Dead Man's Gold/Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI
"bueno"
MARY," said Peggy Fumiss to Stone, "is the dearest girl in the world. Where did you meet her?"
"At Mexicali. That's just across the border from Calexico."
"The border of California?"
"Yes."
"Near Los Angeles?"
"Not so very far. The Los Angeles people often run over there." Stone was parrying. He had a feeling that the name "Lola," evidently unknown to the girl who declared herself Mary Leslie's dearest friend, might be intended to cloak several things beneath its alias and he went cautiously.
Oh, then it's a 'loke,' a location," said the girl. "How silly of me not to have thought of it. Of course. That's the first 'still' she has sent me of herself in a costume part since we were at Hollywood together. And that's the name of the part in the cast, 'Lola,' Spanish stuff. Did you see much of her?"
"Not very much," answered Stone, still in deep waters. "Only once, in fact."
"She didn't mention you in any of her letters," said the girl. "And she writes quite often. Isn't she splendid? She'll be quite a star by the time I get back into the game» from what she says. But it won't make any difference to Mary Leslie. She's true-blue, warranted to wear and never fade.
"You see," she went on. "Mary and I were in the pictures together with the SunKraft people. At first as extras and then, because we could both ride, we got on pretty regular. Mary filmed the best but I managed to work in till my lung began to go back on me and they said I'd have to leave sea-level, and rest and take special treatment. Sounds easy, just like that, don't it? I tried to stick it out and got worse and had a hemorrhage and then Mary got on her ear. I came up here on what little we both had saved, but the doctor said I'd have to stay for several months before he could make a cure.
"Then Mary got a jump. She sure deserved it. She worked hard and she filmed fine but the director had a run in with her. Tried to get fresh and, believe me, Mary won't stand for anything like that. Hates it and speaks her mind about it. But she got the rise and wrote telling me I could stay. It costs money to stay up here, I can tell you, but it's worth it, You see how the place is run and I've got my health back. It was all through eating too much of the wrong kind of stuff, which was cheap, and not enough of the right kind, which wasn't, Doctor Seward says, that brought me here. That and working all hours. It's no snap to be in the pictures, let me tell you, what with retakes and standing around hours because someone has forgotten something.
"Mary pungles up two hundred dollars every month for me and sends me spending money besides. I feel like a dog but, of course, I'd do it for her and she's getting a hundred a week now. But she has a kid sister she's putting through high school, besides, so I'm glad I'm well again. I wrote her so two weeks ago but she hasn't answered yet."
"Where does she answer from?"
"Why, Hollywood, of course. She's still with the SunKraft. But she's out on special 'loke' stuff a good deal, I fancy."
"I see," said Stone. "She's a good pal, isn't she?" And he did see, far more than Peggy Furniss guessed. He saw Mary Leslie as "Lola" working under the fat and sensuous Castro for his profit and the entertainment of his patrons, submitting, or, rather, enduring, the "freshness" she hated for the sake of the hundred dollars a week that kept Peggy up here in the sanitarium and her younger sister getting an education, while she valiantly lied, doubtless to both of them, even sending her letters into Hollywood for mailing, to aid the righteous deception. "Some pal, indeed!"
"I'll say so," replied Peggy Furniss. "I only hope that I'll get the chance to make it up to her. Paying her back the money doesn't mean anything to Mary. And," she added, ruefully, "I'm stuck here until she sends me the getaway price of a ticket. I was hoping she'd come up for me but, if she's playing leads or seconds, I can't expect that."
Stone could understand why Mary Leslie, or "Lola," for he felt he would always think of her by that name, could have achieved such an unselfish fondness for Peggy Furniss. There was nothing especially refined about the girl, as the world views refinement, but she was not merely pretty, she was frank and both quick and courageous, as she had shown by her expedition with Harvey to the rescue. A Western product, he decided, who had had to earn her own living and had managed it very well until the White Plague threatened her. There was something boyish about her yet she was entirely feminine, despite her riding and her stunts, and her slang.
But, if Peggy ranked well in his estimation, "Lola" had risen far higher. The sight of the picture in her Carmen costume, worn for so high a purpose in so low a place, had given him a thrill he had not believed himself capable of. To imagine that he could have held such a feeling for a girl in a dance hall would have caused him self-ridicule once. It did not now. He wanted to see her again, to tell her what he thought of her devotion to her sick chum, and through it all ran a supreme satisfaction that he had beaten Padilla and in front of her. He had been her champion and she, fighting her own battles, had cast off her reserves and kissed him. She would not sell her kisses, she had told him, but she might give them—if? In her loneliness and constant fight against her sordid surroundings he had taken up her battle and she had been grateful. She had asked him to write, if he wanted to, and he had carelessly, condescendingly, sent her a postal card.
He wondered if Padilla had been fired by Castro, wondered … What was the Fumiss girl saying?
"Didn't you like her? Don't you think she's pretty?"
