattling in his throat. Suddenly a shudder 
 passed through his frame. He started, his eyes staring 
 wildly. 
 
 " I'm done ! " he gasped. His arms shot up convul- 
 sively, his legs flung out. And then all his weight dropped 
 back on to the storekeeper's supporting arm. The next 
 moment his body seemed to heave as with a deep, restful 
 sigh, and his head lolled helplessly forward. He was dead. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A BATH AND 
 
 SCIPIO started and looked up as a joyous greeting from 
 the children outside warned him of the approach of a visitor. 
 He was rather glad of the interruption, too. He found the 
 Bible offered him such an enormous field of research. It 
 was worse than enormous; it was overwhelming. The 
 Bible was really more than he could study in the few min- 
 utes he had allowed himself. As yet he had not found even 
 one single mention of the few subjects he still retained a 
 vague recollection of. 
 
 As he glanced at the doorway it was darkened by a fa- 
 miliar figure. Sunny Oak, as ragged, disreputable and un- 
 clean as usual, smiled himself into the room. 
 
 " Howdy, Zip ? " he greeted genially. " Guessed I'd git 
 around, seem' it was Sunday. Y'see, folks don't work any 
 Sunday. I'd sure say it's a real blessin' folks is 'lowed to 
 rest one day in seven. Talkin' o' work, I heerd tell you've 
 took a pardner to your claim. Wild Bill's smart. He ain't 
 bluffed you any ? " 
 
 The loafer seated himself in the other chair with an air 
 of utter weariness. He might just have finished a spell of 
 the most arduous labor, instead of having merely strolled 
 across the dumps. Scipio smiled faintly. 
 
 " He hasn't bluffed me any," he said gently. " Seems to 
 me he wouldn't bluff me. Yes, he's in on ha'f my claim. 
 Y'see, he thinks ther's gold in sight, an' an' I know ther' 
 ain't. That's what's troubling me. I kind of feel mean 
 
248 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Sunny yawned luxuriously. 
 
 " Don't you worry any," he said easily. " Bill's mighty 
 wide. If he's come in on your claim he's needin' to bad. 
 Say-" 
 
 He broke off and turned alertly to the door. A sound of 
 voices reached them, and a moment later Sandy Joyce and 
 Toby stood grinning in the doorway. 
 
 " Gee ! " cried Sunny. " Gettin' quite a party." 
 
 " I'm real pleased you folks come along," Scipio declared 
 warmly. He stood up and looked round uncertainly. 
 " Say," he went on, his pale face flushing a little ruefully, 
 " come right in, boys. I don't see jest where you're goin' to 
 sit. Maybe the table's good an' strong. This chair'll 
 do for one." 
 
 But Toby would have none of it. 
 
 " Set you down, Zip," he cried. " I got this doorway. 
 Guess the table'll fit Sandy. He's kind o' high in his no- 
 tions. I jest see Bill comin' along up from the river. 
 Looked like he was comin' this way. How's the kids ? " 
 
 " Why, bully," said Scipio amiably. " Y'see, I got 'em 
 fixed right all right since Sunny wrote out those regulations 
 for me. Those regulations are jest dandy, and I'm des- 
 perate obliged to him. A feller would need to be a bum 
 sort of fool, anyhow, who couldn't fix kids right with it all 
 set out so careful. There sure are things set down there I'd 
 never have thought of an' I'm their father, too." He 
 paused and glanced nervously round at the friendly faces. 
 Then, with evident anxiety, he hurried on. " I was just 
 thinkin'," he exclaimed, "maybe some hot coffee wouldn't 
 come amiss. Y'see, I ain't no rye. Guess I'll make that 
 coffee right away. I got water cooking on the stove. I 
 was goin' to use it for bathin' the kids, but " 
 
 His visitors exchanged swift glances, and Sunny broke in. 
 " Don't do it, Zip," he said with an amiable grin. " These 
 boys don't figger to unpickle their vitals with no sech truck 
 

 A BATH AND 249 
 
 as coffee. Say " his eyes wandered to where his carefully 
 written regulations were posted, " talkin' o' baths, have you 
 physicked the kids right ? " 
 
 Scipio, feeling somewhat relieved, returned to his chair 
 and lodged himself upon its edge. He could not settle him- 
 self at his ease. Somehow he felt that these men were en- 
 tirely his superior in all those things which count for man- 
 hood ; and the kindness of such a visit rather overwhelmed 
 him. Then, too, he was sincerely regretting his inadequate 
 hospitality. Now he became nervously enthusiastic. 
 
 " I sure did," he cried eagerly. " Those physics were real 
 elegant. If you'll tell me what they cost you, Sunny, I'll 
 square up now. How " 
 
 He pulled out some money, but the loafer waved it aside 
 with ridiculous dignity. 
 
 " Thievin' doctors needs pay. I ain't no bum doc. What 
 you give 'em the kids ? " 
 
 Scipio bundled his money back into his pocket, flushing 
 at the thought that he had unintentionally insulted his bene- 
 factor. 
 
 " Well," he said thoughtfully, " I didn't give 'em no corn 
 cure. Y'see," he added apologetically, " I couldn't find no 
 corns on 'em to speak of. But," he went on more hopefully, 
 " I give 'em the cough cure. They ain't got no coughs, 
 neither of 'em, but, seein' they was to take a bath, I guessed 
 it 'ud be a kind of precaution. Then there were them pow- 
 ders. How were they called? Why Lick Lick 
 well, they were called Lick something. Anyways, I give 
 'em one each. They didn't take 'em easy, an' was nigh sick, 
 but they got 'em down after awhile. Then, seein' they got 
 bruises on their legs, playin', I rubbed 'em good with hoss 
 lin'ment. After that I give 'em some o' that tonic quinine 
 an' something. An' then, seein' they couldn't eat food this 
 mornin', an* had got sick headaches, I give 'em one o' them 
 fizzy Seidlitz fellers between 'em. Jamie bein' the smallest 
 
250 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 I give him the thin white packet, an' the other, the blue one, 
 I give to Vada. That seemed to fix them good, an I guess 
 they're most ready fer their baths by now." 
 
 " I guessed you'd treat 'em right," approved Sunny 
 seriously. " Ther' ain't nothin' like physic. You're sure a 
 wise guy, Zip." 
 
 Sandy Joyce agreed, too. 
 
 " You was dead right," he said impressively. " It don't 
 never do takin' chances with kids o' that age. Chances is 
 bum things, anyway. Y'see, kids ken ketch such a heap o' 
 things. Ther's bile, an' measles, an' dropsy, an' cancer, an' 
 hydryfoby, an' all kinds o' things. They's li'ble to ketch 'em 
 as easy as gettin' flies wi' molasses. An' some o' them is 
 ter'ble bad. Ever had hydryfoby? No? Wai, I ain't 
 neither, but I see a feller with it oncet, an' he jest went 
 around barkin' like a camp dog chasm' after swill bar'ls, an' 
 was scared to death o' water " 
 
 " Some folks don't need hydryfoby fer that," put in Toby, 
 with a grin. 
 
 " Ther' ain't no call fer you buttin' in," flashed Sandy 
 angrily. " Guess I'm talkin' o' things you ain't heerd tell 
 of. You ain't out o' your cradle yet." 
 
 He turned back to his host and prepared to continue his 
 list of horrors, but Sunny forestalled him. 
 
 " Talkin' o' water," he said, " you ain't bathed the kids 
 yet?" 
 
 Scipio shook his head. 
 
 " The water's cookin'." 
 
 "Cookin'?" Toby whistled. 
 
 Sunny sat up, all interest. 
 
 " Hot bath ? " he inquired, with wide eyes. " You ain't 
 givin' 'em a hot bath ? " he exclaimed incredulously. 
 
 A troubled look came into Scipio's pale eyes. He doubted 
 his purpose in face of his friends' astonishment. 
 
 " Why, yes. That's how I was thinking," he said weakly. 
 
A BATH AND 251 
 
 " Y'see, I guessed it would soften the dirt quicker, and make 
 it easy wipin' it off." 
 
 " But ain't you scared o' them peelin' ? " inquired 
 Sandy, refusing to be left out of the discussion. 
 
 Scipio looked perplexed. 
 
 " Peelin' ? " he said. " I I don't think I get you." 
 
 " Why," explained Sandy readily, " peelin' their skins off 
 'em. You allus sets potatoes in b'ilin' water to git their 
 skins peeled quick. Same with hogs. Same with most any- 
 thing. I call that a fool chance to take." 
 
 Scipio's perplexity merged into a mild smile. 
 
 " I wouldn't jest set 'em into boilin' water," he explained ; 
 " kind of warm, with a bit o' soda." 
 
 Sunny approved. 
 
 " That sure don't sound too bad," he declared. " But wot 
 about 'em gettin' cold? Takin' all that dirt off sudden, 
 y'see " 
 
 " He's dosed 'em wi' cough cure," broke in Toby. 
 
 "Sure," agreed Sunny. "I'd f ergot Say" he 
 turned to the doorway and craned towards it " here's 
 here's Wild Bill coming along." 
 
 Toby promptly scrambled up from the door-sill and made 
 way for the Trust president. He strode into the room with 
 a quick glance round and a short, harsh " Howdy ? " for the 
 lesser members of his corporation. His manner towards 
 Scipio was no less unbending. 
 
 And, curiously enough, his coming silenced all further 
 discussion. Scipio had nothing to say whatever, and the 
 others felt that here was their leader from whom they must 
 take their cue. 
 
 Nor was it long in coming. Scipio rose and offered his 
 chair to the newcomer, but the gambler promptly kicked the 
 proffered seat aside, and took up his position on the fuel- 
 box. He glared into the little man's face for a few seconds, 
 and then opened his lips. 
 
252 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 "Wai? "he drawled. 
 
 Scipio stirred uneasily. 
 
 " I'm real glad to see you, Bill," he managed to mumble 
 out. " I ain't got no rye " 
 
 " Rye hell ! " The gambler was not a patient man, and 
 the laws of hospitality interested him not in the least. 
 " Say " he pointed at the open Bible on the table beside 
 Sandy " takin' on psalm-smitin' ? " 
 
 Scipio hurled himself into the breach. 
 
 " It's them regulations Sunny give me for raisin' the kids. 
 They need a Bible talk after their bath. I bin readin' up 
 some." 
 
 A momentary twinkle flashed into the gambler's eyes. 
 
 " Have you give 'em their bath ? " he demanded. 
 
 Scipio pointed at the stove, on which the water was al- 
 ready boiling. 
 
 " The water's cookin'," he said. " Guess it's most 
 ready." The gambler glanced round the room severely. 
 
 " Then why the devil is you'se fellers settin' around ? 
 Wher'sthetub?" 
 
 " Down at the creek. It's the wash-tub," Scipio ex- 
 plained, bestirring himself. The other men stood up ready. 
 
 There was no doubt that Bill had taken possession of the 
 situation. He always seemed to dominate his fellows. 
 Now he caught Scipio's eye and held him. 
 
 " Jest gather the things up quick," he said authoritatively, 
 '' an' we'll get busy." 
 
 And as Scipio heaped up the necessary articles for the 
 bath on the table, he looked on with the keenest interest. 
 Finally the little man paused beside the heap, holding in his 
 hand the box of water-softener, which he was eyeing some- 
 what doubtfully. Bill's eyes still twinkled. 
 
 " Wot's that ? " he demanded in his savage way, as though 
 he had never seen the box before. 
 
 " That? Why, that's for bathin'," said Scipio doubtfully. 
 
A BATH AND 253 
 
 " Y'see, it's a fixin' swell ladies in Noo York an' such places 
 use for makin' their baths soft an' dandy. Sunny brought it 
 along last night. He guessed it would be elegant for the 
 kids. Y'see, his mother sent it a present to him. He didn't 
 reckon he had use for it, seein' he took his bath in the creek 
 every mornin'. He guessed natural water was best for 
 him." 
 
 Bill snorted. 
 
 " Sunny's a bright lad," he said, while Toby softly ex- 
 ploded with laughter in the doorway. 
 
 But the gambler was bent on the purpose in hand, and 
 promptly dismissed the loafer's fairy-story from his mind. 
 
 " Here, get around and bear a hand," he cried, indicating 
 the pile on the table. " You, Toby, quit laffin' an' git a holt 
 on them clean laundry. An' say, don't you muss 'em any. 
 Sunny, you best pile up them washin' fixin's that hand- 
 scrubber, the soap, that wash-flannel an' the towels. Guess 
 that's the nighest you'll ever come to bathin' yourself. 
 Sandy Joyce ken carry the hot water, an', if Zip's yaller pup 
 gets around, see you don't scald him any. Guess I'll handle 
 these yer dippers. That way Zip'll be free to take the kids 
 along. After they're bathed they ken set around in the 
 sun, while Zip gives 'em a real elegant Bible talk." 
 
 The whole thing was simplicity itself in the capable hands 
 of a man of Bill's energy. But for his advent the bath 
 might have been delayed until the water on the cookstove 
 had boiled away. What with Sandy's love of debate and 
 Sunny's indolence, the visit of these men might have been 
 prolonged for hours. As it was, in five minutes after Bill's 
 appearance upon the scene the cortege was ready to set out 
 for the water's edge; and not only ready, but more than 
 willing to submit the all-unconscious twins to the combina- 
 tion of their inexperienced efforts in matters ablutionary. 
 The one saving clause for the poor little creatures was the 
 presence of their father and a man of practical intelligence 
 
254 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 such as the gambler. How they might have fared at the 
 hands of the others is a matter best not contemplated too 
 closely. 
 
 At a word from Wild Bill the procession set out. Scipio 
 headed it, with a child clinging to each hand, doddling along 
 at his side all blissfully unconscious, but delighted at going 
 whither their elders led them. Vada babbled with delight, 
 and kept up a fire of chattering questions in a truly feminine 
 manner, while little Jamie, stolid but no less joyous, de- 
 voured everything with hungry, thoughtful eyes, and punc- 
 tuated his sister's remarks with characteristic grunts, and an 
 occasional emphatic ejaculation and protest at the yellow 
 pup, who would lick his dirty legs. 
 
 Behind these came Sandy Joyce, the picture of absurd 
 dignity, as he vainly strove to carry the boiler of water with- 
 out scalding himself. Toby came immediately behind him, 
 with the bundle of laundry, a tumbled mass in his arms, 
 crushed firmly to his stout chest, lest, by any ill-fate, he 
 should drop any of the strange garments, which looked so 
 absurdly small in his ignorant eyes. 
 
 Next came Sunny with the cleansing properties, which he 
 carried gingerly, as though the very nature of them were 
 repugnant to him, and the labor of carrying them an offense 
 to his creed of life. The soap particularly troubled him. 
 Its slippery nature made him drop it several times, till it 
 seemed almost as though it resented him personally, and was 
 trying to escape from the insult of such association. Wild 
 Bill brought up the rear of the column, bearing the bright 
 tin dippers, which clattered violently as they swung together 
 on their string loops. He suggested nothing so much as a 
 herder driving before him his unusual flock by the aid of a 
 violent rattling on tin cans. 
 
 Solemnly the procession wound its way down the hill. 
 Only the voices of the children, the yapping of the pup and 
 the clatter of tinware enlivened the journey. The men's 
 
A BATH AND 255 
 
 minds were engrossed with their various charges. It was 
 serious desperately serious. But then, a bath in any 
 form, much less a bath of two small children, was an affair 
 of the gravest importance to these men. Then, too, there 
 was nervousness with it. Everybody felt responsible, from 
 the father to the desperate instigator of what was, in their 
 minds, something almost amounting to an outrage. 
 
 However, the windings and roughnesses of the path, as it 
 twisted its way through the scrubby bushes lining the creek 
 bank, were finally negotiated more or less satisfactorily. 
 The mishaps were not as great as might have been antici- 
 pated. Sandy only scalded himself twice, and his curses 
 had to be stifled by a sharp reprimand from the gambler. 
 Toby skidded down the slope once, and only saved the 
 laundry at the personal expense of a torn shirt and a grazed 
 elbow. Sunny, except for his difference of opinion with the 
 soap, enjoyed no other mishap, and Bill's only transgression 
 was to send one of the dippers, amidst a volley of curses, 
 hurtling at the yellow pup, who at one time threatened to up- 
 set all Sandy's dignity, and incidentally the boiling water, by 
 getting mixed up with that worthy widower's legs. 
 
 The halt was made beside the wash-tub, and childish 
 curiosity promptly asserted itself. 
 
 " You ain't washin' more clothes, poppa ? " demanded 
 Vada, with wide questioning eyes. " Ain't this Sunday ? " 
 
 " Pop-pa wash tothes," mumbled Jamie. 
 
 Sunny took it upon himself to put the matter right in the 
 small minds. He beamed upon the children. 
 
 " Poppa's going to wash you," he said, with unction. 
 
 " Wot for ? " demanded Vada. " We ain't done nothin'." 
 
 " 'Cos you needs it," replied the loafer, uncomfortably 
 avoiding the blandly questioning eyes. 
 
 " Ugh 1 " interjected Jamie. 
 
 " We ain't as dirty as you," said Vada, after a thoughtful 
 pause. 
 
256 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Sunny busied himself laying out the utensils on the grass- 
 iest spot he could find. Toby glanced round after depositing 
 the laundry department. He guffawed loudly, and went on 
 with his work. Sunny's face went a dirty scarlet, but he re- 
 frained from retort. And promptly little Vada went on. 
 
 " I don't want bath," she protested plaintively. And 
 Jamie chorused in with a grunt of agreement, while he 
 busied himself trying to climb up the sides of the tub. 
 
 Scipio snatched him away, and looked round weakly for 
 support. It came in a sharp command from Bill, who had 
 seated himself on a fallen tree-trunk. 
 
 " Git busy," he ordered. " Set that doggone water in the 
 tub, an' Sunny ken dip the boiler full of cold. You boys 
 ken do that while Zip gets the kids ready. Guess he'll likely 
 know best wher' the strings an' buttons is." 
 
 His orders were silently executed by the men. But the 
 children had no awe of the gambler, and their protests were 
 many and querulous. However, the tub was filled satisfac- 
 torily, and Scipio finally succeeded in fumbling the clothes 
 off the children. 
 
 It was a curious scene. Scipio moved about with an air 
 of the mildest perplexity. Sunny slouched through his 
 work as though it were the hardest of labor, although he was 
 really enjoying himself. Toby was grinning all over his 
 face with huge enjoyment, while Sandy performed his share 
 with such an aspect of care that his labors might have been 
 of an absolutely epoch-making nature. Bill suggested 
 simple authority. The " kids " must be bathed, and he was 
 going to see it done. 
 
 When all preparations had been made, Scipio became the 
 chief operator, and each man took up his position where best 
 he could witness the process. There was something so 
 mildly stimulating to these ruffians in observing the clumsy 
 lavering of two small children. They all appreciated clean- 
 liness in theory ; it was only the practice that they were un- 
 
A BATH AND 257 
 
 accustomed to, and here it was being demonstrated before 
 their interested eyes. They watched Scipio's efforts for 
 some moments in silence, while he, with gentle persuasion, 
 overcame each childish protest. He did it in such a kindly, 
 patient way that very soon these small atoms of humanity, 
 sitting facing each other cross-legged in the tub, gained 
 ample confidence, and gave expression to infantile delight by 
 splashing each other with water, and incidentally treating 
 their father to an even less welcome bath. 
 
 They laughed and crowed and chattered while their father 
 plied the house-flannel, and only were their piping voices 
 quiet at such moments as their small round faces were 
 smothered with soap-suds, or lost in the embracing folds of 
 the none too savory cloth. 
 
 But on the part of the spectators, their interest would not 
 permit of long silence. And it was Sandy Joyce, quite irre- 
 pressible where advice was concerned, who found it neces- 
 sary to interfere. 
 
 " Ain't you rubbin' 'em too hard ? " he questioned, after 
 prolonged cogitation. 
 
 Scipio turned to reply in the midst of swabbing Jamie's 
 lower limbs. He was holding one foot dangerously high in 
 the air, and the movement caused him to upset the child's 
 balance, so that his upper part promptly disappeared beneath 
 the frothing suds. A wild splashing and yell from Vada 
 warned her father of the threatened tragedy, and Jamie was 
 hauled up, coughing and spluttering. The little man, with 
 scared face, sought at once to pacify the frightened child, 
 while Sunny withered the interfering widower with a few 
 well-chosen words. 
 
 " Say, you'd butt in an' tell folk they wasn't nailin' up your 
 coffin right," he cried angrily. " Will you kep that instru- 
 ment o' foolishness o' yours quiet f er ten minutes ? " 
 
 Sandy flushed. 
 
 " They ain't got hides like hogs," he grumbled. " They 
 
258 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 needs handlin' easy. Say, jest look what he's doin' now. 
 What's" 
 
 He broke off, and all eyes watched Scipio's movements as 
 he turned Jamie over, and, supporting his dripping body 
 in the crook of his arm, plied the flannel upon the boy's 
 back. The moment was a tense one. Then a sigh of re- 
 lief went up as the child dropped back in the water with a 
 splash. 
 
 " I ain't never see kids handled that way," cried the dis- 
 gusted Sandy, unable to keep silence any longer. Then, as 
 no one seemed inclined to question his statement, he went 
 on, " Wot I sez is, kids needs women-folk to do they things 
 right. Zip's handlin' 'em like raw beef." Then he turned 
 on Sunny, whose rebuke was still rankling. " Guess you'll 
 say he ain't bein' contrary. Now, ef I was washin' 'em, 
 I'd" 
 
 "Shut up," cried Wild Bill harshly. Then he added, 
 with biting sarcasm, " I ain't surprised you're a widder- 
 man." 
 
 Toby made no attempt to disguise his laughter, and it 
 maddened the unfortunate Sandy; and if a look coul f have 
 killed, Sunny would have died grinning. However, the 
 widower sheltered himself in the silence demanded of him 
 until the children were lifted out of the tub and dried by 
 their patient father. Nor did he even attempt to further 
 interfere while their parent struggled them into their little 
 woolen undershirts. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A BIBLE TALK 
 
 IT was with a sigh of relief that Scipio now turned to 
 Wild Bill. Somehow, he naturally looked to him for 
 guidance. Nor did he quite know why. 
 
 " 'Bout that Bible talk ? " he inquired. " Guess you said 
 they best set around in the sun." 
 
 Bill nodded. 
 
 " I sure did. Guess they kind o' need airin' some. 
 'Tain't no use in settin' in their clothes damp; they'll be 
 gettin' sick, sure. Ther's a dandy bit o' grass right here. 
 Best set 'em down, an' get around an' hand 'em your talk." 
 
 But the worried father pushed his weedy hair off his 
 forehead with a troubled air. 
 
 " I haven't read up a deal," he apologized. 
 
 The gambler promptly swept his objection aside. 
 
 " That don't figger any. Once you get goin' you won't 
 find no trouble. It's dead easy after you're started. That's 
 the way it is with passons. They jest get a holt of a notion, 
 an' then why, they jest yarn." 
 
 " I see," replied Scipio doubtfully, while the other men 
 gathered round. " But," he went on more weakly still, 
 "'bout that notion?" 
 
 Bill stirred impatiently. 
 
 " That's it. You start right in with the notion." 
 
 " Course," cried Sandy. " The notion's easy. Why, 
 ther's heaps o' things you ken take as a notion. Say, wa'an't 
 ther' a yarn 'bout some blamed citizen what took to a cave, 
 an' the checkens an' things got busy feedin' him? " 
 
260 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Ravens," said Sunny. , 
 
 "Ravens nuthin'," cried the indignant Sandy. 
 " Checkens of the air, they was." 
 
 Sunny shrugged. 
 
 " That ain't no sort o' Bible talk, anyway," he protested. 
 " You need suthin' what gives 'em a lesson. Now, ther's 
 Nore an' his floatin* ranch " 
 
 " That wa'an't a ranch neither," contradicted Sandy 
 promptly. " It was jest a barn." 
 
 " Ark," said Toby. 
 
 "Wai, ark then," admitted Sandy. He didn't mind 
 Toby's interference. 
 
 But the discussion was allowed to go no further. Bill's 
 impatience manifested itself promptly. 
 
 " Say, it don't matter a cuss whether it was an ark or a 
 barn or a ranch. Sunny's yarn goes. Now, jest set around 
 an' git the kids in the middle, an' you, Zip, git busy with 
 this Nore racket." 
 
 The last authority had given its decision. There was no 
 more to be said, and the matter was promptly proceeded 
 with. The expectant children, who had stood by listening 
 to the discussion of their elders, were now seated on the 
 grass, and before them sat the board of Scriptural instruc- 
 tion. Bill remained in his position on the tree-trunk. On 
 the ground, cross-legged, sat Scipio, on his right. Sunny 
 lounged full length upon the ground next to him. Sandy 
 and Toby formed the other horn of the half-circle on the 
 gambler's left. 
 
 It was a quaint picture upon which the warm noon sun 
 shone down. The open grass clearing, surrounded with 
 tall dense bushes. On one side the wash-tub and the vari- 
 ous appurtenances of the bath, with the creek a little v/ay 
 beyond. And in the open, sitting alone, side by side, their 
 little pink bodies bare of all but their coarse woolen under- 
 shirts, their little faces shining with wholesome soap, their 
 
A BIBLE TALK 261 
 
 eyes bright with expectancy for the story that was to come, 
 the two pretty children of a lonely father. Then, in a 
 semicircle about them, the members of the Trust, with their 
 hard, unclean faces, their rough clothes and rougher man- 
 ners, and their uncultured minds driven by hearts that were 
 well, just human. 
 
