Laughing Bill Hyde and Other Stories Part 2

Ponatah smiled, showing a row of small, white teeth. "Carlisle is an Indian school."

"What made you come back?" Thomas inquired, curiously.

Ponatah shrugged her shoulders. "There was an end to the money. What could I do? At first I thought I'd be able to help my people, but--I couldn't. They will learn from the white people, but not from one of their own kind."

"Your parents--?"

"They died when I was a baby. Mary took me in." The girl spoke in a flat, emotionless tone.

"It must be tough to come back to this, now that you know what life really is," said Thomas, after a time.

Ponatah's eyes were dark with tragedy when she turned them to the speaker. "_G.o.d!_" she cried, unexpectedly, then abruptly she faced the window once more. It was a moment before she went on in fierce resentment:

"Why didn't they leave me as they found me? Why did they teach me their ways, and then send me back to this--this dirt and ignorance and squalor? Sometimes I think I can't stand it. But what can I do? n.o.body understands. Mary can't see why I'm different from her and the others.

She has grown rich, with her reindeer; she says if this is good enough for her it should be good enough for me. As for the white men who come through, they can't, or they won't, understand. They're hateful to me.

Petersen, the mail-carrier, for instance! I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're strangers. You're probably just like Petersen."

"I know why you're telling us," Thomas said, slowly. "It's because I--because we're _not_ like Petersen and the others; it's because I--we can help you."

"Help me?" sneered the girl. "How?"

"I don't know, yet. But you're out of place here. There's a place for you somewhere; I'll find it."

Ponatah shook her head wearily. "Mary says I belong here, with my people."

"No. You belong with white people--people who will treat you well."

This time the girl smiled bitterly. "They have treated me worse than my own people have. I know them, and--I hate them."

"Ain't you the sore-head, now?" Laughing Bill murmured. "You got a hundred-per-cent. grouch, but if the old medicine-man says he'll put you in right, you bet your string of beads he'll do it. He's got a gift for helpin' down-and-outers. You got cla.s.s, Kid; you certainly rhinestone this whole bunch of red men. Why, you belong in French heels and a boodwar cap; that's how I dope you."

"There must be a chance for a girl like you in Nome," Thomas continued, thoughtfully. "You'd make a good hand with children.

Suppose I try to find you a place as governess?"

"_Would_ you?" Ponatah's face was suddenly eager. "Children? Oh yes!

I'd work my fingers to the bone. I--I'd do _anything_--"

"Then I'll do what I can."

For some time longer the three of them talked, and gradually into the native girl's eyes there came a light, for these men were not like the others she had met, and she saw the world begin to unfold before her.

When at last they left she laid a hand upon the doctor's arm and said, imploringly:

"You won't forget. You--promise?"

"I promise," he told her.

"He don't forget nothing," Bill a.s.sured her, "and if he does I'll see that he don't."

After they had gone Ponatah stood motionless for a long time, then she whispered, breathlessly:

"Children! Little white children! I'll be very good to them."

"She's a cla.s.sy quilt," Laughing Bill said, on the way back to the road-house.

"She's as pretty as a picture, and little more than a child," the doctor admitted.

"You made a hit. She'd do 'most anything for you." The doctor muttered, absent-mindedly. "She's stood off Petersen and these red-necks, but she'd fall for you." Mr. Hyde was insinuating.

Thomas halted; he stared at his partner curiously, coldly. "Say! Do you think that's why I offered to help her?" he inquired.

"Come clean!" The invalid winked meaningly. "You're a long ways from home, and I've knew fellers to do a lot worse. You can grab her, easy.

And if you do--"

Thomas grunted angrily. "I've put up with a lot from you," he said, then he strode on.

"And if you do," the other resumed, falling into step with him, "I'll bust you right where you're thickest."

"Eh?"

"I'll bust you wide open. Oh, me 'n' that gal in the leather frame had a long talk while I was sick in St. Mikes, and she asked me to keep you in the middle of the trail. Well, I'm the little guy that can do it."

