The Black Pearl, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  Hanson had decided that the best way to gain certain information hedesired was to seek the bar-keeper, who, after his constitution,gossiped as naturally and as volubly as a bird sings; so, quite earlythe next morning, he sauntered into Chickasaw Pete's place.

  Jimmy, who was industriously polishing the bar and singing the while oneof the more lugubrious and monotonous hymns, looked up with hiscustomary little chuckle.

  "Feeling fine, ain't you?" he said derisively. "Want to start right outand corral the whole desert, don't you? Think you can travel right overto San Bernardino yonder? Looks about three miles off, don't he?"

  "Me?" said Hanson, expanding his chest. "I feel like I was aboutsixteen. Like I was home in Kaintucky, jumping a six-bar fence after abreakfast of about fifty buckwheat cakes and syrup."

  "That's the way it takes them all; but you just wait until about noon,and you won't feel so gay," warned Jimmy. "What are you doin' to-day,anyway, hunting more trouble?"

  "Not me," cried the other. "I came here to the desert pearl fishing."

  "That's a good one." Jimmy's chuckle expanded into a series. "But youain't the only one. There's Bob Flick, for instance, as you discoveredlast night."

  The smile went out of Hanson's eyes, his face set. He ceased to loungeagainst the bar and involuntarily straightened himself:

  "What about Bob Flick?" he asked.

  "Lots about Bob." Jimmy's tone was equable, but he shot Hanson a quickglance. "He was our faro dealer for a while, but he's interested inmines now. He's dead sure. Come to think of it, he's a lot of deadthings," he mused; "but don't ever confuse him with a dead one." Delightat his own wit expressed itself in mirthful chuckles. "He's dead game,and he's a dead shot, two important things for a man that's playing towin when in certain localities, and he's dead certain that he's theGod-appointed guardeen of the Black Pearl."

  "What's she got to say about it?" growled Hanson.

  The bar-keeper shrugged his shoulders. "Ask me what the desert outthere's thinking, and I'll tell you what's going on inside the Pearl'shead. Say," animatedly, "I told you to ask me about those emeralds lastnight, didn't I?"

  The manager laughed shortly. "I saw 'em close, son, after I left you. Iknow stones. Square cut emeralds. Lord! They sure cost some good man hispile, and he was no piker, either."

  "Bob Flick," said Jimmy, with a glow of local pride. "Kind of thankoffering, when the Pearl found him in the desert after he'd been lostthree days. Bob was new to this country then and reckless, like atenderfoot is, and the first thing he did was to go and get lost. Well,they had several searching parties looking for him, but the Pearl, shegot on her horse and went after him alone, and, by George! she foundhim, lying about gone in a dry arroyo.

  "Bob said he'd been wandering round crazy as a loon, seeing three biglions with eyes like coals of fire stalking him night and day, and himalways trying to dodge 'em. He says at last they came nearer and neareruntil he stumbled and fell, and then he felt their hot breath on hischeek, and he knew nothing more until he finally realized that some onewas trying to pour water down his throat and he kind of half come tohimself; and suddenly, he said, that awful gray desert, worse than anyhell a man ever feared, seemed all kind and tender like a mother, andthen, some way, it burst into bloom, and that bloom was the Black Pearlbending over him. Oh, you ought to hear him tell it! Well--she got himup on her horse and got him home, and her and her mother nursed him backto health. And since that time Bob ain't never felt the same about thedesert. You couldn't drive him away now.

  "When he was well enough to travel, he went to 'Frisco and ordered ajeweler there to get him the handsomest string of matched emeralds thatmoney could buy. The fellow was a year matching them, had to make twotrips to the other side. They do say," Jimmy lowered his voicecautiously, "that Bob's father was a rich man and left him a nice littlefortune, and that he blew every cent of it in on those stones. ThePearl certainly likes jewels. All the rings and things that she wearswere given her by the boys."

