Overland Red | Page 9

to pay us at that, but I picks up the little picture-machine box and I
swings her up over the track kind of suggestive like. 'One!' said I. 'Do
we get our money?'
"'Drop that machine!' says he, rushin' up to me.
"'I'm a-goin' to,' says I, 'good and hard. Think again, while I count. Do
we get our money?'
"'You get pinched!' says he.
"'Two,' says I, and I swings the box up by the legs.
"'Hole on!' yells the boss. 'Pay the mutt, Jimmy, and, for Gord sake, get
that machine before he ruins the best reel we made yet!'
"We got paid."
"But the bell and Moonstone Cañon?" questioned Louise, glancing
back at Boyar grazing down the meadow.
"Sure! Well, we flopped near here that night--"

"Flopped?"
"Uhuh. Let's see, you ain't hep to that, are you? Why, we crawled to the
hay, hit the feathers, pounded our ear--er--went to bed! That's what it
used to be. Well, in the morning, me and Collie got some sardines and
crackers to the store and a little coffee. It was goin' over there that we
seen the bell and the road and the whole works. I got kind of interested
myself in that cañon. I never saw so many moonstones layin' right on
top the gravel, and I been in Mex., too. We liked it and we stayed over
last night, expectin' to be gone by now."
"And when you leave here?" queried Louise.
"Same old thing," replied Overland cheerfully. "I know the ropes.
Collie works by spells. Oh, we're livin', and that's all you need to do in
California."
"And that is all--now that you have found the road?"
"Oh, the road is like all of them dreams," said Overland. "Such things
are good for keepin' people interested in somethin' till it's done, that's
all. It was fun at first, lookin' up every arroyo and slit in the hills, till
we found it. Same as them marriages on the desert, after that."
"Marriages?"
"Uhuh. Seein' water what ain't there, like."
"Oh, mirages!" And Louise laughed joyfully.
"I don't see no joke," said Overland, aggrieved.
"I really beg your pardon."
"That's all right, Miss. But what would you call it?"
"Oh, an illusion, a mirage, something that seems to be, but that is not."
"I don't see where it's got anything on marriages, then, do you? But I

ain't generally peppermistic. I believe in folks and things, although I'm
old enough to know better."
"I'm glad you believe in folks," said Louise. "So do I."
"It's account of bein' a pote, I guess," sighed the tramp. "'Course I ain't
a professional. They got to have a license. I never took out one, not
havin' the money. Anyway, if I did have enough money for a regular
license, I'd start a saloon and live respectable."
"Won't you quote something?" And the girl smiled bewitchingly.
"Boyar and I must go soon. It's getting hot."
"I'm mighty sorry you're goin', Miss. You're real California stock.
Knowed it the minute I set eyes on you. Besides, you passed us the
smokes."
"Red, you shut up!"
Overland turned a blue, astonished eye on Collie. "Why, kiddo, what's
bitin' you?"
"Because the lady give us the makings don't say she smokes, does it?"
Overland grunted. "Because you're foolish with the heat, don't say I am,
does it? Them sandwiches has gone to your head, Chico. Who said she
did smoke?"
Louise, grave-eyed, watched the two men, Overland sullen and
scowling, Collie fierce and flaming.
"We ain't used to--to real ladies," apologized Overland. "We could do
better if we practiced up."
"Of course!" said Louise, smiling. "But the poetry."
"U-m-m, yes. The po'try. What'll I give her, Collie?"
"I don't care," replied the boy. "You might try 'Casey Jones.' It's better'n

anything you ever wrote."
"That? I guess not! That ain't her style. I mean one of my
own--somethin' good."
"Oh, I don't know. 'Toledo Blake,'" mumbled Collie.
"Nope! But I guess the 'Grand Old Privilege' will do for a starter."
"Oh, good!" And Louise clapped her hands. "The title is splendid. Is
the poem original?"
The tramp bowed a trifle haughtily. "Original? Me life's work, lady."
And he awkwardly essayed to button a buttonless coat, coughed, waved
his half-consumed cigarette toward the skies, and began:--
"Folks say we got no morals--that they all fell in the soup; And no
conscience--so the would-be goodies say; And I guess our good
intentions did jest up and flew the coop, While we stood around and
watched 'em fade away.
"But there's one thing that we're lovin' more than money, grub, or
booze, Or even decent folks that speaks us fair; And that's the Grand
Old Privilege to chuck our luck and choose, Any road at any time for
any where."
And