But the curtains dropped from his nerveless fingers and he turned back to the living room, sick in mind and heart. For one moment his eyes stared unmeaningly at the children. Then he sat down on the chair nearest the table and beckoned them over to him. They came, thrilled with awe in their small wondering minds. Their father's distorted features fascinated yet horrified them.

Jamie scrambled to one knee and Vada hugged one of the little man's arms.

"We'll have to have dinner, kiddies," he said, with attempted lightness.

"Ess," said Jamie absently. Then he reached up to the wound on his father's right cheek, and touched it gently with one small finger. It was so sore that the man flinched, and the child's hand was withdrawn instantly.

"Oose's hurted," he exclaimed.

"Pore poppa's all hurt up," added Vada tearfully.

"Not hurt proper," said Scipio, with a wan smile. "Y'see, it was jest a game, an'--an' the boys were rough. Now we'll git dinner."

But Vada's mind was running on with swift childish curiosity, and she put a sudden question.

"When's momma comin' back?" she demanded.

The man's eyes shifted to the open doorway. The golden sunlight beyond was shining with all the splendor of a summer noon. But for all his blackened eyes saw there might have been a gray fog of winter outside.

"Momma?" he echoed blankly.

"Ess, momma," cried Jamie. "When she comin'?"

Scipio shook his head and sighed.

"When she comin'?" insisted Vada.

The man lowered his eyes till they focused themselves upon the yellow pup, now hungrily licking up the cold milk.

"She won't come back," he said at last, in a low voice. Then with a despairing gesture, he added: "Never! never!" And his head dropped upon Jamie's little shoulder while he hugged Vada more closely to his side as though he feared to lose her too.

CHAPTER X

THE TRUST

It was a blazing afternoon of the "stewing" type. The flies in the store kept up a sickening hum, and tortured suffering humanity--in the form of the solitary Minky--with their persistent efforts to alight on his perspiring face and bare arms. The storekeeper, with excellent forethought, had showered sticky papers, spread with mola.s.ses and mucilage, broadcast about the shelves, to ensnare the unwary pests.

But though hundreds were lured to their death by sirupy drowning, the attacking host remained undiminished, and the death-traps only succeeded in adding disgusting odors to the already laden atmosphere.

Fortunately, noses on Suffering Creek were not over-sensitive, and the fly, with all his native unpleasantness, was a small matter in the scheme of the frontiersman's life, and, like all other obstructions, was brushed aside physically as well as mentally.

The afternoon quiet had set in. The noon rush had pa.s.sed, nor would the re-awakening of the camp occur until evening. Ordinarily the quiet of the long afternoon would have been pleasant enough to the hard-working storekeeper. For surely there is something approaching delight in the leisure moments of a day's hard and prosperous work.

But just now Minky had little ease of mind. And these long hours, when the camp was practically deserted, had become a sort of nightmare to him. The gold-dust stored in the dim recesses of his cellars haunted him. The outlaw, James, was a constant dread. For he felt that his store held a bait which might well be irresistible to that individual.

Experienced as he was in the ways of frontier life, the advent of the strangers of the night before had started a train of alarm which threatened quickly to grow into panic.

He was pondering this matter when Sunny Oak, accompanied by the careless Toby Jenks, lounged into the store. With a quick, almost furtive eye the storekeeper glanced up to ascertain the ident.i.ty of the newcomers. And, when he recognized them, such was the hold his alarm had upon him, that his first thought was as to their fitness to help in case of his own emergency. But his fleeting hope received a prompt negative. Sunny was useless, he decided. And Toby--well, Toby was so far an unknown quant.i.ty in all things except his power of spending on drink the money he had never earned.

"Ain't out on your claim?" he greeted the remittance man casually.

"Too blamed hot," Toby retorted, winking heavily.

Then he mopped his face and ordered two whiskies.

"That stuff won't cool you down any," observed Minky, pa.s.sing behind his counter.

"No," Toby admitted doubtfully. Then with a bright look of intelligence.

"But it'll buck a feller so it don't seem so bad--the heat, I mean."

His afterthought set Sunny grinning.

Minky set out two gla.s.ses and pa.s.sed the bottle. The men helped themselves, and with a simultaneous "How!" gulped their drinks down thirstily.

Minky re-corked the bottle and wiped a few drops of water from the counter.

"So Zip's around," he said, as the gla.s.ses were returned to the counter. And instantly Sunny's face became unusually serious.

"Say," he cried, with a hard look in his good-natured eyes. "D'you ever feel real mad about things? So mad, I mean, you want to get right out an' hurt somebody or somethin'? So mad, folks is likely to git busy an' string you up with a rawhide? I'm sure mostly dead easy as a man, but I feel that away jest about now. I've sed to myself I'd do best settin' my head in your wash-trough. I've said it more'n oncet in the last half-hour. But I don't guess it's any sort o' use. So--so, I'll cut out the wash-trough."

"You most generally do," said Toby pleasantly.

"You ain't comic--'cep' when you're feedin'," retorted Sunny, nettled.

Then he turned to Minky, just as the doorway of the store was darkened by the advent of Sandy Joyce. But he glanced back in the newcomer's direction and nodded. Then he went on immediately with his talk.

"Say, have you seen him?" he demanded of anybody. "I'm talkin' o'

Zip," he added, for Sandy's enlightenment. "He found James. Located his ranch, an'--an' nigh got hammered to death for his pains. Gee!"

"We see him," said Minky, after an awed pause. "But he never said a word. He jest set Bill's mare back in the barn, an' bo't bacon, and hit off to hum."

"I didn't see him," Sandy admitted. "How was he?"

"Battered nigh to death, I said," cried Sunny, with startling violence. "His eyes are blackened, an' his pore mean face is cut about, an' bruised ter'ble. His clothes is torn nigh to rags, an'--"

"Was it the James outfit did it?" inquired Minky incredulously.

"They did that surely," cried Sunny vehemently. "You ain't seen Bill, have you? He's that mad you can't git a word out o' him. I tell you right here somethin's goin' to happen. Somethin's got to happen," he added, with a fresh burst of rage. "That gang needs cleanin' out. They need shootin' up like vermin, an'--"

"You're goin' to do it?" inquired Sandy sarcastically.

Sunny turned on him in a flash.

"I'll take my share in it," he cried, "an' it'll need to be a big share to satisfy me," he added, with such evident sincerity and fiery determination that his companions stared at him in wonder.

"Guess Sunny's had his rest broke," observed Toby, with a grin.

"I have that sure. An'--an' it makes me mad to git busy," the loafer declared. "Have you seen that pore feller with his face all mussed?

Gee! Say, Zip wouldn't hurt a louse; he's that gentle-natured I'd say if ther' was only a baulky mule between him an' starvation he'd hate to live. He ain't no more savvee than a fool cat motherin' a china dog, but he's got the grit o' ten men. He's hunted out James with no more thought than he'd use firin' a cracker on the 4th o' July. He goes after him to claim his right, as calm an' foolish as a sheep in a butcherin' yard. An' I'd say right here ther' ain't one of us in this store would have had the grit chasin' for his wife wher' Zip's bin chasin'--"

"Not for a wife, sure," interjected Sandy.