 "Git busy," ordered Bill, when the Trust had finally 
 settled itself. 
 
 And promptly Scipio, with more determination than dis- 
 cretion, cleared his throat and plunged into his peroration. 
 
 His mild face beamed. Gentleness and affection shone in 
 every line of it. And somehow his diffidence, the realiza- 
 tion of his ignorance of the work demanded of him, were 
 absorbed and lost to his consciousness in the wonderful 
 parental delight of teaching his offspring. 
 
 " Say, kiddies," he began, with that soft inflection that 
 seems so much a part of some men of rough manners, " I 
 want you to listen careful to a yarn I'm goin' to tell you 
 about. Y'see " 
 
 He hesitated, and unconsciously one hand was lifted and 
 passed across his brow with a movement that suggested 
 puzzlement. It was as though he were not quite sure 
 whither his story were going to lead him. 
 
 The gambler nodded encouragingly. 
 
 " Bully," he murmured, turning his eyes just for one 
 moment in the little man's direction. But it was only for 
 a moment. The next he was staring absorbedly out at the 
 bush opposite, like a man lost in some train of thought far 
 removed from the matter in hand. His beady eyes stared 
 unsmilingly, but with curious intentness. 
 
 However, Scipio was far too much concerned with what 
 lay before him to think of anything else. But the sharply 
 spoken encouragement spurred him. and he went ahead. 
 
 " Now, maybe you both heard tell how God made this 
 funny old world for us to live in," he went on, endeavoring 
 
262 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 to give lightness to his manner. "He made Sufferin' 
 Creek, too" 
 
 Toby coughed, and Sandy whispered audibly to him. 
 
 " I don't guess Zip ought to run Sufferin' Creek in this 
 yarn," he said seriously. " Sufferin' Creek don't seem 
 right in a Bible talk." 
 
 Scipio waited, and then, ignoring the comment, labored 
 clumsily on. 
 
 " Now, I'm goin' to tell you a yarn about it. Y'see, 
 kiddies y'see, ther' weren't a heap o' folk around when 
 God first fixed things right " 
 
 "Jest one man an' a snake," interrupted Sandy in his 
 informative way. 
 
 " Shut up," whispered Toby, prodding him with his el- 
 bow. Sandy scowled, but remained silent. 
 
 " Wai," continued Scipio, " as I was say in', He jest made 
 one sort o' sample man an' a snake. An'," he added, sud- 
 denly brightening under inspiration, " He sot 'em in a 
 garden, an' called it the Garden of Eden." 
 
 Little Vada suddenly clapped her hands. 
 
 " Yes, an' it was all flowers an' an' fruit," she cried 
 ecstatically. 
 
 Jamie's eyes were dancing with delight, too, but he re- 
 mained silent, waiting for developments. 
 
 The members of the Trust looked on with the deepest 
 interest. Each man's face wore a half-smile that is, all 
 except the gambler's, who still appeared to be absorbed in 
 his own thought and the bush opposite. But the interest 
 of these men was less in the little man's story than in a 
 speculation as to when he was going to break down, and 
 yield his tutelary attitude before a battery of infantile ques- 
 tions. 
 
 However, Scipio was still in a fairly strong position. 
 
 " Well," he agreed, " I do guess ther' was fruit ther', but 
 I don't guess it was a fruit ranch exactly. Maybe it was 
 
A BIBLE TALK 263 
 
 sort of mixed farmin'. Howsum, that don't matter a heap. 
 Y'see, ther' was heaps an' heaps of animals, an' bugs, an' 
 spiders, an' things an' jest one man." 
 
 " Ther' was a woman," corrected the irrepressible Sandy. 
 "That's dead sure. They got busy on one of the man's 
 ribs an' made her. Ain't that so, Toby ? " 
 
 He turned to the squat figure beside him for corrobora- 
 tion, but Sunny took up the matter from across the semi- 
 circle. 
 
 " You're a wise guy," he exclaimed scornfully. " Can't 
 you kep from buttin' in ? Say, I'd hate to know sech a heap 
 as you." 
 
 Just for an instant Wild Bill turned his sharp eyes on his 
 companions. 
 
 " Shut up you'se all," he cried. And promptly Scipio 
 was allowed to continue his story. 
 
 " Now, 'bout that garden," he said thoughtfully. " Y'see, 
 God told that feller he wasn't to pick no fruit. Y'see, I 
 guess it was needed fer cannin' or preservin'. Maybe it 
 was needed for makin' elegant candy. I don't know 
 rightly" 
 
 " You're talkin' foolish," exclaimed Sandy, jumping up 
 excitedly. " Cannin'? " he cried scornfully. " They didn't 
 can fruit them days." 
 
 " Maybe you're right," said Scipio apologetically. 
 
 " I know I am," snorted Sandy. 
 
 " Then shut up," cried Bill, without turning his head. 
 
 " Anyhow," went on Scipio, when all argument had 
 ceased, " it was jest up to that feller not to pick that fruit. 
 An' he didn't mean to neither, only he got kind o' friendly 
 with that snake " 
 
 Little Vada jumped up. 
 
 " I know I know," she cried, in the wildest excitement. 
 " The snake made him eat an apple, an' then the rain came 
 down, an' poured an' poured " 
 
264 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " Poured an' poured," echoed Jamie, jumping to his feet 
 and dancing around his sister. 
 
 " That's so," admitted Scipio, in relief. 
 
 " Poured nothing" murmured Sandy under his breath. 
 " He's messin' up the whole yarn." 
 
 But as his comment didn't reach the father's ears he went 
 on placidly. 
 
 " Wai, the rain poured down," he said, " so they was nigh 
 drownded " 
 
 " Why'd the rain turn ? " suddenly inquired Jamie with 
 interest. 
 
 " Ah ! " murmured Scipio. Then he added brightly, 
 " Because he picked the fruit." 
 
 " Y'see," explained Vada, with sisterly patronage, " he 
 didn't orter picked the apple." 
 
 Jamie nodded without understanding. 
 
 " 'Ess." 
 
 " Wai," went on Scipio, taking advantage of the pause, 
 " he was nigh drownded, an' he had to swim an' swim, an' 
 then he built himself a ranch." 
 
 " Barn," cried Sandy, unable to keep quiet any longer. 
 " It was a barn to kep his stock in." 
 
 " Ark," said Toby decidedly. " He built a Nore's Ark 
 same as toys kiddies plays with." 
 
 " But Bill said Sunny's yarn goes," protested the troubled 
 Scipio. And, receiving an affirmatory nod from the pre- 
 occupied gambler, he went on. " Wai, he set that ranch 
 afloat, an' put out a boat an' rescued all the other animals, 
 an' bugs, an' spiders, an' things, an' then set out a duck to 
 see how things was going " 
 
 " Not a duck, Zip," said Sunny, shaking his head sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 " Course not," agreed Sandy scornfully. 
 
 " Pigeon," suggested Toby. 
 
 But little Vada saved the situation. She jumped to her 
 
A BIBLE TALK 265 
 
 feet, dragging Jamie with her. Her dark eyes were shin- 
 ing, and her round little cheeks were scarlet with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " It wasn't a duck, nor a pigeon, nor nothin' but a parrot," 
 she declared. " Momma told us. He sent out a parrot ; an' 
 it flew, an' flew, an' flew. An' then it come back to the 
 ark, carryin' a tree in its beak. An' then Nore knew there 
 wasn't no more rain, nor nothing, an' they turned his wife, 
 into a pillow o' salt 'cos she'd made him eat the apple. An', 
 pop-pa, tell us another." 
 
 " 'Ess, a nudder," cried Jamie, his chubby fat legs 
 wabbling under him as he danced about " a nudder a 
 nudder a nud " 
 
 But his lisping request was never completed, for, without 
 a word of warning, Wild Bill suddenly leapt from his seat, 
 and, with a wave of his arm, swept the two children sprawl- 
 ing into their father's lap, while he charged across the 
 clearing. Just for a fraction of a second he paused as he 
 closed on the bush he had so long contemplated, and his 
 friends heard his voice in a furious oath. 
 
 " You son of a ! " he roared ; and simultaneously there 
 was a flash and a sharp report from his gun another, and 
 yet another. Then he vanished into the bush, his smoking 
 revolver still in his hand ready for use, followed, with no 
 less speed, by Toby and Sandy Joyce. 
 
 For a moment Scipio stared; but Sunny Oak seemed to 
 grasp something of the situation. He flung himself before 
 the two children, his right hand gripping a revolver which 
 he always carried concealed amongst his rags. And at the 
 same moment the gambler's voice came back to him. 
 
 " Huyk them kids right back to the store, an' kep 'em 
 there ! " it cried. And instantly the indolent loafer, with a 
 movement almost electrical in its swiftness, seized Vada in 
 his arms and dashed off up the hill, followed by the little 
 father, bearing the screaming Jamie in his. 
 
266 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Inside the bush the three men searched, with eyes and 
 ears alert in the fashion of furious terriers. The branches 
 and inner leaves were spattered with blood, showing that! 
 the gambler's shots had taken some effect. The ground, 
 too, was covered with footprints. 
 
 With a rush Bill set off trailing the latter, and so soft was 
 the ground that he had little or no difficulty in the matter. 
 The trail took them along the creek bank, and here and 
 there a splash of blood warned them that their quarry was 
 severely wounded. 
 
 But, even so, they were doomed to disappointment. 
 Thirty yards from the clearing they came to a spot where 
 the moist soil was well beaten with horse's hoofs, and here 
 the human footprints ended. All three men stared out 
 down the creek. And then it was that another furious oath 
 escaped the gambler's lips, as he beheld a racing horseman 
 making good his escape, more than a hundred yards below 
 them. 
 
 For some moments Wild Bill stood raging impotently. 
 Then he turned on his companions, with a perfect devil 
 glaring out of his ferocious eyes. 
 
 " God's curse light on 'em ! " he roared. " It's James' 
 gang. May his soul rot. I'll get 'em! I'll get 'em! 
 They're after those kids. But, by the wall-eyed Mackinaw, 
 they shan't touch a hair o' their heads as long as I'm a livin' 
 man. It's war, boys! D'ye hear? It's him an' me. Me 
 an' James ! An' I swar to God he'll go down an' out as 
 sure as my name's Wild Bill ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB 
 
 WHEN Wild Bill returned to his hut later on in the after- 
 noon he was consumed by a cold, hard rage, such as comes 
 but rarely in the life of any man. There was no demon- 
 strativeness : he had no words to give it expression. It was 
 the rage of a man who coldly, calmly collects every faculty 
 of brain and body into one great concentration for harm to 
 its object. It was a moment when every evil thought and 
 feeling was drawn into a cruel longing for harm harm 
 calculated to be of the most merciless description. 
 
 Neither of the companions who had joined him in the 
 pursuit of the man they had discovered lurking down at the 
 river had any real understanding of what lay in the back of 
 the gambler's mind. His outburst there had been the first 
 volcanic rage which had lit the fires of hate now burning 
 so deep down in his intolerant heart. That outburst they 
 had understood. That was the man as they knew him. 
 But this other man they knew nothing of. This was the 
 real man who returned to his hut, silent and ghastly, with 
 implacable hatred burning in his heart. 
 
 All three had hurriedly and silently returned to the store 
 from their futile chase. Bill offered no explanation, and his 
 manner was so forbidding that even the intrepid Sandy had 
 found no use for the questions he would so gladly have 
 put. 
 
 When they arrived, Scipio and Sunny, with the twins, had 
 reached the place just before them. But they were lost 
 sight of in the rush that was made to tell the gambler of the 
 
268 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 happenings at Sid Morton's ranch. Nor had he any choice 
 but to listen to the luridly narrated facts. However, his 
 choice did fall in with their desires, and, after the first 
 brief outline, told with all the imagination this varied collec- 
 tion of beings was capable of, he found himself demanding, 
 as eagerly as they were waiting to tell, every detail of the 
 matter, and even went so far as to examine the body of the 
 dead rancher, roughly laid out in the barn on a bed of hay. 
 He listened almost without comment, which was unusual in 
 him. His manner displayed no heat. He was cold, critical, 
 and his only words were to ask sharp and definitely pointed 
 questions. Then, having given Minky instructions for the 
 safeguarding of the children, he departed without even men- 
 tioning his own adventure down at the river. 
 
 But if he neglected to do so, it was otherwise with his 
 friends, the other members of the Trust. The moment his 
 back was turned they shed the story broadcast, each man 
 competing with the other in his endeavor to make it thor- 
 oughly palatable to the sensation-loving ears of their fellow- 
 townsmen. And probably of them all Sandy was the most 
 successful. 
 
 In half-an-hour, loyally supported by his friends, he had 
 the whole of Suffering Creek strung to such a pitch of nerv- 
 ous excitement that every man was set looking to his fire- 
 arms, and all talk was directed towards the most adequate 
 means of defending their homes and property. 
 
 In the briefest possible time, from a peaceful, industrious 
 camp, Suffering Creek was transformed into a war base, 
 every citizen stirred not only to defense of his own, but 
 with a longing to march out to the fray, to seek these land 
 pirates in the open and to exterminate them, as they would 
 willingly exterminate any other vermin. 
 
 Men talked war. Brains were feverishly racked for 
 strategy, and for historical accounts of a similiar situation in 
 which a town rose to arms and took the law into its own 
 
WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB 269 
 
 hands. Stones flew from lip to lip, and, as is usual under 
 such stress, so did the convivial glass. 
 
 And the result which followed was quite in keeping with 
 the occasion. Quarrels and bickerings occurred, which kept 
 the place at fever-heat until the store closed down for the 
 night and the supply of liquor was cut off. Then slumber 
 brought its- beneficent opiate to distracted nerves. 
 
 Throughout it all Minky kept his head level. Whatever 
 he felt and thought, he had nothing to offer on the altar of 
 public suggestion. He knew that of all these irresponsible 
 debators he had the most to lose. Nor did he feel inclined 
 to expose anything of the risk at which he stood. It was a 
 depressing time for him, so depressing that he could see very 
 little hope. His risk was enormous. He felt that the prob- 
 ability was that this raiding gang were well enough posted 
 as to the store of gold he held in his cellars. He felt that, 
 should James or any of his people decide upon a coup, the 
 attack would be well timed, when the miners were out at 
 their work, and he and the camp generally were left de- 
 fenseless. 
 
 What could he do? He must rid himself of the " dust " 
 somehow. He must dispose of it secretly. A hiding 
 that seemed to him, amidst his trouble, to be the only thing. 
 But where? That was the thing. He must consult Bill. 
 To his mind Bill was the only man upon whom he could 
 place any real reliance, upon whose judgment he could de- 
 pend. So, with his shrewd eyes ever on the watch for 
 strangers amongst his customers, he longed for the hours to 
 pass until he could close his store and seek the gambler in 
 his hut. 
 
 In the meantime Wild Bill had cut himself off from his 
 fellows, spending the long evening hours in the solitude of 
 his humble dwelling. The man was strangely calm, but his 
 fierce eyes and pale face told of an enormous strain of 
 thought driving him. His mind was sweeping along over a 
 
270 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 series of vivid pictures of past events, mixed up with equally 
 vivid and strongly marked scenes of possible events to come. 
 He was reviewing silently, sternly, a situation which, by 
 some extraordinary kink in his vanity, he felt it was for him 
 to assume the responsibility of. He felt, although with no 
 feeling of pride, that he, and he alone, could see it 
 through. 
 
 The fact of the matter was that, by some strange mental 
 process, James' doings his approach to the camp, in fact 
 his very existence had somehow become a direct in- 
 dividual challenge to him. Without acknowledging it to 
 himself, he in some subtle way understood that everything 
 this desperado did was a challenge to him a sneering, 
 contemptuous challenge to him. James was metaphorically 
 snapping his fingers under his very nose. 
 
 That these were his feelings was undeniable. That the 
 thoughts of the possibilities of an attack on the camp were 
 the mainspring of his antagonism to the man, that this volun- 
 tary guardianship of Scipio and his twins was the source of 
 his rage against him, it was impossible to believe. They 
 may have influenced him in a small degree, but only in a 
 small degree. The man was cast in a very different mold 
 from that of a simple philanthropist. It was the man's 
 vanity, the headstrong vanity of a strong and selfish man, 
 that drove him. And as he sat silently raging under his 
 thoughts of the happenings of that day, had he put his para- 
 mount feelings into words he would have demanded how 
 James dared to exist in a district which he, Wild Bill of 
 Abilene, had made his own. 
 
 He spent the evening sitting on his bed or pacing his little 
 hut, his thoughts tumbling headlong through his brain. He 
 found himself almost absently inspecting his armory, and 
 loading and unloading his favorite weapons. There was no 
 definite direction in anything he thought or did, unless it 
 were in the overwhelming hatred against James which 
 
WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB 271 
 
 colored his every feeling. Without realizing it, every force 
 of mind and body was seeking inspiration. 
 
 And the evening was well-nigh spent before inspiration 
 came. Careless of time, of everything but his feelings, he 
 had finally flung himself full length upon his bed, brain- 
 weary and resourceless. Then came the change. As his 
 head touched the pillow it almost seemed to rebound; and 
 he found himself sitting up again glaring at the opposite 
 wall with the desired inspiration in his gimlet eyes. 
 
 " Gee ! " he breathed, with a force that sent the exclama- 
 tion hissing through the room. 
 
 And for an hour his attitude remained unchanged. His 
 legs were drawn up and his long arms were clasped about 
 his knees. His eyes were fiercely focused upon a cartridge- 
 belt hanging upon the wall, and there they remained, seem- 
 ingly a fixture, while thought, no longer chaotic, flew 
 through his revivified brain. He gave no sign; he uttered 
 no word. But his face told its story of a fiendish joy which 
 swept from his head to his heart, and thrilled his whole body. 
 
 It was in the midst of this that he received a visit from 
 his friend Minky. And the moment the door opened in 
 response to his summons the look in his eyes, when he saw 
 who his visitor was, was a cordial welcome. He swung 
 round and dropped his legs over the side of his bunk. 
 
 "What's the time?" he demanded. 
 
 Minky pointed to the alarm-clock on the gambler's table. 
 
 " Nigh one o'clock," he said, with a faint smile. 
 
 But Bill ignored the quiet sarcasm. 
 
 " Good," he cried. Then he brought his eyes to the 
 other's face. They were literally blazing with suppressed 
 excitement. There was something in them, too, that lifted 
 Minky out of his desperate mood. Somehow they sug- 
 gested hope to him. Somehow the very presence of this 
 man had a heartening effect. 
 
 " Say," cried the gambler in a tone that thrilled with 
 
272 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 power, " this is Sunday. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday," 
 he counted the days off on his lean, muscular ringers. 
 " That's it, sure. Wednesday we send out a ' stage,' an* 
 you're goin' to ship your gold-dust on it. You'll ship it 
 to Spawn City. Meanwhiles you'll buy up all you feel like. 
 Clean the camp out of l dust/ an' ship it by that stage." 
 
 The storekeeper stared. For a moment he thought his 
 friend had taken leave of his senses. A scathing refusal 
 hovered on his lips. But the words never matured. He 
 was looking into the man's burning eyes, and he realized 
 that a big purpose lay behind his words. 
 
 " An'," he inquired, with a smile from which he could 
 not quite shut out the irony, " an' whose goin' to drive it 
 through ? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 The storekeeper jumped and his eyes widened. He 
 started forward. Then he checked himself. He struggled 
 with a sudden emotion. 
 
 " You ? " he cried in a sharp whisper. "I I don't get 
 you." 
 
 The gambler leapt to his feet. He strode down the length 
 of the hut and came back again. He finally paused before 
 his bewildered friend. 
 
 " No, o' course you don't," he cried hotly ; " course you 
 don't. Here, how much ' dust ' ken you ship ? " 
 
 " Maybe we'd need to ship sixty thousand dollars' worth. 
 That is, if we rake around among the boys." 
 
 Minky watched his man closely as he spoke. He was 
 still doubting, but he was ready enough to be convinced. 
 He knew it was no use asking too many questions. Wild 
 Bill hated questions. He watched the latter plunge a 
 hand into the inside pocket of his coat and draw out a book. 
 He had no difficulty in recognizing it as the gambler flung it 
 on the table with a force that set the lamp rattling. 
 
 " There it is," he cried, with a fierce oath. " Ther's my 
 
WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB 273 
 
 bank-book. Ther's seventy odd thousand dollars lyin' in 
 the Spawn City bank to my dogasted credit. See ? " He 
 glared ; then he drew a step nearer and bent forward. " I'm 
 handin' you a check fer your dust," he went on. " I've 
 seventy thousand dollars says I'm a better man than James 
 an' all his rotten scum, an* that I'm goin' to shoot him to 
 hell before the week's out. Now d'ye get me ? " 
 
 Minky gasped. He had always believed he had long 
 since fathomed the depths of his wild friend. He had al- 
 ways believed that the gambler had no moods which were 
 not well known to him. He had seen him under almost 
 every condition of stress. Yet here was a side to his char- 
 acter he had never even dreamed of, and he was flabber- 
 gasted. 
 
 For a moment he had no words with which to adequately 
 reply, and he merely shook his head. Instantly the other 
 flew into one of his savage paroxysms by which it was so 
 much his habit to carry through his purpose when ob- 
 structed. 
 
 " You stand there shakin' your fool head like some mosey 
 old cow," he cried, with a ruddy flush suddenly mounting 
 to his temples. " An' you'll go on shakin' it till ther' ain't 
 ' dust ' enuff in your store to bury a louse. You'll go on 
 shakin' it till James' gun rips out your vitals. Gee ! " He 
 threw his arms above his head appealing. " Give me a 
 man," he cried. Then he brought one fist crashing down 
 upon the table and shouted his final words : " Say, you'll 
 get right out an' post the notices. I'm buyin' your ' dust/ 
 an' I'm driving the stage." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM 
 
 SUFFERING CREEK awoke on the Monday morning labor- 
 ing under a hideous depression of nightmare. There was 
 no buoyancy in the contemplation of the day's " prospect." 
 It was as though that wholesome joy of life which belongs 
 to the " outdoor " man had suddenly been snatched away, 
 and only the contemplation of a dull round of unprofitable 
 labor had been left for the burdened mind to dwell upon. 
 
 It was in this spirit that Joe Brand rubbed his eyes and 
 pulled on his moleskin trousers. It was in this spirit that 
 the miner, White, slouching along to the store for breakfast, 
 saw and greeted him. 
 
 " Nuthin' doin' in the night," he said, in something like 
 the tone of a disappointed pessimist. 
 
 " No." Joe Brand did not feel a great deal like talking. 
 Besides the nightmare depression that held him he had 
 drunk a good deal of rye whisky overnight. 
 
 White stared out across the creek, whither his thoughts 
 were still wandering. 
 
 " Maybe we was scairt some," he observed, with a 
 hollow laugh. 
 
 " Maybe." 
 
 Joe's manner was discouraging. 
 
 " Gettin' breakfast?" the other inquired presently. 
 
 "Guess so." 
 
 And the rest of the journey to the store was made in 
 morose silence. 
 
 Others were already astir when they reached their destina- 
 
WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM 275 
 
 tion. And at some distance they beheld a small group of 
 men clustering at one point on the veranda. But such was 
 their mood that the matter had no interest whatever for 
 them until they came within hailing distance. Then it was 
 that they were both startled into new life. Then it was 
 that all depression was swept away and active interest leapt. 
 Then it was that sore heads and troubled thoughts gave way 
 before an excitement almost equal to the previous day's, 
 only that it carried with it a hope which the latter had al- 
 most killed. 
 
 " Say, don't it beat hell ? " demanded a burly prospector 
 as they came up, pointing back at the wall of the store where 
 the group was clustering like a swarm of bees. 
 
 " Don't what ? " inquired Brand, with only partial inter- 
 est. 
 
 " Why, that," cried the man, still pointing. " Ther' it is, 
 all writ up ther'. It's in Minky's writin', too. They're 
 sendin' out a stage, Wednesday. Git a peek at it." 
 
 But Brand and his companion did not wait for his final 
 suggestion. They, too, had already joined the cluster, and 
 stood craning on the outskirts of it. Yes, there it was, well 
 chalked out in Minky's bold capitals an invitation to all 
 his customers to trade all the gold they chose to part with 
 to him at the usual rates, or to ship direct to the bank at 
 Spawn City by a stage that was to leave Suffering Creek at 
 eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, its safe delivery in- 
 sured, at special rates, by the storekeeper himself. 
 
 It was the most astounding notice, under the circum- 
 stances, ever seen on Suffering Creek, and as the citizens 
 read it excitement surged to a tremendous pitch. 
 
 The man called Van expressed something of the thought 
 in every mind as he turned to Brand, who happened to be 
 at his side. 
 
 "Gee!" he cried, with ironical levity. "Old Minky's 
 plum ' bug.' He's waited to ' unload ' till James' gang has 
 
276 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 got the camp held up three miles out. Wai, I ain't shippin'. 
 Guess I'll trade my dust at a discount. It's a sight easier 
 carryin' United States currency." 
 
 " But he's guaranteem* delivery at the bank," protested 
 Brand. 
 
 " That's what it sez, sure," observed White doubtfully. 
 
 " It beats me," said the burly miner perplexedly, again 
 drawn to the notice by the apparent recklessness of its pur- 
 port. " It beats me sure," he reiterated. Then, after a 
 thoughtful pause, he went back to his original statement as 
 something that expressed the limit of his understanding. 
 " It sure do beat hell." 
 
