The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 54: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

612 the ‘‘ Hairess,” as Miss Gladys Burke, of Chicago, had by this time come to be known, was not to put up at the Waldorf- Delmonico. The entire camp had planned to give her a welcome fitting the occasion; and Dan Groesbeck, with an eye to business, had sent to Overton for an extra faro- dealer, and ordered a fresh barrel of each of his two styles of stimulant. But Jim Hart, who had charge of the arrangements for her reception, uncom- promisingly set his foot down upon the preparations. ‘“No,” he asserted positively, ‘ there are going to be no prize-fight features about this performance, and Miss Burke isn’t going to be lodged up over a gin- mill, either. She is a lady, you must un- derstand, called out here by the sad and solemn business of her father’s death, and she isn’t going to be upset and an- noyed at the end of her long journey by the unwelcome attentions of a pack of unkempt coyotes. ‘*T have instructed the stage-driver,” he added, ‘to drop her at her father’s cabin up on the mountain, and I shall not even myself intrude upon her privacy until she has had a chance to get settled.”’ ‘““In the old man’s cabin!” exclaimed Dan Groesbeck, still smarting under the aspersions cast upon his hostelry. ‘ You sure ain’t fixin’ to stick no lone female up in that out-of-the-way dog-kennel without no one so much as to say howdy- do to her?” “The place will be fixed up.and made as comfortable as possible,” replied Hart calmly; “and, for the rest, Wunna, the squaw, will be on hand to attend to all her wants. I am sure she would prefer that to being met with a whoop and hur- rah by an insane set of bedizened chim- panzees.”’ This last with a scathing glance to- ward the Whiffet, who had already start- ed in to sport a flaming red necktie and a pair of lemon-colored kid gloves, in anticipation of the approaching event. Perhaps the reasons he gave were all that actuated Hart in his decision; per- _ haps he had others which he kept to him- self. At any rate, he held firm to the stand he had taken. Neither prayers, entreaties, nor ex- postulations were able to move him. and THE ARGOSY. in the end Lame Creek had simply to swallow its chagrin and forego the honors it had hoped to shower upon the new queen. In this emergency the Whiffet, after a day spent in mourning, finally hit upon a brilliant inspiration. Because the moun- tain was not coming to Mahomet, was, he argued, no reason that Mahomet could not go to the mountain. In other words, what was to prevent the enthusi- astic populace of Lame Creek from as- cending to Miss Burke’s shanty on the night of her arrival and paying their respects. ‘This suggestion broached in due course to every man in the camp save Hart and the stranger from Denver, met with high approval, and plans were instantly laid to carry it into effect. Of the two kept in the dark, Hart’s exception was, of course, for fear that he would frown upon the project; while the young mining engineer, Henry Sar- don, they did not consider strictly one of themselves. Anyway, they had been inclined to look askance at him, since the lawyer, their leader, had cast a doubt upon his claims. Sardon, however, although he could scarcely fail to recognize the feeling en- tertained toward him, seemed to be but little troubled by it. His business was not with them, but with the golden treas- ure locked in the hills round about, and it was apparently a matter of complete indifference to him whether they liked him or not. After satisfying himself that the will presented by Hart was legal and valid in all respects, he had, beyond appearing at the funeral, made no further attempt to assert his kinship with the old pros- pector; but had busied himself solely with his own affairs. Lame Creek saw him hardly at all; for although he still lodged at the Wal- dorf-Delmonico, he joined in none of the noisy symposiums in the barroom. Up with the sun each morning, he would spend the entire day roaming over the mountains, tapping at the rocks with his little hammer. He returned late at night, his bag of specimens over his shoulder, too tired and sleepy to do any- thing but tumble into bed. COMICLO@O (©