"The old silver tip stands nootral, not sidin' with either Peets an'

Boggs or Tutt an' Texas.

"'Which this yere Mike bein' sh.o.r.e dead,' says Enright, 'strikes me as s'fficient. I plants my moccasins on that, an' don't go pirootin' an'

projectin' about for no s'lootions which may or may not leave me out on a limb.'

"You recalls how it's Monte who, while gettin' drunk with him over to the Oriental S'loon in Tucson, deloodes Mike into p'intin' our way.

Also, what Enright says to that deboshed stage driver for so doin'.

Enright's sh.o.r.e fervent on that occasion, an' the language he uses would have killed two acres of gra.s.s. But that don't he'p none. After the dust Enright paws up has settled, thar's Mike still, all quiled up in the Wolfville lap.

"Thar's a worse feachure, the same bein' Mike's wife. She's as young, an' mighty nigh as lovely, too, as Nell; only she's blind, this yere Mike's girl wife is, blind as any midnight mole. Besides her, an' a armful of paint breshes an' pictures, about all Mike's got in the way of plunder is a ten-dollar bill. If it's only Mike, we-all might have thickened our hides a heap, an' let him go jumpin' sideways for his daily grub, same as other folks. But girls must be fed, speshully blind ones.

"Which this egreegious Mike, who calls her his 'little Joolie,' allows her bein' blind that a-way is why he marries her.

"'It insh.o.r.es her innocence,' he says; 'because it insh.o.r.es her ignorance of the world.'

"'Likewise,' remarks Peets, as we stands discussin' this yere reasonin' of Mike's in the Red Light, 'it insh.o.r.es her ignorance of them onmitigated pictures he paints. Which if ever she was just to get one good look at 'em, he couldn't hold her with a Spanish bit. But you-all knows how it is, Sam?'--Yere Peets clinks his gla.s.s, an' all mighty sagacious, ag'inst Enright's--'The wind is tempered to the shorn lamb. On the whole, I ain't none convinced that her bein' blind, that a-way, ain't for the best.'

"To look at this little Joolie, you-all'd never know she can't see none. Her eyes is big an' soft an' deep, an nothin' queer about 'em except they has a half-blurred, baby look. Peets allows it's the nerve bein' dead which does it. But blind or not, little Joolie sh.o.r.e dotes on that Red Mike husband of hers, as though he's made of love an'

gold. Which he's her heaven!

"While it's evident, after a ca'm an' onbiased consideration of his works, that from standp'ints of art this yere Mike's about sign-painter size, little Joolie regyards him as the top-sawyer genius of this or any other age.

"'He'll revolutionize the world of art,' she declar's to Nell, who's mighty constant about goin' to see her; 'Ivan'--she p.r.o.nounces it 'Vahn'--'is ondoubted destined to become the founder of a noo school.'

"'An' her face,' goes on Nellie, as she tells us about it over to the O. K. Restauraw one evenin', after Mike an' his little Joolie wife's done pulled their freight for the night--'an' her face glows with the faith of a angel! So if any of you-all boys finds occasion to speak of this yere Mike in her presence, you be sh.o.r.e an' sw'ar that, as an artist, he's got nacher backed plumb off the lay-out.'

"'The wretch who fails,' adds Missis Rucker, plenty fierce, 'don't wrastle his hash with me no more! You can gamble that marplot has tackled his final plateful of slapjacks at the O. K. House, an' this yere's notice to that effect.'

"It's a cinch, of course, that none of us is that obtoose as to go sayin' anything to pain this yere blind little Joolie; at the same time no one regyards it as feas'ble to resent them threats of Missis Rucker! She's a mighty sperited matron, Missis Rucker is, sperited to the verge of bein' vindictive, an' rubbin' her fur the wrong way is the same as rubbin' a bobcat's fur the wrong way. As a exercise thar's nothin' in it. Besides, we're plumb used to it, owin' to her threatenin' us about one thing or another constant. Menaces, that a-way, is Missis Rucker's style.

"Mike an' his Joolie wife don't live at the O. K. House, but only gets their chuck thar. He allows that to do jestice to his art he's got to have what he calls a 'no'th light,' an' so he goes meanderin' out on the no'th side of town, an' jumps a empty shack.

"Driv by a lack of money, mighty likely, Mike ain't in camp a week before he makes it plenty plain that, onless he's headed off or killed, he's goin' to paint Enright a whole lot. As a preelim'nary he loores a pa.s.sel of us over to his wickeyup to show us samples.

"'That's my chef dever,' he says, bringin' for'ard a smudgy lookin'

canvas, plastered all over with reds an' browns.

"We-all takes a slant at it, maintainin' ourselves meanwhile as grave as a pa.s.sel of owls. An' at that the most hawk-eyed in the outfit can't make it look like nothin'. We-all hangs back in the straps, an'

waits for Peets to take the lead. For thar is the pretty little blind Joolie wife, all y'ears an' lovin' int'rest, an' after what Nell an'

Missis Rucker has done said the gent who lacerates her feelin's is lost. In sech a pinch Peets is our guidin' light.

"'Ma.s.sive!' says Peets, after a pause.

