A Protégée of Jack Hamlins | Page 7

handsome face. But he did not turn, and
remained quietly gazing at the water.
"Aunt Rachel, too, must be getting on in years, Jack," continued the
first speaker, halting behind Jack.
"And Mrs. Johnson does not look so much like Sophy's old nurse as she
used to," remarked the second, following his example. Still Jack
remained unmoved.
"You don't seem to be interested, Jack," continued the first speaker.
"What are you looking at?"
Without turning his head the gambler replied, "Looking at the boat;
she's booming along, just chawing up and spitting out the river, ain't
she? Look at that sweep of water going under her paddle- wheels," he
continued, unbolting the rail and lifting it to allow the two men to peer
curiously over the guards as he pointed to the murderous incline

beneath them; "a man wouldn't stand much show who got dropped into
it. How these paddles would just snatch him bald- headed, pick him up
and slosh him round and round, and then sling him out down there in
such a shape that his own father wouldn't know him."
"Yes," said the first speaker, with an ostentatious little laugh, "but all
that ain't telling us how sister Mary is."
"No," said the gambler slipping into the opening with a white and rigid
face in which nothing seemed living but the eyes, "no, but it's telling
you how two d----d fools who didn't know when to shut their mouths
might get them shut once and forever. It's telling you what might
happen to two men who tried to 'play' a man who didn't care to be
'played,'--a man who didn't care much what he did, when he did it, or
how he did it, but would do what he'd set out to do--even if in doing it
he went to hell with the men he sent there."
He had stepped out on the guards, beside the two men, closing the rail
behind him. He had placed his hands on their shoulders; they had both
gripped his arms; yet, viewed from the deck above, they seemed at that
moment an amicable, even fraternal group, albeit the faces of the three
were dead white in the moonlight.
"I don't think I'm so very much interested in sister Mary," said the first
speaker quietly, after a pause.
"And I don't seem to think so much of aunt Rachel as I did," said his
companion.
"I thought you wouldn't," said Jack, coolly reopening the rail and
stepping back again. "It all depends upon the way you look at those
things. Good-night."
"Good-night."
The three men paused, shook each other's hands silently, and separated,
Jack sauntering slowly back to his stateroom.

II.
The educational establishment of Mrs. Mix and Madame Bance,
situated in the best quarter of Sacramento and patronized by the highest
state officials and members of the clergy, was a pretty if not an
imposing edifice. Although surrounded by a high white picket fence
and entered through a heavily boarded gate, its balconies festooned
with jasmine and roses, and its spotlessly draped windows as often
graced with fresh, flower-like faces, were still plainly and provokingly
visible above the ostentatious spikes of the pickets. Nevertheless, Mr.
Jack Hamlin, who had six months before placed his niece, Miss
Sophonisba Brown, under its protecting care, felt a degree of
uneasiness, even bordering on timidity, which was new to that usually
self-confident man. Remembering how his first appearance had
fluttered this dovecote and awakened a severe suspicion in the minds of
the two principals, he had discarded his usual fashionable attire and
elegantly fitting garments for a rough, homespun suit, supposed to
represent a homely agriculturist, but which had the effect of
transforming him into an adorable Strephon, infinitely more dangerous
in his rustic shepherd-like simplicity. He had also shaved off his silken
mustache for the same prudential reasons, but had only succeeded in
uncovering the delicate lines of his handsome mouth, and so absurdly
reducing his apparent years that his avuncular pretensions seemed more
preposterous than ever; and when he had rung the bell and was
admitted by a severe Irish waiting-maid, his momentary hesitation and
half humorous diffidence had such an unexpected effect upon her, that
it seemed doubtful if he would be allowed to pass beyond the vestibule.
"Shure, miss," she said in a whisper to an under teacher, "there's wan at
the dhure who calls himself, 'Mister' Hamlin, but av it is not a young
lady maskeradin' in her brother's clothes Oim very much mistaken; and
av it's a boy, one of the pupil's brothers, shure ye might put a dhress on
him when you take the others out for a walk, and he'd pass for the
beauty of the whole school."
Meantime, the unconscious subject of this criticism was pacing
somewhat