Part 42 (2/2)

”Great stutterin' Demosthenes!” exclaimed Tweet, and fell limply into a chair.

Then again the door was opened, and a boy from the post office handed Tweet a special-delivery letter. Tremblingly he tore the envelope and removed a yellow telegram. Tears sprang to his eyes as he read aloud:

”Have to-day deposited to credit of your checking account in Bluemount National Bank, Los Angeles, one hundred thousand dollars. Check against it at pleasure. Hiram and I on our way to Mendocino County for a little rest and to see old friend of his.

Reach Ragtown in about two weeks if all goes well.

”JEAN PRINCE HOOKER, JERKLINE JO.”

Tweet sprang from his chair, cramming on his hat.

”Lock the door and take the key, Heine!” he cried. ”I'm going to Los Angeles at fifty miles an hour!”

At the same time in the shooting gallery Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles stared over the top of a newspaper at each other, their eyes tragic.

”Gyped!” exclaimed Drummond at last.

”Gyped!” Lucy echoed faintly.

Then for a time there was silence, broken at last by Drummond's weary voice.

”Guess I'll drift up to the Dugout,” he said. ”See you later.”

Lucy made no reply, but stood staring out across the spring-scented desert, her thoughts on the tinkling streams of Mendocino and the big, kind, sheltering trees. The rhododendrons were beginning to blossom there now. Soon the redwood lilies would be scenting the air with their delicate fragrance. Gray squirrels would be scolding in lofty trees, and trout would be leaping in still, dark pools.

Lucy sat down very suddenly, and then her head fell forward on her arms. There on the carpeted counter, between the rifles, she sobbed heartbrokenly. She knew by intuition that in her quest for wealth she would not have Al Drummond to help her in the future.

Ragtown's biggest day was when old Basil Filer, having been acquitted of the charge of murder on the evidence furnished by Jerkline Jo and Hiram Hooker, returned to hunt for his burros. This was Ragtown's greatest day because Hiram Hooker and his bride came, too.

They had spent a pleasant time with Uncle Sebastian Burris in Mendocino County, most glorious of countries in spring. Hiram had expressed the wish to see Uncle Sebastian again and to tell him all that had befallen him in driving jerkline to Ragtown. Hiram had learned a great lesson, he felt. He had left the north woods to do something less prosaic than driving jerkline, and a series of peculiar incidents had forced him back into the same old groove again. Yet the once scorned, neglected task had brought him adventures and a fortune and a splendid girl.

Over all this he wished to marvel with his old benefactor and friend, and Jo had readily consented to the trip. They had returned for Basil Filer's trial as the main witnesses for the defense.

The stage brought all three into the town, and for the first time they saw the new steel and the track-laying engine beyond. Carpenters were building the roundhouse, and new buildings were going up all over the village.

Ragtown turned out in a body to meet them. The wagons and teams of Jerkline Jo's freight outfit were covered with flags, and Jo's proud skinners paraded the streets, the wagons loaded with cheering townspeople. Carried on the shoulders of men, the bride and groom were escorted to the Palace Dance Hall, where a banquet had been prepared, over which presided Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet.

Far into the night they celebrated, and in all of Ragtown there was only one who did not attend. This was poor little Lucy Dalles, sobbing her heart out in her little cabin, her dream of wealth and marriage with Al Drummond gone.

It was nearly midnight when there came a gentle tapping on her door.

Das.h.i.+ng the tears from her eyes, Lucy walked unsteadily across her expensive rug and opened the door to a crack. Next moment she found herself in a pair of strong arms, and her head lay on the breast of Jerkline Jo.

”There, there, dear! There, there! Don't cry! It's all right--all right! I know--I understand.”

With her arms about the sobbing girl, big-hearted Jerkline Jo, the desert's grandest product, led the way to one of the big leather chairs and sat down. Only Lucy's sobs broke the silence, while Jo sat and smoothed back her pretty hair.

Presently the sobbing ceased, and then Jo rose and, taking her in her arms again, kissed her and smiled into her eyes.

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