 So it was throughout the morning. And by noon every 
 soul in the camp had seen or heard of Minky's contemplated 
 recklessness. The place was wild with excitement, and, 
 instead of setting out for their various claims for the usual 
 day's work, every man went out to scrape together any 
 " dust " he possessed, and brought it in to trade. 
 
 And Minky bought with perfect good-humor, discounting 
 at the recognized tariff, but always with solemn eyes, and a 
 mind still wondering at his overnight interview with W r ild 
 Bill. He had obeyed him implicitly, knowing that he was 
 making a liberal profit for himself, whatever the gambler 
 might be risking. All his transactions were guaranteed for 
 him by the small fortune which Bill possessed safely de- 
 posited in the Spawn City bank. Well, it was not for him 
 to hesitate. 
 
 But his trading was not carried on without comment and 
 questioning. Besides which, there was a heap of rough 
 sarcasm and satire to put up with from his customers. But 
 he put up with it. He could afford to. And to the closest 
 questioning he had always one answer, and no enlighten- 
 ment could they drag out of him. 
 
 " The stage goes, boys," he told them. " An,' personal, 
 I ain't scairt a cent's-worth of James an' his gang. Though, 
 
WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM 277 
 
 to see the way you'se fellers are fallin' over yourselves to 
 make trade with me, I guess I know some folks as is." 
 
 The marvel of the whole thing confounded the public 
 mind. But the selfishness of human nature demanded that 
 advantage should be taken of the situation. If Minky, who 
 recently had jibbed at trading gold, had suddenly eased the 
 market, well, it was " up to him." It was his " funeral." 
 The public jumped at the chance of realizing, and so reliev- 
 ing themselves of the cloud of trouble threatening them. 
 James could come along with a whole army of desperadoes, 
 once they had rid themselves of their " dust." They then 
 would no longer have anything to lose except their lives, and 
 those they were always prepared to risk in anything so 
 enterprising as a little honest gun-play. 
 
 It was noon when Wild Bill was stirring. And he lis- 
 tened to the news which greeted him on every hand with a 
 calmly non-committal air. Nor, when he found it neces- 
 sary to comment, did he hesitate to do so in his usual sharp, 
 decided fashion. 
 
 " Minky's good grit," he declared on one occasion to a 
 puzzled miner. " I don't guess ther's many folks around as 
 'ud take his chances. I allow Sufferin' Creek needs to be 
 proud of sech a feller." 
 
 And his attitude promptly set up a new feeling in the 
 camp. Minky's heroic pose had not struck the people be- 
 fore. But now the full force of it struck home in a man- 
 ner which suddenly raised him to a great pinnacle of 
 popularity. The storekeeper of Suffering Creek was stand- 
 ing between the camp and possible financial disaster. It 
 was noble. It was splendid. Yes, they had reason to be 
 very thankful to him. 
 
 Bill contemplated the notice long and earnestly when his 
 attention was first called to it. And his narrow eyes lit and 
 twinkled as he read down the carefully chalked capitals. 
 Minky had certainly done it well. But then Minky did 
 
278 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 most things well. He read it down a second time, and then 
 pushed his way into the store. It was some time before he 
 could reach his friend, but finally he got him to himself as he 
 was poring over a big cash-book. The storekeeper looked 
 up. Nor had he any greeting for his visitor. He was still 
 dazed at the gambler's purpose. And somehow it was the 
 latter who had to speak first. 
 
 " You done it good, Minky," he said amiably. 
 
 " Ther'll be sixty thousand dollars," the storekeeper 
 mumbled doubtfully. 
 
 " Good." 
 
 "Good?" 
 
 " Sure." Bill turned and gazed out of the window. " It 
 needs to be a big pile. Makes things surer." 
 
 "Surer? I don't get you." 
 
 " No ; that's so." The gambler turned back to the other 
 abruptly. " Say, you get busy an' gas. Gas till you got the 
 camp yappin' like coyotes. Tell 'em the stage is sure carry- 
 in' sixty thousand dollars' worth o' good red gold." Then 
 his manner suddenly changed and he laughed. " Say, I'm 
 jest goin' out to get a peek at my claim. I sure guess I 
 bought a dandy rich claim o' Zip." 
 
 " You orter know," said Minky, with a shake of the head. 
 " I sure don't seem to understand " 
 
 " Course you don't," cried Bill, with strange good-nature. 
 Then his eyes became curiously reflective. " Wher's Zip ? " 
 
 " Zip ? Guess he's around with the kids. Y'see, the 
 Bird's helpin' him fix things. Maybe they're back in the 
 dinin'-room." 
 
 Bill stood for a moment in deep thought. Then he turned 
 suddenly, and his fierce little eyes fixed themselves on his 
 friend's face. 
 
 " Them kids," he said sharply. " Maybe I'll get you to 
 kep 'em safe right here fer three days an' more. After that 
 we'll see." Then in a moment his expression lightened and 
 
WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM 279 
 
 he laughed. " Guess I'll get Zip to come along an' show 
 me the claim." 
 
 Half-an-hour later the gambler was striding down the 
 river bank, with Scipio hurrying along at his side. Several 
 times the little man had endeavored to engage his companion 
 in amiable conversation. He wanted to talk about the epi- 
 sode at the river, but Bill would have none of it. Nor was 
 it until he was nearly half-way to their destination, where 
 Sandy Joyce was already at work, that he broke the silence 
 in which he had wrapped himself. 
 
 They had just emerged from a narrow cattle-track where 
 they had been forced to walk in single file on account of the 
 bush which grew in such abundance on either side of it. Bill 
 was leading, and as the path widened into a clearing, in 
 which lay several fallen trees rooted out of the ground by 
 some long-passed flood of the creek, he suddenly turned 
 about and faced his diminutive friend. 
 
 " Here/' he said, " we'll set here a piece. Guess we need 
 to talk some." He glanced quickly about, and finally flung 
 himself upon the nearest tree-trunk. " Set/' he cried, point- 
 ing at another trunk lying opposite to him. 
 
 Scipio wonderingly complied. He stood in considerable 
 awe of the gambler, and now he was ransacking his brain to 
 discover the object of this desire for a talk. He could find 
 no adequate reason, except it might be that Bill was repent- 
 ing of his bargain in purchasing a half-share in his claim. 
 Yes, it might be that. It probably was that. He had no 
 dotibt bought on inaccurate information. Scipio knew how 
 misleading and how wild many of the reports which flew 
 about Suffering Creek were. Besides, he was certain that 
 Bill's information about his claim, wherever he had got it 
 from, was inaccurate. Yes, no doubt this was what he 
 wanted to talk about, and the honest-minded man promptly 
 decided that the gambler should have no cause to blame him. 
 
280 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 He need have no doubts. He would by no means hold him 
 to the bargain. He would return the money 
 
 Suddenly he remembered. He had already spent five 
 dollars of it, and he went hot and cold at the thought. He 
 had nothing with which to replace it. 
 
 However, he took no further thought, and, as Bill still 
 remained silent, he plunged into the matter at once. 
 
 " I got most all the money with me," he began, in his 
 vague way expecting the other to understand his meaning. 
 " That is, all but fi' dollars. Y'see, the kids needed " 
 
 Bill's sharp eyes reached his face with a jump. 
 
 " Wot in the name o' blazes " he cried. 
 
 But Scipio did not let him continue. 
 
 " I knew ther' wa'n't no gold showin' on my claim," he 
 hurriedly explained. " So I'll jest hand you back your 
 dollars." 
 
 " Square-toed mackinaw ! " the gambler cried, his face 
 scarlet. Then he broke out into one of his harsh laughs. 
 " Say," he went on, with pretended severity, " you can't 
 squeal that way. I'm in ha'f your claim, an' I ain't lettin' 
 up my holt on it f er f er nobody an' nuthin'. Get that 
 right here. You can't bluff me." 
 
 Scipio flushed. He somehow felt very small. The last 
 thing he wanted Bill to think was that he was trying to do 
 him an injury. 
 
 " I'm sorry," he said helplessly. " Y'see, I thought, you 
 needing to talk to me so bad, you wanted, maybe, to quit 
 my claim." 
 
 He turned away, gazing down the wood-lined river. 
 Somehow he could not face the gambler's stern eyes. Had 
 he seen the sudden softening in them the moment the other 
 was sure he was unobserved, he might have been less trou- 
 bled. But the gambler had no soft side when men's eyes 
 were upon him. 
 
 " 'Tain't about your claim I need to talk," Bill said, after 
 
WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM 281 
 
 a brief pause. His voice was less harsh, and there was an 
 unusual thoughtf ulness in its tone. " It's it's Say, 
 Zip, I ain't fergot our talk out there on the trail." He 
 nodded his head out in the direction of Spawn City. " You 
 mind that talk when you was puttin' up that fool proposition 
 o' handin' James that kid ? " 
 
 Scipio's eyes had come back to his companion, and their 
 expression had suddenly dropped to one of hopeless regret. 
 His heart was stirred to its depths by the reference to the past 
 trouble which lay like a cankerous sore so deep down in it. 
 
 He nodded. But otherwise he had no words. 
 
 " You're needin' your wife? " Bill went on brusquely. 
 
 Again Scipio nodded. But this time words came, too. 
 
 " But you was right," he said. " I saw it all after. I 
 was plumb wrong. An' an' I ain't holding you to what 
 you said. You jest wanted to put me right. I understood 
 that after." 
 
 Bill stirred uneasily, and kicked a protruding limb of the 
 tree on which he sat. 
 
 " You're a heap ready to let me out," he cried, with a 
 return to his harshest manner. " Who in blazes are you to 
 say I don't need to do the things I said I'd do ? Jest wait 
 till you're ast to." He turned away, and Scipio was left 
 troubled and wondering. 
 
 But suddenly the lean body swung round again, and the 
 little prospector felt the burning intensity of the man's eyes 
 as they concentrated on his flushing face. 
 
 " You're needin' your wife?" he jerked out. 
 
 " More'n all the world," the little man cried, with emotion. 
 
 " Would you put up a a scrap f er her ? " 
 
 " With anybody." 
 
 The corners of Bill's mouth wrinkled, but his eyes re- 
 mained hard and commanding. Whatever feelings of an 
 appreciative nature lay behind his lean face they were well 
 hidden. 
 
282 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " You'd face James an' all his gang again ? You'd face 
 him if it sure meant death ? " 
 
 " The chance o' death wouldn't stop me if I could get her 
 back." 
 
 The quiet of the little man's tone carried a conviction far 
 greater than any outburst could have done. 
 
 "An' she's been his?" 
 
 Scipio took a deep breath. His hands clenched. Just for 
 a moment the whites of his eyes became bloodshot with 
 some rush of tremendous feeling. It seemed as though he 
 were about to break out into verbal expression of his agony 
 of heart. But when he finally did speak it was in the same 
 even tone, though his breath came hard and deep. 
 
 " I want her whatever she is," he said quietly. 
 
 Bill rose to his feet, and a passionate light shone in his 
 sparkling eyes. 
 
 " Then take Minky's mule an' buckboard. Start right out 
 fer James' ranch before sun-up Wednesday mornin', an' 
 you'll sure get her. Come on." 
 
 Scipio sprang to his feet, and a dozen hot questions 
 leapt to his mind. An ocean of gratitude was struggling to 
 pour from his inadequate tongue, but Bill would have none 
 of it. He waved him aside and set off for their destination, 
 and the other could only follow. But at the farther edge of 
 the clearing again the gambler paused. This time a sudden 
 thought had changed his plans. He turned abruptly, and 
 without one particle of softening in his manner he ordered 
 him back. 
 
 " Say," he cried, " ther' ain't no use fer you to get around 
 further. You ken jest light back to the store, an' see to 
 them kids. Don't you never let 'em out o' your sight till 
 Wednesday come. Then hit out fer James' ranch." 
 
 When Wild Bill eventually reached the claim, he found 
 Sandy sitting on an upturned bucket amidst the most deplor- 
 
WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM 283 
 
 able surroundings in which a gold prospector in quest of the 
 precious metal could ever hope to find himself. 
 
 The creek bank was some two hundred yards away, with 
 a pronounced rising ground between him and it. Behind 
 him was a great cut-faced rock of ironstone that certainly 
 looked auriferous. The base of it lay in a definite hollow, 
 reed-grown and oozy. Beyond him, to the right, following 
 the river bank, the ground declined gradually towards a 
 black-looking, turgid and overgrown swamp. While, from 
 the direction in which the gambler approached, a low, dense, 
 thorny bush grew, made up of branches almost skeleton in 
 their lack of leaves. It was a forlorn and uninviting spot, 
 calculated to dishearten anybody with a heart less big and 
 an enthusiasm less vital than Scipio's. 
 
 Bill stood for a moment surveying the scene before Sandy 
 realized his presence. And that first glance set him snorting 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " Well, say " he began. But words failed him, and he 
 hurried across to his " hired " man. 
 
 Sandy jumped up as he came near, and before the other 
 could stop him had poured out his opinion of things in gen- 
 eral, and that claim in particular, in a few well-chosen and 
 effective words. 
 
 " Say, Zip orter sure be shot or hanged," he cried angrily, 
 " an' this doggone claim o' mud needs to be boosted through 
 a dogasted volcany an' blowed-out the other side o' no sort 
 o' place at all. Ther' sure ain't nuthin' worse in the world 
 than the foolishness of a tow-headed fool." 
 
 But Bill ignored the outburst. 
 
 " How much gold you found ? " he inquired coldly. 
 
 Sandy's indignant eyes blazed. 
 
 "Gold? Pea-shucks!" he roared, with a furious oath. 
 " An' I tell you right here I ain't to be made no fool of. 
 You ken take this mule-headed job an' an' well, you ken 
 take it. I quit right here." 
 
284 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 But again Bill ignored his outburst. There was not a 
 vestige of expression in his face as he moved across to the 
 mouth of a shaft Scipio had been sinking before his work 
 had been interrupted by the going of his wife. He looked 
 into it and pointed. 
 
 " Guess you best get right on makin' this hole deeper. 
 Ther' ain't nuthin' like diggin' to find out. Zip's sure a 
 wise guy. I don't guess I know what you'll likely find 
 but you best kep diggin'. That's sure his notion." 
 
 Sandy went purple in the face, and spluttered violently 
 in his attempt to speak. Finally, when he did get his words 
 out, it was only to repeat his decision. 
 
 " It's jest a mud swamp," he cried, " an' I quit." 
 
 Bill turned swiftly. His movements were almost cat-like 
 as he came up and peered into Sandy's face. 
 
 " You'll kep right on diggin' that hole," he said, with an 
 icy threat. " An' come Wednesday you'll quit diggin' an' 
 hit the trail on Zip's track you an' Sunny an' Toby an' 
 you'll sure see no harm comes to him. But he ain't to see 
 you, nor to know you're chasin' him. An' you ain't to stop 
 him, no matter what fool trick he gets playin'. Get me ? " 
 
 Sandy's choler died out before the other's purpose. He 
 suddenly realized that his work on the claim was not of any 
 great consequence to his employer, that Bill had other 
 thoughts, other schemes in his head, and that he, Sandy, 
 was to have his place in them. He nodded. 
 
 " I get you," he said. " But " 
 
 " Ther' ain't no ' buts,' " interrupted Bill. " You're goin' 
 to do as I sez. Meanwhiles you're goin' right on diggin' 
 that hole, to earn your dollars." 
 
 And without another word he turned and hurried away 
 towards the mouth of the trail whence he had appeared. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 SUSPENSE 
 
 IT was nearly sundown. A chilly mist was stealing down 
 the slopes of the surrounding hills. It densified to a ruddy 
 fog as it caught the glow of the evening sun, and finally 
 settled upon the valley. And with each passing moment the 
 hills seemed to recede, their outlines to grow more indistinct 
 and ghostly. And gradually the whole prospect took on the 
 depressing aspect of a day dying wearily. 
 
 Had Jessie been less preoccupied as she stood at the door 
 of the ranch-house she might have felt something of all this. 
 But she heeded nothing of the hour, and saw nothing of the 
 picture before her. Her eyes only visualized the scenes that 
 a world of troubled and apprehensive thought yielded her. 
 Her mind and heart were full of a great terror, a terror 
 which left her helpless and dazed. 
 
 She stirred restlessly. Time and again she changed her 
 position. Now she was leaning against one casing of the 
 doorway, now against the other. A nervous glance over her 
 shoulder, as some sound in the darkness of the room behind 
 her set her shivering, told of the state of her nerves, as also, 
 with ears ever on the alert, her fearful glances at a definite 
 spot in the rapidly dimming hills told of a straining, harassed 
 expectancy. Her nerves were almost at breaking-point. 
 Her handsome face was drawn and haggard. All the youth- 
 ful freshness seemed to have vanished from it forever, leav- 
 ing her radiant eyes shadowed and hopeless. It was a 
 painful change. But the outward and visible signs were 
 nothing to the changes that had taken place within her. 
 
286 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Thirty yards away a decrepit choreman was making pre- 
 tense of some work upon a corral fence. But it was only 
 pretense. His real occupation was espionage. His red- 
 rimmed eyes never for a moment lost sight of his master's 
 woman when she showed herself in the open. A curious- 
 looking dog of immense proportions, half mastiff, half New- 
 foundland, squatted on its haunches at his side, alternating 
 his green-eyed attention between a watchful regard for the 
 hand that fed and thrashed it and the woman at the doorway. 
 There was not much to choose between the faces of these 
 wardens of the ranch. Both were cruel, both were intensely 
 vicious. In neither pair of eyes was there any friendliness 
 for the woman. And it needed little imagination to under- 
 stand that both possessed to the full all the instincts of the 
 savage watch-dog. 
 
 But Jessie had no thought for either. Her own terrible 
 thoughts and feelings held her. It is doubtful if she was 
 even aware of their presence at all. Just now one thought 
 stood out dominant in her mind. She was expecting the 
 return of James. And the return of James meant 
 She shuddered. 
 
 He was returning from his expedition in the neighborhood 
 of Suffering Creek, and this knowledge brought with it the 
 remembrance that his object was to give her possession of 
 at least one of her children. Distracted as she was with 
 her mother's desire for possession of her offspring, although 
 the man was now only obeying her expressed wishes, she 
 dreaded the child's coming almost as much as she dreaded 
 her lover's return. The thought of seeing Vada in this 
 man's arms maddened her to such a degree that she was 
 well-nigh beside herself. 
 
 For two whole days now had she brooded under a cloud 
 of despair. She had scarcely stirred out of her room ; she 
 had eaten scarcely enough to sustain life. She had shut her- 
 self up, a prey to harrowing remorse and terror a remorse 
 
SUSPENSE 287 
 
 which she knew to be as useless as her terror was nerve- 
 racking. Her awakening had come, sudden, awful. And, 
 like all such awakenings, it had come too late, so that the 
 horror of her future was written in letters of fire before her 
 mental eyes, a fire which burnt into her broken heart and' 
 left her in the depths of an unutterable despair. 
 
 It was on the morning of her lover's departure for the 
 region of Suffering Creek that the awakening had come. It 
 had come with an overwhelming rush of horror which, in 
 the midst of her dressing, had sent her reeling and fainting 
 upon the bed from which she had only just risen, and where 
 for two hours she had subsequently lain in a state of 
 collapse. 
 
 She was brushing her hair, her mind busy with the pleas- 
 ant thought that shortly she was to have one of her children 
 with her again. She knew that her appeal to her husband 
 had failed, but James had sworn to keep his promise, and 
 now he was setting out for that expressed purpose. And 
 such was her foolish woman's blind faith that she had no 
 doubts. When he returned he was to bring, at least, little 
 Vada with him. The fresh mountain air was doubly pleas- 
 ant to her that morning. The brilliant sunlight raised her 
 spirits. All qualms of conscience were thrust into the back- 
 ground, and she was as nearly happy as earthly interest 
 could make her. 
 
 She could see the crowded corrals from where she stood. 
 She could hear the bellowing of the restless cattle as they 
 pushed and horned each other in their forceful, bovine desire 
 to get out to the succulent grass of their beloved pastures. 
 All the men were astir, preparing for their lawless expedi- 
 tion. The saddle-horses, ready for the trail, were hitched to 
 the corral fences. Through the open window she could hear 
 her lover ordering and hectoring, as was his way of dealing 
 with the ruffians who served under his leadership; and a 
 thrill of excitement, a subtle sympathy, stirred her. She 
 
288 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 moved to the window, leaving her beautiful hair flowing in 
 the bright air, and stood watching for the departure. 
 
 Then came that hideous thing which was to shadow all her 
 future life. It came almost without warning. In a flash, it 
 seemed, the last tinge of romance was swept from her 
 thoughts, and the hideous skeleton of reality was laid bare. 
 
 The men had tightened up the cinchas of their saddles, 
 and passed the reins over their horses' heads, ready to 
 mount. She watched them all with something very like ad- 
 miration in her blinded eyes. Their hard, desperate faces 
 did not appear so to her. These things, in her foolish mind, 
 were the hall-mark of reckless courage, of strong, virile man- 
 hood. They were men who feared nothing, who cared no 
 more for their own lives than they would care for the life of 
 an enemy. And somehow this seemed to her just as it 
 should be. 
 
 She waited to see them mount their raw-boned bronchos. 
 But somehow there was a delay ; and in this delay a change 
 came over the scene. The men drifted away from their 
 horses and gathered into groups. They stood whispering 
 together with faces averted from their leader. A feeling of 
 apprehension somehow caught hold of her. She did not 
 understand why, but she felt that all was not right. She 
 turned to James, and saw that he was moving round his 
 horse all unconcernedly, and she wondered if he were aware 
 of the change in his men. 
 
 But all further speculation was abruptly checked, for at 
 that moment she heard the leader issue one of his sharp 
 orders. She did not quite catch his words, but she noticed 
 that no one moved or attempted to comply. Only talk 
 ceased instantly. Then she saw the handsome face of her 
 lover flush, as he glanced about him at this unusual phenom- 
 enon, and in a moment she recognized the sudden savage 
 anger that flashed into his eyes. Simultaneously his hand 
 dropped to the butt of one of his guns. 
 
SUSPENSE 289 
 
 Then she heard his words, as they were shouted to the 
 accompaniment of a string of vicious oaths. 
 
 " Ho, you, Ned, an' you, too, Sully ! " he cried fiercely, 
 " get your ears flappin'. Huyk that rotten skunk Conroy 
 out. I ain't tellin' you again." 
 
 The woman had thrilled at his words. There was such 
 command, such fearlessness in them, in his whole poise. 
 She felt, too, that there was trouble looming. There was 
 rebellion in the air. Her excitement rose, and her sympa- 
 thies were all for this one man. 
 
 The two men indicated suddenly bestirred themselves, and 
 moved off under their leader's eye. The rest drifted to- 
 gether eight of them, she found herself counting. And 
 as they drew together a murmur arose. 
 
 Instantly James' gun flew from its holster ; and he stood, 
 the personification of cold authority. 
 
 " Another word an' I empty this into your lousy hides ! " 
 she heard him cry. And instantly the murmur died out. 
 
 But the threatening weapon did not return to its holster. 
 James stood there waiting. And presently she beheld the 
 two men he had despatched returning, bringing in their cus- 
 tody, tottering awkwardly between them, the man Abe Con- 
 roy, with his arms tightly fastened behind his back, and a 
 pair of horse-hobbles securing his ankles. They came 
 slowly, for the hobbles allowed but little play, and halted 
 less than five yards away from their leader. 
 
 As they paused the woman shivered. Some premonition 
 of what was about to happen got hold of her, and struck 
 terror to her heart. She stood staring now, unable to move. 
 A hideous fascination seemed to paralyze her. 
 
 The next thing that reached her comprehension was that 
 James was speaking in a harsh metallic voice. She had 
 never heard him speak like that before, and her fears swiftly 
 increased as his words floated in through the open window. 
 
 " Now, you skunk," he was saying, " you guess you're 
 
290 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 man enough to run this lay-out. You guess you're a bigger 
 man than me. You guess you got me squealin' around like 
 a suckin' kid. You ! An' I took you out o' jail, wher' they 
 was goin' to set you swingin'. Gee! I could tell you a 
 heap, but I ain't no time talkin' to bastards of your kidney. 
 Swingin's too good fer sech as you. Anyway, when I got 
 work to do I do it myself. Here, you, Ned, an* you, Sully, 
 stand aside ! " 
 
 She saw the two men withdraw. She wanted to scream, 
 without quite knowing why. But no sound came. Her eyes 
 were starting out of her head with the horror of what she 
 knew to be about to happen. But she had no power to stir 
 hand or foot. 
 
 She saw James move forward. She saw the bloodless, 
 horror-stricken face of the prisoner. She saw him stumble 
 as he attempted to move away. There was no escape. 
 
 James moved forward with body crouching, and strides 
 that covered the intervening space with almost feline stealth. 
 
 He came right up to the man, his gun leading. She heard 
 a report and one dreadful cry of terror and pain. She saw 
 Conroy crumple and fall writhing upon the ground. She 
 saw the blood streaming from his stomach. Then the fur- 
 ther horror came to her staring eyes as she saw James stand 
 over his victim and fire shot after shot into the hideous, 
 writhing heap. 
 
 But the limit was reached. With one wild scream she 
 turned away and flung herself upon her bed ; and the next 
 moment everything mercifully became a blank to her. 
 
 That was on the Sunday morning. She saw nothing of 
 what followed. She knew nothing until she awoke some 
 two hours later to the haunting vision of the scene she had 
 witnessed. And ever since it had clung to her clung like 
 an obsession, a mental parasite sapping her nerve, her very 
 reason. Nor had she power to disassociate herself from it. 
 
