The Valley of the Moon......................................................................................................................................1

"You hear me, Saxon? Come on along. What if it is the Bricklayers? I'll have gentlemen friends there, and

so'll you. The Al Vista band'll be along, an' you know it plays heavenly. An' you just love dancin'"

Twenty feet away, a stout, elderly woman interrupted the girl's persuasions. The elderly woman's back was

She flung wild glances, like those of an entrapped animal, up and down the big whitewashed room that

panted with heat and that was thickly humid with the steam that sizzled from the damp cloth under the irons

of the many ironers. From the girls and women near her, all swinging irons steadily but at high pace, came

quick glances, and labor efficiency suffered to the extent of a score of suspended or inadequate movements.

The elderly woman's cry had caused a tremor of moneyloss to pass among the piecework ironers of fancy

She gripped herself and her iron with a visible effort, and dabbed futilely at the frail, frilled garment on the

"It's a shame, a women of her age, and . . . condition," Saxon answered, as she frilled a lace ruffle with a hot

flutingiron. Her movements were delicate, safe, and swift, and though her face was wan with fatigue and

"An' her with seven, an' two of 'em in reform school," the girl at the next board sniffed sympathetic

agreement. "But you just got to come to Weasel Park tomorrow, Saxon. The Bricklayers' is always

livelytugsofwar, fatman races, real Irish jiggin', an' . . . an' everything. An' The floor of the pavilion's

But the elderly woman brought another interruption. She dropped her iron on the shirtwaist, clutched at the

board, fumbled it, caved in at the knees and hips, and like a halfempty sack collapsed on the floor, her long

shriek rising in the pent room to the acrid smell of scorching cloth. The women at the boards near to her

scrambled, first, to the hot iron to save the cloth, and then to her, while the forewoman hurried belligerently

down the aisle. The women farther away continued unsteadily at their work, losing movements to the extent

of a minute's setback to the totality of the efficiency of the fancystarch room.

"Enough to kill a dog," the girl muttered, thumping her iron down on its rest with reckless determination.

"Workin' girls' life ain't what it's cracked up. Me to quitthat's what I'm comin' to."

"Mary!" Saxon uttered the other's name with a reproach so profound that she was compelled to rest her own

"I didn't mean it, Saxon," she whimpered. "Honest, I didn't. I wouldn't never go that way. But I leave it to

The stricken woman, on her back, drumming her heels on the floor, was shrieking persistently and

monotonously, like a mechanical siren. Two women, clutching her under the arms, were dragging her down

the aisle. She drummed and shrieked the length of it. The door opened, and a vast, muffled roar of machinery

burst in; and in the roar of it the drumming and the shrieking were drowned ere the door swung shut.

Remained of the episode only the scorch of cloth drifting ominously through the air.

And thereafter, for a long time, the many irons rose and fell, the pace of the room in no wise diminished;

while the forewoman strode the aisles with a threatening eye for incipient breakdown and hysteria.

Occasionally an ironer lost the stride for an instant, gasped or sighed, then caught it up again with weary

determination. The long summer day waned, hut not the heat, and under the raw flare of electric light the

By nine o'clock the first women began to go home. The mountain of fancy starch had been demolishedall

save the few remnants, here and there, on the boards, where the ironers still labored.

"Saturday night an' another week gone," Mary said mournfully, her young cheeks pallid and hollowed, her

"Twelve and a quarter," was the answer, just touched with pride "And I'd amade more if it wasn't for that

"My! I got to pass it to you," Mary congratulated. "You're a sure fierce hustlerjust eat it up. MeI've only

ten an' a half, an' for a hard week ... See you on the nineforty. Sure now. We can just fool around until the

Two blocks from the laundry, where an arclight showed a gang of toughs on the corner, Saxon quickened

her pace. Unconsciously her face set and hardened as she passed. She did not catch the words of the muttered

comment, but the rough laughter it raised made her guess and warmed her checks with resentful blood. Three

blocks more, turning once to left and once to right, she walked on through the night that was already growing

cool. On either side were workingmen's houses, of weathered wood, the ancient paint grimed with the dust of

