A Mountain Woman [16]
looking unconcerned, and, as the furniture began to go off, he came and sat down in the midst of it. Every one noticed his indifference. Some of them said that after all he couldn't have been very ambitious. He didn't seem to take his failure much to heart. Every one was concentrating attention on the cooking- stove, when Jim leaned forward, quickly, over a little wicker work-stand.
There was a bit of unfinished sewing there, and it fell out as he lifted the cover. It was a baby's linen shirt. Jim let it lie, and then lifted from its receptacle a silver thimble. He put it in his vest-pocket.
The campaign came on shortly after this, and Jim Lancy was defeated. "I'm going to Omaha," said he to the station-master, "and I've got just enough to buy a ticket with. There's a kind of satisfaction in giv- ing the last cent I have to the railroads."
Two months later, a "plain drunk" was registered at the station in Nebraska's me- tropolis. When they searched him they found nothing in his pockets but a silver thimble, and Joe Benson, the policeman who had brought in the "drunk," gave it to the matron, with his compliments. But she, when no one noticed, went softly to where the man was sleeping, and slipped it back into his pocket, with a sigh. For she knew somehow -- as women do know things -- that he had not stolen that thimble.
THE equinoctial line itself is not more imaginary than the line which divided the estates of the three Johns. The herds of the three Johns roamed at will, and nibbled the short grass far and near without let or hindrance; and the three Johns them- selves were utterly indifferent as to boun- dary lines. Each of them had filed his application at the office of the government land-agent; each was engaged in the tedious task of "proving up;" and each owned one-third of the L-shaped cabin which stood at the point where the three ranches touched. The hundred and sixty acres which would have completed this quadrangle had not yet been "taken up."
The three Johns were not anxious to have a neighbor. Indeed, they had made up their minds that if one appeared on that adjoining "hun'erd an' sixty," it would go hard with him. For they did not deal in justice very much -- the three Johns. They considered it effete. It belonged in the East along with other outgrown supersti- tions. And they had given it out widely that it would be healthier for land applicants to give them elbow-room. It took a good many miles of sunburnt prairie to afford elbow-room for the three Johns.
They met by accident in Hamilton at the land-office. John Henderson, fresh from Cincinnati, manifestly unused to the ways of the country, looked at John Gillispie with a lurking smile. Gillispie wore a sombrero, fresh, white, and expansive. His boots had high heels, and were of elegant leather and finely arched at the instep. His corduroys disappeared in them half-way up the thigh. About his waist a sash of blue held a laced shirt of the same color in place. Hender- son puffed at his cigarette, and continued to look a trifle quizzical.
Suddenly Gillispie walked up to him and said, in a voice of complete suavity, "Damn yeh, smoke a pipe!"
"Eh?" said Henderson, stupidly.
"Smoke a pipe," said the other. "That thing you have is bad for your complexion."
"I can take care of my complexion," said Henderson, firmly.
The two looked each other straight in the eye.
"You don't go on smoking that thing till you have apologized for that grin you had on your phiz a moment ago."
"I laugh when I please, and I smoke what I please," said Henderson, hotly, his face flaming as he realized that he was in for his first "row."
That was how it began. How it would have ended is not known -- probably there would have been only one John -- if it had not been for the almost miraculous appear- ance at this moment of the third John. For just then the two belligerents found them- selves prostrate, their pistols only half-cocked, and between them stood a man all gnarled and squat, like one of those wind-torn oaks which grow on the arid heights.
There was a bit of unfinished sewing there, and it fell out as he lifted the cover. It was a baby's linen shirt. Jim let it lie, and then lifted from its receptacle a silver thimble. He put it in his vest-pocket.
The campaign came on shortly after this, and Jim Lancy was defeated. "I'm going to Omaha," said he to the station-master, "and I've got just enough to buy a ticket with. There's a kind of satisfaction in giv- ing the last cent I have to the railroads."
Two months later, a "plain drunk" was registered at the station in Nebraska's me- tropolis. When they searched him they found nothing in his pockets but a silver thimble, and Joe Benson, the policeman who had brought in the "drunk," gave it to the matron, with his compliments. But she, when no one noticed, went softly to where the man was sleeping, and slipped it back into his pocket, with a sigh. For she knew somehow -- as women do know things -- that he had not stolen that thimble.
THE equinoctial line itself is not more imaginary than the line which divided the estates of the three Johns. The herds of the three Johns roamed at will, and nibbled the short grass far and near without let or hindrance; and the three Johns them- selves were utterly indifferent as to boun- dary lines. Each of them had filed his application at the office of the government land-agent; each was engaged in the tedious task of "proving up;" and each owned one-third of the L-shaped cabin which stood at the point where the three ranches touched. The hundred and sixty acres which would have completed this quadrangle had not yet been "taken up."
The three Johns were not anxious to have a neighbor. Indeed, they had made up their minds that if one appeared on that adjoining "hun'erd an' sixty," it would go hard with him. For they did not deal in justice very much -- the three Johns. They considered it effete. It belonged in the East along with other outgrown supersti- tions. And they had given it out widely that it would be healthier for land applicants to give them elbow-room. It took a good many miles of sunburnt prairie to afford elbow-room for the three Johns.
They met by accident in Hamilton at the land-office. John Henderson, fresh from Cincinnati, manifestly unused to the ways of the country, looked at John Gillispie with a lurking smile. Gillispie wore a sombrero, fresh, white, and expansive. His boots had high heels, and were of elegant leather and finely arched at the instep. His corduroys disappeared in them half-way up the thigh. About his waist a sash of blue held a laced shirt of the same color in place. Hender- son puffed at his cigarette, and continued to look a trifle quizzical.
Suddenly Gillispie walked up to him and said, in a voice of complete suavity, "Damn yeh, smoke a pipe!"
"Eh?" said Henderson, stupidly.
"Smoke a pipe," said the other. "That thing you have is bad for your complexion."
"I can take care of my complexion," said Henderson, firmly.
The two looked each other straight in the eye.
"You don't go on smoking that thing till you have apologized for that grin you had on your phiz a moment ago."
"I laugh when I please, and I smoke what I please," said Henderson, hotly, his face flaming as he realized that he was in for his first "row."
That was how it began. How it would have ended is not known -- probably there would have been only one John -- if it had not been for the almost miraculous appear- ance at this moment of the third John. For just then the two belligerents found them- selves prostrate, their pistols only half-cocked, and between them stood a man all gnarled and squat, like one of those wind-torn oaks which grow on the arid heights.