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The Trail of '98: A Northland Romance, a novel by Robert W. Service |
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Book 1. The Road To Anywhere - Chapter 4 |
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_ BOOK I. THE ROAD TO ANYWHERE CHAPTER IV I left San Francisco blanketed in grey fog and besomed by a roaring wind; when I opened my eyes I was in a land of spacious sky and broad, clean sunshine. Orange groves rushed to welcome us; orchards of almond and olive twinkled joyfully in the limpid air; tall, gaunt and ragged, the scaly eucalyptus fluttered at us a morning greeting, while snowy houses, wallowing in greenery, flashed a smile as we rumbled past. It seemed like a land of promise, of song and sunshine, and silent and apart I sat to admire and to enjoy. "Looks pretty swell, don't it?" I will call him the Prodigal. He was about my own age, thin, but sun-browned and healthy. His hair was darkly red and silky, his teeth white and even as young corn. His eyes twinkled with a humorsome light, but his face was shrewd, alert and aggressive. "Yes," I said soberly, for I have always been backward with strangers. "Pretty good line. The banana belt. Old Sol working overtime. Blossom and fruit cavorting on the same tree. Eternal summer. Land of the manana, the festive frijole, the never-chilly chili. Ever been here before?" "No." "Neither have I. Glad I came, even if it's to do the horny-handed son of toil stunt. Got the makings?" "No, I'm sorry; I don't smoke." "All right, guess I got enough." He pulled forth a limp sack of powdery tobacco, and spilled some grains into a brown cigarette paper, twisting it deftly and bending over the ends. Then he smoked with such enjoyment that I envied him. "Where are we going, have you any idea?" I asked. "Search me," he said, inhaling deeply; "the guy in charge isn't exactly a free information bureau. When it comes to peddling the bull con he's there, but when you try to pry off a few slabs of cold hard fact it's his Sunday off." "But," I persisted, "have you no idea?" "Well, one thing you can bank on, they'll work the Judas out of us. The gentle grafter nestles in our midst. This here's a cinch game and we are the fall guys. The contractors are a bum outfit. They'll squeeze us at every turn. There was two plunks to the employment man; they got half. Twenty for railway fare; they come in on that. Stop at certain hotels: a rake-off there. Stage fare: more graft. Five dollars a week for board: costs them two-fifty, and they will be stomach robbers at that. Then they'll ring in twice as many men as they need, and lay us off half the time, so that we just about even up on our board bill. Oh, I'm onto their curves all right." "Then," I said, "if you know so much why did you come with us?" "Well, if I know so much you just bet I know some more. I'll go one better. You watch my smoke." He talked on with a wonderful vivid manner and an outpouring knowledge of life, so that I was hugely interested. Yet ever and anon an allusion of taste would betray him, and at no time did I fail to see that his roughness was only a veneer. As it turned out he was better educated by far than I, a Yale boy taking a post-graduate course in the University of Hard Luck. My reserve once thawed, I told him much of my simple life. He listened, intently sympathetic. "Say," said he earnestly when I had finished, "I'm rough-and-ready in my ways. Life to me's a game, sort of masquerade, and I'm the worst masquerader in the bunch. But I know how to handle myself, and I can jolly my way along pretty well. Now, you're green, if you'll excuse me saying it, and maybe I can help you some. Likewise you're the only one in all the gang of hoboes that's my kind. Come on, let's be partners." I felt greatly drawn to him and agreed gladly. "Now," said he, "I must go and jolly along the other boys. Aren't they a fierce bunch? Coloured gentlemen, Slavonians, Polaks, Dagoes, Swedes--well, I'll go prospecting, and see what I can strike." He went among them with a jabber of strange terms, a bright smile and ready banter, and I could see that he was to be a quick favourite. I envied him for his ease of manner, a thing I could never compass. Presently he returned to me. "Say, partner, got any money?" There was something frank and compelling in his manner, so that I produced the few dollars I had left, and spread them before him. "That's all my wealth," I said smilingly. He divided it into two equal portions and returned one to me. He took a note of the other, saying: "All right, I'll settle up with you later on." He went off with my money. He seemed to take it for granted I would not object, and on my part I cared little, being only too eager to show I trusted him. A few minutes later behold him seated at a card-table with three rough-necked, hard-bitten-looking men. They were playing poker, and, thinks I: "Here's good-bye to my money." It minded me of wolves and a lamb. I felt sorry for my new friend, and I was only glad he had so little to lose. We were drawing in to Los Angeles when he rejoined me. To my surprise he emptied his pockets of wrinkled notes and winking silver to the tune of twenty dollars, and dividing it equally, handed half to me. "Here," says he, "plant that in your dip." "No," I said, "just give me back what you borrowed; that's all I want." "Oh, forget it! You staked me, and it's well won. These guinneys took me for a jay. Thought I was easy, but I've forgotten more than they ever knew, and I haven't forgotten so much either." "No, you keep it, please. I don't want it." "Oh, come! put your Scotch scruples in your pocket. Take the money." "No," I said obstinately. "Look here, this partnership of ours is based on financial equality. If you don't like my gate, you don't need to swing on it." "All right," said I tartly, "I don't want to." Then I turned on my heel. _ |
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