 And now she was waiting in an agony of mind for the 
 
SUSPENSE 291 
 
 murderer's return. Not only was she waiting for his return, 
 but she expected to see him bearing in his arms one of her 
 own innocent children. The thought of little Vada in his 
 arms drove her frantic. Her innocent little Vada in the 
 arms of this cold-blooded assassin ! 
 
 She knew him now for all he was. The scales had fallen 
 from her foolish eyes. All the romance of his hideous call- 
 ing had passed in a flash, and she saw it as it was. She had 
 no words to express her feelings of horror and revolting. 
 In her weakness and wickedness she had torn herself out of 
 the life of a good man to fling herself upon the bosom of 
 this black-hearted villain. She loathed him ; she loathed his 
 very name. But more than all else she loathed herself. 
 Her punishment was terrible. She was so helpless, so 
 powerless. She knew it, and the knowledge paralyzed her 
 thought. What could she do ? She knew she was watched, 
 and any move to get away would be at once frustrated. 
 She could do nothing nothing. 
 
 No longer able to remain in her room, she had come out 
 to breathe air which she vainly hoped was less contaminated 
 with the crimes of the man whose home she had elected to 
 share. But inside or out it made no difference. The haunt- 
 ing was not of the place. It was in her mind ; it had envel- 
 oped her whole consciousness. 
 
 But through it all there was one longing, one yearning for 
 all that she had lost, all she had wantonly thrown away. 
 Suffering Creek, with its poverty-stricken home on the 
 dumps, suggested paradise to her now. She yearned as only 
 a mother can yearn for the warm caresses of her children. 
 She longed for the honest love of the little man whom, in the 
 days of her arrogant womanhood, she had so mercilessly 
 despised. All his patient kindliness came back to her now. 
 All his tremendous, if misdirected, effort on her behalf, his 
 never-failing loyalty and courage, were things which to her, 
 in her misery, were the most blessed of all blessings. She 
 
292 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 wanted home home. And in that one bitter cry of her 
 heart was expressed the awakening of her real womanhood. 
 
 But it had come too late too late. There was no home 
 now for her but the home of this man. There was no 
 husband for her, only the illicit love of this man. Her chil- 
 dren she could only obtain them by a theft. And as this 
 last thought came to her she remembered who it was who 
 must commit the theft. 
 
 The thought brought a fresh terror. How would he 
 accomplish his end ? Had not Scipio tacitly refused to yield 
 up her children? Then how how? She shivered. She 
 knew the means James would readily, probably only too 
 gladly, adopt. Her husband, the little harmless man who 
 had always loved her, would be swept aside like anyone else 
 who stood in the way. James would shoot him down as he 
 had shot Conroy down; even, she fancied, he would shoot 
 him down for the wanton amusement of destroying his 
 life. 
 
 Oh no, no! It was too horrible. He was her husband, 
 the first man she had ever cared for. She thought of all 
 they had been to each other. Her mind sped swiftly over 
 past scenes which had so long been forgotten. She remem- 
 bered his gentleness, his kindly thought for her, his self- 
 effacement where her personal comforts were in question, 
 his devotion both to herself and her children. Every detail 
 of their disastrous married life sped swiftly before her 
 straining mental vision, leaving the man standing out some- 
 thing greater than a hero to her yearning heart. And she 
 had flung it all away in a moment of passion. She had 
 blinded herself in the arrogance of her woman's vanity. 
 Gone, gone. And now she was the mistress of a common 
 assassin. 
 
 So she lashed herself with the torture of repentance and 
 regret as the darkness fell. She did not stir from her post. 
 The damp of the mist was unnoticed, the chill of the air. 
 
SUSPENSE 293 
 
 She was waiting for that return which was to claim her to 
 an earthly hell, than which she could conceive no greater 
 waiting like the condemned prisoner, numb, helpless, fearful 
 lest the end should come unobserved. 
 
 The ranch wardens waited, too. The man cursed his 
 charge with all the hatred of an evil nature, as the damp 
 penetrated to his mean bones. The dog, too, grew restless, 
 but where his master was, there was his place. He had long 
 since learned that to his cost. 
 
 The night crept on, and there was no change in the posi- 
 tion, except that the man sought the sheltering doorway of 
 one of the barns, and covered his damp shirt with a jacket. 
 But the woman did not move. She was beyond all concep- 
 tion of time. She was beyond any thought of personal com- 
 fort or fatigue. All she knew was that she must wait 
 wait for the coming of her now hated lover, that at least she 
 might snatch her child from his contaminating arms. And 
 after that well, after that She had no power to think 
 of the afterwards. 
 
 The moon rose amidst the obscurity of the fog. It 
 mounted, and at last reached a height where its silvery light 
 could no longer be denied by the low-lying mists. But its 
 reign was brief. Its cold splendor rapidly began to shrink 
 before the pink dawn, and in less than two hours it was but 
 a dim white circle set in the azure of the new-born day. 
 
 Still the woman remained at her post, her dark eyes strain- 
 ing with her vigil. She was drenched to the skin with the 
 night-mists, but the chill of her body was nothing to the chill 
 of her heart. The spy was still at his post in the barn door- 
 way, but he was slumbering, as was his canine servitor, lying 
 curled up at his feet. The sun rose, the mists cleared. And 
 now the warming of day stirred the cattle in the corrals. 
 Suddenly the waiting woman started. Her attention had 
 never once relaxed. She moved out with stiffened joints, 
 and, shading her eyes with her hand, stared into the gleam- 
 
294 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 ing sunlight. Her ears had caught the distant thud of 
 horses' hoofs, and now her eyes confirmed. Away down 
 the valley she could see the dim outline of a number of 
 horsemen riding towards the ranch. 
 
 Her heart began to thump in her bosom, and her limbs 
 quaked under her. Whaf could she do ? What must she do ? 
 Every thought, every idea that her long vigil had suggested 
 was swept from her mind. A blank helplessness held her in 
 its grip. She could only wait for what was to come. 
 
 The pounding of hoofs grew louder, the figures grew 
 bigger. They were riding out of the sun, and her eyes were 
 almost blinded as she looked for that which she trembled to 
 behold. She could not be certain of anything yet, except 
 that the return of her lover was at hand. 
 
 Nearer, nearer they came. Nearer, nearer still. Then 
 suddenly a sharp exclamation broke from the watcher. It 
 was a cry which had in it a strange thrill. It might have 
 been the gasp of the condemned man at the sound of the 
 word " reprieve." It might have been the cry of one mo- 
 mentarily relieved from years of suffering. 
 
 She could see them plainly. For now the figures were 
 no longer silhouetted against the sun. They had changed 
 their course as they neared the ranch, and the rising sun was 
 well clear. She could even recognize them by their horses. 
 She counted. There were ten of them. One was missing. 
 Who? But her interest was only momentary. She recog- 
 nized the leader, and after that nothing else concerned her. 
 
 She could not mistake him. He sat his dark brown horse 
 differently to anybody else. He looked to be part of it. 
 But there was no admiration in her eyes. And yet there 
 was an expression in them that had not been in them since 
 his departure. There was hope in her eyes, and something 
 akin to joy in her whole attitude. James was riding empty- 
 handed ! 
 
 Hence her cry. But now she glanced swiftly at each 
 
SUSPENSE 295 
 
 horseman, to be sure that they, too, were empty-handed. 
 Yes, each man was riding with the loose swinging arms of 
 the prairie man. And with a sigh that contained in it every 
 expression of an unbounded relief she turned and vanished 
 into the house. For the time, at least, Vada was safe. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 JAMES 
 
 JAMES clattered into the empty sitting-room and stared 
 about him. His dark face was flushed with excitement. 
 The savage in him was stirred to its best mood, but it was 
 still the savage. He grinned as he realized that the room 
 was empty, and it was a grin of amusement. Some thought 
 in his mind gave him satisfaction, in spite of uie fact that 
 there was no one to greet him. 
 
 The grin passed and left him serious. Even his excite- 
 ment had abated. He had remembered Jessie's scream at 
 the scene she must have witnessed. He remembered that he 
 had left her fainting. With another quick glance round he 
 stood and called 
 
 "Ho, you! Jess!" 
 
 There was no answer; and he called again, this time his 
 handsome face darkening. He had seen her from a distance 
 outside the house, so there was no doubt of her being about. 
 
 Still he received no answer. 
 
 An oath followed. But just as he was about to call again 
 he heard the sound of a skirt beyond the inner door. In- 
 stantly he checked his impulse, and where before his swift- 
 rising anger had shone in his eyes a smile now greeted Jessie 
 as she opened the door and entered the room. 
 
 For a moment no verbal greeting passed between them. 
 The man was taking in every detail of her face and figure, 
 much as a connoisseur may note the points of some precious 
 purchase he is about to make, or a glutton may contemplate 
 a. favorite dish. He saw nothing in her face of the effects 
 
JAMES 297 
 
 of the strain through which she had passed. To him her 
 eyes were the same wonderful, passionate depths that had 
 first drawn his reckless manhood to flout every risk in hunt- 
 ing his quarry down. Her lips were the same rich, moist, 
 enticing lips he had pressed to his in those past moments of 
 passion. The rounded body was unchanged. Yes, she was 
 very desirable. 
 
 But he was too sure of his ground to notice that there was 
 no responsive admiration in the woman's eyes. And perhaps 
 it was as well. She was looking at him with eyes wide open 
 to what he really was, and all the revolting of her nature 
 was uppermost. She loathed him as she might some venom- 
 ous reptile. She loathed him and feared him. His body 
 might have ? *been the body of an Apollo, his face the most 
 perfect of God's creations. She knew him now for the cold- 
 blooded murderer he was, and so she loathed and feared him. 
 
 There were stains upon his cotton shirt-sleeves, upon the 
 bosom of it showing between the fronts of his unbuttoned 
 waistcoat. There were stains upon his white moleskin 
 trousers. 
 
 " Blood," she said, pointing. And something of her feel- 
 ings must have been plain to any but his infatuated ears. 
 
 He laughed. It was a cruel laugh. 
 
 " Sure," he cried. " It was a great scrap. We took 
 nigh a hundred head of Sid Morton's cattle and burnt him 
 out." 
 
 " And the blood?" 
 
 " Guess it must be his, or Luke Tedby's." His face 
 suddenly darkened. " That mutton-headed gambler over on 
 Suffering Creek did him up. I had to carry him to shelter 
 - after he got away." 
 
 But Jessie paid little attention. She was following up her 
 own thought. 
 
 " It isn't Conroy's?" 
 
 James' eyes grew cold. 
 
298 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " That seems to worry you some," he cried coldly. Then 
 he put the thing aside with a laugh. " You'll get used to 
 that sort of talk after you've been here awhile. Say, Jes " 
 
 " I can never get used to murder." 
 
 The woman's eyes were alight with a somber fire. She 
 had no idea of whither her words and feelings were carrying 
 her. All her best feelings were up in arms, and she, too, was 
 touched now with the reckless spirit which drove these peo- 
 ple. There was no hope for her future. There was no 
 hope whithersoever she looked. And now that she had seen 
 her children were still safe from the life she had flung her- 
 self into, she cared very little what happened to her. 
 
 But the cruel despot, to whom life and death were of no 
 account whatsoever, was not likely to deal tenderly long with 
 the woman he desired did she prove anything but amenable. 
 Now her words stung him as they were meant to sting, and 
 his mouth hardened. 
 
 " You're talking foolish," he cried in that coldly metallic 
 way she had heard him use before. " Conroy got all he 
 needed. Maybe he deserved more. Anyhow, ther's only 
 one man running this lay-out, and I'm surely that man. 
 Say " again he changed. This time it was a change back 
 to something of the lover she knew, and at once he became 
 even more hateful to her "things missed fire at the 
 Creek. I didn't get hands on your kids. I " 
 
 ff I'm glad." Jessie could have shouted aloud her joy, but 
 ttte man's look of surprise brought caution, and she qualified 
 her words. u No ; we'd best leave them, after all," she said. 
 " You see, these men " 
 
 She looked fearlessly into his face. She was acting as 
 only a woman can act when the object of her affections is 
 threatened. 
 
 And her lover warmed all unsuspiciously. It would have 
 been better for her had she only realized her power over him. 
 But she was not clever. She was not even brave. 
 
JAMES 299 
 
 Tames nodded. 
 
 " Sure," he said ; and with that monosyllable dismissed 
 the subject from his mind for matters that gave him savage 
 delight. " Say, we've had a good round-up," he went on 
 " a dandy haul. But we're going to do better oh yes, 
 much better." Then his smile died out. He had almost 
 forgotten the woman in the contemplation of what he had in 
 his mind. This man was wedded to his villainies. They 
 came before all else. Jessie was his ; he was sure of her. 
 She was his possession, and he took her for granted now. 
 The excitement of his trade had once again become para- 
 mount. 
 
 " Guess Sufferin' Creek has gone plumb crazy," he went 
 on delightedly. " I've had boys around to keep me posted. 
 They been spotting things. Old Minky has been sittin' so 
 tight I guessed I'd have to raid the store for his gold; an' 
 now they've opened out. That buzzy-headed old fool's goin' 
 to send out a stage loaded down with dust. It starts 
 Wednesday morning, an' he guesses it's to win through to 
 Spawn City. Gee! An' they're shoutin' about it. Say, 
 Jess, they say it's to carry sixty thousand dollars. Well, it 
 won't carry it far. That's why I'm back here now. That's 
 why I quit worrying with your -kids when Wild Bill did up 
 Luke. We hustled home to change our plugs, an' are hittin' 
 the trail again right away. Sixty thousand dollars! Gee! 
 what a haul! Say, when I've taken that" he moved a 
 step nearer and dropped his voice " we're goin' to clear 
 out of this you an' me. Those guys out there ain't never 
 going to touch a cent. You leave that to me. We'll hit for 
 New Mexico, and to hell with the north country. Say, Jess, 
 ain't that fine ? Fine ? " he went on, with a laugh. " It's 
 fine as you are." 
 
 She had no answer for him. And he went on quite heed- 
 lessly, lost in admiration of his own scheme, and joy at the, 
 prospect. 
 
300 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " We'll settle down to an elegant little ranch, most respect- 
 able like. You can go to church. Ha, ha! Yes, you can 
 go to church all reg'lar. You can make clothes fer the poor, 
 an' go to sociables an' things. An' meanwhiles I can slip 
 across the border and gather up a few things just to keep 
 my hand in " 
 
 " What time are we gettin' out? " 
 
 James swung round with the alertness of a panther. One 
 of the men was standing in the doorway, a burly ruffian 
 whose face was turned to his leader, but whose cruel eyes 
 were rudely fixed on the woman. 
 
 " In ha'f-an-hour," cried James, with a swift return to his 
 harsh command. " Tell the boys to vittle for three days an' 
 roll a blanket. We'll need 'em fer sleep. An', say," he 
 cried, with sudden threat, " don't you git around here again 
 till I call you. Get me?" 
 
 There was no mistaking his anger at the interruption. 
 There was no mistaking his meaning. The man slunk away. 
 But as James turned back to the woman his previous light- 
 ness had gone, and his ill-humor found savage expression. 
 
 " There's someone else needing a lesson besides Conroy," 
 he snarled. 
 
 Jessie shivered. 
 
 " He didn't mean harm," she protested weakly. 
 
 " Harm ? Harm ? He was staring at you. You ain't fer 
 sech scum as him to stare at. I'll have to teach him." 
 
 The man was lashing himself to that merciless fury Jessie 
 had once before witnessed, and now she foolishly strove to 
 appease him. She laughed. It was a forced laugh, but it 
 served her purpose, for the man's brow cleared instantly, 
 and his thoughts diverted to a full realization of her pres- 
 ence, and all she meant to him. 
 
 " You can laugh," he said, his eyes darkening with sudden 
 lustful passion. " But I can't have folks starin' at you. 
 Say, Jess, you don't know, you can't think, how I feel about 
 
JAMES 301 
 
 you. You're jest mine mine." His teeth clipped to- 
 gether with the force of his emotion. The brute in him 
 urged him as madly in his desire as it did in his harsher tem- 
 pers. " I just don't care for nothing else but you. An' I 
 got you now. Here, you haven't kissed me since I came 
 back. I'd forgot, thinking of that sixty thousand of gold- 
 dust. I'm off again in ha'f-an-hour an' I won't be back 
 for three days. Here " 
 
 His arms were held out and he drew nearer. But now 
 the woman drew back in unmistakable horror. 
 
 " Say/' he cried in a voice still passionate, yet half angry, 
 " you don't need to get away. Ther's a wall back of you." 
 Then, as she still shrank back, and he saw the obvious terror 
 in her eyes, his swift-changing mood lost its warmth of pas- 
 sion and left it only angry. " Ther's three other walls an' a 
 door to this room, an' I can easy shut the door." 
 
 He reached out and caught her by one arm. He swung 
 her to him as though she were a child. There was no es- 
 cape. She struggled to free herself, but her strength was as 
 the strength of a babe to his, and in a moment she was 
 caught in his arms and hugged to his breast. She writhed to 
 free herself, but her efforts made no impression. And, hav- 
 ing possession of her, the man laughed. It was not a pleas- 
 ant laugh. He looked down at her. Her head was thrown 
 back to avoid him. His hot eyes grinned tantalizingly into 
 her face. 
 
 " It's no use," he said. " You got to kiss me. You're 
 mine. No, no, don't you bother to kick any. You can't get 
 away. Now, Jess, kiss me. Kiss me good good an' 
 plenty." His arms crushed her closer. " What, you won't? 
 You won't kiss me ? Ha, ha ! Maybe that's why you ran 
 back into the house when I come along. Maybe that's why 
 you wouldn't answer when I called. What's come to you ? " 
 
 He held her, waiting for a reply. But the woman was 
 beyond speech in her horror and rage. She was no longer 
 
302 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 terrified. She was beside herself with fury and revolting. 
 She hated the crushing arms about her the arms of a mur- 
 derer. That one word stood out in her mind, maddening 
 her. She would not kiss him. She could not. She gasped 
 and struggled. She wanted to shriek for help, but that, she 
 knew, was useless. 
 
 " Let me go ! " she cried, her voice hoarse with a fury 
 equal to anything he was capable of. 
 
 But he only held her the tighter ; he only grinned the more. 
 He, too, was furious. He, too, meant to have his way. He 
 was determined she should submit. 
 
 Submission, however, was the farthest from her thoughts. 
 He bent his head forward. It came nearer to her up-thrown 
 chin. 
 
 " Let me go ! Let me go, you you murderer ! " 
 
 It was out. She had no longer any power of restraint. 
 And as the word hissed upon the air the man's whole body 
 seemed to suddenly stiffen. His arms tightened, and she 
 felt her ribs bend under their terrific pressure. 
 
 " Murderer, eh ? " she heard him cry, with an oath. 
 " Murderer, eh ? Now you shall kiss me. Kiss me, you 
 wild-cat kiss me ! " 
 
 As he spoke one hand was lifted to the back of her head. 
 He pressed it forward, and she was forced slowly, slowly, 
 fighting every inch of the way to keep her face out of reach 
 of his lips. His face drew nearer hers. She felt his hot 
 breath upon her cheeks. She shut her eyes to keep the sight 
 of his hated, terrifying eyes out, but ever his lips came 
 nearer. 
 
 " What's come over you, you little fool ? " he cried 
 fiercely. " What is it ? Now, by hell ! whatever it is, you 
 shall you shall kiss me." 
 
 With a sudden exertion of his great strength he crushed 
 her face to his, and the next instant flung her from him with 
 a fierce cry of pain and rage. 
 
JAMES 303 
 
 " You ! " he shouted, as she fell in a heap against the 
 wall. 
 
 The blood was streaming from his cheek where her .strong 
 teeth had bitten deep into the flesh. His hand went up to 
 the mauled flesh, and murder glared out of his eyes as he 
 contemplated her huddled figure lying motionless where 
 he had flung her. And for one second it looked as though 
 he intended to complete the work he had begun, and kill her 
 where she lay, in the same manner in which he had treated 
 the luckless Conroy. 
 
 He stared insanely at her for some moments. Then a 
 change came over him, and he turned to the door. 
 
 " When I come back, my girl ! When I come back ! " he 
 muttered threateningly. 
 
 At the door he paused and looked back. But his look was 
 mercifully hidden from his victim by unconsciousness. 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE GOLD-STAGE 
 
 Two days of excitement were quite sufficient to upset the 
 nerves of Suffering Creek. The only excitement it was used 
 to was the sudden discovery of an extra good find of gold. 
 The camp understood that. It was like an inspiration to the 
 creative worker. It stimulated the energies, it uplifted. 
 Any other sort of excitement had a paralyzing effect. And 
 thus the excitement of the present Sunday and Monday en- 
 tirely upset the rest of the week's work. 
 
 Everybody felt that the happenings of those days were 
 merely the forerunners of something yet to come, of some- 
 thing even more startling. And the restlessness of uncer- 
 tainty as to its nature kept the population hanging about the 
 camp, fearful that, in their absence, things might occur, and 
 they would miss participation in them. 
 
 The inhabitants of Suffering Creek were a virile race, 
 strongly human, full of interest in passing events, and men 
 of appetite for any slices of life that might come their way. 
 So, having " cashed in " to the " limit " all the gold-dust they 
 possessed, they felt they were entitled to spend a few days in 
 watching events, and a few dollars in passing the time 
 until such events, if any, should come within their range of 
 vision. 
 
 What events were expected it is doubtful if the most 
 inventive could have put into words. The general opinion 
 expressed out of Minky's hearing, of course, but to the 
 accompaniment of deep libations of his most execrable 
 whisky was that, personally, that astute trader was, for 
 
THE GOLD-STAGE 305 
 
 some unaccountable reason, rapidly qualifying for the " bug- 
 house," and that the only thing due from them was to display 
 their loyalty to him by humoring him to the extent of dis- 
 counting all the " dust " they could lay hands on, and wishing 
 him well out of the trouble he seemed bent on laying up for 
 himself. Meanwhile they would take a holiday on the pro- 
 ceeds of their traffic, and, out of sheer good-fellowship, 
 stand by to help, or at least applaud, when the denouement 
 came. 
 
 Many of the shrewder men looked to Wild Bill to give a 
 key to the situation. They knew him to be Minky's closest 
 friend. Besides that, he was a man intensely " wide " and 
 far-seeing in matters pertaining to such a situation as at 
 present existed. 
 
 But Wild Bill, in this case, was the blankest of blanks in 
 the lottery of their draw for information. Whether this 
 blankness was real or affected men could not make up their 
 minds. The gambler was so unlike his usual self. The 
 hard, rough, autocratic manner of the man seemed to have 
 undergone a subtle change. He went about full of geniality 
 and a lightness his fellow-citizens had never before observed 
 in him. And, besides, he had suddenly become the only man 
 in the place who seemed to lack interest in the doings of the 
 James gang. Even, beyond the bare facts of the outrage 
 down by the river on Sunday morning, he could not be 
 cajoled into discussing that individual or his doings. 
 
 No, his immediate interest apparently lay in his newly pur- 
 chased half-claim. He spent the Monday afternoon there 
 watching the unwilling Sandy sweating at his labors. And 
 on the Tuesday he even passed him a helping hand. It did 
 not occur to these men that Bill kept away to avoid their 
 cross-questionings. It only seemed to them that his new toy 
 had a greater fascination for him than those things which 
 made for the welfare of the community; that his inexperi- 
 enced eyes were blinded to the facts which were patent 
 
306 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 enough to them : namely, that he had bought the most worth- 
 less property in the district. 
 
 So they laughed, behind his back, and shrugged their great 
 shoulders pityingly, and their pity was also touched with 
 resentment that his interest in Suffering Creek could be so 
 easily diverted. It was Joe Brand who handed them a most 
 excellent laugh on the subject, though the laugh was rather 
 at than with him. 
 
 He was talking to Van and White and several other men 
 at one of the tables in the store. Whisky had brightened his 
 eyes, which had been quietly smiling for some time as the 
 talk of Bill went round. Then he suddenly bent forward 
 and arrested the general attention. 
 
 " Say, boys," he cried, " here's a good one for you. 
 What's the difference between Wild Bill and Minky? " 
 
 Van promptly guffawed. 
 
 "Gee!" he cried, "ther' ain't none. They're sure both 
 'bug/" 
 
 A great laugh greeted the retort, but Joe shook his head. 
 
 " That sure ain't the answer, but it's real bright," he 
 admitted reluctantly, while Van preened himself. 
 
 " Guess they're both that wise they don't know if they're 
 comin' down or goin' up," he went on, seeking to add to the 
 score he felt he had made. 
 
 But Joe felt he was being robbed of the fruits of his effort, 
 and promptly insisted upon his riddle. 
 
 "What's the diff'rence between Wild Bill an' Minky?" 
 he asked again, this time with added emphasis. 
 
 He waited impatiently until one of the men shook his head, 
 when he snatched at the opportunity of firing his quip. 
 
 " Why," he cried, with a shout of delight, " Bill's put his 
 gold into a mudbank, an' Minky 's jest yearnin' to set his gold 
 into any old bank," and fell back laughing furiously. 
 
 But he had his merriment to himself. Van, feeling he 
 had the company with him, sneered. 
 
THE GOLD-STAGE 307 
 
 " Gee ! that's the worst ever," he cried witheringly. 
 
 White spat out a chew of tobacco. 
 
