The Long Chance Part 25

"We must figure on an outfit for you."

His brown eyes lit with admiration, for he realized the grief that lay behind that apparently careless acceptance of his plan, and loved her the more for her courage.

"Yes, I'll need two burros, with packs, and some drills, tools, dynamite and grub--two hundred dollars will outfit me nicely. I'll have to scout around and borrow the money somewhere, and to be quite candid, Donna, I have designs on our gambler friend, Hennage."

She smiled. "Dear, good old Harley P.! He'd grubstake you if it broke the bank."

"Well, I'm going to figure along that line at any rate. So, if you're quite ready, Donna, we'll go down to the court-house, procure the license, hunt up a preacher and take each other for better or for worse."

"I think it will be for better, dear."

"Well, it can't be for worse, I'm sure, than it is to-day. Nevertheless I'm a frightened man."

She ignored this subtle hint of procrastination. "I'm ready, Bob. But before we start, there's one matter that I haven't explained to you. I do not care to have our marriage known. Those talkative people in San Pasqual would--talk, under the circ.u.mstances--that is, dear, I want to keep right on at the eating-house until you're ready to take me away from San Pasqual forever. Now, I know that's going to hurt you--that thought of your wife working--but n.o.body need ever know it, and when you're ready we'll leave the horrible old place and never go back any more. We have so much to do, Bob, and--"

"You do hurt me, Donna" he protested. "You have exacted from me a promise and you are forcing me to fulfill it under circ.u.mstances which render it mighty hard. Of course we love each other and I do want to marry you, but ah, Donna, I don't feel like a man to-day, but a mendicant. What can I do, sweetheart? If you marry me to-day you'll have to work if you want to live." There was misery in his glance.

"However, all my life I've been doing things differently--or rather indifferently--so why should I stop now? It will at least comfort me out there alone in the desert to know that I have a wife waiting at home for me. I think the joy of that will outweigh the sting of shame that a married pauper must feel--"

"No, no, Bob, you mustn't say that. You mustn't feel that way about it.

You are not a pauper." She stood up and he helped her into her coat, and after paying the waitress they departed together for the city hall.

But Bob was a sad bridegroom. Donna had wired him that she had arranged for a two-weeks' vacation, and he had been at pains to acquaint her with the extreme low ebb of his finances, in the hope that she would voluntarily suggest a delay of their marriage, but to his great distress she had not seen fit to take his pathetic hint--she who ordinarily was so quick of comprehension; so, rather than refer to the matter again, he decided to step into a telegraph station immediately after the ceremony and send a hurried call for help to Harley P. Hennage--the gambler being the only man of his acquaintance whom he knew to be sufficiently good-natured and careless with money to respond to his appeal.

When at length they reached the city hall Donna waited, blus.h.i.+ng, outside the door of the marriage bureau while Bob entered and parted with two dollars and fifty cents for the parchment which gave him a legal right to commit what he called a social and economic crime. Later he came out and insisted that Donna should return with him to Cupid's window, there to receive the customary congratulations and handshake from Bob's acquaintance who had issued him the license, and who, following the practice of such individuals, felt it inc.u.mbent upon him to offer his felicitations to every customer.

Leaving the court-house Bob and Donna wandered about town until they came to a church. A gentleman of color, engaged in was.h.i.+ng the church windows, directed them to the pastor's residence in the next block. They accordingly; proceeded to the rectory and Bob rang the front door bell.

The pastor answered the bell in person. The bridegroom grinned at him sheepishly while the bride, very much embarra.s.sed, shrunk to the bridegroom's side and gazed timidly at the reverend gentleman rubbing his hands so expectantly in the doorway.

"Won't you come in?" he said, in tones most kindly and hospitable. "Just step right into the parlor and I'll be with you as soon as I can get my spectacles."

"Thank you" said Bob. They entered. The rector went into his study while Bob wagged a knowing head at his broad retreating back.

"He knows what we want, you bet" he whispered. "No flies on that preacher. I like him. I like any man who can do things without a diagram and directions for using."

Donna nodded. She was quite impressed at the clergyman's perspicacity.

She was quite self-possessed when he returned with his spectacles, a little black book, his wife and the gardener for witnesses, and a "here-is-the-job-I-love" expression on his amiable features. He examined the license, satisfied himself, apparently, that it was not a forgery, and after standing Bob and Donna up in a corner close to a terra-cotta umbrella-holder filled with pampas plumes, he proceeded with the ceremony.

