Jim Horton

“ She only wanted Harry Horton to know that love was not for her or for him. The fakir under the bed clothes understood. She preferred to speak of valor. Valor! If she only knew!
Jim Horton gathered courage. If he wasn't to tell the truth he would have to play his part.
"Everybody is brave—out there," he said, with a gesture.
"But not brave enough for mention," said Quinlevin genially. "It won't do, Harry boy. A hero ye were and a hero ye'll remain."
Horton felt the girl's calm gaze upon his face.
"I'm so glad you've made good, Harry. I am. And I want you to believe it." ”

“ He gave the address to the cocher and she was gone.
Jim Horton stood for a moment listening to the sounds of the retreating fiacre as it rattled away over the cobblestones and then turned slowly back, his anger at his discoveries, long repressed by the necessities of his masquerade, suddenly bursting the barriers of his self-control. Moira—innocent—the catspaw, the stool-pigeon for these two rascals! ”

“ Fury shook him like a leaf, the fury of desperation, that for the moment drove from his craven heart all fear of an encounter with his brother.
There was a sound of a door shutting and in a moment he saw the man in uniform emerge by the gate of the concierge. He walked toward the outcast, his head bent in deep meditation. There was no doubt about its being Jim. With clenched fists Harry barred his way, the thought that was uppermost in his mind finding utterance.
Jim Horton stopped, stepped back a pace and then peered at the man in civilian clothing from beneath his broad army hat-brim. ”

“ The place they had chosen was in the shadow and the hour was late, and no one was about, but Jim Horton took a glance up and down the deserted street before he resumed his interrupted remarks.
"I don't want any man's uniform when it's been defiled. You ought to have known that. I'm going to take it off and give it back to you."
He saw the eager surprised look that came into Harry's face and raised his hand in warning—"But not yet. First I'm going to tell your wife the truth and then I'm going to warn the Duc de Vautrin." ”

“ There was no doubting that he loved her in his strange way. And the fury he had expended upon Jim Horton seemed scarcely less than that she now felt for him. A man could kill—but a woman could only despise. ”

“ And Jim, ever worried, ever conscious of himself, sat in his saddle easily, now that he was about to reap the harvest of his ill-sown seeds, riding with eyes on the horse alongside–Pat–studying with coolly critical gaze the animal’s smoothness of gait, wonderful carriage of head, unusual and beautiful lifting of forelegs. ”

“ In the midst of these troublesome meditations, he was aware of Nurse Newberry approaching from the end of the ward. Following her were two people who stopped at his bed, a man and a girl. The man was strong, with grizzled hair, a bobbed Imperial and a waxed mustache. The girl had black hair and slate-blue eyes. And even as Jim Horton stared at them, he was aware of the man confidently approaching and taking his hand.
"Well, Harry, don't you know me?" a voice said. "Rather hazy, eh? I don't wonder...."
Who the devil were these people? There must be a mistake. Jim Horton mumbled something. ”

“ A RUNNING FIGHT
A rifle-shot forced instant action. Jim whirled away from the camp-fire and saddle-bags and sprang toward the horses, while Johnson, leaping up with the agile twist of an athlete, gained his feet running. Jim headed grimly for Pat, but Johnson reached him a breath in advance. Snatching up the reins and mounting, he dug Pat viciously with his huge rowels. At that Pat balked. The man swore and cursed and spurred again; but the horse remained obdurate. Seeing this, Johnson stopped spurring. ”

“ Forced to feel their way, they moved 194 always in halts and starts, over saplings, around bulging rocks, along narrow ledges, and at length gained the mesa, where the men drew rein. Johnson, sweeping his eyes coolly over the field of his campaign, began to give orders.
“Jim,” he snapped, “cut in over there–that arroyo–and crowd ’em around to the south. Don’t go too deep.” Then, as Jim caught up his reins, “Glover, swing off this side–close in. We’ll keep close in down to the line. Hop along!”
Pat remained standing. He turned his eyes after the little gray and her rider. ”