 " I'd say you're that bright you'd orter write comic Bible 
 trac's," he declared. 
 
 But even in his failure as a humorist Joe Brand gave 
 expression to the general opinion of the two men who, up 
 till that time, had been accounted, to use a local expression, 
 the " wisest guys west o' Spawn City." 
 
 Certainly, for the time being, the mighty had fallen, and 
 their associates, in the persons of Sunny Oak, Toby Jenks 
 and Sandy Joyce, had to stand by listening to remarks 
 against their fellow Trust members which, though distinctly 
 offensive, they yet, in justice, had to admit were perfectly 
 warranted on the face of things. Even Scipio, mild little 
 man as he was, had to endure considerable chaff, which wor- 
 ried and annoyed him, as to the way in which he had suc- 
 ceeded in bluffing so shrewd a " guy " as Wild Bill into 
 purchasing half his claim. 
 
 But these things were only sidelights on the feelings of 
 the moment. Expectancy was at fever-heat, and each and 
 every man was wondering what was about to happen. For 
 though their belief in Bill and Minky had received a jolt, 
 long months of experience had sown in them an appreciation 
 that took a power of uprooting. 
 
 The Monday and Tuesday passed without development of 
 any sort. There were several conferences between the mem- 
 bers of the Trust, but these were' really only meetings at 
 which the lesser members received more minute instructions 
 for the carrying out of their duties on the Wednesday. No 
 information otherwise was forthcoming for them from either 
 Minky or the president, and all attempt to extort any was 
 promptly nipped in the bud by the latter without the least 
 compunction or courtesy. 
 
 Sandy resented this attitude. Sunny complained of the 
 lack of confidence. But Toby sat back immensely enjoying 
 
308 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 the chagrin of his two friends, and cordially swore that both 
 Minky and Bill knew a large-meshed sieve when they saw 
 one. 
 
 Tuesday night was a memorable one on Suffering Creek. 
 Never had there been such a gathering in Minky's store ; and 
 his heart must have been rejoiced to see the manner in which 
 so many of the dollars he had expended in the purchase of 
 gold-dust came fluttering back to their nest in his till. The 
 camp appeared to have made up its mind to an orgy of the 
 finest brand. Drink flowed and overflowed. The store that 
 night fairly swam in whisky. The flood set in the moment 
 supper was finished, and from that time until two o'clock in 
 the morning the lusty storekeeper never had a moment's rest. 
 
 Men drank themselves drunk, and drank themselves sober 
 again. There was no poker or faro. No one wanted to 
 gamble. There was sufficient gamble in their minds on the 
 subject of to-morrow's stage to satisfy them for the moment. 
 Would it get through? That was the question. And the 
 general opinion was an emphatic denial. 
 
 How could it? Had not scouts been sent out inquiring 
 of outlying settlers as to the prospect of a clear road ? Had 
 not information come in that James was abroad, had been 
 seen in a dozen different places in the district ? Had not the 
 belief become general that the Spawn City trail was being 
 carefully watched, and even patrolled, by this common 
 enemy? Everybody knew that these things were so. The 
 whole of this stage business was simply flying in the face of 
 Providence. 
 
 And amidst all the comment and talk Minky served the 
 requirements of his customers, wrapped in sphinx-like re- 
 serve. His geniality never failed him. He had a pleasant 
 word for everybody. And at every gibe, at every warning, 
 he beamed and nodded, but otherwise could not be drawn 
 into controversy. One remark, and one only, had he for all 
 and sundry who chose him as a butt for their pleasantries. 
 
THE GOLD-STAGE 309 
 
 " Wai," he declared easily, " if I ladled out good United 
 States currency, to feed that bum tough James an' his crew o' 
 hawks, seems to me its findin' its way home right smart." 
 
 It was quite true. He stood to win in every direction. 
 Sooner or later every cent of money he had paid out in the 
 purchase of gold would find its way back to him, and go to 
 help swell the fortune which was the effort of his life. 
 These men had not the commercial instinct of Minky. And, 
 furthermore, his meeting at night with the gambler, and its 
 resulting compact, was still a secret. 
 
 The popular laugh was for the moment against him, but 
 he continued to smile. And he knew that his smile would 
 last the longer. He would still be smiling when even the 
 ghost of their laugh had been laid to rest. 
 
 Sore heads were no deterrent next morning. Pillows 
 were deserted at an early hour. And those who had found 
 it convenient to pass the brief remainder of the night in their 
 heavy, clay-soiled boots had the advantage of breakfasting 
 at the first hot rush of Birdie's ministrations. And Birdie, 
 with the understanding of her kind, had bestowed special at- 
 tention upon the quantity and quality of the coffee, leaving 
 the solid side of the meal almost unconsidered. It was her 
 duty to sooth parching throats, and she knew her duty. 
 
 It was a glorious morning. The sun rose radiant in a 
 cloudless sky. The air was still, so still. But the mountain 
 chill began to give way from the first moment that the great 
 arc of daylight lifted its dazzling crown above the horizon. 
 The quiet of the morning was perfect. It almost seemed as 
 if Nature itself had hushed to an expectant silence. The 
 woe of the night-prowling coyote at the sight of the dawn 
 found no voice. The frogs upon the creek had not yet be- 
 gun their morning song. Even the camp dogs, whose cease- 
 less " yap " made hideous all their waking hours, for some 
 subtle reason moved about in quest of their morning meal as 
 
3 io THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 though their success depended upon the stealth of their 
 movements. 
 
 Blear-eyed men appeared in their doorways half awake, 
 and only just recovering from their overnight orgy. They 
 stood for some moments voiceless and thoughtful. Then 
 the concentration upon the store began. It was strange to 
 look upon. It was an almost simultaneous movement. 
 These half-dazed, wholly sick creatures moved with the pre- 
 cision of a universally impelling force. The store might 
 have been one huge magnet perhaps it was and these 
 dejected early risers mere atoms of steel. 
 
 But the store reached, that wonderfully revivifying hair 
 of the tail, etc., partaken of, and a rapid change supervened. 
 Quarts of coffee and some trifling solid further stimulated 
 jaded energies, and in less than an hour the memory that the 
 day was Wednesday, and that the gold-stage was to set out 
 upon its eventful journey, became the chief thought in every 
 mind. Curiosity and excitement ran riot, and questions flew 
 from lip to lip. How had Minky provided for the safeguard- 
 ing of his gold ? Had he arranged for an adequate escort ? 
 To whom was the gold to be entrusted? 
 
 The store was full of men. The veranda overflowed with 
 them. There were men of almost every nationality from 
 half-breed Mexicans, popularly dubbed "gorl-durned Dagos," 
 to the stolid Briton, the virile New Yorker, the square- 
 headed Teuton, the lithe, graceful prairie man from the 
 Southern States. But the usual noisy discussion of the 
 world's affairs, as viewed from the hidden valley in which 
 lay Suffering Creek, had no vital interest just now. And, 
 after the first rush of burning questions, a hush fell upon 
 the assembly, and it quickly composed itself, in various atti- 
 tudes and positions of advantage, to await, in what patience 
 it could, the satisfying of its curiosity. 
 
 Soon the hush became oppressive. It almost became a 
 burden. Men stirred uneasily under it ; they chafed. And 
 
THE GOLD-STAGE 311 
 
 at last Joe Brand found himself voicing something of the 
 feelings of everybody. He spoke in a whisper which, for 
 the life of him, he could not have raised to full voice. He 
 was standing next to White, and he took him confidentially 
 by the shoulder and spoke, leaning over till his lips were on 
 a level with his ear. 
 
 " I allow funerals is joyous things an' nigger lynchin's is 
 real comic," he declared hoarsely. " But fer real rollickin' 
 merriment I never see the equal o' this yer gatherin'. I sure 
 don't think it 'ud damp things any ef I was to give 'em a 
 Doxology." 
 
 The miner responded with a pensive smile. 
 
 " Mebbe you're right 'bout funerals an' nigger lynchin's," 
 he whispered back, " but they's jest a matter o' livin' an' 
 dyin'. Y'see, Minky's gamblin' sixty thousand dollars o' 
 good red gold." 
 
 Brand nodded. And somehow he appreciated the point 
 and became easier. 
 
 Later on Minky appeared in the store, and almost auto- 
 matically every eye was turned expectantly upon him. But 
 he had only come to ascertain if Wild Bill was about. 
 
 No, the gambler had not been seen. Someone jocularly 
 suggested that he and Zip were out visiting Sandy Joyce 
 upon their claim. None of the three had been seen that 
 morning. But the levity was allowed to pass without a 
 smile, and Minky disappeared again into the back regions of 
 his store. 
 
 After that the time passed even more slowly. The store 
 emptied ; the men moved out into the sunlight to await the 
 first sight of the stage. There was nothing else to do. 
 Such was their saturation of the previous night that even 
 drink had no attraction at this early hour. So they sat or 
 lounged about, gazing out at the distant upland across the 
 river. There lay the vanishing-point of the Spawn City 
 trail, and beyond that they knew the danger-zone to lie. It 
 
312 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 was a danger-zone they all understood, and, hardy as they 
 were, they could not understand anyone mad enough to risk 
 a fortune of gold within its radius. Not one of them would 
 have faced it singly with so little as twenty dollars in his 
 pocket, much less laboring under the burden of sixty thou- 
 sand dollars. And yet somebody was going to do so to-day. 
 
 A pounding of hoofs and crunching of wheels suddenly 
 swept all apathy away. Every eye lit; every head turned. 
 And in a moment Suffering Creek was on its feet, agog with 
 the intensest interest. For one brief moment the rattle and 
 clatter continued. Then, from round the corner, with bits 
 champing and satin coats gleaming in the sun, their silver- 
 mounted harness sparkling, Wild Bill's treasured team of six 
 horses swept into view. Round they swung, hitched to his 
 well-known spring-cart, and in a second had drawn up with 
 a flourish in front of the veranda. 
 
 A gasp of astonishment greeted this unexpected vision. 
 Men stood gaping at the beaming choreman sitting perched 
 up on the driving-seat. It was the first time in his life he 
 had ever been allowed to handle the gambler's equine chil- 
 dren, and his joy and pride were written in every furrow of 
 his age-lined features. 
 
 The man sat waiting, while the thoroughbreds pawed the 
 ground and reached restively at their bits. But they were 
 like babes to handle, for their manners were perfect. They 
 had been taught by a master-hand whose lessons had been 
 well learned. And the picture they made was one that in- 
 spired admiration and envy in every eye and heart of those 
 who now beheld them. 
 
 But these were not the only emotions the sight provoked. 
 Blank astonishment and incredulous wonder stirred them, 
 too. Bill's horses! Bill's cart! Where where was the 
 gambler himself? Was this the stage? Was Bill ? 
 
 The talk which had been so long suppressed now broke 
 out afresh. Everybody asked questions, but nobody an- 
 
THE GOLD-STAGE 313 
 
 swered any. They crowded about the cart. They inspected 
 the horses with eyes of admiration and wonder. No man 
 could have withstood the sight of the rope-like veins stand- 
 ing out through their velvet skin. They fondled them, and 
 talked to them as men will talk to horses. And it was only 
 when Minky suddenly appeared in their midst, bearing in 
 his arms an iron-clamped case which he deposited in the 
 body of the cart, that their attention was diverted, and they 
 remembered the purpose in hand. 
 
 The gold-chest deposited and made secure, the storekeeper 
 turned to the crowd about him. 
 
 " Well, boys," he said, with an amiable smile, " any more 
 mail ? Any you fellers got things you need to send to your 
 sisters or somebody else's sisters ? You best get it ready 
 sharp. We're startin' at eight o'clock. After that you'll 
 sure be too late. Y'see," he added humorously, " we ain't 
 figgered when the next stage goes." He pulled out his 
 nickel silver timepiece. " It's needin' five minutes to sched- 
 ule," he went on officially, glancing keenly down the trail. 
 Anyone sufficiently observant, and had they been quick 
 enough, might have detected a shade of anxiety in his glance. 
 He moved round to the side of the cart and spoke to the 
 man in the driving-seat. 
 
 " It's nigh eight. He ain't here ? " he said questioningly. 
 
 " Guess he'll be right along, boss," the little man returned 
 in a low voice. 
 
 Again the storekeeper glanced anxiously down the trail. 
 Then he turned away with a slight sigh. 
 
 " Well, boys," he said, with another attempt at jocularity, 
 " if ther' ain't nuthin' doin', guess this mail's sure closed." 
 
 Passing again to the back of the cart, he gazed affection- 
 ately upon the gold-chest. Then he lifted his eyes just as 
 Van voiced the question in everybody's mind. 
 
 " You sure ain't sendin' pore old Danny with that stage ? " 
 he cried incredulously. " You sure ain't sendin' him fer 
 
3 i4 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 James to sift lead through? You ain't lettin' him drive 
 Bill's horses?" 
 
 " He sure ain't. Him drive my plugs ? Him ? Gee ! 
 Ther' ain't no one but me drives them hosses not if Con- 
 gress passed it a law." 
 
 The harsh, familiar voice of Wild Bill grated contemp- 
 tuously. He had come up from his hut all unnoticed just in 
 time to hear Van's protesting inquiry. Now he stood with 
 eyes only for his horses. 
 
 Daylight at last shone through the mist of doubt and 
 puzzlement which had kept the citizens of Suffering Creek 
 in darkness so long. They looked at this lean, harsh figure 
 and understood. Here was the driver of the stage, and, 
 curiously, with this realization their doubts of its welfare 
 lessened. All along they had been blaming Bill for his lack 
 of interest in the affairs of the camp, and now 
 
 They watched him with keen, narrowing eyes. What 
 mad game was he contemplating? They noted his dress. It 
 was different to that which he usually wore. His legs were 
 encased in sheepskin chaps. He was wearing a belt about 
 his waist from which hung a heavy pair of guns. And 
 under his black, shiny, short coat he was wearing a simple 
 buckskin shirt. 
 
 They watched him as he moved round his horses, examin- 
 ing the fit of the bridles and the fastenings of the harness. 
 He looked to the buckles of the reins. He smoothed the 
 satin coats of his children with affectionate hand. Then in 
 a moment they saw him spring into the cart. 
 
 Taking the reins from the choreman, he settled himself 
 into the driving-seat, while the deposed charioteer clam- 
 bered stiffly to the ground. 
 
 Minky was at the wheel nearest to his friend. The 
 horses, under the master-hand, had suddenly become restive. 
 Bill bent over, and the storekeeper craned up towards him. 
 
 " Ther* was two fellers hit the trail this morning," the 
 
THE GOLD-STAGE 315 
 
 gambler said, with a short laugh. " I see 'em when I was 
 with Zip 'fore daylight." 
 
 " You you best quit it," said Minky in serious, anxious 
 tones. " We kin, maybe, hold the gold up against him here. 
 It ain't too late. It ain't, sure." 
 
 Bill's face suddenly darkened. All the lightness which 
 the prospect before him had inspired suddenly left it. His 
 words came so full of bitter hatred that the other was 
 startled. 
 
 " Not for a million-dollar halo ! " he cried, reaching out 
 for his long whip. 
 
 With a dexterous swing he set it cracking over his horses' 
 backs. The high-strung beasts plunged at their bits, and the 
 leaders started to rear. Again he swung out his whip, and 
 this time it flicked the plunging leaders. Instantly there 
 was a rush of feet and a scrunch of wheels. The " tugs " 
 pulled taut, and the gush of eager nostrils hissed like steam 
 upon the still air. There was a shout of farewell from the 
 onlookers, and the gambler turned in his seat. 
 
 " So long, fellers," he cried. " I'm makin' Spawn City 
 by daylight to-morrer sure." 
 
 The next moment he was lost in a cloud of dust, as the 
 horses raced down the hill. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL 
 
 WILD BILL'S lean hands clawed the reins with muscles of 
 steel. For the moment his six horses occupied his every 
 thought. They were pulling with the madness of high-bred 
 racehorses. The trail lay before them, their master sat be- 
 hind. What more could they want, but that liberty to 
 stretch their willing bodies? 
 
 Down the hill and along the wood-lined trail that ran 
 parallel to the sluggish creek they raced. The dust rose 
 under their feet, and the wheels of the cart left a fog be- 
 hind them. It rose in swirling clouds as though to shut off 
 all retreat. Presently the road narrowed to a mere track, 
 and the dark woods closed in. But there was no slacken- 
 ing under the hand of the gambler. Nor had the horses any 
 desire to slacken their headlong rush. The woods broke 
 and gave to a low bush, and in a moment the track opened 
 upon Scipio's claim. 
 
 Now, for the first time since the start as they swept across 
 it, Bill permitted his gaze to wander from his charges. He 
 looked away at the mouth of the tunnel Sandy had spent so 
 much labor and such bitter cursing in the process of con- 
 structing; and a half -smile flitted across his hard face as he 
 beheld the oozy debris, the idle tools, the winch and buckets. 
 The sight seemed to afford him amusement. There was a 
 softening, too, in his hard face. Maybe it was the result of 
 his amusement. Maybe it was due to some thought of the 
 little man with whom he was partners. But he seemed to 
 freeze up again as the claim passed, and the horses floun- 
 
ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL 317 
 
 dered over the heavy trail beside the black, oily swamp be- 
 yond. It was bad driving here, and he steadied the racing 
 creatures down with voice and hand. 
 
 " Easy, Gipsy. Easy you, Pete. Now Maisie. So ! 
 Steady, boys. Easy ! " 
 
 The harsh voice was hushed and gentle. He was speak- 
 ing to creatures that were not merely horses to him, but 
 something nearer, perhaps even dearer. 
 
 And the well-trained creatures responded at once, slowing 
 to an easy trot, a pace which they kept until the ford of the 
 creek was reached. Here they dropped to a walk as they 
 splashed their way through the turgid stream. But the 
 moment the wheels of the cart topped the opposite bank, 
 they once more resumed their headlong gait. 
 
 At once the gambler sat up. He straightened his lean body 
 as a man who opens his lungs to breathe in deep draughts of 
 fresh, bracing air. His narrow eyes stared out aside of him 
 and beyond. His nostrils expanded, and his thin lips were 
 tightly shut. 
 
 The camp was behind him. The trail, a hard, wide sand 
 trail, lay ahead. The wide, wild world was about him on 
 every hand, reminding him of days long gone by, reminding 
 him that to-day his instincts were still the same. The same 
 fiery, militant spirit that had driven him from one end of his 
 country to the other still left him yearning for the ruthless 
 battle of wild places and wilder men. The long months of 
 inactivity, the long days of peace, the longer nights of his 
 gambler's craft, were for the moment gone. He was setting 
 out, as in the old days, surrounded by all in life he cared for, 
 offering a challenge to all the world, ready to grapple with 
 whatsoever the gods of war might choose to thrust in his 
 way. 
 
 The man's spirits rose. The swift-flashing eyes bright- 
 ened. His body felt to be bursting with a ravishing joy of 
 life. His purpose was his own. The joy was his alone. 
 
318 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 He had found excuse for satisfying his own greedy lust, 
 a lust for battle which no overwhelming odds could dimin- 
 ish. He was a savage. He knew it; he gloried in it. 
 Peace to him was a wearisome burden of which at all times 
 he was ready to rid himself. So he was born. So he had 
 always lived. So, he knew, he would die. 
 
 The trail rose with the upland. It rose with that grada- 
 tion which so wears down the ardor of almost any horse. 
 But the creatures Wild Bill was driving were made of un- 
 usual mettle. Their courage was the courage of the man 
 behind them. And only when his courage failed him would 
 their spirit falter. They swept up the long stretch as 
 though the effort were a pastime. With ears pricked for- 
 ward, nostrils gushing, their veins standing out like whip- 
 cord through their satin coats, they moved as though every 
 stride were an expression of the joy of living. And the 
 man's steel muscles were held at tension to keep their gait 
 within the bounds of reason. 
 
 As they neared the hill-top he turned and glanced back 
 over his shoulder. There lay the camp nestling on the far 
 side of the creek. There stood Minky's store, lording it 
 over its lesser fellows with the arrogance of successful 
 commerce. He could see a small patch of figures stand- 
 ing about its veranda, and he knew that many eyes were 
 watching for a final sight of him at the moment when he 
 should vanish over the hill. 
 
 They were friendly eyes, too, he knew. They were the 
 eyes of men who wished him well. But he doubted if those 
 good wishes were for his own sake. He knew he was not a 
 man whom men loved. And he smiled grimly as he glanced 
 down at the chest of gold in the body of the cart. 
 
 In a moment his eyes were looking out ahead again, and 
 all thought of those he was leaving behind left his mind. 
 
 The hill-top passed, the horses swung down into a deep, 
 long valley. It was in this valley, some six or seven miles 
 
ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL 319 
 
 farther on, he had encountered Scipio in Minky's buck- 
 board. He thought of that meeting now, and remembered 
 many things ; and as recollection stirred his teeth shut tight 
 till his jaw muscles stood out like walnuts through his lean 
 cheeks. He had promised Scipio that day. Well, his mind 
 was easier than his feelings. He was confident. But he 
 was stirred to a nervous desire to be doing. 
 
 Nothing escaped his watchful eyes. Every tree, every 
 bush, every rise and hollow passed under his closest scru- 
 tiny. But this was simply his way, a way that had long 
 since been forced into a habit. He did not anticipate any 
 developments yet. The battle-cry was yet to be sounded. 
 He knew the men he was likely to deal with better than any 
 other class. He knew their ways, their subtleties. Who 
 should know them better? Had not years of his life been 
 spent ? 
 
 He laughed aloud, but his laughter rang without mirth. 
 And his horses, taking the sound to be a command, broke 
 suddenly into a gallop. It was the sympathy between man 
 and beast asserting itself. They, too, possessed that nervous 
 desire to be doing. Something of the significance of the 
 journey was theirs, and their nerves were braced with the 
 temper of fine steel. 
 
 He steadied them down with the patience of a devoted 
 father for a pack of boisterous children. No harsh words 
 disturbed their sensitive ears. The certainty of their obedi- 
 ence made it unnecessary to exert any display of violence. 
 They promptly fell again into their racing trot, and the cart 
 once more ran smoothly over the hard beaten trail. 
 
 The higher reaches of the creek cut into the valley from 
 the right, and the trail deviated to a rise of sandy ground. 
 He had reached the point of his meeting with Scipio. Nor 
 did he slacken his pace over the dust-laden patch. It was 
 passed in a choking cloud, and in a moment the rise was 
 topped and a wild, broken country spread out before him. 
 
320 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 Five miles farther on he halted beside a small mountain 
 stream and breathed his horses. 
 
 But his halt was of the briefest. He simply let the horses 
 stand in their harness. It was not time to feed, but he 
 removed their bits and let them nip up the bunches of sweet 
 grass about their feet. And as he did so he paused a mo- 
 ment at the head of each animal, muttering words of en- 
 couragement, and administering caresses with a hand which 
 bore in its touch an affection that no words of his could 
 have conveyed. 
 
 Then he went back to the cart and made a few simple 
 dispositions. One was to securely lash the gold-chest in its 
 place ; but its place he changed to the front of the cart. 
 Another was to leave the lid of the foot-box, built against 
 the dashboard, wide open, and to so secure it that it could 
 not close again. Another was to adjust the lowered hood 
 of the cart in a certain way that it was raised head-high as 
 he sat in his driving-seat. 
 
 Then, with a grim satisfaction in his small eyes as he 
 glanced over his simple preparations, he jumped to the 
 ground and replaced the bits in his horses' mouths. In two 
 minutes he was again rushing over the trail, but this time 
 through a world of crag and forest as primitive and rugged 
 as was his own savage soul. 
 
 So the journey went on, over mountainous hills, and deep 
 down into valleys as dark as only mountain forests of 
 spruce and pine could make them. Over a broken road 
 that set the light cart perilously bumping, speeding along the 
 edges of precipices, with little more than inches to spare, at 
 a pace that might well set the nerves jangling with every 
 jolt. Later a halt for feed and water, and on again, the 
 willing horses taking their rest only as the difficulties of the 
 trail reduced their pace to a laborious walk. 
 
 The man sat alert through it all. There was no question 
 in his mind. He knew what lay ahead of him somewhere in 
 
ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL 321 
 
 those vast depths. He knew that what he looked for was 
 coming just as surely as the Day of Doom. He did not ask 
 when or where. That was not his way. It might come 
 when it chose, for his part. He was ready and even yearn- 
 ing for the moment of its coming. 
 
 So his eyes never rested for a moment. Scarce a glance 
 or thought did he give to his horses. Theirs it was to keep 
 to the trail. Theirs it was to keep their pace. His was all 
 other responsibility. 
 
 The sun was leaning towards the western crags, where, in 
 the distance, they raised their snow-crowned heads towards 
 the heavens. The ruddy daylight was deepening to that 
 warmth of color which belongs to day's old age. The forest 
 shadows appeared to deepen, those dark forests so far below 
 him in the valleys. Here, where he was racing along at a 
 high level, all was bright, the air was joyous. Below him 
 lay the brooding stillness where lurked a hundred unknown 
 dangers. There were only about fifteen more miles of this 
 broken solitude, and beyond that stretched a world of wav- 
 ing, gracious grassland right on to the prairie city whither 
 he was bound. 
 
 He stirred; his roving eyes abruptly concentrated. One 
 distant spot on the rugged landscape held him. He craned 
 forward. The movement caused him to ease his hand upon 
 the reins. Instantly the horses sprang into a gallop. So 
 intent was he that for the moment the change passed un- 
 noticed. He seemed only to have eyes and thought for that 
 distant hill-top. Then of a sudden he realized the danger- 
 ous breakneck speed, and turned his attention upon his 
 team. 
 