Dark it was, but she made no mistake, the familiar sag and screeching reproach of the front gate welcome

under her hand. She went along the narrow walk to the rear, avoided the missing step without thinking about

it, and entered the kitchen, where a solitary gasjet flickered. She turned it up to the best of its flame. It was a

small room, not disorderly, because of lack of furnishings to disorder it. The plaster, discolored by the steam

of many washdays, was crisscrossed with cracks from the big earthquake of the previous spring. The floor

was ridged, widecracked, and uneven, and in front of the stove it was worn through and repaired with a

fivegallon oilcan hammered flat and double. A sink, a dirty rollertowel, several chairs, and a wooden

An applecore crunched under her foot as she drew a chair to the table. On the frayed oilcloth, a supper

waited. She attempted the cold beans, thick with grease, but gave them up, and buttered a slice of bread.

The rickety house shook to a heavy, prideless tread, and through the inner door came Sarah, middleaged,

"Huh, it's you," she grunted a greeting. "I just couldn't keep things warm. Such a day! I near died of the heat.

"Nothing, only ..." Saxon caught her breath and avoided the threatened outburst. "Only I'm not hungry. It's

Recklessly she took a mouthful of the cold tea that had been steeped so long that it was like acid in her

mouth, and recklessly, under the eye of her sisterinlaw, she swallowed it and the rest of the cupful. She

"Wonder you ain't out to a dance," Sarah sniffed. "Funny, ain't it, you come home so dead tired every night,

Saxon started to speak, suppressed herself with tightened lips, then lost control and blazed out. "Wasn't you

Without waiting for reply, she turned to her bedroom, which opened directly off the kitchen. It was a small

room, eight by twelve, and the earthquake had left its marks upon the plaster. A bed and chair of cheap pine

and a very ancient chest of drawers constituted the furniture. Saxon had known this chest of drawers all her

life. The vision of it was woven into her earliest recollections. She knew it had crossed the plains with her

people in a prairie schooner. It was of solid mahogany. One end was cracked and dented from the capsize of

the wagon in Rock Canyon. A bullethole, plugged, in the face of the top drawer, told of the fight with the

Indians at Little Meadow. Of these happenings her mother had told her; also had she told that the chest had

come with the family originally from England in a day even earlier than the day on which George

Above the chest of drawers, on the wall, hung a small lookingglass. Thrust under the molding were

photographs of young men and women, and of picnic groups wherein the young men, with hats rakishly on

the backs of their heads, encircled the girls with their arms. Farther along on the wall were a colored calendar

and numerous colored advertisements and sketches torn out of magazines. Most of these sketches were of

horses. From the gasfixture hung a tangled bunch of wellscribbled dance programs.

Saxon started to take off her hat, but suddenly sat down on the bed. She sobbed softly, with considered

repression, but the weaklatched door swung noiselessly open, and she was startled by her sisterinlaw's

"No, no," Saxon explained hurriedly. "I'm just tired, that's all, and my feet hurt. I wasn't hungry, Sarah. I'm

"If you took care of this house," came the retort, "an' cooked an' baked, an' washed, an' put up with what I put

up, you'd have something to be beat out about. You've got a snap, you have. But just wait." Sarah broke off to

cackle gloatingly. "Just wait, that's all, an' you'll be fool enough to get married some day, like me, an' then

you'll get yoursan' it'll be brats, an' brats, an' brats, an' no more dancin', an' silk stockin's, an' three pairs of

shoes at one time. You've got a cinchnobody to think of but your own precious selfan' a lot of young

hoodlums makin' eyes at you an' tellin' you how beautiful your eyes are. Huh! Some fine day you'll tie up to

"Don't say that, Sarah," Saxon protested. "My brother never laid hands on you. You know that."