  "Umm-m-hum. Great story!" he nodded perfunctorily. "Guess I'll take awalk." He strolled toward the door.

  "Bet I know which way you're going," chuckled Jimmy, as he disappeared.

  The unspoken surmise was perfectly correct. Hanson took his way slowlyand with apparent abstraction in the direction of the Gallito home, andit was not until he was at the very gate that he paused and looked upwith a start of well simulated surprise.

  The house stood beyond a garden of brilliant flowers, and in the shadowof the long porch--a porch facing the desert and not the mountains--satPearl, swinging back and forth in a rocking chair and talkingimpartially to the blind boy, who sat on the step beneath her, and agorgeous crimson and green parrot, which walked back and forth in itspigeon-toed fashion on the arm of her chair, muttering, occasionallyscreaming, and sometimes inclining its head to be scratched.

  "Good morning," called Hanson in his blithest, most assured fashion."Can I come in?"

  "Sure," drawled the Pearl. "Hughie and I were just waiting for company,weren't we, Hughie?"

  The boy tossed his head impatiently, but made no answer. From the momentHanson had spoken he had assumed an air of immobile and concentratedattention, tense as that of an Indian listening and sighting in aforest, or of a highly trained dog on guard.

  "Take you at your word," laughed Hanson, and swung up the path, a big,dominant presence, as vital as the morning. "Howdy," he shook hands withPearl and then turned to the boy, but Hugh drew quickly away from thatextended hand, quite as if he saw it before him.

  Hanson raised his eyebrows in involuntary surprise, but his good humorwas unabated. "What's the good word with Hughie?" he asked genially. "Ican't call you anything else, because I don't know your last name."

  "My name is Hugh Braddock," said the boy coldly.

  Again Hanson lifted his brows, this time humorously, as at a child'sunexpected rebuff, and looked at Pearl, and again he experienced afeeling of surprise, for she was gazing at Hugh with a puzzled frown,which held a faint touch of apprehension.

  "Then," Hanson looked from one to the other, but spoke to Pearl, "youain't brother and sister?"

  "No," said Pearl, and it disturbed Hanson more than he would havedreamed to notice the change in voice and manner. The warm, provocative,inherent coquetry was gone from both smile and eyes; instead of a soft,alluring girl ready to play with him a baffling, blood-stirring game offlirtation, she was again the sphynx of last night, whose unrevealingeyes seemed to have looked out over the desert for centuries, until itsinfinite heart was as an open page to her, and she repressed in thescarlet curves of her mouth its eternal, secret enigma.

  "We are brother and sister." Hugh edged along the step until he couldlay his head against Pearl's knee. "But we're not blood relations, ifyou're curious to know." The insolence of his tone was barely veiled."My mother was a circus woman that Mrs. Gallito knew. She deserted mewhen I was a baby, and Mrs. Gallito has been all the mother I ever hador wanted, and Pearl the only sister. I was born blind."

  "Oh, Hughie," remonstrated Pearl, "you've got no call to say that. Hedon't see with his eyes," she turned to Hanson, "but I never saw anybodythat could see so much."

  "How's that?" asked Hanson easily. He was used from long experience tothe temperamental, emotional people of the stage, and he had nointention of being daunted by any moods these two might exhibit.

  "Hughie, what color are Mr. Hanson's clothes?" asked Pearl.

  Still with a petulant, disdainful expression, the boy leaned forward andran his long, slender fingers with their cushioned tips over Hanson'scoat. "Brown," he replied indifferently.

  "He can tell you the color of every flower in the garden, just bytouching them," explained Pearl. "He knows all the different kinds ofbirds just by the whirr of their wings. He can tell the color of everydress I wear. He--"

  But Hugh had risen. "I don't like you to tell strangers about me," hecried with passionate petulance, "and you know it. I'm going to findmother
."

  "Well, tell her that Mr. Hanson's here," called Pearl after him,unaffected by his outburst. "He hasn't taken a shine to you," sheremarked frankly to Hanson.