 The animals once more reduced to a sober pace, he turned 
 again to the spot which held his interest ; and his eyes grew 
 bright with a smile that had nothing pleasant in it. He was 
 grinning with a savage joy more fierce, more threatening, 
 than the cruellest frown. The next time he bestirred him- 
 
322 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 self it was to swing his gun-holsters more handy to the 
 front of his body. 
 
 Later on his interest seemed to lessen. No longer was 
 there that watchfulness in his eyes. Perhaps it was he 
 deemed there was no longer the necessity for it. Perhaps 
 what he had seen had satisfied his restless searching. Any- 
 way, he now sat contemplating the shining backs of his 
 horses as they sped down the hill, and his eyes were friendly 
 as he watched the rolls of muscle writhing under their satin 
 coats. 
 
 But when next he looked up his moment of gentleness had 
 passed. His easier moods were never of long duration. 
 One swift glance again at the distant hill, and then he 
 turned from it and sat gazing at the dank, oozy prospect of 
 the low-lying flat he was just entering with no sort of 
 friendliness. The sharp hoofs of his team were flinging 
 mud in every direction, and the rattle of the wheels had 
 deadened to a thick sucking as they sank into the black 
 mud. It was a heavy pull, but the speed was not checked. 
 It only needed an extra effort, and this the willing team 
 readily applied. He knew the spot well ; and he knew that 
 beyond lay the hill, the crest of which had so held his at- 
 tention a few minutes before. 
 
 His thoughts traveled no farther than that hill. For the 
 time at least there was nothing beyond. Later it would be 
 for him to consider that. Just ahead of him lay the chances 
 and changes which went to make up such a life as his. 
 This he knew. And somehow the thought stimulated his 
 pulses to a fuller appreciation of things. 
 
 In a few moments he was nearing the far boundary of the 
 flat, and the ascent of the hill was about to commence. He 
 smiled. Yes, it was well calculated. The hill would have 
 to be taken at a walk. It was by far the steepest of the 
 journey. He remembered, too, that the crest of it was 
 reached by a final climb that became almost precipitous. 
 
ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL 323 
 
 He remembered, too, that the black woods that crowded its 
 sides at the crest gave place to the skeleton trunks left by 
 some long- forgotten forest fire. Yes, it was the one spot on 
 the whole journey best calculated for what was to come. 
 
 The team no longer labored in the ooze. The ascent was 
 begun. With heads held high, with ears pricked and nostrils 
 distended they faced the big effort unflinchingly. 
 
 And the driver's mind was calculating many things. It 
 was moving with the swiftness of an able general's in the 
 midst of a big action. He glanced at the sky. Already the 
 sun was hidden behind the western hills. Already the shad- 
 ows were lengthening and the gray of evening was fall- 
 ing. The profound woods, dense and ghostly, had closed in. 
 The trail was so narrow that the dreary, weeping foliage 
 often swept the sides of the cart. But these things did not 
 occur to him. His mind was ahead, amongst those aged 
 skeletons left by the raging fire-fiend. 
 
 Progress was slow. It was almost too slow for the man's 
 eager nerves. He wanted to reach his goal. His lean body 
 thrilled with a profound joy. He lusted for the battle 
 which he knew to lie ahead of him. But, even so, he gave 
 no outward sign. His face was set and harsh. His small 
 eyes bored through the gloom, thrusting to penetrate beyond 
 every bend in the winding road. Nothing escaped them. 
 Each small fur that fled in terror at his approach was care- 
 fully noted, for they told him things he wanted to know. 
 
 Now the final steep was reached. It was truly precipi- 
 tous. The sharp hoofs of the team clawed their way up. 
 Such was the struggle that even the man found himself 
 leaning forward, instinctively desiring to help the laboring 
 animals. The bends in the trail were sudden and at brief 
 intervals. It was as though those responsible for the origi- 
 nal clearing of the road had realized the impossibility of a 
 direct ascent, and had chosen the zigzag path as the only 
 means of surmounting the hill. 
 
3 2 4 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 The moments passed. Bend followed bend. The man in 
 the cart found himself mechanically counting them. Two 
 more. One more. The summit was almost reached. And 
 beyond? He sighed. Maybe it was the sigh of a man 
 whose nerves are relieved from their tension, knowing that 
 beyond this last bend lay his goal. Maybe it was inspired 
 by sympathy for his struggling horses. Anyway, his 
 whole manner underwent a change. The watchfulness 
 seemed to have gone from his eyes, his muscles to have re- 
 laxed. He leant back in his seat like a man full of weari- 
 ness, and securely fastened his reins to an iron rail on 
 the side of the cart. 
 
 He was at the bend now. The leaders were abreast of it. 
 They were past it. He 
 
 There was a sharp rattle of firearms, and half-a-dozen 
 bullets swept pinging their way over his head. A hoarse 
 voice shouted a command to halt. His horses plunged for- 
 ward. But, quick as lightning, his hands flew to the reins, 
 and he drew them up to a standstill in the open. 
 
 " Hands up ! " shouted the same voice ; and a horseman 
 appeared on each side of the team. 
 
 Then came an exhibition of the gambler as he was, as in 
 the old days he had always been known. It was all done in 
 the fraction of a second. Simultaneously his two guns 
 leapt from his holsters and two shots rang out. There was 
 an ominous echo from the woods. One horseman reeled in 
 his saddle, and the horse of the other man stumbled and 
 finally fell. 
 
 The next moment the man in the cart was crouching 
 down, all but the crown of his head and his gleaming eyes 
 well sheltered by the loose-hanging canvas hood. 
 
 " I'm 'most allus ready to put my hands up ! " he snarled. 
 "Come on!" 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 A SHOUT of fury. A wild chorus of meaningless blas- 
 phemy. A thundering of hoofs. A shriek of pain an 
 appalling death-cry. The fight has begun such a fight, in 
 its wanton savagery, as might shame even the forest beasts. 
 In a moment the human lusting for the blood of its fellows 
 is let loose, than which there is no more terrible madness on 
 earth. 
 
 Yet there was a difference. There was a difference of 
 motive widely separating the combatants ; and it was a dif- 
 ference that left the balance of offense doubtful. 
 
 To analyze the mental attitude of these people adequately 
 would be well-nigh impossible. Their outlook possessed 
 distortions which changed with chameleon-like rapidity. 
 On the one hand was a band of lawless ruffians, steeped to 
 their very souls in every sort of crime, in whose minds all 
 law was anathema, in whose understanding all possession 
 was a deliberate challenge, in whose hearts was no pity, 
 no mercy, no feeling which belongs to the gentler side of 
 human life ; to whose comprehension death has no meaning 
 until its relentless grip is fixed, and they feel the last spark 
 of life crushing out of their own bodies. Then But the 
 analysis becomes hopelessly chaotic. 
 
 On the other hand motive is perhaps even more difficult 
 still, though a shade less hopeless. The gambler was a man 
 of strong thought, of strong forces. Nor was he devoid of 
 the gentler feelings of life. Yet here lies the difficulty of 
 associating the various sides of his character with his ac- 
 
326 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 tions. He had set out for this encounter. He had yearned 
 for it, as a child might yearn for a plaything. The con- 
 templation of it gave him ecstasy. With an inhuman joy he 
 desired the lives of these men. Not one, but all ; and one 
 even more than all. Then, too, his purpose was in face of 
 overwhelming odds in face of almost a certainty of death 
 for himself. Such actions have been performed before in 
 noble cases, but here ? 
 
 Was it simply his purpose to yield himself a martyr to the 
 public welfare? Was it that he truly desired to avenge a 
 wronged man? Was he setting himself up as the avenger 
 of Sid Morton's cruel death, a man in whom he had no 
 interest whatever ? No. It would be absurd to believe that 
 these things were the promptings responsible for his present 
 actions. Some hideous psychological twist was driving him. 
 Some passion swayed him over which he had no control 
 whatever. Some degeneracy was upsetting his mental bal- 
 ance, and forcing him against his better instincts. But, 
 even so, his whole attitude was that of a man of clear, alert 
 mind, of iron purpose, of a courage invincible. 
 
 Calm and cold Wild Bill crouched while, in the first rush 
 of battle, the shots hailed about him. He reserved his fire, 
 too, waiting for the effective moment with the patience of 
 a skillful general. His every shot must tell, and tell desper- 
 ately. 
 
 Three times he was hit in as many seconds, but beyond 
 hugging his flimsy shelter more closely he gave no sign. 
 His purpose rose above all physical hurt or sense of pain. 
 He was watching the movements of one man of one man 
 only. His gleaming eyes pursued the figure of the outlaw 
 leader to the exclusion of all else. James was his quarry. 
 The rest well, the rest were merely incidental. 
 
 And, emboldened by his intended victim's silence, James 
 suddenly changed his tactics. A long-ranged battle was lit- 
 tle enough to his savage taste. He ceased the ineffective 
 
THE BATTLE 327 
 
 fire of his men and brought them together. Then in a mo- 
 ment, with the reckless abandon of his class, he headed 
 them and charged. They came, as before, with a brazen 
 shout, and the air was hideous with a fresh outburst of blas- 
 phemy, while a rush of lead searched the fragile cart in 
 every direction. 
 
 But the din of voices, the crash of woodwork as the 
 panels of the cart were riddled by the wildly flung shots, 
 was powerless to draw the defender. His guns were 
 ready. He was ready for the purpose in his mind. That 
 was all. His fierce eyes lit with a murderous intent as he 
 calculated with certainty and exactness. 
 
 On they came. They drove their maddened horses with 
 savage spurs right up to the cart. It was the moment the 
 gambler awaited. He leapt, and in a flash his tall figure 
 was confronting the leader of the attack. And as he rose 
 his arms were outstretched and his great guns belched their 
 murderous fire. Two men rolled from their saddles with a 
 death-scream that died down to a hideous gurgle, as the ra- 
 cing hoofs trod the last atom of life out of their bodies. His 
 guns belched a second time, and James' throat was plowed 
 open, and the rich red blood spurted in a ghastly tide. An- 
 other shot and another man fell forward, clutching his 
 horse's mane while he was borne from the battle-field to the 
 dim recesses of the forest by his uncontrolled and affrighted 
 beast. 
 
 But the gambler paid a high price for these successes 
 far higher than he could really afford. Four times more he 
 was badly hit. Four times the hot slither of burning lead 
 plowed its way amidst the life-channels of his body. 
 And his retreat to cover was something almost in the nature 
 of collapse. 
 
 But the spirit of the man admitted of no weakening. It 
 rose dominant over all physical sensation. He thrust aside 
 the cognizance of his hurts, and abandoned himself solely to 
 
328 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 his purpose. James was still in the saddle, and the sight of 
 his hated personality consumed him with rage and disgust at 
 the failure of his first attempt. 
 
 " Still around. Still around," he muttered. And in a 
 moment the battle was surging once more. 
 
 No longer was the leader of the attack moved by the irre- 
 sponsible bravado of his first attack. He was a raging 
 savage, goaded by the desperate wounds he had received, and 
 the knowledge that he and all his force were being held at 
 bay by one man. So he charged again, a headlong rush, 
 howling as he came at the head of his four remaining sup- 
 porters. 
 
 They came like an avalanche, their voices making hideous 
 the rapidly falling night, while the wounded defender 
 waited, waited, all his purpose concentrated, husbanding his 
 ebbing strength as a starving man might husband the last 
 crumbs of food. He knew that not only his strength, but 
 his very life was slowly ebbing in the red tide that was fast 
 saturating every shred of his clothing. 
 
 Again they reached the cart. Again the maddened horses 
 were driven head on to the dreaded fortress. And in- 
 stantly their quarry rose to his full height, a grim specter 
 thrilling with a murderous purpose, his arms outstretched, 
 his guns held low, that there should be no mistake this time. 
 
 The crash of battle was appalling. The scene was almost 
 lost in the smoke cloud which hung over it. There was fire 
 and cross-fire. There were exultant shouts and cries of 
 pain. And through it all the scuttling of rushing hoofs and 
 champing bits. A moment and the defender dropped. But 
 instantly he rose again, gripping in his nervous hands the 
 butts of a pair of fresh guns snatched from his foot-box. 
 Nor did he stir foot again, nor relax a muscle, till every 
 one of the twelve chambers was emptied. 
 
 Then, with an oath that carried with it all the pent-up 
 hatred of a bitter heart, he flung both weapons in the direc- 
 
THE BATTLE 329 
 
 tion whither his last shot had gone, and, staggering back, 
 dropped helplessly into the driving-seat behind him. 
 
 The smoke hung heavily and drifted slowly away upon 
 the still air. The sound of rushing hoofs receded and died 
 away in the distance, and in a while a profound quiet 
 settled upon the scene. The man lolled heavily in his seat, 
 and his eyes closed. His face was a ghastly gray, his eyes 
 were sunken and his blackened lips hung agape. His arms 
 hung helplessly at his side, and his legs were stretched out 
 in a pitiable attitude of uselessness. 
 
 The moments passed drearily. For a long time there was 
 no movement of any sort but the restless fidgeting of the 
 horses. They had stood through all the turmoil as their 
 master had long since trained them to stand. But now that 
 it was over their eager spirits were demanding the joy of the 
 trail again. It almost seemed as though, in their equine 
 minds, they had a full realization of the meaning of that 
 battle in the wild, as though sympathy between master and 
 beast had held them during that fierce ten minutes still and 
 passive, lest through any act of theirs they should cross the 
 will of the one being whom they acknowledged their lord. 
 And now that it was over and the crisis passed, it seemed as 
 if they understood that victory had been achieved, and their 
 duty once more lay upon the trail ahead of them. 
 
 At last the eyes of the man opened. The chafing of his 
 horses had penetrated to his numbing brain. Their fierce 
 depths were dull and lusterless as they rolled vaguely 
 around. Yet there was intelligence in them, although it was 
 the intelligence of a weary, fainting mind. They closed 
 again, as though the will behind them lacked in its support. 
 And then followed a sigh, a deep, long sigh of exhaustion. 
 
 There was another pause, and presently there came a 
 bodily movement. The man stirred uneasily, in the manner 
 of one gathering his weakening forces for a supreme effort 
 from which his whole body shrank. Again his eyes opened, 
 
330 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 and this time their depths were full of purpose. Suddenly 
 his legs gathered under him and his arms drew up, and in a 
 moment he staggered to his feet, his hands clutching sup- 
 port upon the back of the seat. 
 
 He stared about him doubtfully, and his uncertainty was 
 pitiful to behold. His eyes were only half open, as though 
 the effort of sustaining their lids was too great for his fail- 
 ing powers. They wandered on over the scene, however, 
 until they suddenly fixed themselves upon a spot where two 
 figures were stretched upon the ground. One was lying 
 upon its side with its knees drawn up as though asleep ; the 
 other was stretched upon its back, its arms flung out and its 
 legs lying across the other's body. The dead eyes were 
 staring up at the darkened sky, glazed and motionless. 
 
 He stared clown upon these figures for some time, and the 
 sight seemed to put fresh strength into him; and at last, 
 when he turned away, a pitiful attempt at triumph shone in 
 his dull eyes, and a ghostly smile flitted about the corners 
 of his sagging lips. 
 
 He had seen all he wanted to see. His work was done. 
 James was dead. He knew death when he saw it, and he 
 had seen it shining in those staring eyes. James had passed 
 over the one-way trail, and his had been the hand that had 
 sped him upon his journey. 
 
 Now he took a deep breath and stood swaying. Then he 
 glanced with measuring eye at the foot-box at his feet. He 
 changed his support, and, bending slowly, dragged a rawhide 
 rope from inside it. The next moment he fell back upon 
 the seat. But his work had only begun. For some time he 
 fumbled with the rope, passing it about his body and the 
 iron stanchions of the back of the seat, and after awhile had 
 succeeded in knotting it securely. Then, after a moment 
 of hard breathing, he reached out and untied the reins from 
 the rail of the cart and gathered them into his hands. And 
 as he did so his lips moved and his voice croaked brokenly. 
 
THE BATTLE 331 
 
 " Come on, Gyp," he mumbled hoarsely. " Come, gal. 
 Hey you, Pete. You, too Maisie. Come on. Get on." 
 
 It was the word his faithful friends had awaited. 
 
 Chilled and eager, they leapt at their bits, and the traces 
 snapped taut. They were off; and in their eager rush the 
 reins were almost torn from the driver's numbing fingers. 
 Again he spoke, and in his halting words was a world of af- 
 fection and encouragement. 
 
 " Easy, children," he said. " Easy, boys an' gals. Ther' 
 sure ain't no hurry now. They're dead all dead. 
 Dead as mutton." 
 
 He clawed full possession of the reins again. And in a 
 moment the cart was speeding down the long gradient that 
 was to bear them on the prairie world beyond. 
 
 The man was lolling forward, straining on the rope that 
 held his helpless body to the seat, and his eyes closed 
 wearily. The speed of the team, the direction, these things 
 meant nothing to him now. The trail was well marked 
 right in to Spawn City. There were no turnings. That 
 was all that mattered. These children of his would faith- 
 fully keep on their way to the end. He knew these things 
 without thinking, and the knowledge left him indifferent. 
 His only concern now was the gold. It was in the cart, and 
 it must reach Spawn City. To that his honor was pledged. 
 
 The reins slipped through his fingers. He stirred un- 
 easily. Then his eyes opened again. .For a moment his 
 sagging lips closed. He was summoning all his failing 
 strength. He clutched the reins in one hand, and with the 
 other knotted them about his wrist. Then, with a gasp, his 
 left hand dropped from his task, while his right arm was 
 held on stretched by the strain of the pulling horses upon 
 the reins. 
 
 There was now no longer any demand for further effort, 
 and the drooping body lolled over against the side of the 
 cart as though the man were seeking his rest. His head 
 
332 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 hung away at a helpless angle, and his legs straggled. And 
 thus the speeding team raced clear of the mountain world 
 and plunged through the darkness to the prairie beyond. 
 
 The moon rose in all its cold splendor. The stars dimmed 
 before its frigid smile. The black vault of the heavens lit 
 with a silvery sheen, embracing the prairie world beneath its 
 bejeweled pall. 
 
 The sea of grass lay shadowed in the moonlit dusk. But, 
 in sharp relief, a white ribbon-like trail split it from end to 
 end, like some forlorn creature with white outspread arms 
 yearning in desolation yearning for the bustle and rush of 
 busy life which it is denied, yearning to be relieved from so 
 desperate a solitude. 
 
 The vastness and silence dwarfs even thought. The 
 things which are great, which have significance, which have 
 meaning to the human mind are lost in such a world. Life 
 itself becomes infinitesimal. 
 
 There is something moving in a tiny ebullition of dust 
 along the white trail. It looks so small. It moves so 
 slowly, crawling, seemingly, at a snail's pace. It is almost 
 microscopical in the vastness. 
 
 Yet it is only these things by comparison. It is neither 
 small, nor is it traveling at a snail's pace. It is a cart drawn 
 by six horses, racing as though pursued by all the demons of 
 the nether world. 
 
 And in the driving-seat is a curious, stiffly swaying figure. 
 It is strangely inanimate. Yet it suggests something that no 
 ordinary human figure could suggest. It is in its huddled 
 attitude, its ghastly face, its staring, unseeing eyes, which 
 gaze out in every direction, as the jolting of the cart turns 
 and twists the body from side to side. There is something 
 colossal, something strangely stirring in the suggestion of 
 purpose in the figure. There is something to inspire won- 
 der in the most sluggish mind. It tells a story of some sort 
 
THE BATTLE 333 
 
 of heroism. It tells a story of a master mind triumphing 
 over bodily weakness and suffering. It tells a story of 
 superlative defiance the defiance of death. 
 
 The early risers of Spawn City were gathered in a stupe- 
 fied crowd outside the principal hotel in the place. Six 
 jaded horses, drawing a light spring-cart, had just pulled up. 
 The poor creatures were utterly spent, and stood with 
 drooping heads and distended nostrils, gasping and steam- 
 ing, their weary legs tottering beneath them. Their great 
 eyes were yearning and sunken, and their s^nall ears lay 
 back, indifferent to every sound or movement about them. 
 Their last buoyancy has been expended. They have run 
 their mad race till their hearts are nigh bursting. 
 
 But the horses were of the least interest to the onlookers. 
 It was the dusty spring-cart that interested their curious 
 minds the cart, and the still and silent driver, who made 
 no attempt to leave his seat. They stood gaping, not daring 
 to disturb the ghastly figure, not daring even to approach it 
 too closely. Their minds were thrilling with a morbid 
 horror which held them silent. 
 
 But at last there came a diversion. A burly, rough-clad 
 man pushed his way through the crowd, and his keen eyes 
 flashed a quick look over the whole outfit. He was the 
 sheriff, and had been hurriedly summoned. 
 
 "Wild Bill!" he muttered. "Them's sure his plugs, 
 too," he added, as though seeking corroboration. 
 
 There was certainly doubt in his tone, and surprise, too ; 
 and he came to the side of the cart and gazed up into the 
 awful face drooping forward over the outstretched arm to 
 further convince himself. What he beheld caused him to 
 click his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was his 
 only means of giving expression to the wave of horror that 
 swept over him. 
 
 With a leap he sprang into the seat, and began releasing 
 
334 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 the knotted reins from the stiffened arm. So tight had the 
 knots been drawn that it took some moments. Then he 
 turned, and with difficulty removed the rawhide from about 
 the middle of the huddled figure. Then he hailed some of 
 the onlookers. 
 
 " Ho, you, Joe ! You, too, Lalor, an' Ned ! Stand by, 
 lads, an' bear a hand," he cried authoritatively. " Guess 
 I'll pass it out." 
 
 Then he stood up, staring down at the stiffened body ; and 
 wonder looked out of his puzzled eyes. 
 
 " Gee ! if it ain't Wild Bill the gambler, an' an' he must 
 ha' bin dead nigh six hours." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 A MAN'S LOVE 
 
 IT was with strangely mixed feelings that Scipio drove 
 Minky's old mule down the shelving trail leading into the 
 secret valley where stood James' ranch-house. The recol- 
 lection of his first visit to the place was a sort of nightmare 
 which clung desperately in the back cells of memory. The 
 dreadful incidents leading up to it and surrounding it could 
 never be forgotten. Every detail of his headlong journey in 
 quest of the man who had wronged him, every detail of his 
 terrible discomfiture, would cling in his memory so long 
 as he had life. 
 
 But, in spite of memory, in spite of his wrongs, his heart- 
 burnings, the desolation of the past weeks, his heart rose 
 buoyantly as he came within sight of the place in which he 
 still persisted in telling himself that his Jessie was held a 
 prisoner against her will. That was his nature. No 
 optimism was too big for him. No trouble was so great 
 that hope could altogether be crushed out of his heart. 
 
 He looked out over the splendid valley extending for 
 miles on either hand of him, and somehow he was glad. 
 Somehow the glorious sunlight, so softened by the shadowed 
 forest which covered the hillsides, so gentle beneath the 
 crowding hills which troughed in the bed of waving grass, 
 sent his simple spirit soaring to heights of anticipatory de- 
 light which, a few days back, had seemed beyond his reach. 
 
 At that moment, in spite of all that had gone before, the 
 place was very,, very beautiful to him, life was wonderful, 
 his very existence was a joy. For was not Jessie waiting 
 
336 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 for him beyond, in that ranch-house? Was not she wait- 
 ing for his coming, that she might return with him to their 
 home ? Was she not presently to be seated beside him upon 
 the rickety old seat of Minky's buckboard? And his final 
 thought caused him to glance regretfully down at the frayed 
 cushion, wishing cordially that he could have afforded her 
 greater comfort. 
 
 Ah, well, perhaps she would not mind just for this once. 
 And, after all, she would be with him, which was the great 
 thing. W T ild Bill had promised him that ; and he had every 
 confidence in Wild Bill. 
 
 Then he suddenly thought of something he might have 
 done. Surely he might have brought Vada with him. 
 What a pity he didn't think of it before he started out. It 
 was foolish of him, very foolish. But he had been so full 
 of Jessie. The thought of winning her back had quite put 
 everything else out of his head. Yes, it was a pity. The 
 presence of Vada would certainly have added to her happi- 
 ness, she was so fond of her children. 
 
 Then he remembered his instructions. Bill had said he 
 must go alone. He must go alone and be prepared to 
 fight for her. Bill was a wonderful man. He seemed to 
 be able to do anything he chose. And somehow he felt 
 sorry he had bluffed him into buying half his claim. He 
 could feel the roll of bills, the result of that transaction, in 
 his hip pocket, and the pressure of them impressed itself un- 
 pleasantly upon his conscience. He felt sure he had no right 
 to them. He must really give them back to the gambler later. 
 He felt that his attitude was a swindle on a good man. 
 Bill was certainly a good man, a brave man, but he was no 
 business man. He, Scipio, had the advantage of him there. 
 
 The buckboard rumbled down to the grassy trail which 
 stretched from the foot of the hillside to the ranch-house. 
 And now the pale-eyed little man bethought him of the fight 
 Bill had promised him. 
 
A MAN'S LOVE 337 
 
 Quite unperturbed he looked down at the fierce pair of 
 revolvers hanging at his waist. He was taking no chances 
 this time. He had borrowed these guns from Minky, the 
 same as he had borrowed the mule and buckboard. They 
 were fine weapons, too. He had tried them. Oh, no, if it 
 came to shooting he would give a different account of him- 
 self this time. Mr. James must look to himself. So must 
 Abe Conroy. He would have no mercy. And he frowned 
 darkly down at the gigantic weapons. 
 
