Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Nevada -- Fiction; Western stories
"They'll pay you more," Bill snapped, "if they're afraid of your
tongue. You're a cheap skate, Al--an awful cheap skate. If you'll take
my advice, you'll get out of town--to-night. The world's full of
places besides Parowan. Take him out, Tommy; and dump him somewhere
outside the city limits. And if you want to bring any more like him
into camp, give them a good scrubbing first. I'll have to clean house
after him. Get!"
This last command was to Al, who overturned the box in his haste to
get off it. Tommy herded him out with the ivory-handled gun, looking a
bit crestfallen and a good deal puzzled. Tommy's thought processes
were too simple to follow Bill's logic, or to understand his attitude.
It seemed to him that Bill was almost criminally indifferent to his
own interests, and that his leniency with Al Freeman fell but little
short of approval. It had been labor wasted, bringing Al there to tell
Bill his story, and he regretted now that he had not been content to
kick Al out of the saloon and let it go at that.
But after he was gone, Bill sat dejectedly beside the stove, his arms
folded across his lifted knees, feet in the oven, and brooded over the
amazing story. It seemed incredible that Al could be telling the
truth,--and yet, there were some things that Al could not possibly
have imagined. If there were thin spots in his story, there were also
details that carried conviction.
Luella, having retired under the bunk during the interview, came
stalking out and climbed, beak and claws, up Bill's back and perched
upon his shoulder, leaning forward and making kissing sounds against
his cheek, which was her way of coaxing his attention. Bill reached up
a hand and stroked her back absently.
"Speak up now," Luella admonished, having liked the sound of that
phrase. "That's a hell of a note, ain't it?"
Bill pulled her down and held her on her back between his hands,
rolling her gently from side to side.
"It is," he answered gravely. "You've stated the case exactly." He set
the parrot on his knee, where she immediately began to preen her
ruffled feathers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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