Rimrock Jones | Page 6

the hardrock miners whose earnings he
was wont to take, but Rimrock was not particular.
"All right, Ike," he said and as he drifted out the door his prosperity
friends disappeared. Only L. W. remained, a scornful twist to his lips,
and the sight of him left Rimrock sick. "Yes, rub it in!" he said

defiantly and L. W., too, walked away.
In his sober moments--when he was out on the desert or slugging away
underground--Rimrock Jones was neither childish nor a fool. He was a
serious man, with great hopes before him; and a past, not ignoble,
behind. But after months of solitude, of hard, yegging work and hopes
deferred, the town set his nerves all a-tingle--even Gunsight, a mere dot
on the map--and he was drunk before he took his first drink. Drunk
with mischief and spontaneous laughter, drunk with good stories untold,
new ideas, great thoughts, high ambitions. But now he had had his
fling.
With fifty cents to eat on, and one more faro game behind him,
Rimrock stood thoughtfully on the corner and asked the old question:
What next? He had won, and he had lost. He had made the stake that
would have taken him far towards his destiny; and then he had dropped
it, foolishly, by playing another man's game. He could see it now; but
then, we all can--the question was, what next?
"Well, I'll eat," he said at last and went across the street to Woo
Chong's. "The American Restaurant" was the way the sign read, but
Americans don't run restaurants in Arizona. They don't know how.
Woo Chong had fed forty miners when he ran the cookhouse for
Rimrock, for half what a white man could; and when Rimrock had lost
his mine, at the end of a long lawsuit, Woo Chong had followed him to
town. There was a long tally on the wall, the longest of all, which told
how many meals Rimrock owed him for; but Rimrock knew he was
welcome. Adversity had its uses and he had learned, among other
things, that his best friends were now Chinamen and Mexicans. To
them, at least, he was still El Patron--the Boss!
"Hello there, Woo!" he shouted at the doorway and a rapid-fire of
Chinese ceased. The dining-room was deserted, but from the kitchen in
the rear he could hear the shuffling slippers of Woo.
"Howdy-do, Misse' Jones!" exclaimed Woo in great excitement as he
came hurrying out to meet him. "I see you--few minutes ago--ove' Ike
Blay's place! You blakum falo bank, no?"

"No, I lose," answered Rimrock honestly. "Ike Bray, he gave me this to
eat on."
He showed the fifty-cent piece and sat down at a table whereat Woo
Chong began to giggle hysterically.
"Aw! Allee time foolee me," he grinned facetiously. "You no see me
the'? Me playum, too. Win ten dolla', you bet!"
"Well, all right, Woo," said Rimrock. "Just give me something to
eat--we won't quarrel about who won."
He leaned back in his chair and Woo Chong said no more till he
appeared again with a T-bone steak.
"You ketchum mine, pletty soon?" he questioned anxiously. "All lite,
me come back and cook."
Rimrock sighed and went to eating and Woo remembered the coffee,
but somehow even that failed to cheer.
A shadow of doubt came across Woo's watchful face and he hurried
away for more bread.
"You no bleakum bank?" he enquired at last and Rimrock shook his
head.
"No, Woo," he said, "Ike Bray, he came down and win all my money
back."
"Aw, too bad!" breathed Woo Chong and slipped quietly away; but
after a while he came back.
"Too bad!" he repeated. "You my fliend, Misse' Jones." And he laid
five dollars by his hand.
"Ah, no, no!" protested Rimrock, rising up from his place as if he had
suffered a blow. "No money, Woo. You give me my grub and that's
enough--I haven't got down to that!"

Woo Chong went away--he knew how to make gifts easy--and Rimrock
stood looking at the gold. Then he picked it up, slowly, and as slowly
walked out, and stood leaning against a post.
There is one street in Gunsight, running grandly down to the station;
but the rest is mostly vacant lots and scattered adobe houses, creeping
out into the infinitude of the desert. At noon, when he had come to
town, the street was deserted, but now it was coming to life. Wild-eyed
Mexican boys, mounted on bare-backed ponies, came galloping up
from the corrals; freight wagons drifted past, hauling supplies to distant
mining camps; and at last, as he stood there thinking, the women began
to come out of the hotel.
All day they stayed there, idle, useless, on the shaded veranda above
the street; and then, when the sun