 Now he considered carefully the buildings ahead. The 
 ranch was certainly a fine place. He found it in his heart 
 to admire it, and only felt pity that it was the house of such 
 a pitiable scoundrel as James. And yet he really felt sorry 
 for James. Perhaps, after all, he ought not to be too hard 
 on the man. Of course, he was a wicked scoundrel, but 
 that might be merely misfortune. And, anyway, Jessie, his 
 Jessie, was a very beautiful woman. 
 
 His eyes wandered on to the distant hills, catching up the 
 smaller details of interest as they traveled. There were 
 hundreds of cattle grazing about, and horses, too. Then 
 there were the fenced-in pastures and the branding corrals. 
 James must certainly be an excellent rancher, even if he 
 were a scoundrel. 
 
 But the place was very still. Strangely still, he thought. 
 There was not even one of the usual camp dogs to offer him 
 its hostile welcome. He could see none of the " hands " 
 moving about. Perhaps they were 
 
 Of course. For the moment he had forgotten that they 
 were not simple ranchers. He had forgotten they were 
 man-hunters. They were probably out on the trail pursuing 
 their nefarious calling. And, of course, Bill knew it. 
 That was why he had told him to drive out on this par- 
 ticular morning. Wonderful man, Bill! 
 
 Suddenly the distant neighing of a horse startled him, and 
 he looked across the woods beyond the house, the direction, 
 
338 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 he calculated, whence the sound came. But there was no 
 horse to be seen. Nothing except the darkling cover of pine 
 woods. It was strange. He was sure the sound came from 
 that direction. No; there was certainly nothing in the 
 shape of a horse out there. There wasn't even a cow. 
 Perhaps it was a " stray " amongst the trees. So he dis- 
 missed the matter from his mind and chirruped at the old 
 mule. 
 
 And now he came up to the ranch; and the stillness of 
 the place became even more pronounced. It really was 
 astonishing. Surely there must be somebody about. He 
 pushed his guns well to the front, and drew his prairie hat 
 forward so that the brim shaded his pale eyes. He further 
 shifted his reins into his left hand, and sat with his right on 
 the butt of one of his weapons. Whatever was to come he 
 was ready for it. One thing he had made up his mind to; 
 he would stand no nonsense from anybody certainly not 
 from James or Conroy. 
 
 The old mule plodded on, and, with the instinct of its 
 kind, headed in the direction of the nearest corral. And 
 Scipio was forced to abandon his warlike attitude, and with 
 both hands drag him away into the direction of the house 
 door. But somehow in those last moments he entirely for- 
 got that his mission was a righting one, and sat shaking the 
 reins and chirruping noisily in the approved manner of any 
 farmer on a visit. 
 
 He stared up at the house as he came. His eyes were 
 filled with longing. He forgot the barns, the corrals as pos- 
 sible ambushes. He forgot every thought of offense or de- 
 fense. There was the abode of his beloved Jessie, and all 
 he wondered was in which part of it lay her prison. He 
 was overflowing with a love so great that there was no 
 room in either brain or body for any other thought or feel- 
 ing. 
 
 But Jessie was nowhere to be seen, and a shadow of dis- 
 
A MAN'S LOVE 339 
 
 appointment clouded his face as he halted the only too will- 
 ing beast and clambered down between the spidery wheels. 
 Nor did he wait to secure his faithful servitor, or to think 
 of anything practical at all. He hustled up to the open 
 doorway, and, pushing his head in through it, called till 
 the echoes of the place rang 
 
 " Ho, Jess ! Ho, you, Jess ! It's me Zip ! I come to 
 fetch you to home." 
 
 The echoes died away and the place became still again. 
 And somehow the quiet of it set him bristling. His hands 
 flew to his guns and remained there while he stood listening. 
 But no answer came, and his redundant hope slowly ebbed, 
 leaving a muddy shore of apprehension. 
 
 Then, with one glance back over his shoulder, he moved 
 into the building with much the stealth of a thief. In the 
 living-room he stood and stared about him uncertainly. It 
 was the same room he had been in before, and he remem- 
 bered its every detail. Suddenly he pushed the evil of those 
 recollections aside and called again 
 
 "Ho, Jess! Ho-o-o!" 
 
 But the confidence had gone from his tone, and his call 
 suggested an underlying doubt. 
 
 Again came the echoes. Again they died. Then yes 
 there was a sound that had nothing to do with echoes. 
 Again yes sure. It was the sound of someone moving 
 in an upper room. He listened attentively, and again his 
 eyes brightened with ready hope. 
 
 "Jess! Jess! "he called. 
 
 And this time there was an answer. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation, without a second's 
 thought, he dashed through an open doorway and ran up the 
 narrow flight of stairs beyond. 
 
 At last, at last! His Jessie! He had heard her voice. 
 He had heard the music he had longed for, craved for, 
 prayed for, Was there anything in the world that mattered 
 
340 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 else? Was there anything in the world that could keep 
 him from her now? No, not now. His love permeated 
 his whole being. There was no thought in his mind of 
 what she had done. There was no room in his simple heart 
 for anything but the love he could not help, and would not 
 have helped if he could. There was no obstacle now, be 
 it mountain or stream, that he could not bridge to reach his 
 Jessie. His love was his life, and his life belonged to 
 Jessie. 
 
 He reached the top of the stairs, and a door stood open 
 before him. He did not pause to consider what lay be- 
 yond. His instinct guided him. His love led him whither 
 it would, and it led him straight into the presence he 
 desired more than all the world. It led him straight to 
 Jessie. 
 
 For the fraction of a second he became aware of a vision 
 of womanhood, to him the most perfect in all the world. 
 He saw the well-loved face, now pale and drawn with suf- 
 fering and remorse. He saw the shadowed eyes full of an 
 affrighted, hunted expression. And, with a cry that bore in 
 its depth all the love of a heart as big as his small body, he 
 ran forward to clasp her in his arms. 
 
 But Jessie's voice arrested him half-way. It thrilled with 
 hysterical denial, with suffering, regret, horror. And so 
 commanding was it that he had no power to defy its man- 
 date. 
 
 "No, no," she shrilled. "Keep back back. You 
 must not come near me. I am not fit for you to touch. " 
 
 "Not fit ?" 
 
 Scipio stared helplessly at her, his eyes settling uncer- 
 tainly upon her hands as though he expected to find upon 
 them signs of some work she might have been engaged 
 upon some work that left her, as she had said, unfit to 
 touch. His comprehension was never quick. His imagi- 
 nation was his weakest point. 
 
A MAN'S LOVE 341 
 
 Then his eyes came to her well-loved face again, and he 
 shook his head. 
 
 " You you got me beat, Jess. I " 
 
 " Ah, Zip, Zip ! " Suddenly Jessie's hands went up to 
 her face and her eyes were hidden. It was the movement 
 of one who fears to witness the hatred, the loathing, the 
 scorn which her own accusing mind assures her she merits. 
 It was the movement of one whose heart was torn by re- 
 morse and shame, whose eyes were open to her sins, and 
 who realizes that earthly damnation is her future lot. Her 
 bosom heaved, and dry sobs choked her. And the little 
 man, who had come so far to claim her, stood perplexed and 
 troubled. 
 
 At last he struggled out a few words, longing to console, 
 but scarcely understanding how to go about it. All he 
 understood was that she was ill and suffering. 
 
 " Say, Jess, you musn't to cry," he said wistfully. 
 " Ther' ain't nothin' to set you cryin'. Ther' sure ain't " 
 
 But a woman's hysteria was a thing unknown to him, and 
 his gentle attempt was swept aside in a torrent of insensate 
 denial. 
 
 " No, no ! Don't come near me," she cried in a harsh, 
 strident tone. " Leave me. Leave me to my misery. 
 Don't dare to come here mocking me. Don't dare to ac- 
 cuse me. Who are you to accuse ? You are no better than 
 me. You have no right to come here as my judge. You, 
 with your smooth ways, your quiet sneers. Don't you dare ! 
 Don't you dare! I'm no longer your wife, so you have no 
 right. I'm his his. Do you understand? I'm his. I 
 shall live the life I choose, and you shall not molest me. 
 I know you. You've come to accuse me, to tell me all I 
 am, to tax me with my shame. It's cruel cruel. Oh, 
 God, help me help me ! " 
 
 The woman's voice died out in a piteous wail that smote 
 straight to the heart of the little man who stood shaking 
 
342 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 before her hysterical outbreak. He knew not what to do. 
 His love prompted him to go to her and crush her to his 
 simple, loving heart, but somehow he found himself unable 
 to do anything but gaze with longing eyes upon the heart- 
 broken figure, as she leant upon the foot-rail of the bed. 
 
 He stirred. And in the moments that passed while his 
 eyes were fixed upon her rich, heaving bosom, his mind 
 groping vaguely, he became aware of everything about him. 
 He knew he was in her bedroom. He knew that the fur- 
 nishings were good. He knew that the sunlight was pour- 
 ing in through the open window, and that a broad band of 
 dazzling light was shining upon her lustrous dark hair. He 
 knew all these things in the same way that he knew she was 
 suffering so that she came near breaking his own sym- 
 pathetic heart 
 
 But though his intellect failed him, and he had no idea of 
 what he ought to say or do, words came at last and tumbled 
 headlong from his lips, just as they were inspired, all un- 
 considered, by his heart. 
 
 " Say, Jessie gal," he cried in a softly persuasive tone, 
 "won't you come to home an' an' help me out? 
 Won't you, gal?" 
 
 But he was given no time to complete his appeal. The 
 woman suddenly raised her face, and once more broke out in 
 hysterical fury. 
 
 "Home? Home? With you?" she cried. "Ha, ha! 
 That's too good! Home, with you to forever remind me 
 what I am ? For you to sneer at me, and point me to your 
 friends for what I am ? Never, never ! Go you back where 
 you came from. I'm not a wife. Do you hear ? God help 
 me, I'm " And she buried her face again upon her arms. 
 
 " Won't you come to home, gal ? " the man persisted. 
 " Won't you ? I'm so desp'rit lonesome. An' the kids, too. 
 Gee ! they're jest yearnin' an' yearnin' for you nigh as bad 
 
A MAN'S LOVE 343 
 
 He took a step towards her with his arms outstretched. 
 All his soul was in his mild eyes. And presently Jessie 
 raised her head again. She stood staring at the wall opposite 
 her. It was as though she dared not face him. Her eyes 
 were burning, but they were less wild, and a sudden hope 
 thrilled the man's heart. He hurried on, fearful lest the old 
 storm should break out again 
 
 " Y'see, Jess, ther' ain't nuthin' to our pore little shack 
 on the ' dumps ' without you. Ther' sure ain't. Then ther's 
 my claim. I sold ha'f-. An' an' I got money now I " 
 
 The woman's eyes turned slowly upon him. They were 
 red with unshed tears. Their expression was curious. 
 There was doubt and shrinking in them. It almost seemed 
 as if she were wondering if all the past days of regret and 
 longing had turned her brain, and she were listening to words 
 conjured by a distorted fancy, some insane delusion. She 
 could not believe. But Scipio continued, and his voice was 
 real enough. 
 
 "I know I ain't much of a feller for the likes of you, 
 Jess," he said earnestly. " I ain't quick. I ain't jest bright. 
 But I do love you, my dear. I love you so I can't think 
 nothin' else. I want you to home, Jess, that bad, I thank 
 God ev'ry day He give you to me. I want you so bad it 
 don't seem you ever bin away from me. I want you that bad 
 I can't remember the last week or so. You'll come to 
 home, gal now ? Think jest think o' them bits o' twins. 
 You wait till you see 'em laff when they get eyes on you. 
 Say, they're that bonny an' bright. They're jest like you, 
 wi' their eyes all a-sparklin', an' their cheeks that rosy. 
 Gee! they're jest a-yearnin' an' a-callin' fer their mam 
 same as me." 
 
 The little man had moved another step nearer. His arms 
 were still outstretched, and his quaint face was all aglow 
 with the warmth and love that stirred him. Somewhere in 
 the back of his dull head he knew that he was pleading for 
 
344 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 something more than his life. He had no subtlety in his 
 manner or his words. It was just his heart talking for him 
 and guiding him. 
 
 And in the woman had risen a sudden hope. It was a 
 struggling ray of light in the blackness of her despair. It 
 was a weak struggling flicker just a flicker. And even as 
 it rose its power was dashed again in the profundity of her 
 suffering. She could not grasp the hand held out she could 
 not see it. She could not believe the words her ears heard. 
 
 " No, no, don't mock at me/' she cried, with a sudden 
 return to her old wildness. " It is cruel, cruel ! Leave me. 
 For pity's sake go. How can you stand there taunting me 
 so ? How can I go with you ? How can I face my children 
 now? Do you know what I am? No, no, of course you 
 don't. You could never understand. You, with your fool- 
 ish, simple mind. Shall I tell you what I am? Shall I say 
 it? Shall I" 
 
 But the man's hand went up and held her silent. 
 
 " You don't need to say nothing, Jess," he said in his 
 mildest tone. " You don't need to, sure. Whatever you 
 are, you're all the world to me jest all." 
 
 With a sudden cry the woman's head dropped upon her 
 outspread arms, and the merciful tears, so long denied her, 
 gushed forth. Her body heaved, and it seemed to the dis- 
 traught man that her poor heart must be breaking. He did 
 not know what those tears meant to her. He did not know 
 that the victory of his love was very, very near. Only he 
 saw her bowed in passionate distress, and he had no thought 
 of how to comfort her. 
 
 He waited, waited. But the flood once broken loose must 
 needs spend itself. Such is the way with women, of whom 
 he had so small an understanding. He turned away to the 
 window. He stared with unseeing eyes at the fair picture 
 of the beautiful valley. The moments passed long, dreary 
 moments rapidly changing to minutes. And then at last the 
 
A MAN'S LOVE 345 
 
 storm began to die down, and he turned again towards her 
 and drew a step nearer. 
 
 " Jess Jess," he murmured. 
 
 Then he took another hesitating step. 
 
 But his words seemed to have started her tears afresh, and 
 into his eyes came that painful perplexity again. 
 
 Again he ventured, and his step this time brought him 
 close to her side. 
 
 " Jess, gal Jess," he pleaded, with infinite tenderness. 
 
 And as the woman continued to sob he stole one arm gently 
 about her waist. She made no move. Only her shaking 
 body calmed, and her tears became more silent. 
 
 He strove to draw her towards him, but she clung to the 
 bed-rail with almost child-like persistence, as though she 
 dared not permit herself the hope his encircling arms in- 
 spired. But she had not rebuffed him, so with some asser- 
 tion he thrust his other arm about her, and, exerting force, 
 deliberately turned her towards him. 
 
 " Say, don't you to cry, lass," he whispered softly. 
 " Don't you, now. It jest makes me sore right through. It 
 jest makes me feel all of a choke, an' an' I want to cry, too. 
 Say, gal, I love you good. I do, Jess I sure do. Ther' 
 ain't nothin' in the world I wouldn't do to stop them tears. 
 Come to home, gal come to home." 
 
 And as he finished speaking he drew her dark head down 
 to his breast, and laid his thin cheek against her wealth of 
 hair. And, pressing her to the home that was for all time 
 hers, his own eyes filled with tears which slowly rolled down 
 his cheeks and mingled themselves with hers. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE REASON WHY 
 
 WHEN Scipio turned his back upon the valley it was with 
 the intention of resting his old mule at the place of the 
 friendly farmer whom he had encountered on his first mem- 
 orable visit to James' secret abode. From thence, after a 
 night's rest, he would start late next day, and make the creek 
 soon after sundown. For the sake of Jessie he had no desire 
 to make a daylight entry into the camp. 
 
 The old mule certainly needed rest. And, besides, it was 
 pleasant to prolong the journey. Moments such as the pres- 
 ent were scarce enough in life. And though Jessie was with 
 him for all time now, he greedily hugged to himself these 
 hours alone with her, when there was nothing but the fair 
 blue sky and waving grass, the hills and valleys, to witness 
 his happiness, none of the harshness of life to obtrude upon 
 his perfect joy ; nothing, not even the merest duties of daily 
 life, to mar the delicious companionship which his wife's 
 long-desired presence afforded him. The whole journey was 
 to be a sort of honeymoon, a thousand times sweeter for the 
 misery and unhappiness through which they had both passed. 
 
 He thought of nothing else. The very existence of James 
 and his gang had passed from his recollection. He had no 
 mind for dangers of any sort. He had no mind for anything 
 or anybody but his Jessie, his beautiful Jessie his wife. 
 
 Had he had the least curiosity or interest in other matters, 
 there were many things, strange things, about the recovery 
 of his wife which might have set him wondering. For in- 
 stance, he might have speculated as to the desertion of the 
 
THE REASON WHY 347 
 
 ranch the absence of dogs, the absence of all those signs 
 which tell of a busy enterprise things which could not be 
 adequately accounted for by the mere absence of the head of 
 it, even though he were accompanied by his fighting men. 
 He might have glanced about among the barns and corrals, 
 or he might even have questioned his Jessie. 
 
 Had he done either of these things a certain amount of 
 enlightenment would undoubtedly have penetrated to his 
 unsuspicious mind. He must inevitably have detected the 
 hand or hands of his earthly guardian angels in the manner 
 in which his path had been cleared of all obstructions. 
 
 Had he been less occupied with his own happiness, with 
 the joy of having Jessie once more beside him, and chanced 
 to look back into the valley as he left it forever, he would 
 certainly have received enlightenment. But he never knew 
 what had been done for him, he never knew the subtle 
 working for his welfare. 
 
 Thus it was, all unobserved by him, the moment he was 
 at sufficient distance from the ranch, three horsemen sud- 
 denly appeared from amidst the most adjacent point of the 
 forest on the far side of the valley and galloped across to the 
 house. They ran their horses to cover amongst the buildings 
 and dismounted, immediately vanishing into one of the barns. 
 
 And as they disappeared a good deal of laughter, a good 
 deal of forceful talk, came from the place which had swal- 
 lowed them up. Then, after awhile, the three reappeared 
 in the open, and with them came an old choreman, whose 
 joints ached, and whose villainous temper had seriously suf- 
 fered under the harsh bonds which had held him secure from 
 interference with Scipio for so long. 
 
 The men herded him out before them, quite heedless of 
 his bitter vituperation and blasphemy. And when they had 
 driven him forth Sunny Oak pointed out to him the retreat- 
 ing buckboard as it vanished over the far hillside. 
 
 " Ther' they go, you miserable old son of a moose," he 
 
348 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 cried with a laugh. " Ther' they go. An' I guess when 
 James gits around ag'in you'll likely pay a mighty fine 
 reck'nin'. An* I'll sure say I won't be a heap sorry neither. 
 You've give me a power o' trouble comin' along out here. 
 I ain't had no sort o' rest f er hours an' hours, an' I hate folks 
 that sets me busy." 
 
 " You're a pizenous varmint, sure," added Sandy, feeling 
 that Sunny must not be allowed all the talk. " An' your 
 langwidge is that bad I'll need to git around a Bible-class 
 ag'in to disinfect my ears." 
 
 " You sure will," agreed Toby, with one of his fatuous 
 grins. " I never see any feller who needed disinfectin' 
 more." Then he turned upon the evil-faced choreman and 
 added his morsel of admonition. " Say, old man, as ) r ou 
 hope to git buried yourself when James gits around ag'in, I 
 guess you best go an' dig that miser'ble cur o' yours under, 
 'fore he gits pollutin' the air o' this yer valley, same as you 
 are at the moment. He's cost me a goodish scrap, but I 
 don't grudge it him noways. Scrappin's an elegant pastime, 
 sure when you come out right end of it." 
 
 After that, cowed but furious, the old man was allowed to 
 depart, and the three guardians of Scipio's person deliber- 
 ately returned to their charge. Their instructions were 
 quite clear, even though they only partially understood the 
 conditions making their work necessary. Scipio must be 
 safeguarded. They were to form an invisible escort, clear- 
 ing his road for him and making his journey safe. So they 
 swung into the saddle and rode hot-foot on the trail of their 
 unconscious charge. 
 
 For the most part they rode silently. Already the journey 
 had been long and tiresomely uneventful, and Sunny Oak 
 particularly reveled in an impotent peevishness which held 
 him intensely sulky. The widower, too, was feeling any- 
 thing but amiable. What with his recent futile work on a 
 claim which was the ridicule of the camp, and now the dis- 
 
THE REASON WHY 349 
 
 comfort of a dreary journey, his feelings towards Wild Bill 
 were none too cordial. Perhaps Toby was the most cheerful 
 of the three. The matters of the Trust had been a pleasant 
 break in the daily routine of dispossessing himself of re- 
 mittances from his friends in the East. And the unusual 
 effort made him feel good. 
 
 They had reached the crown of the hill bordering the 
 valley, where the trail debouched upon the prairie beyond, 
 and the effort of easing his horse, as the struggling beast 
 clawed its way up the shelving slope, at last set loose the 
 tide of the loafer's ill-temper. He suddenly turned upon his 
 companions, his angry face dirty and sweating. 
 
 " Say," he cried, " of all the blamed fules I'd say we three 
 was the craziest ever pupped." 
 
 Sandy turned inquiring, contemptuous eyes in his direc- 
 tion. He always adopted a defensive attitude when Sunny 
 opened out. Toby only grinned and waited for what was 
 to come. 
 
 " Meanin' ? " inquired Sandy in his coldest manner. 
 
 " Meanin' ? Gee ! it don't need a mule's intellec' to get 
 my meanin'," said the loafer witheringly. " Wot, in the 
 name o' glory, would I mean but this doggone ride we're 
 takin'? Say, here's us three muttons chasin' glory on the 
 tail o' two soppy lambs that ain't got savvee enough between 
 'em to guess the north end of a hoss when he's goin' south. 
 An', wot's more, we're doin' it like a lot o' cluckin' hens 
 chasin' a brood o' fule chicks. I tell you it jest makes me 
 sick. An' ef I don't git six weeks' rest straight on end after 
 this is thro' I'll be gettin' plumb ' bug/ or or the colic, or 
 suthin' ornery bum. I've done. Sufferin' Creek ain't no 
 place fer a peace-lovin' feller like me, whose doin' all he 
 knows to git thro' life easy an' without breakin' up a natter- 
 ally delicate constitootion. I'm done. I quit." 
 
 Sandy's face was a study in sneers. Not because he did 
 not agree with the sentiments, but Sunny always irritated 
 
350 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 him. But Toby only grinned the harder, and for once, while 
 the widower was preparing an adequate retort, contrived to 
 forestall him. 
 
 " Seems to me, Sunny, you ain't got a heap o' kick comin' 
 to you," he said in his slow way. " I allow you come in 
 this racket because you notioned it. Mebbe you'll say why 
 you did it, else ? " 
 
 This unexpected challenge from Toby had the effect of 
 diverting the widower's thoughts. He left the consideration 
 of the snub he had been preparing for the loafer for some 
 future time, and waited for the other's reply. But Sunny 
 was roused, and stared angrily round upon the grinning face 
 of his questioner. 
 
 " Guess that ain't no affair of yours, anyway," he snorted. 
 " I don't stand f er questions from no remittance guy. Gee ! 
 things is gittin' pretty low-down when it comes to that." 
 
 " Maybe a remittance man ain't a first-class callin'," said 
 Toby, his grin replaced by a hot flush. " But if it comes to 
 that I'd say a lazy loafin' bum ain't a heap o' credit noways 
 neither. Howsum, them things don't alter matters any. 
 An' I, fer one, is sick o' your grouse 'cos that's all it is. 
 Say, you're settin' ther' on top o' that hoss like a badly sculp- 
 tured image that needs a week's bathin', an' talkin' like the 
 no-account fule most fellers guess you to be. Wai, show us 
 you ain't none o' them things, show us you got some sort of 
 a man inside your hide, an' tell us straight why you're out on 
 this doggone trail when you're yearnin' fer your blankets." 
 
 The attack was so unexpected that for once Sunny had no 
 reply ready. And Sandy positively beamed upon the chal- 
 lenger. And so they rode on for a few moments. Then 
 Toby broke the silence impatiently. 
 
 " Wai ? " he inquired, his face wreathed in a grin that had 
 none of the amiability usual to it. 
 
 Sunny turned ; and it was evident all his good-nature was 
 restored. He had suddenly realized that to be baited by the 
 
THE REASON WHY 351 
 
 fatuous Toby was almost refreshing, and he spoke without 
 any sort of animosity. It would certainly have been differ- 
 ent had the challenge come from the hectoring widower. 
 
 " Why for do I do it an* hate it? Say, that's jest one o' 
 them things a feller can't tell. Y'see, a feller grouses thro' 
 life, a-worritin' hisself 'cos things don't seem right by his 
 way o' thinkin'. That's natteral. He guesses he wants to 
 do things one way, then sudden-like, fer no reason he ken 
 see, he gits doin' 'em another. That's natteral, too. Y'see, 
 ther's two things, it seems to me, makes a feller act. One's 
 his fool head, an' the other well, I don't rightly know what 
 the other is, 'cep' it's his stummick. Anyways, that's how it 
 is. My head makes me want to go one way, an' my feet gits 
 me goin' another. So it is with this lay-out. An' I guess, 
 ef you was sure to git to rock-bottom o' things, I'd say we're 
 all doin' this thing 'cos Wild Bill said so." 
 
