E. S. Dorrance

“ The divine triumvirate was reduced to its original separateness—a blind father over in the East Side yellow brick, a daughter luxuriously ensconced on the avenue, a Western stray-about-town, lonely and alone.
And the worst of it was that he could not see just how to right himself; could not blame Jane any more than Irene or himself. Loyalty was a thing to live, not to talk about. ”

“ If only folks were wholly good or wholly bad, therefore deserving of absolute punishment or absolute reward as in the movies, life and its living would be less of a strain. So philosophized Peter Pape. If, for instance, Jane were a perfect heroine, she would have loved and trusted him at first sight, as he had her. If he were a reel hero, either caveman or domesticated, he’d have conquered her by brawn or brain long ere this pitiable pass. Mills Harford, as rival, would have been ulteriorly and interiorly bad, rather than a likeable, fine chap much more worthy the girl, no doubt, than himself. ”

“ The pedestrian paths were further away and, at this hour, preëmpted by the inevitable babies, mothers and nurse-maids. In the great, green mixing-bowl of all races within the world’s most democratic city, no man concerned himself with the by-play near the boundary except those directly involved.
Pape scowled over the operation, with never a glance toward the stone wall, from over the top of which a pair of black-irised blue eyes probably were watching him—a pair of rose-lobed ears were listening. To make “learning” easier he pulled another loud stop in his voice. ”

“ In marrying a Lauderdale—practically a pauper despite the family obsession of their claim to vast estates in the Borough of the Bronx—she ruined her life. She, too, became obsessed through his power to control her thoughts. Her life, as well as his, was one long nightmare of crown-grants, wills, deeds, what-nots. She died of it, dear, just as your father afterwards went down under disgrace and gloom. Now you, child, stain your white hands with this black magic. Excited by the craze for adventure of this person, you let yourself be led into indiscretions that bid fair to ruin you. ”

“ His gaze fixed on a face within a box on his own level, some ten or so away, just where they began to curve toward the stage. The face was young—childlike in animation and outline. Its cheeks were oval and flushed, its lips red-limned and laughing, its eyes a flashing black. And black was the mass of curls that haloed it—cut short—bobbed.
A brilliant enough, impish enough, barbaric enough little head it was to catch and hold the attention of any strange young man. But that which particularly interested Pape was the filet that bound it—a filet of pearls with an emerald drop. ”

“ Although a steer more or less was incidental in his life and cruelty to animals was not to be weighed in the same scales with the catastrophes possible in a continuance of the stampede, second thought had advised the improbability of inflicting a vital wound in that huge body with a revolver shot from the rear. Anything short of a coup de grace would serve only to increase potential dangers.
Through the untangling and winding of his rope the Westerner voiced no complaint of Harford’s interference, but his face went chalk-white beneath its burn and his jaw set hard. ”

“ But it isn’t a petty theft, Mr. Pape.”
She leaned lower over him. Her voice dropped into a whispered rasp.
“You’d forgive me for not knowing whom to trust if you could realize that what was in that box means everything to me and that I’d never get it back if its real value became known. Can’t you imagine something whose loss means the completest kind of ruin to me and to one who——”
She pressed her teeth into her lower lip, whether to stop its quivering or its admission he did not care. He felt his sensibilities scorched by the blue blaze of fears which had burnt the doubt of him from her eyes. ”

“ At once, as if a growth sprung from asphalt and cobblestone fields, a veritable swarm of under-fifteens surrounded the outfit. Well it was for these embryonic rooters of the ward that Polkadot disdained to use his dancing feet for anything so gauche as kicks, for they banked about his rear-guard position, in order the more intimately to admire his color splotches and prancy step, and even took drag-holds upon his silken tail, as well as Pape’s stirrups, that they might not fall behind. ”

“ Pape didn’t stand still longer. Her voice—sweet, strong, familiar—lured him. He forgot his question to advance or retreat. He advanced—and rapidly. By the time he reached her he had outstrode all his consideration for her age and forlorn state. His hurry made him rough. He stooped over the lowered poke bonnet; unclasped the two arms from about Kicko’s neck; literally, jerked the woman to her feet.
Well proportioned, for so old and ill-clad a lady, did she show to be as she sprang back from him, surprised into height, straightness and lissome lines. ”

“ Pape drew back from the he-man habit of hiding his heart; then, after a thought, leaned forward again. Why hide from this one man who could be her true lover, yet no rival to himself? Why not show what he felt? He closed his eyes, the better and more companionably to picture Jane. He felt that they two, both sightless now, saw the same vision as he spoke.
“I ain’t what you’d call up in art, sir. But I saw in Paris the finest statues in the world, or so they told me. The quiet of those still, white people sort of got on my imagination. ”

“ Meet also, if you please, Polkadot Pape, a cross-bred cow-pony who soon could quip the interest of any horse-worthy he-man and who, by virtue of his weird and wicked style of beauty, could command the admiration of the fair. Had you stood on the trail before him and made the slightest friendly overture, he would have bent a foreleg—the right one—and offered you a hoof-shake without so much as a nudge from the rider who most times was his master-mind. ”

“ As though trained for just such participation, the blue-blood rammed into the piebald, bringing his rider within tempting reach of the enemy ear. A whack more dizzying than dangerous followed the equine impact.
“So that’s—the game?” Pape gasped during his recovery. “You’ve got—edge on me—with your—polo punch. But swords or pistols! I’m ready for—any old fight that’s fought—Harfy dar-rling.”
He threw back into the leather, where he felt as much at home as any man and jabbed his right foot back into its stirrup. ”

