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The orchestra played the tune of this chorus a second time, with certain variations, while the girl danced to it. She sidled to one side of the stage and kicked, then sidled to the other and kicked again. As she finished with the song, a man, evidently the lodger in question, came in. Instantly McTeague exploded in a roar of laughter.
As the last grand lady left the school, she gave Trina an extra dollar for her work, and said: "Now, if you'll just tidy up here, Mrs. McTeague, I think that will be all. Sweep up the pine needles here you see they are all over the floor and look through all the rooms, and tidy up generally. Good night and a Happy New Year," she cried pleasantly as she went out.
He made great sweeping bows to the three women, and shook hands with "Cousin Trina," adding, as he turned to the men of the party, "Glad to see you, Mister Heise. How do, Mister Ryer?" The dentist, who had formulated some sort of reserved greeting, he ignored completely. McTeague settled himself in his seat, growling inarticulately behind his mustache.
But why had the authorities at the City Hall waited this long before serving the notice? All at once Trina snapped her fingers, with a quick flash of intelligence. "It's Marcus that's done it," she cried. It was like a clap of thunder. McTeague was stunned, stupefied. He said nothing. Never in his life had he been so taciturn.
It was all hell to get into that country, Cribbens had said, and not many men went there, because of the terrible valley of alkali that barred the way, a horrible vast sink of white sand and salt below even the sea level, the dry bed, no doubt, of some prehistoric lake. But McTeague resolved to make a circuit of the valley, keeping to the south, until he should strike the Armagosa River.
It was not mere economy with her now. It was a panic terror lest a fraction of a cent of her little savings should be touched; a passionate eagerness to continue to save in spite of all that had happened. Trina could have easily afforded better quarters than the single whitewashed room at the top of the flat, but she made McTeague believe that it was impossible.
"You're shouting right out loud," vociferated Cribbens, looking where McTeague was pointing. His face went suddenly pale. He turned to the dentist, his eyes wide. "By God, pardner," he exclaimed, breathlessly. "By God " he broke off abruptly. "That's what you been looking for, ain't it?" asked the dentist. "LOOKING for! LOOKING for!" Cribbens checked himself.
Within twenty yards Marcus paused, made a rest of his left forearm and fired. "You GOT him," cried McTeague. "No, he's up again. Shoot him again. He's going to bolt." Marcus ran on, firing as he ran. The mule, one foreleg trailing, scrambled along, squealing and snorting. Marcus fired his last shot.
Far off across the flats, at the edge of the town, an electric car went by, stringing out a long row of diamond sparks on the overhead wires. "Say, Miss Trina," said McTeague, after a while, "what's the good of waiting any longer? Why can't us two get married?" Trina still shook her head, saying "No" instinctively, in spite of herself. "Why not?" persisted McTeague.
It was Damon and Pythias; it was David and Jonathan; nothing could ever estrange them. Now it was for life or death. "I'm much obliged," murmured McTeague. He could think of nothing better to say. "I'm much obliged," he repeated; "much obliged, Mark." "That's all right, that's all right," returned Marcus Schouler, bravely, and it occurred to him to add, "You'll be happy together.
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