A First Family of Tasaa | Page 7

mind. How did you get here? On your hoss?"
"Yes."

"He ain't starved yet?"
"No; he can eat grass. I can't."
Either the liquor or Harkutt's practical unsentimental treatment of the
situation seemed to give him confidence. He met Harkutt's eye more
steadily as the latter went on. "You kin turn your hoss for the night into
my stock corral next to Rawlett's. It'll save you payin' for fodder and
stablin'."
The man took up the coin with a certain slow gravity which was almost
like dignity. "Thank you," he said, laying the paper on the counter. "I'll
leave that as security."
"Don't want it, 'Lige," said Harkutt, pushing it back.
"I'd rather leave it."
"But suppose you have a chance to sell it to somebody at Rawlett's?"
continued Harkutt, with a precaution that seemed ironical.
"I don't think there's much chance of that."
He remained quiet, looking at Harkutt with an odd expression as he
rubbed the edge of the coin that he held between his fingers
abstractedly on the counter. Something in his gaze--rather perhaps the
apparent absence of anything in it approximate to the present
occasion--was beginning to affect Harkutt with a vague uneasiness.
Providentially a resumed onslaught of wind and rain against the panes
effected a diversion. "Come," he said, with brisk practicality, "you'd
better hurry on to Rawlett's before it gets worse. Have your clothes
dried by his fire, take suthin' to eat, and you'll be all right." He rubbed
his hands cheerfully, as if summarily disposing of the situation, and
incidentally of all 'Lige's troubles, and walked with him to the door.
Nevertheless, as the man's look remained unchanged, he hesitated a
moment with his hand on the handle, in the hope that he would say
something, even if only to repeat his appeal, but he did not. Then
Harkutt opened the door; the man moved mechanically out, and at the

distance of a few feet seemed to melt into the rain and darkness.
Harkutt remained for a moment with his face pressed against the glass.
After an interval he thought he heard the faint splash of hoofs in the
shallows of the road; he opened the door softly and looked out.
The light had disappeared from the nearest house; only an uncertain
bulk of shapeless shadows remained. Other remoter and more vague
outlines near the horizon seemed to have a funereal suggestion of
tombs and grave mounds, and one--a low shed near the road--looked
not unlike a halted bier. He hurriedly put up the shutters in a
momentary lulling of the wind, and re-entering the store began to fasten
them from within.
While thus engaged an inner door behind the counter opened softly and
cautiously, projecting a brighter light into the deserted apartment from
some sacred domestic interior with the warm and wholesome incense
of cooking. It served to introduce also the equally agreeable presence of
a young girl, who, after assuring herself of the absence of every one but
the proprietor, idly slipped into the store, and placing her rounded
elbows, from which her sleeves were uprolled, upon the counter, leaned
lazily upon them, with both hands supporting her dimpled chin, and
gazed indolently at him; so indolently that, with her pretty face once
fixed in this comfortable attitude, she was constrained to follow his
movements with her eyes alone, and often at an uncomfortable angle. It
was evident that she offered the final but charming illustration of the
enfeebling listlessness of Sidon.
"So those loafers have gone at last," she said, meditatively. "They'll
take root here some day, pop. The idea of three strong men like that
lazing round for two mortal hours doin' nothin'. Well!" As if to
emphasize her disgust she threw her whole weight upon the counter by
swinging her feet from the floor to touch the shelves behind her.
Mr. Harkutt only replied by a slight grunt as he continued to screw on
the shutters.
"Want me to help you, dad?" she said, without moving.

Mr. Harkutt muttered something unintelligible, which, however,
seemed to imply a negative, and her attention here feebly wandered to
the roll of paper, and she began slowly and lazily to read it aloud.
"'For value received, I hereby sell, assign, and transfer to Daniel D.
Harkutt all my right, titles and interest in, and to the undivided half of,
Quarter Section 4, Range 5, Tasajara Township'-- hum--hum," she
murmured, running her eyes to the bottom of the page. "Why, Lord! It's
that 'Lige Curtis!" she laughed. "The idea of HIM having property!
Why, dad, you ain't been THAT silly!"
"Put down that paper, miss," he said, aggrievedly; "bring the candle
here, and help me to find one of these infernal screws that's dropped."
The girl indolently disengaged herself from the counter and Elijah
Curtis's transfer,