“ He felt as flattened-out as the cement of the pavement on which he stood. Into it, through the soles of his boots, his heart seemed to sink from its weight ... down ... down.
But as his heart sank, his mind rose in a malediction strong as his pulse was weak:
“To hell with the perquisites of our young ladies of to-day! Do I say so—or don’t I?”
His plans for the morning, which had included a start at that “round and round” stroll in search of four poplars within earshot of the park menagerie, were scrambled as had been his breakfast eggs. Not even the shell of a plan was left. ”

“ And his complacency waxed with her light, although he realized that bold young Dawn would be up to flirt with the pale night queen long before her departure; that any attempt to escape from the park would not be blanketed that night.
Let Luna reach the steps of her throne, he bade himself in thought, that each corner of the old refuge house might be lighted. Let Jane have out her sleep—happy he to guard her gracious rest. Let the Nubian roar of power that was not leonine grow faint and die. Let the city and the city’s Finest go off guard. ”

“ In one of the high-fenced, unroofed pens of a wholesale butcher stood twenty-five or thirty sleek steers, red splotched with white, upon the rump of each the interrogation brand of the Queer Question Ranch.
The range smell of the beasts caused Dot’s nostrils to quiver from delight over the reminder of home; caused his hind-hoofs to polka about the yard and his fore to lift in a proffered horseshoe shake to the beef handlers, one and all. And Pape himself felt hugely pleased over the showing of his product in this “foreign” market, for which they had been bred and fed. ”

“ Pape, standing within arm-reach of the handle, felt something hard and cold slipped into his grasp; realized that Jane had re-armed him; appreciated her mute suggestion that it would be better, were they known to be blocked within, to take his chance of overcoming a single enemy than to wait until reënforcements arrived.
A second he considered the automatic, before placing it in his pocket ready for emergency in case his arms and fists could not decide the issue. To throw open the door and drag inside the disturber would be the best beginning to fight’s finish. ”

“ The police dog had located them. But why the delay of his bayed alarm? A moment more and he answered for himself. With suppressed whines and insinuating wriggles there broke from the clutch of the vine none other than Kicko of the Sheepfold, his sense of duty evidently overcome by delight at the reunion.
Pape’s joy transcended the Belgian’s. Never had he bestowed a more fervid embrace than that which encircled the ruffed neck. Jane, too, patted their four-footed friend and bedecked his collar with a spray of the flowering vine which had been torn down by his impetuous entrance. ”

“ What was Why-Not Pape, indeed? Soon as the analytical lady strayed from the vital subject to that of her ingenuous companion, the author of the latest Broadway riddle passed on, a breaker on the edge of the down-sweeping tide of theater-goers, actor folk out of work and inevitable window shoppers. Of the several he overheard querying the new sign, none guessed—as none do in most real-life mysteries—that they were jostling elbows with the quite palpable solution. His upward stare attracted a direct remark from a pavement companion. ”

“ Pape shouted as, far from keeping “off the grass,” he urged his mount to deeper digs and an appreciable increase of speed.
At sound of hoof-beats behind, he turned, thinking to reinstruct the puncher. Instead, he saw that Irene, luckier than he in crossing the road and Mall, was closing up. The red roses still clutched in her waving hand bespoke excitement’s forgetfulness.
The steer changed his direction, although not at order of the jumping-jack in police blue. From the traverse road and out over the meadow directly toward the outlaw a second woman rider had dashed. ”

“ To have it out with the man who contested his claim to his woman—to bring him down just on general principles—to wring him and rend him and trample him, if need be, into acknowledgment of his supreme impertinence—that was his present task.
A thought-flash of the moment before had thrown rays of suspicion several ways through Pape’s mind. Mills Harford knew of the Montana Gusher swindle, as indicated by his jibe of that morning about an “oil-stock shark.” Being a real-estater of considerable success, he might be a principal in that fraud. Certainly he did not seem the man to have been a victim. ”

“ Kicko, evidently, had lapsed into dog dreams of chases and fights.
The moon must be rising. Into the block-house was shed a weird, indirect light. Then more and more direct it grew until, over the top of one wall, appeared a large, round inverted bowl of a candle-power that dimmed the kilowatt signs along the Gay Way.
Earlier in the evening, when he had spoken of waiting for darkness, under cover of which to attempt an escape afoot, Pape might have complained at the illumination of the sky. ”

“ Without meeting other obstacles, Pape was off upon the marked official machine. About one minute lasted his ride upon this steed, fleeter than Polkadot at his best. As though for the first time noticing the diggers among the park poplars, he stopped with a toot of the cycle siren. Dismounting, he dropped the standard, parked the machine at the side of the road and advanced upon the despoilers. On the way he charged himself that in this “kind of case”—three burlies and a boss to one uniformed objector whose only authority was a woman’s service—mind more than muscle would be needed. ”

“ Again, as on the park butte-top in a recent electric-lighted mill, Pape adopted grizzly form.
If any one of the excited group heard, none attended certain regardless utterances with which Irene, the while, had been wooing to win her glare-eyed gift of gratitude. Poised daintily on the curb’s edge, she was endeavoring to regale the steer with a whiff of the long-stemmed red roses which she had brought from the house.
“Here bossy, poor old bossy, see what Rene has brought out for you. My nice moo-moo. Oh, don’t shake your horns! Why not enjoy the little things in life while you may? ”