He turned away to wait on us.
"And you wouldn"t guess there was so many Dutchmen in the country!" he repeated.
We paid his terrible prices for our few necessities, and went out. The music was beginning to tune up from the gambling places and saloons. It reminded us of our Italian friend.
"Seems to me his place was right here where we are," puzzled Johnny.
"Hanged if I don"t believe this is the place; only they"ve stuck a veranda roof on it."
We turned into the entrance of the hotel, to find ourselves in the well-remembered long, low room wherein we had spent the evening a few months before. It was now furnished with a bar, the flimsy part.i.tions had been knocked out, and evidently additions had been constructed beyond the various closed doors. The most conspicuous single thing was a huge bulletin board occupying one whole end. It was written over closely with hundreds and hundreds of names. Several men were laboriously spelling them out. This, we were given to understand, was a sort of register of the overland immigrants; and by its means many parties obtained first news of scattered members.
The man behind the bar looked vaguely familiar to me, but I could not place him.
"Where"s the proprietor of this place?" I asked him.
He indicated a short, blowsy, truculent-looking individual who was, at the moment, staring out the window.
"There used to be an Italian----" I began.
The barkeeper uttered a short barking laugh as he turned to attend to a customer.
"He found the climate bad for his heart--and sold out!" said he.
On the wall opposite was posted a number of printed and written handbills. We stopped idly to examine them. They had in general to do with lost property, stolen horses, and rewards for the apprehension of various individuals. One struck us in particular. It was issued by a citizens" committee of San Francisco, and announced a general reward for the capture of any member of the "Hounds."
"Looks as if they"d got tired of that gang down there," Johnny observed.
"They were ruling the roost when we left. Do you know, I saw one of those fellows this afternoon--perhaps you remember him--a man with a queer sort of blue scar over one cheekbone. I swear I saw him in San Francisco. There"s our chance to make some money, Jim."
The proprietor of the hotel turned to look at Johnny curiously, and several of the loafers drinking at the bar glanced in the direction of his clear young voice. We went on reading and enjoying the notices, some of which were very quaint. Suddenly the door burst open to admit a big man followed closely by a motley rabble. The leader was a red-faced, burly, whiskered individual, with a red beard and matted hair. As he turned I saw a star-shaped blue scar above his cheekbone.
"Where"s the ---- ---- ---- that is going to make some money out of arresting me?" he roared, swinging his huge form ostentatiously toward the centre of the room.
I confessed I was aghast, and completely at a loss. A row was evidently unavoidable, and the odds were against us. Almost at the instant the door came open, Johnny, without waiting for hostile demonstration, jerked his Colt"s revolvers from their holsters. With one bound he reached the centre of the room, and thrust the muzzles beneath the bully"s nose. His black eyes were snapping.
"Shut up, you hound!" he said in a low, even voice. "I wouldn"t condescend to make money out of your miserable carca.s.s, except at a glue factory. And if you or your friends so much as wink an eyelid, I"ll put you in shape for it."
Caught absolutely by surprise, the "Hound" stared fascinated into the pistol barrels, his jaw dropped, his face redder than ever, his eyes ridiculously protruding. I had recovered my wits and had backed against the bulletin board, a revolver in either hand, keeping an eye on the general company. Those who had burst in with the bully had stopped frozen in their tracks. The others were interested, but not particularly excited.
"I"m going to stay in this camp," Johnny advised crisply, "and I"m not going to be bothered by big bluffs like you. I warn you, and all like you, to let me alone and keep away from me. You stay in camp, or you can leave camp, just as you please, but I warn you that I shoot you next time I lay eyes on you. Now, about face! March!"
Johnny"s voice had an edge of steel. The big man obeyed orders implicitly. He turned slowly, and sneaked out the door. His followers shambled toward the bar. Johnny pa.s.sed them rather contemptuously under the review of his snapping eyes, and they shambled a trifle faster.
Then, with elaborate nonchalance, we sauntered out.
"My Lord, Johnny!" I cried when we had reached the street, "that was fine! I didn"t know you had it in you!"
"d.a.m.n the luck!" he cried, kicking a tin can. "Oh, _d.a.m.n_!"
He muttered to himself a moment, then turned to me with humorous despair.
"What a stupid, useless mess!" he cried. "The minute that fellow came into the room I saw we were let in for a row; so I went at it quick before he had got organized. He didn"t expect that. He thought he"d have to work us into it."
"It certainly got him," said I.
"But it just starts us all wrong here," complained Johnny. "We are marked men."
"We"ll just have to look out for him a little. I don"t believe he"s really dangerous. He looks to me a lot like a bluffer."
"Oh, him!" said Johnny contemputously, "he doesn"t worry me any. It"s all the rest of them. I"ve practically challenged all the hard cases in camp, don"t you see? I"m no longer an inconspicuous newcomer. Every tough character with any real nerve will want to tackle me now, just to try me out."
From the impulsive and una.n.a.lytical Johnny this was surprising enough, and my face must have showed it.
"I"ve seen it worked out in my part of the country," he explained sombrely. "I don"t want to bother with that sort of thing. I"m a peaceable citizen. Now I"ve got to walk around on tiptoe all the time watching for trouble. Oh, _d.a.m.n_!"
"If you"re afraid----" I began.
"I"m not afraid," said Johnny so simply that I believed him at once.
"But I"m annoyed. And of course you recognized that barkeeper."
"I thought I"d seen him before, but I don"t remember just where."
"He"s one of those fellows we fired out of our canoe down at Chagres.
You can bet he doesn"t love us any!"
"You move along to Porcupine to-morrow," I suggested. "I can look after Yank all right. They won"t bother me."
Johnny walked for some steps in silence.
"No, they won"t bother you," he repeated slowly.
He thought for a moment, then he threw back his head. "But look here, Jim," he said briskly, "you forget. I told that fellow and his friends that I was going to live in this place. I can"t leave now."
"Nonsense," said I. "What do you care for that gang?"
"It would look like running away. No, I certainly don"t intend to leave now."
CHAPTER XXIX
THE CHALLENGE
We went out to see Yank, with the full intention of spending the evening and cheering him up. He was dozing, restless, waking and sleeping by fits and starts. We sat around in the awkward fashion peculiar to very young boys in the sickroom; and then, to our vast relief, were shoved out by Senora Morena. With her we held a whispered conversation outside, and completed satisfactory arrangements for Yank"s keep. She was a chuckling, easy-going, motherly sort of creature, and we were very lucky to have her. Then we returned in the gathering dusk to our camp under the trees across the way.
A man rose from a seat against a tree trunk.
"_Good_ evenin", stranger," said he.