Part 1 (1/2)
Scarlett of the Mounted.
by Marguerite Merington.
I
LOST SHOE CREEK
Parson MacLane came running along the rough trail, his dogs, Telegraph and Wrangel, named after former mission charges, following. As he paused at the crest of a hill to take breath and wipe the grime from his face he smiled, for over the thicket of scrub willow that lay between him and Lost Shoe Creek rose the voices of the ”boys” he had traveled far to reach. Then he sighed, because the jest and song, as he heard them, were ribald; the laughter thick with drink. Finally, reflecting that in no human heart had he ever found evil so strong but that the good was stronger, he smiled again, and stooping to pluck from a low-growing bush the deep crimson wild rose of the north, he set this in his b.u.t.tonhole, and squaring his shoulders for a fresh bout with his old adversary of horns and cloven hoof, trotted cheerily down the steep incline.
With an expiring wheeze the concertina dropped from the singer's hand.
One of the group playing Black Jack, looked up. ”Go on, Bill! Thar's other verses--an' each more decorative than the last!”
Lighting a pipe, Bill shook his head. ”Grand opera sore throat! Left my music at home--and home,” he added, under his ragged mustache, ”is so cursed far away!”
Mops' remonstrance was cut short by a disparaging comment on his methods of card-playing from a raw-boned Scotchman who had lost an inconsiderable amount. ”You accuse me o' cheatin'?”
”Aweel!” Sandy scratched his head. ”While it's na' to say cheating it's na' to say fair playing neither!”
”You liar!” kicking over the barrel that served for a table, with a volley of oaths Mops sprang at him, and a free fight would have ensued but for the intervention of the more cautious, who, pointing to a squalid bundle from which l.u.s.ty snores were issuing, reminded the belligerents that if Bully Nick were roused from his innocent slumbers some indiscriminate gun-play might be looked for, trans.m.u.ting every mother's son into cold meat. This argument prevailed; peace was restored and celebrated in the dire wa.s.sail of the district, served in the open by Ikey, bartender of the dilapidated refreshment-tent nearby, and by general consent charged to the protesting but helpless Sandy.
It was at this auspicious moment that, followed by his dogs, rose in b.u.t.tonhole, and with smiling countenance, Parson Maclane made his entrance into the camp on Lost Shoe Creek.
Hailing the newcomer as dude and tenderfoot, with winks and nudges among themselves the men prepared to ”have fun” with him. Raising their gla.s.ses in derisive welcome, ”h.e.l.lo, stranger!” they chorused. ”'Drink your health!”
”Thanks, friends, but I fear you are not drinking your own!”
”By gum,” cried Mops, delightedly, ”if he ain't a blamed teetotaller!”
”The Laird kens we hae need o' sic,” hiccoughed Sandy. ”Hoots, but we're a sinfu' crew! Ikey, lad, mair whuskey!”
While gla.s.ses were being refilled, this time at Mops' expense, Maclane went toward the tent, over whose entrance hung the sign KLONDIKE DELMONICO'S. GUMBOOT ANNIE. Addressing the plump female in jersey and culottes, who lolled beneath, picking her teeth skilfully: ”Good day, madam,” he began, baring his head. ”I should like to speak with the proprietor.”
Gumboot Annie took time to spit before replying, ”I am the lady.”
”I want to hold a prayer-meeting. Will you lend me your tent?”
”Lend! Me lend anything! Now wouldn't that pa'alyze yer!” she demanded of the listening prospectors. ”I ain't up here fer me health,” she then explained to Maclane, ”but I'll sell or rent anything in sight. Twenty dollars is the price for a Gospel show!”
”Agreed!”
”Thar's a bar in thar, y'know!”
”Oh, the bar's no hindrance!” The minister already was unstrapping his pack of hymnals. ”But I warn you I shall preach against the evils of drink.”
”That's all right. The boys ull be jest as thirsty! Say, fer five dollars you kin convert Ikey. He's useter it. He gives his experiences real cute. Water is two bits a bucket, but fer a baptism attraction I'll throw it in!”
Refusing with a gesture, the minister seized the dinner-bell from its nail and rang it vigorously. ”Prayer-meeting and service of song. All are cordially welcome!”
”Wouldn't it be slick ter dump him in the creek,” suggested one.