  Again he was disturbed to notice that she seemed to give this obviousfact some weight. She had rested her chin on her hand and was gazingmeditatively at the gay garden. A shadow of disappointment was on herface, and more than a touch of it in her voice.

  "That don't bother me," affirmed Hanson confidently. "All that I'mcaring about is whether some one else shares his opinion." His bold, gayeyes looked straight into hers.

  "I wonder who?" drawled Pearl. The gleam of her eyes shining throughnarrowed lids and black, tangled lashes flicked him like the tang of awhip. "Maybe you mean Lolita?"

  The parrot, which had perched on her shoulder and was tweaking her ear,now hearing its name, looked up, fluttered its wings, and called out ina gruff, masculine voice: "Mi jasmin, Pearl. Mi corazon."

  "He's talking for me, sure," said Hanson, who knew enough Spanish tomake out.

  "Oh, damn," said the parrot disgustedly; "why the hell can't you shutup?"

  Hanson gave a great burst of laughter. "Lolita and Hughie are wellmatched when it comes to politeness."

  "They got the artistic temperament, and me, too, and mom, also," saidPearl. "That's what the newspaper boys always wrote about me when I wason the road."

  The manager did not miss the opening. "Look here," he said earnestly;"ain't you tired loafing around here? I guess you know what I'm inPaloma for. I've made no secret of it. Now all you got to do is to showme your contract with Sweeney and I'll double what he gave you, play youover a bigger circuit, and advertise you, so's before your contract withme's expired you'll be asked to do a few turns on the Metropolitan Operastage of New York City, New York."

  "Love me to-day," sang Lolita, meltingly, if with grating harshness.

  "That's right, Lolita, sing your pretty song," coaxed Pearl. "Come on,I'll sing with you." She lifted her languorous eyes and sang softly,almost under her breath, but straight at Hanson:

  "Love me to-day, Love me an hour; Love is a flower, Fading alway."

  The blood surged to his temples at the direct challenge, he half roseand leaned toward her. Then, as she laughed at him, he sat down. "TrebleSweeney's offer, by God!" he said hoarsely. "Cash down beforehand." Hebrought his fist down on the arm of the chair with a crash.

  "Oh, I ain't ready to make any plans yet," Pearl announcedindifferently. "I want to talk things over with Pop first. He'll be downfrom the mines before long, maybe to-day."

  She sat for a few moments in silence, her eyes fixed on the far purplehazes of the desert. "Oh, I wish there weren't so many of me," she saidat last and wistfully. "After I'm 'out' a while, I'll get to longing sofor the desert that I'm likely to raise any kind of a row and break anyold contract just to get here. I can't breathe. I feel as if everything,buildings and people and all, were crowding me so's if I didn't have aplace to stand; and then, after I'm here a while, I got to see thefootlights, I got to hear them clapping, I got to dance for the bigcrowds. Oh, Lord! life's awful funny, always trying to chain you up toone thing or another. But I won't be tied. I got to be free, and I willbe free." She threw out her arms with a passionate gesture.

  "You'd be free with me," he cried.

  But, if she heard him, she gave no indication of having done so. "Canyou ride?" she asked presently.

  "You bet," said Hanson eagerly. "I was born in Kaintucky. Just tell mewhere I can get a horse here, and--"

  "I'll lend you one of mine, and we'll have some rides. I'll take you outon the desert. It ain't safe to go alone. You see those sand hillsyonder? Do you think you could walk out to them and back?"

  "Sure," said Hanson confidently and looking at her in some surprise.

  Pearl laughed. "Oh, Lolita!" she cried; "a tenderfoot is sure funny. Thechances are, Mr. Hanson, that if you started to walk around those dunesyou'd never get back. Goodness! ain't that mirage pretty?"