"No more he didn't. He never had the gumption. Just the same, he's better stock than that tough crowd you

run with, if he can't make a livin' an' keep his wife in three pairs of shoes. Just the same he's oodles better'n

your bunch of hoodlums that no decent woman'd wipe her one pair of shoes on. How you've missed trouble

this long is beyond me. Mebbe the younger generation is wiser in such thinsI don't know. But I do know

that a young woman that has three pairs of shoes ain't thinkin' of anything but her own enjoyment, an' she's

goin' to get hers, I can tell her that much. When I was a girl there wasn't such doin's. My mother'd taken the

hide off me if I done the things you do. An' she was right, just as everything in the world is wrong now. Look

at your brother, arunnin' around to socialist meetin's, an' chewin' hot air, an' diggin' up extra strike dues to

the union that means so much bread out of the mouths of his children, instead of makin' good with his bosses.

Why, the dues he pays would keep me in seventeen pairs of shoes if I was nannygoat enough to want 'em.

Some day, mark my words, he'll get his time, an' then what'll we do? What'll I do, with five mouths to feed

The door slammed violently, and Saxon, ere she fell to crying again, could hear her sisterinlaw lumbering

Each bought her own ticket at the entrance to Weasel Park. And each, as she laid her halfdollar down, was

distinctly aware of how many pieces of fancy starch were represented by the coin. It was too early for the

crowd, but bricklayers and their families, laden with huge lunchbaskets and armfuls of babies, were already

going ina healthy, husky race of workmen, wellpaid and robustly fed. And with them, here and there,

undisguised by their decent American clothing, smaller in bulk and stature, weazened not alone by age but by

the pinch of lean years and early hardship, were grandfathers and mothers who had patently first seen the

light of day on old Irish soil. Their faces showed content and pride as they limped along with this lusty

Not with these did Mary and Saxon belong. They knew them not, had no acquaintances among them. It did

not matter whether the festival were Irish, German, or Slavonian; whether the picnic was the Bricklayers', the

Brewers', or the Butchers'. They, the girls, were of the dancing crowd that swelled by a certain constant

They strolled about among the booths where peanuts were grinding and popcorn was roasting in preparation

for the day, and went on and inspected the dance floor of the pavilion. Saxon, clinging to an imaginary

Saxon smiled with appreciation, pointed out her foot, velvetslippered with high Cuban heels, and slightly

lifted the tight black skirt, exposing a trim ankle and delicate swell of calf, the white flesh gleaming through

the thinnest and flimsiest of fiftycent black silk stockings. She was slender, not tall, yet the due round lines

of womanhood were hers. On her white shirtwaist was a pleated jabot of cheap lace, caught with a large

novelty pin of imitation coral. Over the shirtwaist was a natty jacket, elbowsleeved, and to the elbows she

wore gloves of imitation suede. The one essentially natural touch about her appearance was the few curls,

strangers to curlingirons, that escaped from under the little naughty hat of black velvet pulled low over the

Mary's dark eyes flashed with joy at the sight, and with a swift little run she caught the other girl in her arms

and kissed her in a breastcrushing embrace. She released her, blushing at her own extravagance.

"You look good to me," she cried, in extenuation. "If I was a man I couldn't keep my hands off you. I'd eat

They went out of the pavilion hand in hand, and on through the sunshine they strolled, swinging hands gaily,

reacting exuberantly from the week of deadening toil. They hung over the railing of the bearpit, shivering at

the huge and lonely denizen, and passed quickly on to ten minutes of laughter at the monkey cage. Crossing

the grounds, they looked down into the little race track on the bed of a natural amphitheater where the early

afternoon games were to take place. After that they explored the woods, threaded by countless paths, ever

opening out in new surprises of greenpainted rustic tables and benches in leafy nooks, many of which were

already preempted by family parties. On a grassy slope, treesurrounded, they spread a newspaper and sat

down on the short grass already tawnydry under the California sun. Half were they minded to do this

because of the grateful indolence after six days of insistent motion, half in conservation for the hours of

"Bert Wanhope'll be sure to come," Mary chattered. "An' he said he was going to bring Billy Roberts'Big

Bill,' all the fellows call him. He's just a big boy, but he's awfully tough. He's a prizefighter, an' all the girls

run after him. I'm afraid of him. He ain't quick in talkin'. He's more like that big bear we saw. Brrrf!