CHAPTER XIV

Now, to the man in whose nature there is a broad streak of sentiment and who looks upon his marriage as a very sacred, solemn and lasting ceremony, no speech in life is so provocative of profound emotion as the beautiful interchange of vows which links him to the woman he loves. As Bob McGraw stood there, holding Donna's soft warm hand in his, so hard and tanned, and repeated: "I, Robert, take thee, Donna, for my lawful wife; to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer (Here Bob's voice trembled a little. Why should this question of finance arise to smite him in the midst of the marriage ceremony?), in sickness; and in health, until death us do part," his breast swelled and a mist came into his eyes. His voice was very low and husky as he took that sacred oath, and it seemed that he stood swaying in a great fog, while from a great distance, yet wonderfully clear and firm and sweet, Donna's voice reached him:

"I, Donna, take thee, Robert, for my lawful husband--" and the minister was asking him for a ring.

For a ring!

Bob started. The perspiration stood out on his forehead!--there was agony in his brown eyes. In the sudden reaction caused by that awful request, he blurted out:

"Oh, Great Grief, Donna! I forgot all about the ring!"

"I didn't" she replied softly. From her hand-bag she produced a worn old wedding ring (it had been her mother's) and handed it to Bob. At this he commenced to regain his composure, and by the time he had slipped the ring on Donna's finger and plighted his troth for aye, all of his troubles and worries vanished. The minister and his gardener shook hands with them, and the minister's wife kissed Donna and gave her a motherly hug--primarily because she looked so sweet and again on general feminine principles. Bob, not desiring to appear cheap on this, the greatest day in history, gave the minister a fee of twenty dollars, and five minutes later found himself on the sidewalk with his wife, rejoicing in the knowledge that he had at least justified his existence and joined the ranks o' canny married men--the while he strove to appear as scornful of the future as he had been fearful of it five minutes before. He jingled less than three dollars in small change in his vest pocket, and while he strove to appear jaunty, away inside of him he was a worried man. He could not help it.

"Mrs. McGraw" he said finally, "on the word of no less a personage than your husband, you're some bride."

"Mr. McGraw" she retorted, "on the word of no less a personage than your wife, you are _some_ bridegroom. Why _did_ you forget the ring?"

Why did he forget the ring? Really, it did seem likely that he must quarrel with his wife before they had been married ten minutes. How strangely obtuse she was to-day!

"Why, Donna" he protested, "how should I know? I never was married before, and besides I was thinking of something else all day." He slapped his vest pocket and cupped a hand to an ear, in a listening att.i.tude.

"Did you hear a faint jingle?" he queried solemnly.

She pinched his arm, interrupting his flow of nonsense. Women who dearly love their husbands delight in teasing them, and as Donna turned her radiant face to his Bob fancied he could detect a secret jest peeping at him from the ceiled shelter of her drowsy-lidded eyes. Yes, without a doubt she was laughing at him--and he as poor as a church-mouse. He frowned.

"This is no laughing matter, Mrs. McGraw."

The roguish look deepened.

"Now, what else have I done?" he demanded.

"Nothing--yet. But you're contemplating it."

"Contemplating what?"

"Telegraphing Harley P. Hennage."

"Friend wife" said Bob McGraw, "you should hang out your s.h.i.+ngle as a seeress. You forecast coming events so cleverly that perhaps you can inform me whether or not we are to walk back to San Pasqual, living like gypsies en route."

"Why, no, stupid. I have money enough for our honeymoon."

"Donna" he began sternly, "if I had thought--"

"You wouldn't have consented to such a hasty marriage. Of course. I knew that--so I contrived to have my way about it. And I'm going to have my way about this honeymoon, too. Five minutes ago I couldn't have offered you money, but I have the right to do so now. But I would not hurt your feelings for the world. I'll loan you six hundred dollars on approved security."

He shook his head. "You can't mix sentiment and business, Donna, and I have no security. Besides, I'm not quite a cad."

"Oh, very well, dear. I know your code and I wouldn't run counter to it for a--well for a water right in Owens Valley--notwithstanding the fact that I took you for richer or for poorer. And I did figure on a honeymoon, Bob."

He threw up his hands in token of submission. "I'll accept" he said, although he was painfully embarra.s.sed. She was making the happiest day of his life a little miserable, and for the first time he experienced a fleeting regret that Donna's ideals were not formed on a more masculine basis. By the exercise of her compelling power over him she had him in her toils and he was helpless. Nothing remained for him to do save make the best of a situation, the acceptance of which filled him with chagrin.

"Don't pull such a dolorous countenance, Bob. Why, your face is as long as Friar Tuck's. I promise I will not hara.s.s you with the taunt that you married me for my money. In fact, my husband, it's the other way around.

I might accord you that privilege."

She drew his arm through hers. "I have a little wedding present for you, Bobby dear" she began. "I'm going to tell you a little story, and now please don't interrupt. You know all summer you were up in the mountains, and after that you were rather in jail at the Hat Ranch, where I didn't bring you any newspapers. Consequently, from being out of the world so long, you haven't heard the latest news about Owens Valley.

I heard it before you left San Pasqual, but I wouldn't tell you. I wanted to keep the news for a wedding present.