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"'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is getting so big I'm afraid he'll be going to war." Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in breathless, unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito. "One man wanchee see you quick in Chinatown.... He allee same plitty soon die. He say you sabe him. His name McTu'pin." McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman.
The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin came upon her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She rose haughtily. "Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my brother was within call " McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of mockery in his eye. "It is about your brother that I've come to talk with you, Miss Inez." The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito!
Lick frowned. "They call it Sydney Town because so many Australian convicts have settled in it. Some day we'll form a citizens' committee and run them off." "Which reminds me," Lick retorted, "that McTurpin came to town this morning. With a veiled woman ... or girl. She looks little more than a child." Adrian surveyed the other, startled. "Child?" His mind was full of vague suspicions.
For a time Inez lay there, oblivious to all save the misery of her fate. If only her father had not gone with those northern engineers! If only Benito were here to advise her! Benito, her beloved brother, in whose path the gallows loomed. It was that picture which had caused her to yield to McTurpin. Even darker, now, was the picture of her own future. A gambler's wife!
McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten. "Throw the little greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness. "This is a white man's show." There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them soothingly. "Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him." "Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon threateningly. "Sit down there," he ordered Windham.
Absently he paced the creaking boards and, having reached a corner of the building, continued his promenade along what seemed to be the rear of the building. Here a line of doors opened on the veranda like the upper staterooms of a ship. Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour? thought Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed.
Others sat at tables playing poker and drinking incessantly, men in red-flannel shirts, blue denim trousers tucked into high, wrinkled boots. They wore wide-brimmed hats, and cursed or spat with a fervor and vehemence that indicated enjoyment. Adrian presently made out the stocky form of McTurpin, glass upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag and a bottle.
Spear sat at one of the tables, toying with a pile of chips and stroking his chin reflectively as he surveyed three cards. "Give me two. Hello, there, Adrian. Good Lord! what's up?" "Have you seen McTurpin or his friend, Ned Gasket?" He tried to speak quietly. A miner at another table leaned forward. "Try the stalls, pard," he whispered, while his left eyelid descended meaningly.
He went directly into the saloon and looked about him. At a table, back toward him, sat a stocky figure, playing cards and reaching for the rum container at his side. Adrian stood a moment, musing; then his right hand slid down to his hip; a forward stride and the left hand fell on the player's shoulder. "We meet once more, McTurpin."
If it is not enough, we will pay more ... later ... from the proceeds of the ranch." "Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this matter more adroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your ranch than that which I possess, why may we not be neighbors friends?" She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no opportunity. "Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture.
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