  The desert, which had lain vast, dun-colored and unbroken before theireyes, had vanished; instead, a sapphire sea sparkled in the sunshine,its white-capped waves breaking upon the beach. Upon one side of itspread a city with white domes and fairy towers, and palm treesuplifting their graceful fronds among them.

  Hanson rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was the first time that hehad ever seen one of these miracles of illusion, and he became soabsorbed in it that he failed to notice that some one else had enteredthe gate and was making a leisurely progress toward the house.

  It was Bob Flick, and Rudolf Hanson could not repress a slight scowl atthis unexpected appearance of one whom he was constrained to regard asmore or less of an enemy, and certainly this morning as a blot upon thelandscape.

  Without a smile, but politely enough, Flick greeted him, after speakingto Pearl, who looked at the newcomer with a sort of resignedresentfulness. Lolita, however, made up what was lacking in cordiality.With a loud squawk of welcome she flew to Flick's shoulder, utteringgutteral and incoherent expressions doubtless meant to conveyendearment.

  "Call Mom, Bob," commanded Pearl lazily, and Flick obediently steppedinside of the door in search of Mrs. Gallito. She must have been near athand, for she and Flick emerged before the manager could do more thangive Pearl a glance of eloquent disappointment, which she returned withteasing mockery.

  Mrs. Gallito had evidently been making a toilet, and it is to beregretted for her own sake that she might not have reserved all of herappearances for the evening, for this brilliant desert sunshine waspitiless in revealing those artificial aids with which she strove torecreate and hold her vanished youth and bloom.

  Bob Flick she evidently regarded as a matter of course, but at the sightof Hanson she showed unmistakable pleasure.

  "Hughie told me you were here," she said, sitting down beside him andpatting somewhat anxiously the mass of canary-colored puffs on the backof her head; "and I been hurrying to get out before you got away."

  "I wouldn't have thought of going before you came," Hanson assured her.She smiled and bridled a little, evidently well pleased.

  "Has Pearl told you that her Pop'll probably be down to-day?" she leanedacross Hanson to speak to Flick.

  "No, is that so?" he asked in his smooth, pleasant tones.

  "Where are the mines that Mr. Gallito is interested in?" asked Hanson,determined to keep in the conversation.

  "Up in Colina." It was Mrs. Gallito that spoke.

  An up-darting gleam of suddenly aroused interest and curiosity flashedfor a moment in Bob Flick's eyes. Was it possible that at the mention ofthat name Hanson had started and that something which might have beentaken for the shadow of dismay had overfallen his face?

  "Fine mining camp," Flick commented. "You know it at all, Mr. Hanson?"

  Hanson had scratched a match to light his cigarette, but now he liftedhis eyes and looked across its tiny flare straight at Flick. "No," hesaid indifferently, "never was in it in my life."

  His tone and manner were both open and convincing, and yet the ruddycolor, as Flick noticed with merciless satisfaction, had not returned tohis face.

  "He's an awful queer man," confided Mrs. Gallito in a low voice toHanson. "I suppose," with a sigh, "it's the Spanish of him. Just think,"she spoke as one who has never overcome an unmitigated wonder, "born inthe sawdust same as me; his folks from way back all in the business, andhim with no use for it. Never rested till he got away from it. Why, hedidn't even want me to train Pearl, but," and here triumph rang in hertones, "he couldn't help that. She took to it like a duck takes towater. Always ready for it, never cried or complained at the longhours."

  "She's sure got cause to be grateful to you." Hanson spoke sincerely.

  "I wouldn't have known what else to do with a child," said Mrs. Gallitosimply. "I always saw them trained that way. But her Pop didn't standfor it."

  During this conversation Pearl and Flick had risen and, with Lolitastill on Flick's shoulder, had sauntered down throug
h the garden.

  Seeing this, Rudolf, with his customary philosophy, made the best of thesituation. "Well," with rather vague gallantry, "I don't see how he canstay away from a home like this."