Brrrf!bite your head off, just like that. He ain't really a prizefighter. He's a teamsterbelongs to the

union. Drives for Coberly and Morrison. But sometimes he fights in the clubs. Most of the fellows are scared

of him. He's got a bad temper, an' he'd just as soon hit a fellow as eat, just like that. You won't like him, but

he's a swell dancer. He's heavy, you know, an' he just slides and glides around. You wanta have a dance

with'm anyway. He's a good spender, too. Never pinches. But my!he's got one temper."

The talk wandered on, a monologue on Mary's part, that centered always on Bert Wanhope.

"I'd marry'm tomorrow," Mary flashed out impulsively. Then her face went bleakly forlorn, hard almost in

its helpless pathos. "Only, he never asks me. He's ..." Her pause was broken by sudden passion. "You watch

out for him, Saxon, if he ever comes foolin' around you. He's no good. Just the same, I'd marry him

tomorrow. He'll never get me any other way." Her mouth opened, but instead of speaking she drew a long

sigh. "It's a funny world, ain't it?" she added. "More like a scream. And all the stars are worlds, too. I wonder

where God hides. Bert Wanhope says there ain't no God. But he's just terrible. He says the most terrible

"But if we do wrong we get ours, don't we?" Mary persisted. "That's what they all say, except Bert. He says

he don't care what he does, he'll never get his, because when he dies he's dead, an' when he's dead he'd like to

see any one put anything across on him that'd wake him up. Ain't he terrible, though? But it's all so funny.

Sometimes I get scared when I think God's keepin' an eye on me all the time. Do you think he knows what

"He IS, just the same, from what all people say of him," Saxon went on stoutly. "My brother thinks he looks

"An' I never think of him with his hair parted," Mary confessed, daring the thought and shivering with

"You know that little, wrinkly Mexican that sells wire puzzles?" Saxon queried. "Well, God somehow always

"Well, just like the little Mexican, he seems to spend his time peddling puzzles. He passes a puzzle out to

everybody, and they spend all their lives tryin' to work it out They all get stuck. I can't work mine out. I don't

know where to start. And look at the puzzle he passed Sarah. And she's part of Tom's puzzle, and she only

makes his worse. And they all, an' everybody I knowyou, tooare part of my puzzle."

"Mebbe the puzzles is all right," Mary considered. "But God don't look like that yellow little Greaser. THAT

I won't fall for. God don't look like anybody. Don't you remember on the wall at the Salvation Army it says

"That's another one of his puzzles, I guess, because nobody knows what a spirit looks like."

"That's right, too." Mary shuddered with reminiscent fear. "Whenever I try to think of God as a spirit, I can

see Hen Miller all wrapped up in a sheet an' runnin' us girls. We didn't know, an' it scared the life out of us.

Little Maggie Murphy fainted dead away, and Beatrice Peralta fell an' scratched her face horrible. When I

think of a spirit all I can see is a white sheet runnin' in the dark. Just the same, God don't look like a Mexican,

A strain of music from the dancing pavilion brought both girls scrambling to their feet.

"We can get a couple of dances in before we eat," Mary proposed. "An' then it'll be afternoon an' all the

fellows 'll be here. Most of them are pinchersthat's why they don't come early, so as to get out of taking the

girls to dinner. But Bert's free with his money, an' so is Billy. If we can beat the other girls to it, they'll take

There were few couples on the floor when they arrived at the pavilion, and the two girls essayed the first

"Don't take any notice of them," Mary whispered back. "We'll just keep on goin'. They needn't think we're

But Saxon noted the heightened color in the other's cheek, and felt her quicker breathing.

"Did you see that other one?" Mary asked, as she backed Saxon in a long slide across the far end of the

pavilion. "That was Billy Roberts. Bert said he'd come. He'll take you to dinner, and Bert'll take me. It's goin'

to be a swell day, you'll see. My! I only wish the music'll hold out till we can get back to the other end."

