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He mounted, and rode away. He felt, just then, that it was the kindest thing he could do. He looked back once, just as he was turning into the grade road. She was standing, her arms folded in her gray blanket, where he had left her. His fingers tightened involuntarily the reins, so that Keno stopped and eyed his master inquiringly. But there was nothing that he might say to her.
No devotees sat round the faro, roulette, and keno tables. The dealers were asleep in bed after their labors. So too were the dance girls. The poker rooms upstairs held only the stale odor of tobacco and whiskey. Except for a sleepy negro roustabout attendant and two young fellows at a table well back from the bar, the cowboys had the big hall all to themselves.
"We lugged the Major and his wife to the back of the store. I made a piller for her out'n some rolls of wall-paper, but the Major had to get along as best he could. There he lay, his little round stummick stickin' in the air, breathin' like a wind-broken horse. "Keno Jim and me looked after the lady whilest Hadds pranced around the Major and cussed scientific cuss-words.
"We'd ought to git up another big Christmas," said the blacksmith, standing with his arms akimbo. "He didn't have no holidays worth a cent." "We could roll 'em all into one," suggested Field "Christmas, New Year's, St. Valentine's, and Fourth of July." "What's the matter with Washington's birthday?" Bone inquired. "And mine?" added Keno, pulling down his sleeves. "By jinks! it comes next week."
"Calamerty!" yelled Keno, and he disappeared within the door. Jim almost made haste. "What kind of a calamity?" said he, as he entered the room. "What's went wrong?" "The lemon-pie!" said Keno, whose face was a study in the art of expressing consternation. "Oh," said Jim, instantly relieved, "is that all?" "All?" echoed Keno. "By jinks!
He had doubtless been gone from the cabin half an hour, and not a stroke had he given with his pick, when, as he sat there looking at the ground, the voice of Keno came on the wind from the door of the shack. Arising, Jim started at once towards his home, leaving his pick on the hill-side a rod or two below. "What is it?" he called, as he neared the house.
Bud isn't strictly ethical in regard to money matters, Polly, and you must manage the exchequer." "Gee, what funny big words you use, Jack! But I know what you mean; he's too free-handed. Well, he'll be savin' as a trade rat until we get our home paid for. And I'll manage the checker business when we're married. No more poker and keno for Bud. Thank you, Jack. I always knew you was square."
You claim fifty thousand tons of copper in sight." "So there is." "With a telescope, I suppose." "Well, telescope's sight, ain't it? You wouldn't try to hear through one, would you?" "And $200,000.00 worth, ready for milling," continued the critic. "Printer's error in the decimal point," returned the other, with airy impudence. "Move it two to the left. Keno! There you have it: $2000.00."
At length a single candle alone illumined their pitiful tree, standing with its meagre branches of greenery stiffly upheld on its scrawny frame, while the darkness closed sombrely in upon the glint of the toys they had labored to make. Then finally Keno came, downcast, pale, and worried. "The little feller's awful sick," he said. "I guess he can't come to the tree."
"How can I?" answered Jim. "He's awful sick. He needs something more than I can give. He needs a mother. I didn't know how sick he was gettin'. He won't look up. He couldn't see the tree. He can't be like the most of little kids, for he don't even seem to know it's Christmas." "Aw, poor little feller!" said Keno. "Jim, what we goin' to do?"
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