The Girl of the Golden West Part 25

At the sound of the woman's voice Johnson wheeled round quickly. And then, to his great surprise, he saw that the Girl was not alone as he had expected to find her.

"I beg your pardon; I did not see anyone when I came in," he said in humble apology, his eyes the while upon Wowkle who, having blown out the candle and removed the lantern from the table to the floor, was directing her footsteps towards the cupboard, into which she presently disappeared, closing the door behind her. "But seeing you standing there," went on Johnson in explanation, "and looking into your lovely eyes, well, the temptation to take you in my arms was so great that I, well, I took--"

"You must be in the habit o' takin' things, Mr. Johnson," broke in the Girl. "I seen you on the road to Monterey, goin' an' comin', an' pa.s.sed a few words with you; I seen you once since, but that don't give you no excuse to begin this sort o' game." The Girl's tone was one of reproach rather than of annoyance, and for the moment the young man was left with a sense of having committed an indiscretion. Silently, sheepishly, he moved away, while she quietly went over to the fire.

"Besides, you might have prospected a bit first anyway," presently she went on, watching the tips of her slender white fingers held out transparent towards the fire.

Just at that moment a log dropped, turning up its glowing underside.

Wheeling round with a smile, Johnson said:

"I see how wrong I was."

And then, seeing that the Girl made no move in his direction, he asked, still smiling:

"May I take off my coat?"

The Girl remained silent, which silence he interpreted as an a.s.sent, and went on to make himself at home.

"Thank you," he said simply. "What a bully little place you have here!

It's awfully snug!" he continued delightedly, as his eyes wandered about the room. "And to think that I've found you again when I--Oh, the luck of it!"

He went over to her and held out his hands, a broad, yet kindly smile lighting up his strong features, making him appear handsomer, even, than he really was, to the Girl taking in the olive-coloured skin glowing with healthful pallor.

"Friends?" he asked.

Nevertheless the girl did not give him her hand, but quickly drew it away; she answered his question with a question:

"Are you sorry?"

"No, I'm not sorry."

To this she made no reply but quietly, disappointedly returned to the fireplace, where she stood in contemplative silence, waiting for his next words.

But he did not speak; he contented himself with gazing at the tender girlishness of her, the blue-black eyes, and flesh that was so bright and pure that he knew it to be soft and firm, making him yearn for her.

Involuntarily she turned towards him, and she saw that in his face which caused her eyes to drop and her breath to come more quickly.

"That damme style just catches a woman!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed with a little tremour in her voice.

Then her mood underwent a sudden change in marked contrast to that of the moment before. "Look here, Mr. Johnson," she said, "down at the saloon to-night you said you always got what you wanted. O' course I've got to admire you for that. I reckon women always do admire men for gettin' what they want. But if huggin' me's included, jest count it out."

For a breathing s.p.a.ce there was a dead silence.

"That was a lovely day, Girl, on the road to Monterey, wasn't it?" of a sudden Johnson observed dreamily.

The Girl's eyes opened upon him wonderingly.

"Was it?"

"Well, wasn't it?"

The Girl thought it was and she laughed.

"Say, take a chair and set down for a while, won't you?" was her next remark, she herself taking a chair at the table.

"Thanks," he said, coming slowly towards her while his eyes wandered about the room for a chair.

"Say, look 'ere!" she shot out, scrutinising him closely; "I ben thinkin' you didn't come to the saloon to see me to-night. What brought you?"

"It was Fate," he told her, leaning over the table and looking down upon her admiringly.

She pondered his answer for a moment, then blurted out:

"You're a bluff! It may have been Fate, but I tho't you looked kind o'

funny when Rance asked you if you hadn't missed the trail an' wa'n't on the road to see Nina Micheltorena--she that lives in the greaser settlement an' has the name o' shelterin' thieves."

At the mention of thieves, Johnson paled frightfully and the knife which he had been toying with dropped to the floor.

"Was it Fate or the back trail?" again queried the Girl.

"It was Fate," calmly reiterated the man, and looked her fairly in the eye.

The cloud disappeared from the Girl's face.

"Serve the coffee, Wowkle!" she called almost instantly. And then it was that she saw that no chair had been placed at the table for him. She sprang to her feet, exclaiming: "Oh, Lordy, you ain't got no chair yet to--"

"Careful, please, careful," quickly warned Johnson, as she rounded the corner of the table upon which his guns lay.

But fear was not one of the Girl's emotions. At the display of guns that met her gaze she merely shrugged and inquired placidly:

"Oh, how many guns do you carry?"

Not unnaturally she waited for his answer before starting in quest of a chair for him; but instead Johnson quietly went over to the chair near the door where his coat lay, hung it up on the peg with his hat, and returning now with a chair, he answered:

"Oh, several when travelling through the country."

"Well, set down," said the Girl bluntly, and hurried to his side to adjust his chair. But she did not return to her place at the table; instead, she took the barrel rocker near the fireplace and began to rock nervously to and fro. In silence Johnson sat studying her, looking her through and through, as it were.

"It must be strange living all alone way up here in the mountains," he remarked, breaking the spell of silence. "Isn't it lonely?"

"Lonely? Mountains lonely?" The Girl's laugh rang out clearly. "Besides,"

she went on, her eyes fairly dancing with excitement, "I got a little pinto an' I'm all over the country on 'im. Finest little horse you ever saw! If I want to I can ride right down into the summer at the foothills with miles o' Injun pinks jest a-laffin' an' tiger lilies as mad as blazes. There's a river there, too--the Injuns call it a water-road--an'

I can git on that an' drift an' drift an' smell the wild syringa on the banks. An if I git tired o' that I can turn my horse up-grade an' gallop right into the winter an' the lonely pines an' firs a-whisperin' an'

a-sighin'. Lonely? Mountains lonely, did you say? Oh, my mountains, my beautiful peaks, my Sierras! G.o.d's in the air here, sure! You can see Him layin' peaceful hands on the mountain tops. He seems so near you want to let your soul go right on up."

Johnson was touched at the depth of meaning in her words; he nodded his head in appreciation.

"I see, when you die you won't have far to go," he quietly observed.