Down the floor they danced, on mantrapping and dinnergetting intent, two fresh young things that

undeniably danced well and that were delightfully surprised when the music stranded them perilously near to

Bert and Mary addressed each other by their given names, but to Saxon Bert was "Mr. Wanhope," though he

called her by her first name. The only introduction was of Saxon and Billy Roberts. Mary carried it off with a

"Mr. RobertMiss Brown. She's my best friend. Her first name's Saxon. Ain't it a scream of a name?"

"Sounds good to me," Billy retorted, hat off and hand extended. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Brown."

As their hands clasped and she felt the teamster callouses on his palm, her quick eyes saw a score of things.

About all that he saw was her eyes, and then it was with a vague impression that they were blue. Not till later

in the day did he realize that they were gray. She, on the contrary, saw his eyes as they really weredeep

blue, wide, and handsome in a sullenboyish way. She saw that they were straightlooking, and she liked

them, as she had liked the glimpse she had caught of his hand, and as she liked the contact of his hand itself.

Then, too, but not sharply, she had perceived the short, squareset nose, the rosiness of cheek, and the firm,

short upper lip, ere delight centered her flash of gaze on the wellmodeled, large clean mouth where red lips

smiled clear of the white, enviable teeth. A BOY, A GREAT BIG MANBOY, was her thought; and, as they

smiled at each other and their hands slipped apart, she was startled by a glimpse of his hairshort and crisp

and sandy, hinting almost of palest gold save that it was too flaxen to hint of gold at all.

So blond was he that she was reminded of stagetypes she had seen, such as Ole Olson and Yon Yonson; but

there resemblance ceased. It was a matter of color only, for the eyes were darklashed and browed, and

were cloudy with temperament rather than staring a childgaze of wonder, and the suit of smooth brown

cloth had been made by a tailor. Saxon appraised the suit on the instant, and her secret judgment was NOT A

CENT LESS THAN FIFTY DOLLARS. Further, he had none of the awkwardness of the Scandinavian

immigrant. On the contrary, he was one of those rare individuals that radiate muscular grace through the

ungraceful mangarments of civilization. Every movement was supple, slow, and apparently considered. This

she did not see nor analyze. She saw only a clothed man with grace of carriage and movement. She felt,

rather than perceived, the calm and certitude of all the muscular play of him, and she felt, too, the promise of

easement and rest that was especially grateful and cravedfor by one who had incessantly, for six days and at

topspeed, ironed fancy starch. As the touch of his hand had been good, so, to her, this subtler feel of all of

As he took her program and skirmished and joked after the way of young men, she realized the immediacy of

delight she had taken in him. Never in her life had she been so affected by any man. She wondered to herself:

He danced beautifully. The joy was hers that good dancers take when they have found a good dancer for a

partner. The grace of those slowmoving, certain muscles of his accorded perfectly with the rhythm of the

music. There was never doubt, never a betrayal of indecision. She glanced at Bert, dancing "tough" with

Mary, caroming down the long floor with more than one collision with the increasing couples. Graceful

himself in his slender, tall, leanstomached way, Bert was accounted a good dancer; yet Saxon did not

remember ever having danced with him with keen pleasure. Just a hit of a jerk spoiled his dancinga jerk

that did not occur, usually, but that always impended. There was something spasmodic in his mind. He was

too quick, or he continually threatened to be too quick. He always seemed just on the verge of overrunning

"You're a dream of a dancer," Billy Roberts was saying. "I've heard lots of the fellows talk about your

But from the way she said it he sensed her reluctance to speak, and danced on in silence, while she warmed

with the appreciation of a woman for gentle consideration. Gentle consideration was a thing rarely

encountered in the life she lived. IS THIS THE MAN? She remembered Mary's "I'd marry him tomorrow,"

and caught herself speculating on marrying Billy Roberts by the next dayif he asked her.