  "It's the Spanish of him." This was Mrs. Gallito's explanation of allthe eccentricities in which her husband might indulge. "And," withunwonted optimism, "maybe it's a blessing, too, 'cause he's awful queer.And, anyway, he's what they call a man's man. Why, you might think helived all by himself up there in Colina; but he don't. He's got more oldSpaniards around"--she raised her eyes--"and they're the awfullest!Cut-throats and pirates, I call 'em. They come up from the coast. Andit's funny, too," she exclaimed in a sort of querulous wonder, "becauseGallito's awful respectable himself."

  "That is queer, isn't it?" His tone was politely interested, but hiserrant glance strayed to where Pearl and Flick stood gazing over thevast spaces of the desert, flooded with illimitable sunshine.

  But Mrs. Gallito needed only a modicum of interest upon which to launchher confidences. "Yes, he certainly is queer, and Pearl's like him inlots of ways. Neither of them can stand anything holding them. They'realways wanting to be free, and they both got the strongest wills."

  "And does he ever bring his cut-throat friends here?" asked Hanson.

  "My, no!" cried Mrs. Gallito. "It wouldn't be safe."

  "I should think it would be as safe here as in the mountains."

  "He don't keep 'em there long, if they're wanted bad," whispered Mrs.Gallito. "He knows more than one secret trail over the mountains."

  Hanson was beginning to show a more genuine interest now and, spurred onby this flattering appreciation of her revelations, Mrs. Gallito wenton.

  "If you won't ever tell," she bent toward him after glancing about hercautiously, "I'll tell you something. Of course, I'd never mention it ifI didn't feel that you're as safe as a church and one of our very bestfriends."

  "You haven't got a better in the world," he fervently assured her, hiscuriosity really aroused now.

  "Well," glowing with the importance of her news, "did you ever hear ofCrop-eared Jose?"

  It was with difficulty that Hanson repressed a long, low whistle. "Ishould say," he answered. "He's been wanted by the police of severalStates for some time, and since that last big robbery they've hadsheriffs and their parties scouring the mountains."

  For once Mrs. Gallito really had a piece of news which was sure tocommand the most flattering attention.

  Crop-eared Jose was a famous and slippery bandit, and his latest exploithad been the robbery of an express car and subsequent vanishing with asum approximating thirty thousand dollars. It was supposed that he hadjumped the train while it was making its slow progress across themountains at night and had lain on the top of the car until what heregarded as the proper moment for action had arrived. He had thenslipped down, forced the lock on the door, held up both messengers,making one tie and gag the other, under his direction, and then himselfperformed that office for the first with his own skillful hands. Afterthat, to open the safe, take the money and drop from the train was merechild's play to so accomplished a professional as Jose.

  "Gallito's got him." Mrs. Gallito enjoyed to the full the sensation shehad created, and then a sudden revulsion of fright shook her. "But, forgoodness' sake, Mr. Hanson, don't let on I told you. I--I wish I hadn'tspoke," she whispered.

  "Trust me," comfortingly. "Now don't give it another thought. I'llforget it on the spot, if you say so."

  "Gallito'd kill me"--she still shook and looked at him fearfully.

  "Oh, come now," his tone was infinitely reassuring, "forget it; I havealready. Such things don't interest me."

  "Love me to-day, Love me an hour;"

  sang Lolita, and his eyes turned to the two at the gate, stillchaperoned by the faithful parrot. In them was a flash like fire onsteel, as they rested on Bob Flick. Then he turned again to Mrs.Gallito. "Forget it," he said again, as he rose to take his leave; "andbelieve that I have, too."

  But his musings on his way back to the hotel would certainly not haveproved calming to that lady could she have but known them.

  "Gosh!" he muttered, "and I thought it had broke, this blessed blindluck of mine, when I heard 'em mention Colina; but it's holding afterall, it's holding. I guess what I know now about the whereabouts ofCrop-eared Jose just about offsets anything Pop Gallito may know aboutme and anything that Mr. Bob Flick can discover."