"Very," Stone answered both queries with a fervour that made the girl look at him curiously. Then Larkin came up.
"No monopolizing the hangels in this Paradise," he said. The girl laughed. Larkin said the words without possible offence, his admiration was very open, and Stone saw suddenly that Larkin, for all his stocky ugliness, was not without a certain masculine attraction for the opposite sex. It was not against the cards that a girl of this type might get along with him very well. There were a good many things about the Cockney that showed a clean strain. And it was patent that this coming of theirs was regarded by the girl as a romantic adventure. She said, in fact, that it would make a great picture, which was, for her, a symbol of high interest.
"I'm a long way from an angel," she said. "But I'm going to play one now. Sister-of-Mercy rôle. I'm going to nurse your friend. The doctor said I could."
"Oh, 'im," said Larkin, disgustedly. He saw the girl looking at him curiously. "I've a good mind to go fall off the cliff and break both legs," he went on, quickly. "I would if I thought you'd"
But the girl had made a little face at him and run away.
"Some little sport!" said Laxkin. "If that bounder 'Ealy makes love to 'er I'll bash 'is face for 'im."
"He's too sick for that sort of thing," said Stone, lightly.
"You don't know 'im," said Larkin, morosely, "'E hain't got no more sense of decency than a Chinese pirut. 'E don't know a decent girl w'en 'e sees one, nor 'ow to treat 'er if he did. And it wouldn't do no good to warn 'er."
"Not a bit," assented Stone. "I believe you're in love with her, Larkin."
Larkin's pug-face grew dusky-red.
"'Oo? Me?" He said. "Wot if I was? Wot good 'ud it do me? It takes a slick devil like 'Ealy to pl'y that stuff. A lot of girls 'ud fall for 'is looks. A lot 'ave, I'll bet, to their sorrer. Wot chance would I stand halong of 'im?"
"A big one, Lefty," said Stone. "If you are in earnest. You forget you're going to make a pile of money. You're a better man than he is, Gunga Dhin. And she's no fool. She'll know when a man's straight."
"'Oo are you callin' heathen nymes?" said Larkin, still embarrassed. "As to the pile of money, 'Arvey wants a talk. We got to get a new houtfit and we're broke. 'Ow habout it?"
The three went into conference.
"Grub an' explosives, tools and a couple of burros, anyway," said Harvey. "We can go back the way we come out long as we got supplies. It's a heap the shortest. Might go to the head of Stone Men Cañon in thet gal's machine. She'd drive us. Only it wouldn't be proper 'thout a chaperone, specially with Larkin along," he added with a twitch that was meant as a grin. "Besides, we'll need the burros later."
"And you're the honly long-eared hass could be packed in that jitney," coimtered Larkin. "Wot'll it hall cost?"
"A couple of hundred. We got the rifles cached."
"Well," said Larkin, "we got sixty-one bones left an' there's no crap-game 'andy. Halso, we got to pay for 'Ealy's grub and doctoring, damn 'im."
"He won't be able to start for several days," said Stone. "I'll have some more money due by then. If I send a wire I can get it transferred to Miami. We can go down to Camp Verde and live cheaply."
The idea of leaving Healy at the sanitarium to be nursed by Peggy Furniss evidently did not suit Larkin but there was no help for it and he passed up the situation without audible protest.
Stone, as their spokesman, explained their situation frankly to the doctor.
"Don't worry about the bill part of it for Healy," said the latter. "I'd gladly take care of any man who came out of the desert in that shape. What will you do at Verde? Camp?"
"I imagine so," said Stone.
"Let me know just where to find you and I'll get word to you when your friend is able to leave. It won't be long. To-morrow I'll drive you down to the valley."
They were ready to start early in the morning when Peggy Furniss came out to the car. She held a letter in her hand.
"I've written to Mary," she said to Stone. "I've asked her why she didn't tell me about meeting you and all about your adventures. Will you mail it?" She passed the letter to Larkin with a smile as he accepted it ecstatically.
"If I hear from her I'll let you know," she went on. "The doctor says you are going to camp and will let him know where it is. I often run into Verde with Lizzie."
Larkin made the trip with the expression of a cow with an especially delectable cud to chew, and Stone vigorously restrained from chaffing him, though Harvey gave him a sly wink once in a while. After they were left in Verde, Stone sought the telegrapher at the depot and Larkin accompanied him while Harvey made inquiries for a likely place to camp. Stone sent his telegram and then Larkin put in his word.
"You goin' to git any hanswer to that wire?" he asked Stone.
"Yes, why?"
"You'll have to come in for it then?"
"Surely."
"Well," said Larkin to the operator, "there's four of us, Stone, Harvey, Larkin, and Healy. If hany messages come, 'old 'em. One of hus 'll drop in once in a while. Healy's sick up at the sanitarium, rest of us is campin'. The wire I'm expecting may come haddressed to hany one of hus. Savvy?"