 He finished up with a chuckle that thoroughly upset the 
 equilibrium of the widower, and set him jumping at the 
 chance of retort. 
 
 " Guess you're scairt to death o' Wild Bill," he sneered. 
 
 " Wai," drawled Sunny easily, " I guess he's a feller wuth 
 bein' scairt of which is more than you are." 
 
 Sandy snorted defiantly. But a further wordy war was 
 averted by the remittance man. 
 
 " Ther's more of a man to you than I allowed, Sunny," he 
 said sincerely. " There sure is. Bill's a man, whatever else 
 he is. He's sure the best man I've seen on SufTerin' Creek. 
 But you're wrong 'bout him bein' the reason of us worritin' 
 ourselves sick on this yer trail. It ain't your head which 
 needs re-decoratin', neither. Nor it ain't your stummick, 
 which, I allow, ain't the most wholesome part of you. 
 Neither it ain't your splay feet. You missed it, Sunny, an' 
 I allus tho't you was a right smart guy. The reason you're 
 on this doggone trail chasin' glory wot don't never git 
 around, is worryin' along in a buckboard ahead of us, behind 
 
352 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 ole Minky's mule, an' he's hoofin' to home at an express 
 slug's gait. That's the reason you're on the trail, an' nothin' 
 else. You're jest a lazy, loafin', dirty bum as 'ud make mud 
 out of a fifty-gallon bath o' boilin' soapsuds if you was set 
 in it, but you was mighty sore seein' pore Zip kicked to death 
 by his rotten luck. An' feelin' that aways you kind o' f ergot 
 to be tired. That's why you're on this doggone trail. 'Cos 
 your fool heart ain't as dirty as your carkis." 
 
 And as he fired his last word Toby dashed his spurs into 
 the flanks of his jaded horse, and galloped out of reach of the 
 tide of vituperation he knew full well to be flowing in his 
 wake. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE LUCK OF SCIPIO 
 
 SUFFERING CREEK was again in a state of ferment. It 
 seemed as if there were nothing but one excitement after 
 another in the place now. No sooner was the matter of the 
 gold-stage passed than a fresh disturbance was upon them. 
 And again the established industry of the place was com- 
 pletely at a standstill. Human nature could no more with- 
 stand the infection that was ravaging the camp than keep 
 cool under a political argument. The thing that had hap- 
 pened now was tremendous. 
 
 Staid miners, old experienced hands whose lives were 
 wedded to their quest of gold, whose interest in affairs was 
 only taken from a standpoint of their benefit, or otherwise, 
 to the gold interest, were caught in the feverish tide, and 
 sent hurtling along with the rushing flood. Men whose 
 pulses usually only received a quickening from the news of a 
 fresh gold discovery now found themselves gaping with the 
 wonder of it all, and asking themselves how it was this thing 
 had happened, and if, indeed, it had happened, or were they 
 dreaming. 
 
 The whole thing was monstrous, stupendous, and here, 
 happening in their midst, practically all Suffering Creek were 
 out of it. But in spite of this the fever of excitement raged, 
 and no one was wholly impervious to it. Opinions ran riot 
 opinions hastily conceived and expressed without consid- 
 eration, which is the way of people whose nerves have been 
 suddenly strung tight by a matter of absorbing interest. 
 Men who knew nothing of the nature of things which could 
 
354 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 produce so astonishing a result found themselves dissecting 
 causes and possibilities which did not exist, and never could 
 exist. They hastily proceeded to lay down their own law 
 upon the subject with hot emphasis. They felt it necessary 
 to do this to disguise their lack of knowledge and restore 
 their personal standing. For the latter, they felt, had been 
 sorely shaken by this sudden triumph of those whom they 
 had so lately ridiculed. 
 
 And what was this wonderful thing that had happened? 
 What was it that had set these hardened men crazy with 
 excitement? It had come so suddenly, so mysteriously. It 
 had come during the hours of darkness, when weary men 
 hugged their blankets, and dreamed their dreams of the craft 
 which made up their whole world. 
 
 There was no noise, no epoch-making upheaval, no blatant 
 trumpetings to herald its coming. And the discovery was 
 made by a single man on his way to his work just after the 
 great golden sun had risen. 
 
 He was trailing his way along the creek bank over the road 
 which led eventually to Spawn City. He was slouching 
 along the wood-lined track at that swinging, laborious gait 
 of a heavy-booted man. And his way lay across the oozy 
 claim of Scipio. 
 
 But he never reached the claim. Long before he came in 
 view of it he found himself confronted with a sluggish 
 stream progressing slowly along the beaten sand of the trail. 
 For a moment he believed that the creek had, for some 
 freakish reason, suddenly overflowed its banks. But this 
 thought was swiftly swept aside, and he stood snuffing the 
 air like some warhorse, and gaping at the stream as it 
 lapped about his feet. 
 
 It came on slowly but irresistibly. And ahead of him, and 
 amongst the trailside bush, he beheld nothing but this rising 
 flood. Then of a sudden something of its meaning pene- 
 trated his dazed comprehension, and, turning abruptly, he 
 
THE LUCK OF SCIPIO 355 
 
 started to run for the higher ground. He sped swiftly 
 through the surrounding bush, dodging tree-trunks, and 
 threading his way circuitously in the direction where stood 
 the great cut bank of quartz which backed Scipio's claim. 
 The smell of the air had told him its tale, and he knew that 
 he had made a wonderful, an astounding discovery. And 
 with this knowledge had come the thought of his own possi- 
 ble advantage. Eagerly he began to seek the source of the 
 flood. 
 
 But his hopes were completely dashed the moment he 
 reached the bank overlooking Scipio's claim. There lay the 
 source of the flood, right in the heart of the little man's 
 despised land. A great gusher of coal-oil was belching from 
 the mouth of the shaft which Sandy Joyce had been at work 
 upon, and the whole clearing, right from the oozy swamp 
 beyond to the higher ground of the river bank, stealing its 
 way along trail and through bush, lay a vast shallow lake of 
 raw coal-oil. 
 
 The disappointed man waited just sufficiently long to 
 realize the magnitude of Scipio's luck, and then set off at a 
 run for the camp. 
 
 And in half-an-hour the camp was in a raging fever. In 
 half-an-hour nearly the whole of Suffering Creek had set out 
 for the claim, that they might see for themselves this wonder- 
 ful thing that had happened. In half-an-hour the whole 
 thing was being explained in theory by everybody to every- 
 body else. In half-an-hour everybody was inquiring for 
 Scipio, and each and all were desirous of being first to con- 
 vey the news. 
 
 And when it was discovered that Scipio was from home, 
 and knew nothing of his good fortune, a fresh thought came 
 to every mind. What had become of him? They learned 
 that he had borrowed Minky's buckboard, and had driven 
 away. And immediately in the public mind crept an unex- 
 pressed question. Had Zip abandoned the place in the 
 
356 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 face of his ill-luck, and, if so, what about this gigantic oil 
 find? ' 
 
 However, there was nothing to be done at present but wait. 
 The flow of oil could not be checked, and the tremendous 
 waste must go on. The gusher would flow on until the 
 pressure below lessened, and after that it would die down, 
 and require pumps to further exhaust it. 
 
 So the camp resigned itself to a contemplation of this 
 wonderful new industry that had sprung up unsought in their 
 midst; and the luck of Scipio was upon everybody's lips. 
 Nor was there only the wonder of it in every mind, for, after 
 the first feelings of envy and covetousness had passed away, 
 the humor of the thing became apparent. And it was Joe 
 Brand, in the course of discussing the matter with Minky, 
 who first drew attention to the queer pranks which fortune 
 sometimes plays. 
 
 " Say, don't it lick creation ? " he cried. " Can you beat 
 it ? No, sirree. It's the best ever it sure is. Say, here's 
 the worstest mule-head ever got foothold on this yer conti- 
 nent sets out to chase gold in a place no one outside a bug- 
 house would ever find time to git busy, an' may I be skinned 
 alive an' my bones grilled fer a cannibal's supper if he don't 
 find sech a fortune in ile as 'ud set all the whole blamed 
 world's ile market hatin' itself. Gee ! " 
 
 And Minky nodded his head. He also smiled slyly upon 
 those who stood about him. 
 
 " Ther' sure is elegant humor to most things in this 
 yer life," he said dryly. "Which 'minds me Wild Bill 
 bo't ha'f o' that claim o* Zip's 'fore he set out fer Spawn 
 City." 
 
 And at his words somehow a curious thoughtfulness fell 
 upon his hearers. Nor was there any responsive smile 
 among them. The humor he spoke of seemed to have passed 
 them by, leaving them quite untouched by its point. And 
 presently they drifted away, joining other groups, where the 
 
THE LUCK OF SCIPIO 357 
 
 reminder that Bill had been derided by the whole camp for 
 his absurd purchase had an equally damping effect. 
 
 But the day was to be more eventful even than the prom- 
 ise of the morning had suggested. And the second surprise 
 came about noon. 
 
 Excitement was still raging. Half the camp was down at 
 Zip's claim watching the miracle of the oil gusher, and the 
 other half was either on their way thither or returning from 
 it. Some of them were gathering the raw oil in cans and 
 tubs, others were hurrying to do so. And none of them 
 quite knew why they were doing it, or what, if any, the use 
 they could put the stuff to. They were probably inspired by 
 the fact that there was the stuff going to waste by the hun- 
 dreds of gallons, and they felt it incumbent upon them to 
 save what they could. Anyway, it was difficult to tear them- 
 selves away from the fascinations of Nature's prodigal out- 
 burst, and so, as being the easiest and most pleasurable 
 course, they abandoned themselves to it. 
 
 So it was that Minky found his store deserted. He 
 lounged idly out on to the veranda and propped himself 
 against one of the posts. And, standing there, his thought- 
 ful eyes roamed, subtly attracted to the spot where Zip's luck 
 had demonstrated itself. 
 
 He stood there for some time watching the hurrying fig- 
 ures of the miners as they moved to and fro, but his mind 
 was far away. Somehow Zip's luck, in spite of the excessive 
 figures which extravagant minds had estimated it at, only 
 took second place with him. He was thinking of the man 
 who had journeyed to Spawn City. He was worrying about 
 him, his one and only friend. 
 
 He had understood something of that self-imposed task 
 which the gambler had undertaken, though its full signifi- 
 cance had never quite been his. Now he felt that in some 
 way he was responsible. Now he felt that the journey 
 should never have been taken. He felt that he should have 
 
358 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 refused to ship his gold. And yet he knew full well that his 
 refusal would have been quite useless. Wild Bill was a man 
 whom opposition only drove the harder, and he would have 
 contrived a means of carrying out his purpose, no matter 
 what barred his way. 
 
 However, even with this assurance he still felt uncomfort- 
 ably regretful. His responsibility was no less, and for the 
 life of him he could not rise to enthusiasm over this luck of 
 Scipio's. It would have been different if Bill had been there 
 to discuss the matter with him. 
 
 And as the moments passed his spirits fell lower and 
 lower, until at last a great depression weighed him down. 
 
 It was in the midst of this depression, when, for the hun- 
 dredth time, he had wished that his friend had never started 
 out on his wild enterprise, that he suddenly found himself 
 staring out across the river at the Spawn City trail. He 
 stared for some moments, scarcely comprehending that at 
 which he looked. Then suddenly he became aware of a 
 horseman racing down the slope towards the river, and 
 in a moment mind and body were alert, and he stood 
 waiting. 
 
 Minky was still standing on his veranda. But he was no 
 longer leaning against the post ; he was holding a letter in his 
 hand which he had just finished reading. It was a painful- 
 looking document for all its neat, clear writing. It was 
 stained with patches of dark red that were almost brown, 
 and the envelope he held in his other hand was almost 
 unrecognizable for the same hideous stain that completely 
 covered it. 
 
 The man who had delivered it was resting on the edge of 
 the veranda. He had told his story ; and now he sat chew- 
 ing, and watching his weary horse tethered at the hitching- 
 post a few yards away. 
 
 " An' he drove that cart f er six hours dead ? " Minky 
 
THE LUCK OF SCIPIO 359 
 
 asked, without removing his eyes from the blood-stained 
 letter. 
 
 " That's sure how I sed," returned the messenger, and 
 went stolidly on with his chewing. The other breathed 
 deeply. 
 
 Then he read the letter over again. He read it slowly, so 
 as to miss no word or meaning it might contain. And, 
 curiously, as he read a feeling of wonder filled him at the 
 excellence of the writing and composition. He did not seem 
 to remember having seen Bill's writing before. And here 
 the rough, hard-living gambler was displaying himself a man 
 of considerable education. It was curious. All the years 
 of their friendship had passed without him discovering that 
 his gambling friend was anything but an illiterate ruffian of 
 the West, with nothing but a great courage, a powerful 
 personality and a moderately honest heart to recommend 
 him. 
 
 s 
 
 " MY DEAR MINKY, 
 
 " I'm dead dead as mutton. Whether I'm cooked 
 mutton, or raw, I can't just say. Anyway, I'm dead or 
 you wouldn't get this letter. 
 
 " Now this letter is not to express regrets, or to sentimen- 
 talize. You'll agree that's not my way. Death doesn't 
 worry me any. No, this letter is just a ' last will and testa- 
 ment,' as the lawyers have it. And I'm sending it to you be- 
 cause I know you'll see things fixed right for me. You see, 
 I put everything into your hands for two reasons: you're 
 honest, and you're my friend. Now, seeing you're rich and 
 prosperous I leave you nothing out of my wad. But I'd like 
 to hand you a present of my team if they're still alive 
 team and harness and cart. And you'll know, seeing I al- 
 ways had a notion the sun, moon and stars rose and set in my 
 horses, the spirit in which I give them to you, and the re- 
 gard I had for our friendship. Be good to them, old friend. 
 
360 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 " For the rest, my dollars, and anything else I've got, I'd 
 like Zip's kids to have. They're bright kids, and I've got 
 a notion for them. And, seeing Zip's their father, maybe 
 dollars will be useful to them. You can divide things 
 equally between them. 
 
 " And in conclusion you can tell Zip if he can do a good 
 turn, which I don't suppose he'll be able to, to either Sunny 
 Oak, or Sandy Joyce, or Toby Jenks, he'd best do it. 
 Because he owes them something he'll probably never hear 
 about. 
 
 " This is the last will and testament, as the lawyers say, of 
 
 " Your old friend, 
 
 "WILD BILL. 
 " (A no-account gambler, late of Abilene.) " 
 
 Minky looked up from the letter again, and his eyes were 
 shadowed. He felt that that letter contained more of the 
 gambler's heart than he would ever have allowed himself to 
 display in life. 
 
 And into his mind came many memories memories that 
 stirred him deeply. He was thinking of the days when he 
 had first encountered Bill years ago, when the name of Wild 
 Bill was a terror throughout Texas and the neighboring 
 States. And he smiled as he remembered how a perturbed 
 Government had been forced, for their own peace of mind, 
 and for the sake of the peace of the country, to put this 
 " terror " on the side of law and order, and make him a 
 sheriff of the county. And then, too, he remembered the 
 trouble Bill was always getting into through mixing up his 
 private feuds with his public duties. Still, he was a great 
 sheriff, and never was such order kept in the county. 
 
 He turned again to the man at his side. 
 
 " An* he got thro' with the gold ? " he inquired slowly. 
 
 " Jest as I sed," retorted the weary messenger. " Guess I 
 helped sheriff to deposit it in the bank." 
 
THE LUCK OF SCIPIO 361 
 
 "And he's dead?" 
 
 The man stirred impatiently and spat. 
 
 " Dead as mutton." 
 
 Minky sighed. 
 
 "An 5 you come along the Spawn City trail?" he asked 
 presently. 
 
 " I ain't got wings." 
 
 "An' you saw ?" 
 
 " The birds flappin' around nigh chokin' with human 
 meat." 
 
 The man laughed cynically. 
 
 " Did you recognize ? " 
 
 " I see James. He was dead as mutton, too an' all 
 his gang. Gee ! It must 'a' bin a hell of a scrap." 
 
 The man spat out a stream of tobacco juice and rubbed 
 his hands. 
 
 " It sure must," agreed Minky. And he passed into the 
 store. 
 
 It was dark when Scipio urged the old mule up the bank 
 at the fork of the creek. He was very weary, and Jessie 
 was asleep beside him, with her head pillowed upon his 
 shoulder. His arm was about her, supporting her, and he 
 sat rigid, lest the bumping of the rattling vehicle should 
 waken her. The position for him was trying, but he never 
 wavered. Cramped and weary as he was, he strove by every 
 means in his power to leave her undisturbed. 
 
 And as he passed the river three ghostly figures ambled 
 down to the bank, and, after drinking their horses, likewise 
 passed over. But while Scipio kept to the trail, they van- 
 ished amidst the woods. Their task was over, and they 
 sought the shortest route to their homes. 
 
 And so Scipio came to his claim. And such was his state 
 of mind, so was he taken up with the happiness which the 
 presence of his wife beside him gave him, and such was his 
 
362 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 delight in looking forward to the days to come, that he saw 
 nothing of that which lay about him. 
 
 The air to him was sweet with all the perfumes his thank- 
 ful heart inspired in his thoughts. His road was a path of 
 roses. The reek of oil was beyond his simple ken. Nor did 
 he heed the slush, slush of his mule's feet, as the old beast 
 floundered through the lake of oil spread out on all sides 
 about him. The gurgling, the sadly bubbling gusher, even, 
 might have been one of the fairy sounds of night, for all 
 thought he gave to it. 
 
 No ; blind to all things practical as he always was, how was 
 it possible that Scipio, leaving Suffering Creek a poor, strug- 
 gling prospector, should realize by these outward signs that 
 he had returned to it, possibly, a millionaire ? 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 HOME 
 
 SCIPIO stood in the doorway of his hut with a hopelessly 
 dazed look in his pale eyes and a perplexed frown upon his 
 brow. He had' just returned from Minky's store, whither 
 he had been to fetch his twins home. He had brought them 
 with him, leading them, one in each hand. And at sight of 
 their mother they had torn themselves free from their 
 father's detaining hands and rushed at her. 
 
 Jessie, strangely subdued, but with a wonderful light of 
 happiness in her eyes, was in the midst of " turning out " the 
 bedroom. She had spent the whole morning cleaning and 
 garnishing with a vigor, with a heartwhole enjoyment, such 
 as never in all her married life had she displayed before, 
 And now, as the children rushed at her, their piping voices 
 shrieking their joyous greeting, she hugged them to her 
 bosom as though she would squeeze their precious lives out 
 of them. She laughed and cried at the same time in a way 
 that only women in the throes of unspeakable joy can. Her 
 words, too, were incoherent, as incoherent as the babble of 
 the children themselves. It was a sight of mother-love 
 rarely to be witnessed, a sight which, under normal condi- 
 tions, must have filled the simple heart of Scipio with a joy 
 and happiness quite beyond words. 
 
 But just now it left him untouched, and as he silently 
 looked on he passed one hand helplessly across his forehead. 
 He pushed his hat back so that his stubby fingers could rake 
 amongst his yellow hair. And Jessie, suddenly looking up 
 from the two heads nestling so close against her bosom, 
 
364 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 realized the trouble in her husband's face. Her realization 
 came with a swiftness that would have been impossible in 
 those old days of discontent. 
 
 " Why, Zip," she cried, starting to her feet and coming 
 quickly towards him, " what what's the matter ? What's 
 wrong ? " 
 
 But the little man only shook his head dazedly, and his 
 eyes wandered from her face to the two silently staring chil- 
 dren, and then to the table so carefully laid for the midday 
 meal. 
 
 " Here, sit down," Jessie hurried on, darting towards a 
 chair and setting it for him beside the stove. " You're sick, 
 sure," she declared, peering into his pale face, as he silently, 
 almost helplessly, obeyed her. " It's the sun," she went on. 
 " That's what it is driving in the sun all yesterday. It's 
 
 it's been too much for you." 
 
 Again the man passed a hand across his brow. But this 
 time he shook his head. 
 
 "'Tain't the sun, Jess," he said vaguely. "It's it's 
 oil!" 
 
 For a moment the woman stared. Then she turned to the 
 gaping twins, and hustled them out of the room to play. 
 Poor Zip's head had suddenly gone wrong, she believed, 
 and 
 
 But as she came back from the door she found that he had 
 risen from the chair in which she had set him, and was stand- 
 ing looking at her, and through her, and beyond her, as 
 though she were not there at all. And in an instant she was 
 at his side, with an arm thrown protectingly about his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Tell me, Zip oh, tell me, dear, what's wrong? Surely 
 
 surely, after all that has gone Oh, tell me! Don't 
 keep me in suspense. Is is it James ? " she finished up in 
 a terrified whisper. 
 
 The mention of that detested name had instant effect. 
 
HOME 365 
 
 Scipio's face cleared, and the dazed look of his eyes vanished 
 as if by magic. He shook his head. 
 
 " James is dead," he said simply. And Jessie breathed a 
 sigh of such relief that even he observed it, and it gladdened 
 him. " Yes/' he went on, " James is sure dead. Wild Bill 
 done him up and his whole gang. But Bill's gone, too." 
 
 " Bill, too ? " Jessie murmured. 
 
 Scipio nodded ; and perplexity stole over his face again. 
 
 " Yes. I I don't seem to understand. Y'see, he done 
 James up, an' an' James done him up sort o' mutual. 
 Y'see, they told me the rights of it, but but ther's so many 
 things I I don't seem to got room for them all in my 
 head. It seems, too, that Bill had quite a piece of money. 
 An' he's kind of given it to the kids. I I don't " 
 
 " How much ? " demanded the practical feminine. 
 
 " Seventy thousand dollars," replied the bewildered man. 
 
 " Seventy thou Who told you ? " 
 
 "Why Minky. Said he'd got it all. But but that 
 ain't the worst." 
 
 "Worst?" 
 
 Jessie was smiling now smiling with that motherly, pro- 
 tecting confidence so wonderfully womanly. 
 
 Scipio nodded; and his eyes sought hers for encourage- 
 ment. 
 
 " Ther's the oil, millions an' millions of it gallons, I 
 mean." 
 
 " Oil ? Millions of gallons ? Oh, Zip, do do be sen- 
 sible." 
 
 Jessie stood before him, and his worried look seemed to 
 have found a reflection upon her handsome face. 
 
 " It isn't me. It ain't my fault. It sure ain't, Jess," he 
 declared wistfully. " I've seen it. It's there. My pore 
 claim's jest drowned with it. I'll never find that gold now 
 not if I was to pump a year. It's just bubbling up an' up 
 out o' the bowels of the earth, an' an' Minky says I'll have 
 
3 66 THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK 
 
 to set up pumps an' things, an' he's goin' to help me. So is 
 Sunny Oak, an' Toby, an' Sandy, an' he sez we'll find the 
 gold sure if we pump the oil. Sez it's there, an' I'll be rich 
 as Rockefeller an' all them millionaires. But I can't seem to 
 see it, if the gold's drownded in that messy, smelly oil. 
 Maybe you ken see. You're quicker'n me. You " 
 
 But Jessie never let him finish. 
 
 " Oil ? " she cried, her eyes swimming with tears of joy 
 and gentle affection for the simple soul so incapable of grasp- 
 ing anything but his own single purpose. " Oil ? " she cried. 
 " Oh, Zip, don't you understand ? Don't you see ? It's oil 
 
 coal-oil. You've been searching for gold and found oil. 
 And there's millions of dollars in coal-oil." 
 
 But the little man's face dropped. 
 
 " Seems a pity," he said dispiritedly. " I could V swore 
 ther' was gold there I sure could. I'd have found it, too 
 
 if the oil hadn't washed us out. Bill thought so, too ; an' 
 Bill was right smart. Guess we'll find it, though, after we 
 pumped the oil." 
 
 Suddenly the woman reached out both arms and laid her 
 hands upon his diminutive shoulders. Her eyes had grown 
 very tender. 
 
 " Zip," she cried gently, " Zip, I think God has been very 
 good to me. He's been kinder to me than He has been to 
 you. You deserve His goodness; I don't. And yet He's 
 given me a man with a heart of of gold. He's given me 
 a man whose love I have trampled under- foot and flung 
 away. He's given me a man who, by his own simple hon- 
 esty, his goodness, has shown me the road to perfect happi- 
 ness. He's given me all this in return for a sin that can 
 never be wiped out " 
 
 But suddenly Scipio freed himself from the gentle grasp 
 of her restraining hands, and caught her in his arms. 
 
 " Don't you don't you to say it, Jess," he cried, all his 
 great love shining in his eyes. His perplexity and regret 
 
HOME 367 
 
 were all gone now, and only had he thought of his love. 
 " Don't you to say nuthin' against yourself. You're my wife 
 my Jessie. An' as long as I've got life I don't want 
 nothin' else but my Jessie. Say, gal, I do love you." 
 
 " And and oh, if you can only believe me, Zip, I love 
 you." 
 
 The man reached up and drew the woman's face down to 
 his, and kissed her on the lips. 
 
 " It don't matter 'bout not finding that gold now," he 
 cried, and kissed her again. 
 
 "No, it " 
 
 " Say, momma, ain't it dinner yet ? " 
 
 " Ess, me want din-din." 
 
 The man and woman sprang guiltily apart before the 
 wondering eyes of their children, and the next moment both 
 of the small creatures were caught up and hugged in loving 
 arms. 
 
 " Why, sure, kiddies," cried Scipio, his face wreathed in 
 happy smiles. " Momma's got dinner all fixed so come 
 right along." 
 
 THE END 
 
p 
 
 Ri8063 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY