Either the liquor or Harkutt's practical unsentimental treatment of the situation seemed to give him confidence.He met Harkutt's eye more steadily as the latter went on."You kin turn your hoss for the night into my stock corral next to Rawlett's.It'll save you payin'for fodder and stablin'."The man took up the coin with a certain slow gravity which was almost like dignity."Thank you,"he said,laying the paper on the counter."I'll leave that as security.""Don't want it,'Lige,"said Harkutt,pushing it back.
"I'd rather leave it."
"But suppose you have a chance to sell it to somebody at Rawlett's?"continued Harkutt,with a precaution that seemed ironical.
"I don't think there's much chance of that."He remained quiet,looking at Harkutt with an odd expression as he rubbed the edge of the coin that he held between his fingers abstractedly on the counter.Something in his gaze--rather perhaps the apparent absence of anything in it approximate to the present occasion--was beginning to affect Harkutt with a vague uneasiness.
Providentially a resumed onslaught of wind and rain against the panes effected a diversion."Come,"he said,with brisk practicality,"you'd better hurry on to Rawlett's before it gets worse.Have your clothes dried by his fire,take suthin'to eat,and you'll be all right."He rubbed his hands cheerfully,as if summarily disposing of the situation,and incidentally of all 'Lige's troubles,and walked with him to the door.Nevertheless,as the man's look remained unchanged,he hesitated a moment with his hand on the handle,in the hope that he would say something,even if only to repeat his appeal,but he did not.Then Harkutt opened the door;the man moved mechanically out,and at the distance of a few feet seemed to melt into the rain and darkness.
Harkutt remained for a moment with his face pressed against the glass.After an interval he thought he heard the faint splash of hoofs in the shallows of the road;he opened the door softly and looked out.
The light had disappeared from the nearest house;only an uncertain bulk of shapeless shadows remained.Other remoter and more vague outlines near the horizon seemed to have a funereal suggestion of tombs and grave mounds,and one--a low shed near the road--looked not unlike a halted bier.He hurriedly put up the shutters in a momentary lulling of the wind,and re-entering the store began to fasten them from within.
While thus engaged an inner door behind the counter opened softly and cautiously,projecting a brighter light into the deserted apartment from some sacred domestic interior with the warm and wholesome incense of cooking.It served to introduce also the equally agreeable presence of a young girl,who,after assuring herself of the absence of every one but the proprietor,idly slipped into the store,and placing her rounded elbows,from which her sleeves were uprolled,upon the counter,leaned lazily upon them,with both hands supporting her dimpled chin,and gazed indolently at him;so indolently that,with her pretty face once fixed in this comfortable attitude,she was constrained to follow his movements with her eyes alone,and often at an uncomfortable angle.It was evident that she offered the final but charming illustration of the enfeebling listlessness of Sidon.
"So those loafers have gone at last,"she said,meditatively.
"They'll take root here some day,pop.The idea of three strong men like that lazing round for two mortal hours doin'nothin'.
Well!"As if to emphasize her disgust she threw her whole weight upon the counter by swinging her feet from the floor to touch the shelves behind her.
Mr.Harkutt only replied by a slight grunt as he continued to screw on the shutters.
"Want me to help you,dad?"she said,without moving.
Mr.Harkutt muttered something unintelligible,which,however,seemed to imply a negative,and her attention here feebly wandered to the roll of paper,and she began slowly and lazily to read it aloud.
"'For value received,I hereby sell,assign,and transfer to Daniel D.Harkutt all my right,titles and interest in,and to the undivided half of,Quarter Section 4,Range 5,Tasajara Township'--hum--hum,"she murmured,running her eyes to the bottom of the page."Why,Lord!It's that 'Lige Curtis!"she laughed."The idea of HIM having property!Why,dad,you ain't been THAT silly!""Put down that paper,miss,"he said,aggrievedly;"bring the candle here,and help me to find one of these infernal screws that's dropped."The girl indolently disengaged herself from the counter and Elijah Curtis's transfer,and brought the candle to her father.The screw was presently found and the last fastening secured."Supper gettin'cold,dad,"she said,with a slight yawn.Her father sympathetically responded by stretching himself from his stooping position,and the two passed through the private door into inner domesticity,leaving the already forgotten paper lying with other articles of barter on the counter.