"All right," said the man, indifferently. "Put down the names if you like. You want to take it to your friend? We don't deliver any telegrams."
"I want to know w'en hit comes." said Larkin. "We're hall in on w'ot it says."
"You've got no right to do that, Lefty" said Stone as they went out. "If the doctor, or whoever he sends, gets there while we're away and the telegram comes, you won't get to see it, anyway."
"I'm takin' the chance," said Larkin. "What right 'as 'e to be so bloomin' mysterious with 'is bloody tellygrams? I'll find hout w'ot's in it. I'm goin' to myke a pal of that hoperator."
They camped near the town on the banks of the stream, going in two or three times to see about their burros. On the second morning two telegrams arrived: one for Stone with the news of transfer of his remittance, and the other for Healy.
"Came just after the sanitarium jitney was here," said the operator with whom, as Larkin had promised, he was on social terms. "Want to take it up? I can telephone it, you know."
"Phone it up now," suggested Larkin.
"It's a short one," said the man as he got his connection.
The three of them listened as he transmitted the message. It was from Calexico, it was signed Castro, and it contained one word.
"Bueno."
"Then the deal's on," said Larkin, and they went out.
Larkin exploded.
"Bueno! he exclaimed. "Bueno my 'at! It's mooey maloy, hor 'owever they say rotten. There's some sort of a rig fixed. Gawd strike me pink, do yer remember those fellers we saw movin' hover the place we crossed! Leastwise 'Arvey ses 'e saw them. Wot were they doin' there? Follerin' us, I'll bet you hany price and hodds you like to nyme. Follerin' hus, I tell yer. And 'Ealy knew it and Castro knows it."
"We are not the only people who have gone that way. Lefty," said Stone. "There's no use in worrying ourselves over possibilities. We can be careful. And we can catch Healy. But my end of the secret's pretty well covered up."
"Well, they might 'it on mine," said Lefty. "If they was nosin' haround. But you can bet your sweet life we'll watch 'Ealy. I'll sit up nights to watch 'im, I will. And look out for others watchin' us. If Castro's in on the deal 'e'd send out a bunch that 'ud as soon cut our froats as heat supper. 'Ealy and 'is tellygrams! The crook!"
"By the way, Lefty," said Stone, "I'd just as soon tell you my end of the secret now. I've covered it more for the girl's sake than anything else. Lyman's girl."
"If we hever find 'er. That's goin' to be some job. But I don't want ter know., Stone. Thanks hall the syme. I'd rather play it the w'y Lyman laid it hout. Better luck, I fancy. I'm glad to know you trust me, though. I'd 'ave told yer my hend of it hany old time."
He held out his hand and Stone gripped it. The chance that had thrown them together had ripened into friendship. They both knew each other as men, for all their faults.
They had more news that day in the shape of a paper from Phoenix which gave an account of the straying off the reservation of forty Apaches who had been caught in a cloudburst in Stone Men Cañon.
"From the investigation that has been made," read the pithy despatch, "the Indians seem to have resented the presence in the neighbourhood of some unfortunate prospectors who evidently perished, either by storm or massacre. The bodies of two burros, one of which was still packed with mining equipment, bears out this belief. Some arms were found showing the Apaches had taken the war-trail. But few corpses have been found, save those of the burros and some horses belonging to the Indians, most of the party being evidently buried beneath tons of débris. Buzzards flocking over the cañon where it joins that of Tonto Creek attracted the attention of the guards sent to round up the missing Indians. The Apaches on the reservation deny all knowledge of the affair which will result in stricter rules after a report to the Government. The fact that the Indians were in possession of rifles will undoubtedly cause an inquiry. The prospectors were well off the Indian lines, but the Apaches are notoriously jealous of what privileges they consider to be theirs by ownership and naturally uncertain of their boundary. There is no likelihood of any recurrence of such an affair but prospectors might do well not to irritate the Wards of the Nation by too close approach. Old-timers in Phoenix laugh at the notion of there being gold in Tonto Cañon or any of its tributaries."
"That lets us out," said Stone. "We're not telling any one of our return trip. We've not mentioned where we came from. They can think at the sanitarium we're going to the north instead of the east."
"Miss Furniss knows," said Larkin, reddening. "She was kind of hinterested and I kind of let it slip where we was."
"You can tip her off. Lefty," suggested Stone. "She's not the sort to talk, I fancy, if you ask her not to."
"I didn't think they was gold up Tonto Fork," said Harvey, "but if the old-timers ses they ain't, I ain't so sartain. Thet's bin my own experience," he added, drily.
"I think there's gold there," said Stone. "There may be garnets, too, and peridots, Harvey. You may find your diamonds, after all."
Harvey, tender on the subject, looked at him but feeling Stone in earnest, certainly friendly and without jest, answered:
"If they's enny thar I'll turn 'em up. Thar's di'monds in Arizony and I'll prove it 'fore I cross the Range."