The Girl of the Golden West Part 14

"Is what?" laughed the Girl, saucily, and, apparently, trying to relieve the strained situation by her bantering tone.

"--Of Sacramento," he finished easily.

"Of Sacramento," repeated the Girl in the same jesting manner as before; then, quickly coming out from behind the bar, she went over to him and put out her hand, saying:

"I admire to know you, Mr. Johnson o' Sacramento."

Johnson bowed low over her hand.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"Say, Girl, I--" began Rance, fuming at her behaviour.

"Oh, sit down, Rance!" The interruption came from the Girl as she pushed him lightly out of her way; then, perching herself up on one end of the faro table, at which Johnson had taken a seat, she ventured:

"Say, Mr. Johnson, do you know what I think o' you?"

Johnson eyed her uncertainly, while Rance's eyes blazed as she blurted out:

"Well, I think you staked out a claim in a etiquette book." And then before Johnson could answer her, she went on to say: "So you think you can play poker?"

"That's my conviction," Johnson told her, smilingly.

"Out o' every fifty men who think they can play poker one ain't mistaken," was the Girl's caustic observation. The next instant, however, she jumped down from the table and was back at her post, where, fearful lest he should think her wanting in hospitality, she proposed: "Try a cigar, Mr. Johnson?"

"Thank you," he said, rising, and following her to the bar.

"Best in the house--my compliments."

"You're very kind," said Johnson, taking the candle that she had lighted for him; then, when his cigar was going, and in a voice that was intended for her alone, he went on: "So you remember me?"

"If you remember me," returned the Girl, likewise in a low tone.

"What the devil are they talking about anyway?" muttered Rance to himself as he stole a glance at them over his shoulder, though he kept on shuffling the cards.

"I met you on the road to Monterey," said Johnson with a smile.

"Yes, comin' an' goin'," smiled back the Girl. "You pa.s.sed me a bunch o'

wild syringa over the wheel; you also asked me to go a-berryin'--" and here she paused long enough to glance up at him coquettishly before adding: "But I didn't see it, Mr. Johnson."

"I noticed that," observed Johnson, laughing.

"An' when you went away you said--" The Girl broke off abruptly and replaced the candle on the bar; then with a shy, embarra.s.sed look on her face she ended with: "Oh, I dunno."

"Yes, you do, yes, you do," maintained Johnson. "I said I'll think of you all the time--well, I've thought of you ever since."

There was a moment of embarra.s.sment. Then:

"Somehow I kind o' tho't you might drop in," she said with averted eyes.

"But as you didn't--" She paused and summoned to her face a look which she believed would adequately reflect a knowledge of the proprieties.

"O' course," she t.i.ttered out, "it wa'n't my place to remember you--first."

"But I didn't know where you lived--you never told me, you know,"

contended the road agent, which contention so satisfied the Girl--for she remembered only too well that she had not told him--that she determined to show him further evidences of her regard.

Say, I got a special bottle here--best in the house. Will you . . .?"

"Why--"

The girl did not wait for him to finish his sentence, but quickly placed a bottle and gla.s.s before him.

"My compliments," she whispered, smiling.

"You're very kind--thanks," returned the road agent, and proceeded to pour out a drink.

Meanwhile, little of what was taking place had been lost on Jack Rance.

As the whispered conversation continued, he grew more and more jealous, and at the moment that Johnson was on the point of putting the gla.s.s to his lips, Rance, rising quickly, went over to him and deliberately knocked the gla.s.s out of his hand.

With a crash it fell to the floor.

"Look here, Mr. Johnson, your ways are offensive to me!" he cried; "d.a.m.ned offensive! My name is Rance--Jack Rance. Your business here--your business?" And without waiting for the other's reply he called out huskily: "Boys! Boys! Come in here!"

At this sudden and unexpected summons in the Sheriff's well-known voice there was a rush from the dance-hall; in an instant the good-natured, roistering crowd, nosing a fight, crowded to the bar, where the two men stood glaring at each other in suppressed excitement.

"Boys," declared the Sheriff, his eye never leaving Johnson's face, "there's a man here who won't explain his business. He won't tell--"

"Won't he?" cut in Sonora, bl.u.s.teringly. "Well, we'll see--we'll make 'im!"

There was a howl of execration from the bar. It moved the Girl to instant action. Quick as thought she turned and strode to where the cries were the most menacing--towards the boys who knew her best and ever obeyed her unquestioningly.

"Wait a minute!" she cried, holding up her hand authoritatively. "I know the gent!"

The men exchanged incredulous glances; from all sides came the explosive cries:

"What's that? You know him?"

"Yes," she affirmed dramatically; and turning now to Rance with a swift change of manner, she confessed: "I didn't tell you--but I know 'im."

The Sheriff started as if struck.

"The Sacramento shrimp by all that is holy!" he muttered between his teeth as the truth slowly dawned upon him.

"Yes, boys, this is Mr. Johnson o' Sacramento," announced the Girl with a simple and unconscious dignity that did not fail to impress all present. "I vouch to Cloudy for Mr. Johnson!"

Consternation!

And then the situation vaguely dawning upon them there ensued an outburst of cheering compared to which the previous howl of execration was silence.

Johnson smiled pleasantly at the Girl in acknowledgment of her confirmation of him, then shot a half-curious, half-amused look at the crowd surrounding him and regarding him with a new interest. Apparently what he saw was to his liking, for his manner was most friendly when bowing politely, he said: