American fiction -- 20th century; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Western stories
He rummaged in a corner; he made a fire in his fireplace; he ripped
open a couple of cans and set coffee to boil in a battered pot as black
as an African negro. Suddenly Lynette, who had been silent a long
while, exclaimed:
"I know now! We are still on your land. This is the very cabin where,
six years ago, you robbed Babe Deveril of three thousand dollars!"
"No!" he said. "You have guessed wrong!" And then: "So your little
friend, Baby Devil, told you many a tale about my wickedness?"
"He told me that one."
"And did he tell you the sequel? How I squared with him?"
So he wanted her to think well of him! She made herself comfortable,
leaning back against the wall.
"Have you the vaguest inkling of the difference between right and
wrong, Bruce Standing?" she asked him impudently.
He laughed at her--become suddenly harsh.
"Come," he said, "it is time for food. And then, for a man who does not
break his word, blow high, blow low, to keep an appointment."
With that conversation ceased. He drove Thor into a corner, and with a
word and a glance made the dog lie down. He boiled his coffee and set a
hurried meal; he caught up a tin plate and brought it to Lynette. She
was about to thank him when she saw how he was planning to serve a tin
platter like hers to his dog; then she could have screamed at him in
nerve-pent-up anger.
The three--master, captive, and dog--ate their late dinners while the
candle flame, pale yellow with its bluish centre, swayed gently in the
mild draft of air through the open door. Windows there were none,
saving the one square aperture over the bunk, boarded up now.
"What about Jim Taggart?" said Standing brusquely out of a long silence
toward the end of which the weary girl was near dozing. "What do you
know about him? Did he overhaul Mexicali Joe after all?"
She looked at him steadily; suddenly she was glad when a pine branch in
the fireplace, full of pitch, flared up so that he must have seen her
face more clearly than he could have done by mere pale candle-light;
she wanted him to see it and read something of the defiance which she
meant to offer him.
"So, after all, you have your engagement with Mexicali Joe? It was for
that that you set him free? That you, instead of others, might steal
his golden secret!"
"Then you won't answer, girl? You, whom I could crush between thumb and
finger, refuse to answer me?"
"Yes!" she cried out at him. "Yes! I am not afraid of you, Bruce
Standing!"
"Not afraid?" He glared at her, his flashing blue eyes full of threat.
Then he laughed contemptuously, saying: "And yet, were I minded to, I
could in a second have you on your knees, begging, pleading...."
"But you won't!" she dared fling at him. "And that is why I am not
afraid!"
"I am not so sure!" he muttered. "Not so sure. Before morning, girl,
you may come to know what fear is!"
She tried to toss back her fearless laughter, but at that look of his
and at that stern tone of his voice her laughter caught in her throat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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