newspapers and them gun rags! The place is like a cow-yard. Why
in the name of heaven don't you clean up here!"
"Allee light," babbled Sang; "I clean him."
The papers and gun rags had lain there unnoticed for nearly a
year. Senor Johnson kicked them
savagely.
"It's time we took a brace here," he growled, "we're livin' like
a lot of Oilers."[5]
[5] Oilers: Greasers--Mexicans
CHAPTER THREE
THE PAPER A YEAR OLD
Sang
hurried out for a broom. Senor Johnson sat where he was,
his heavy, square brows knit. Suddenly he stooped, seized one of
the newspapers, drew near the lamp, and began to read.
It was a Kansas City paper and, by a strange
coincidence, was
dated exactly a year before. The sheet Senor Johnson happened to
pick up was one usually passed over by the average newspaper
reader. It
contained only columns of little two- and three-line
advertisements classified as Help Wanted, Situations Wanted, Lost
and Found, and Personal. The latter items Senor Johnson
commenced to read while awaiting Sang and the broom.
The notices were five in number. The first three were of the
mysterious newspaper-
correspondence type, in which Birdie
beseeches Jack to meet her at the
fountain; the fourth advertised
a clairvoyant. Over the fifth Senor Johnson paused long. It
reads
"WANTED.-By an
intelligent and
refined lady of pleasing
appearance,
correspondence with a gentleman of means. Object
matrimony.
Just then Sang returned with the broom and began noisily to sweep
together the debris. The rustling of papers aroused Senor
Johnson from his reverie. At once he exploded.
"Get out of here, you debased Mongolian," he shouted; "can't you
see I'm reading?"
Sang fled,
sorely puzzled, for the Senor was calm and unexcited
and aloof in his
everyday habit.
Soon Jed Parker, tall, wiry, hawk-nosed,
deliberate, came into
the room and flung his broad hat and spurs into the corner. Then
he proceeded to light his pipe and threw the burned match on the
floor.
"Been over to look at the Grant Pass range," he announced
cheerfully. "She's no good. Drier than cork legs. Th' country
wouldn't support three horned toads."
"Jed," quoth the Senor
solemnly, "I wisht you'd hang up your hat
like I have. It don't look good there on the floor."
"Why, sure," agreed Jed, with an astonished stare.
Sang brought in supper and slung it on the red and white squares
of oilcloth. Then he moved the lamp and retired.
Senor Johnson gazed with distaste into his cup.
"This coffee would float a wedge," he commented sourly.
"She's no puling infant," agreed the
cheerful Jed.
"And this!" went on the Senor, picking up what purported to be
plum duff: "Bog down a few currants in dough and call her
pudding!"
He ate in silence, then pushed back his chair and went to the
window, gazing through its grimy panes at the mountains, ethereal
in their evening saffron.
"Blamed Chink," he growled; "why don't he wash these windows?"
Jed laid down his busy knife and idle fork to gaze on his chief
with
amazement. Buck Johnson, the
austere, the aloof, the grimly
taciturn, the dangerous, to be thus complaining like a querulous
woman!
"Senor," said he, "you're off your feed."
Senor Johnson
strodesavagely to the table and sat down with a
bang.
"I'm sick of it," he growled; "this thing will kill me off. I
might as well go be a buck nun and be done with it."
With one round-arm sweep he cleared aside the dishes.
"Give me that pen and paper behind you," he requested.
For an hour he wrote and destroyed. The floor became littered
with torn papers. Then he enveloped a meagre result. Parker had
watched him in silence.
The Senor looked up to catch his
speculative eye. His own eye
twinkled a little, but the
twinkle was determined and
sinister,