"'Which she's sh.o.r.e a heap ma.s.sive!' we murmurs, followin' Peets'

smoke.

"'An' sech atmosphere!' Peets goes on.

"'Atmosphere to give away!' we echoes.

"At these yere encomiyums the pore pleased face of little Joolie is beamin' like the sun. As for Mike, he a.s.soomes a easy att.i.toode, same as though compliments means nothin' to him.

"'What's the subject?' Peets asks.

"'That, my friend, is the _Linden in October_,' returns Mike, as though he's showin' us a picture of heaven's front gate. 'Yes, the _Linden in October_.'

"'Which if this yere Pole,' whispers Texas to Cherokee, 'is able to make anything out of that smear, he can sh.o.r.e see more things without the aid of licker than any sport that ever spreads his blankets in Cochise County.'

"Texas is a heap careful not to let either Mike or the little Joolie girl ketch on to what he says.

"Also, it's worth recallin' that Mike an' the little Joolie is the only wedded pa'r, of which the Southwest preeserved a record, that don't bring bilious recollections to Texas of his former Laredo wife.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHAT'S THE SUBJECT?" PEETS ASKS. "THAT, MY FRIEND, IS THE 'LINDEN IN OCTOBER,'" RETURNS MIKE, AS THOUGH HE'S A SHOWIN' US A PICTURE OF HEAVEN'S FRONT GATE. p. 238.]

"'Not but what thar's a wrong thar, Doc,' he insists, the time Peets mentions it; 'not but what this yere Red Mike-Joolie sityooation harbors a wrong. Only it's onavailable to 'll.u.s.trate the illyoosage I suffers at the hands of my Laredo wife.'

"After the _Linden_ Mike totes out mebby it's a dozen other smeary squar's of canvas. We goes over 'em one by one, c.o.c.kin' our eyes an'

turnin' our heads first one way an' then another, like a bloo jay peerin' into a knothole. When Peets lets drive something about 'sky effects,' an' 'fore-grounds,' an' 'middle-distance,' we stacks in all sim'lar. Thar's nothin' to it; Mike an' the little Joolie girl puts in a mighty pleasant hour.

"Mike, feelin' hospit'ble, an' replyin' to a thirsty look which Jack Moore sort o' sheds about the room, reegrets he ain't got no whiskey.

"'My little Joolie objectin',' he explains.

"'Oh, well,' speaks up Peets, who's plumb eager to bring them art studies to a wind-up, 'when thar's famine in Canaan thar's corn in Egypt. S'ppose we-all goes romancin' over to the Red Light an' licker up. Thar's nothin' like nosepaint, took internal, for bringin' out a picture's convincin' p'ints.'

"'Right you be, Doc,' says Moore. 'It's only last week, when I myse'f cuts the trail of Monte, who, as the froote of merely the seventh drink, is sheddin' scaldin' tears over a three-sheet poster stuck onto the corral gate. This yere stampede in color deepicts the death of "Little Eva," as preesented in the _Uncle Tom_ show ragin' over to the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Monte allows it's one of the most movin' things he's ever met up with, an' protests between sobs ag'inst takin' out the stage that day for its reg'lar trip. "Which it's a hour for mournin'," he groans; an' he's sh.o.r.e shocked when the company insists.

As he throws free the brake he shakes the tears from his eyes, an'

says, "These yere corp'rations ain't got no heart!"'

"If thar's ever any chance of Enright bein' that weak the sight of them smudges an' smears settles it, an' while we stands shovin' the Old Jordan along the Red Light bar, he allows to Mike that on the whole he don't reckon he'll have himse'f painted none. Rememberin', however, that it's a ground-hawg case with Mike, who needs the money, Enright gives him a commission to paint Monte.

"'Him bein' a histor'cal character, that a-way,' says Enright.

"Monte is over in Tucson, but you should have heard that drunkard's language when he's told.

"'Whatever be you-all tryin' to do to me, Sam?' he wails. 'Ain't a workin' man got no rights? Yere be I, the only gent in camp who has actchooal dooties to perform, an' a plot is set afoot behind my back to make me infamous!'

"'It's to go over the Red Light bar,' explains Enright, 'to be a horr'ble example for folks with a tendency to over-drink. As for you yellin' like a pig onder a gate, who is it, I asks, that beguiles this indigent artist party into camp, an' leaves him on our hands? Bein'

he's yere, I takes it that even your whiskey-drowned intell'gence ree'lizes that this yere Mike, an' speshully the little blind Joolie, has got to be fed.'

"'Well, gents,' returns Monte, gulpin' down his grief with his nosepaint, 'I reckons if it's your little game to use me as a healthful moral inflooence, I'd lose out to go puttin' up a roar. All the same, as sufferer in chief, I'm ent.i.tled to be more consulted by you uplifters before ever you arranges to perpetchooate me to poster'ty as a common jeer.'

"Sh.o.r.e; these yere protests of Monte's ain't more'n half on the level.

After a fashion, he's plenty pleased.

"'For,' he says, confidin' in Black Jack over his licker, 'it ain't every longhorn of a stage driver whose picture is took by one of these yere gifted Yooropeans.'

"Black Jack agrees to this in full, for he's a good-hearted barkeep, that a-way.