"Bill!" Evan Thomas's eyes were twinkling. "I believe I'm going to cure you, after all," said he.

Late that afternoon Mr. Hyde disappeared; he did not show up until after dark.

"I been to see Lo, the poor squaw," he readily confessed. "She ain't the pure domestic leaf, she's a blend--part Roos.h.i.+an, or something.

Seems there was a gang of Roos.h.i.+ans or Swedes or Dagoes of some sort used to run this country. She says they horned into some of the best Injun families, and she's one of the 'overs.'"

"They were Russians."

"Roos.h.i.+ans is a kind of white people, ain't they? Well, that's how she come so light-complected. You remember she said our folks had treated her bad? It's a fact, Doc. She spilled the story, and it made a mouthful. It's like this: when Nome was struck a Swede feller she had knew staked her a claim, but she couldn't hold it, her bein' a squab--under age, savvy? There's something in the law that prevents Injuns gettin' in on anything good, too; I don't rightly recollect what it is, but if it's legal you can bet it's crooked. Anyhow, Uncle Sam lets up a squawk that she's only eighteen, goin' on nineteen, and a n.o.ble redskin to boot, and says his mining claims is reserved for Laps and Yaps and j.a.ps and Wops, and such other furrin' slantheads of legal age as declare their intention to become American citizens if their claims turn out rich enough so's it pays 'em to do so.

"Well, Ponatah's Swede friend gets himself froze, somehow, so she has to pa.s.s the buck. Naturally, she turns to her pals, the missionaries.

There's a he-missionary here--head mug of the whole gang. He's a G.o.dly walloper, and he tears into Satan bare-handed every Sunday. He slams the devil around something shameful, and Ponatah thinks he's a square guy if ever they come square, so she asks him to re-locate her claim, on shares, and hold it for the joint account. Old Doctor M.E. Church agrees to split fifty-fifty, half to her and half to heaven, then he vamps to Nome and chalks his monaker over the Kid's. Now get me: the claim turns out good, and Ponatah's heavenly pilot makes a Mexican divvy--he takes the money and gives her his best wishes. He grabs everything, and says he never knew n.o.body by the name of Ponatah--he gets so he can't even p.r.o.nounce it. He allows her face is familiar, but he can't place her, and the partners.h.i.+p idea allus was repugnant to him. He never was partners with n.o.body, understand? He blows the show; he bows out and leaves the Kid flat. He forsakes the Milky Way for the Great White one, and he's out there now, smokin' Coronas and wearin' a red vest under his black coat, with a diamond horseshoe in his tie. It looks to me like the James boys could 'a' learned something from this gospel hold-up."

"Do you believe her story?" Thomas inquired.

"She don't know enough to lie, and you can't trust a guy that wears his collar backwards."

"She should go to court."

Mr. Hyde shook his head. "I been there, often, but I never picked up a bet. Somehow or other courts is usually right next to jails, and you got to watch out you don't get in the wrong place. You can't win nothing in either one. I thought I'd tell you the story, so if you ever meet up with this shave-tail preacher and he wants a headache pill you can slip him some sugar-coated a.r.s.enic."

In the days immediately following Doctor Thomas's arrival at Nome he was a busy man, but he did not forget Ponatah. He was allowed no opportunity of doing so, for Bill frequently reminded him of her, and as a result it was not long before he found a place for his charge, in the home of a leading merchant. Arrangements made, Bill went in search of the mail-carrier.

Petersen was drinking with two friends at the bar of the Last Chance, and he pressed his late pa.s.senger to join them. But alcoholism was not one of Mr. Hyde's weaknesses. The best of Bill's bad habits was much worse than drink; he had learned from experience that liquor put a traitor's tongue in his head, and in consequence he was a teetotaler.

"I got a job for you, Pete," he announced. "I got you another sled-load for your next trip. You know Ponatah?"