With eyes that dreamily desired to close, she moved on in the arms of this masterful, guiding pressure. A

PRIZEFIGHTER! She experienced a thrill of wickedness as she thought of what Sarah would say could she

Came an abrupt lengthening of step, the guiding pressure grew more compelling, and she was caught up and

carried along, though her velvetshod feet never left the floor. Then came the sudden control down to the

shorter step again, and she felt herself being held slightly from him so that he might look into her face and

laugh with her in joy at the exploit. At the end, as the band slowed in the last bars, they, too, slowed, their

dance fading with the music in a lengthening glide that ceased with the last lingering tone.

"We're sure cut out for each other when it comes to dancin'," he said, as they made their way to rejoin the

So low was her voice that he bent to hear, and saw the flush in her cheeks that seemed communicated to her

eyes, which were softly warm and sensuous. He took the program from her and gravely and gigantically

"Me for you, Saxon, for the next," was Bert's greeting, as they came up. "You take Mary for the next whirl,

"Nothin' doin', Bo," was the retort. "Me an' Saxon's framed up to last the day."

"Watch out for him, Saxon," Mary warned facetiously. "He's liable to get a crush ou you."

"All I got to say is you ain't wastin' any time gettin' together. Just the same, if' you can spare a few minutes

from each other after a couple more whirls, Mary an' me'd be complimented to have your presence at dinner."

"Quit your kiddin'," Billy laughed back, turning his head to look into Saxon's eyes. "Don't listen to 'em.

They're grouched because they got to dance together. Bert's a rotten dancer, and Mary ain't so much. Come

They had dinner in the openair, treewalled diningroom, and Saxon noted that it was Billy who paid the

reckoning for the four. They knew many of the young men and women at the other tables, and greetings and

fun flew back and forth. Bert was very possessive with Mary, almost roughly so, resting his hand on hers,

catching and holding it, and, once, forcibly slipping off her two rings and refusing to return them for a long

while. At times, when he put his arm around her waist, Mary promptly disengaged it; and at other times, with

And Saxon, talking little but studying Billy Roberts very intently, was satisfied that there would be an utter

difference in the way he would do such things . . . if ever he would do them. Anyway, he'd never paw a girl

as Bert and lots of the other fellows did. She measured the breadth of Billy's heavy shoulders.

"Nope," he agreed. "I'm only five feet eight an' threequarters. I guess it must be my weight."

"Oh, out it," Billy said quickly, a cloudrift of displeasure showing in his eyes. "I ain't a fighter. I ain't fought

"Yon got two hundred the night you put the Frisco Slasher to the bad," Bert urged proudly.

"Cut it. Cut it now.Say, Saxon, you ain't so big yourself, are you? But you're built just right if anybody

should ask you. You're round an' slender at the same time. I bet I can guess your weight."

"Everybody gnesses over it," she warned, while inwardly she was puzzled that she should at the same time be

"Not me," he was saying. "I'm a wooz at weightguessin'. Just you watch me." He regarded her critically, and

it was patent that warm approval played its little rivalry with the judgment of his gaze. "Wait a minute."

He reached over to her and felt her arm at the biceps. The pressure of the encircling fingers was firm and

honest, and Saxon thrilled to it. There was magic in this manboy. She would have known only irritation had

Bert or any other man felt her arm. But this man! IS HE THE MAN? she was questioning, when he voiced

"Your clothes don't weigh more'n seven pounds. And seven fromhumsay one hundred an'

"There you go again! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Look! You've got Saxon blushing!"

"An' if you keep on, Mary, you'll have me blushing," Billy growled. "I guess I know what's right an' what

ain't. It ain't what a guy says, but what he thinks. An' I'm thinkin' right, an' Saxon knows it. An' she an' I ain't

"Oh! Oh!" Mary cried. "You're gettin' worse an' worse. I never think such things."

"Whoa, Mary! Backup!" Bert checked her peremptorily. "You're in the wrong stall. Billy never makes

"Come on, Mary, an' be good, an' cut that stuff," was Billy's dismissal of her, as he turned to Saxon. "How

"One hundred and twentytwo," she answered, looking deliberately at Mary. "One twenty two with my

"I don't care," Mary protested, "You're terrible, both of youan' you, too, Saxon. I'd never athought it of

"Listen to me, kid," Bert began soothingly, as his arm slipped around her waist.