“ So you can sleep in peace.
B. Q."
Jim Horton lay for a while thinking and then read the two letters again. The masculine correspondent was the girl's father. Barry Quinlevin, it seemed, was a scoundrel of sorts—and the girl adored him. Many of the passages in the letter were mystifying. Who was de V——? And what was Harry's connection with this affair? It was none of Jim Horton's business, but in spite of himself he began feeling an intense sympathy for the girl Moira, who was wrapped in the coils of what seemed on its face to be an ugly intrigue, if it wasn't something worse. ”

“ Then, looking at the man, and listening to his raging outburst, he conjured up out of the dim past memories of the Mexican hostler and of that single encounter in the white corral. And now his fear for the man left him.
“I’ll kill him! I’ll shoot the horse!” roared Johnson, his face yellow underneath the tan. He reached toward his side-arms.
But he did not shoot. With his face white and drawn Jim strode to Pat’s head, while Glover, quick to understand, played the solicitous attendant, assisting the limping Johnson into the saddle. ”

“ Jim permitted himself a quiet smile. “I don’t think I’m playing the hog, exactly,” he rejoined, evenly. “I guess maybe I’m thinking of the horse as much as anything. And not so much of him, either, maybe, as of you, the way you handle horses if they don’t dance a two-step when you want a two-step. In about a week, Johnson,” he continued, mildly, “you’d have that horse jabbed full of holes with them Mexican rowels of yours! He wouldn’t stand for that kind of affection, or I’m no judge of horseflesh. He ain’t used to it; he ain’t that kind of a horse–your kind! You ought to see that yourself. ”

“ Jim laid the coat tenderly in the valise, coaxing it into decorous folds, and wondering at the same time where his master was. He had been out all the morning, and on his return had looked so ill that Jim had been worried, and wished that they were not leaving Horton House quite so soon. A little while ago my lord had been closeted with his host; Jim supposed he must still be there. He reached out his hand for another waistcoat, but before his fingers had touched it, he stopped, and lifted his head, listening. ”

“ Thereupon Pat flung forward, dragging his tether clear of its stake, and crowded close beside the gray. Jim was mounted on the gray, bending low in the saddle, racing in frantic pursuit of Glover. Mounted on the sorrel, Glover was well in the lead, speeding straight into the west, riding at right angles to the ridge, galloping hard for the open desert. The echo of the shot reverberated again faintly, and around them closed a tense silence.
Others were making for the open. Out of the underbrush, riding easily, burst a handful of rangers. Stephen was one of them. ”

“ They stepped out together, rigidly; he followed, and at the side the girl, in a trailing white gown, her black hair falling as low as her waist, bore the light. Erect and swaying, she seemed to glide without touching the earth; the only sound was the silky swish and rustle of the long grass. "Stop!" cried Jim.
'The river-bank was steep; a great freshness ascended, the light fell on the edge of smooth dark water frothing without a ripple; right and left the shapes of the houses ran together below the sharp outlines of the roofs. "Take my greetings to Sherif Ali--till I come myself," said Jim. ”

“ I couldn’t get any woman to help me, and a man I dursn’t trust; but what with the Indians hereabout, who’d do odd jobs for me, and having everything sent from the North Fork, Jim and I managed to worry through. The Doctor would run up from Sacramento once in a while. He’d ask to see ‘Miggles’s baby’ as he called Jim, and when he’d go away, he’d say, ‘Miggles, you’re a trump,—God bless you,’ and it didn’t seem so lonely after that. But the last time he was here he said, as he opened the door to go, ‘Do you know, Miggles, your baby will grow up to be a man yet and an honor to his mother ”

“ A few youths in gay silks glared from the distance; the majority, slaves and humble dependants, were half naked, in ragged sarongs, dirty with ashes and mud-stains. I had never seen Jim look so grave, so self-possessed, in an impenetrable, impressive way. In the midst of these dark-faced men, his stalwart figure in white apparel, the gleaming clusters of his fair hair, seemed to catch all the sunshine that trickled through the cracks in the closed shutters of that dim hall, with its walls of mats and a roof of thatch. ”

“ I've just run over a man,—that's how!" The fireman stared at Jim. They ran Back, but they never found house nor man,— Nary a shadow within a mile. Jim turned pale, but he tried to smile, Then on he tore Ten mile or more, In quicker time than he'd made afore. Would you believe it! the very next night Up rose that house in the moonlight white, Out comes the chap and drops as before, Down goes the brake and the rest encore; And so, in fact, Each night that act Occurred, till folks swore Jim was cracked. Humph! let me see; it's a year now, 'most, That I met Jim, East, and says, "How's your ghost?" ”

“ He has eyes only for one figure, and through all the mazes of bewilderment he preserves his air of guardianship, of obedience, of care.
'His master came back from his talk with the white men, walking slowly towards the stockade in the street. Everybody was rejoiced to see him return, for while he was away every man had been afraid not only of him being killed, but also of what would come after. Jim went into one of the houses, where old Doramin had retired, and remained alone for a long time with the head of the Bugis settlers. ”

“ The skipper started swearing, as hoarse as a crow. He wasn't going to talk at the top of his voice for _my_ accommodation. 'Are you afraid they will hear you on shore?' I asked. He glared as if he would have liked to claw me to pieces. The chief engineer advised him to humour me. He said I wasn't right in my head yet. The other rose astern, like a thick pillar of flesh--and talked--talked. . . ."
'Jim remained thoughtful. "Well?" I said. "What did I care what story they agreed to make up?" he cried recklessly. "They could tell what they jolly well liked. It was their business. ”

“ The man was too insignificant to be dangerous, though he was as full of hate as he could hold. He had called me "honourable sir" at every second sentence, and had whined at my elbow as he followed me from the grave of his "late wife" to the gate of Jim's compound. He declared himself the most unhappy of men, a victim, crushed like a worm; he entreated me to look at him. I wouldn't turn my head to do so; but I could see out of the corner of my eye his obsequious shadow gliding after mine, while the moon, suspended on our right hand, seemed to gloat serenely upon the spectacle. ”

“ The dark-faced servants tripped without noise over the vast and polished floor; now and then a girl’s laugh would be heard, as innocent and empty as her mind, or, in a sudden hush of crockery, a few words in an affected drawl from some wit embroidering for the benefit of a grinning tableful the last funny story of shipboard scandal. Two nomadic old maids, dressed up to kill, worked acrimoniously through the bill of fare, whispering to each other with faded lips, wooden-faced and bizarre, like two sumptuous scarecrows. A little wine opened Jim’s heart and loosened his tongue. ”

“ I’ve a notion.” “What’s your infernal notion?” I exploded at last. “If you think I am going in with you . . .” “No, no, my boy. Too late, if you wanted ever so much. We’ve got a steamer.” “You’ve got the ghost of a steamer,” I said. “Good enough for a start—there’s no superior nonsense about us. Is there, Captain Robinson?” “No! no! no!” croaked the old man without lifting his eyes, and the senile tremble of his head became almost fierce with determination. “I understand you know that young chap,” said Chester, with a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared long ago. ”

“ He knew his work thoroughly, and applied his knowledge without sparing his bones; when not actually driving the whim, he was scouring the plains for thirsty stragglers. As a permanency at the Seven-mile he was worth higher wages than he was ever likely to get from Duncan Macdonald, though this squatter would have conceded much (for him) rather than lose so reliable a hand. But Jim never asked for a rise; and Macdonald was perhaps not eccentric in declining to take the initiative in this matter.
Jim's hut was two hundred yards from the whim. As bush-huts go, it was a superior habitation. ”

“ He . . . 'Where did you get drink?' inquired the German, very savage; but motionless in the light of the binnacle, like a clumsy effigy of a man cut out of a block of fat. Jim went on smiling at the retreating horizon; his heart was full of generous impulses, and his thought was contemplating his own superiority. 'Drink!' repeated the engineer with amiable scorn: he was hanging on with both hands to the rail, a shadowy figure with flexible legs. 'Not from you, captain. You're far too mean, b'gosh. You would let a good man die sooner than give him a drop of schnapps. ”