But in the false excitement she had worked herself into, Mary rudely repulsed the arm, and then, fearing that

she had wounded her lover's feelings, she took advantage of the teasing and banter to recover her good

humor. His arm was permitted to return, and with heads bent together, they talked in whispers.

"Say, you know, your name is a funny one. I never heard it tagged on anybody before. But it's all right. I like

"My mother gave it to me. She was educated, and knew all kinds of words. She was always reading books,

almost until she died. And she wrote lots and lots. I've got some of her poetry published in a San Jose

newspaper long ago. The Saxons were a race of peopleshe told me all about them when I was a little girl.

They were wild, like Indians, only they were white. And they had blue eyes, and yellow hair, and they were

"No, They lived in England. They were the first English, and you know the Americans came from the

English. We're Saxons, you an' me, an' Mary, an' Bert, and all the Americans that are real Americans, you

"My folks lived in America a long time," Billy said slowly, digesting the information she had given and

relating himself to it. "Anyway, my mother's folks did. They crossed to Maine hundreds of years ago."

"My father was 'State of Maine," she broke in, with a little gurgle of joy. "And my mother was horn in Ohio,

or where Ohio is now. She used to call it the Great Western Reserve. What was your father?"

"Don't know." Billy shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't know himself. Nobody ever knew, though he was

"His name's regular old American," Saxon suggested. "There's a big English general right now whose name is

"But Roberts wasn't my father's name. He never knew what his name was. Roberts was the name of a

goldminer who adopted him. You see, it was this way. When they was Indianfightin' up there with the

Modoc Indians, a lot of the miners an' settlers took a hand. Roberts was captain of one outfit, and once, after

a fight, they took a lot of prisonerssquaws, an' kids an' babies. An' one of the kids was my father. They

Saxon clapped her hands, and her eyes sparkled: "He'd been captured on an Indian raid!"

"That's the way they figured it," Billy nodded. "They recollected a wagontrain of Oregon settlers that'd been

killed by the Modocs four years before. Roberts adopted him, and that's why I don't know his real name. But

"An' my mother, too," Billy added, pride touching his own voice. "Anyway, she came pretty close to crossin'

the plains, because she was born in a wagon on the River Platte on the way out."

"My mother, too," said Saxon. "She was eight years old, an' she walked most of the way after the oxen began

"Put her there, kid," he said. "We're just like old friends, what with the same kind of folks behind us."

"Isn't it wonderful?" she murmured. "We're both old American stock. And if you aren't a Saxon there never

"I guess all our old folks was fighters when it comes to that. It come natural to 'em, an' doggone it, they just

"They're thicker'n mush in no time," Bert girded. "You'd think they'd known each other a week already."

"Oh, we knew each other longer than that," Saxon returned. "Before ever we were born our folks were

"When your folks was waitin' for the railroad to be built an' all the Indians killed off before they dasted to

start for California," was Billy's way of proclaiming the new alliance. "We're the real goods,Saxon an'n me, if

"Oh, I don't know," Mary boasted with quiet petulance. "My father stayed behind to fight in the Civil War.

"Well, they're all dead, ain't they?" was Bert's saturnine comment. "There ain't no difference dyin' in battle or

in the poorhouse. The thing is they're deado. I wouldn't care a rap if my father'd been hanged. It's all the same

in a thousand years. This braggin' about folks makes me tired. Besides, my father couldn't afought. He

wasn't born till two years after the war. Just the same, two of my uncles were killed at Gettysburg. Guess we

"We're here, ain't we?" he said. "An' that's what counts. The dead are dead, an' you can bet your sweet life

Mary put her hand over his mouth and began to chide him for his awfulness, whereupon he kissed the palm of

The merry clatter of dishes was increasing as the diningroom filled up. Here and there voices were raised in

snatches of song. There were shrill squeals and screams and bursts of heavier male laughter as the everlasting

skirmishing between the young men and girls played on. Among some of the men the signs of drink were

already manifest. At a near table girls were calling out to Billy. And Saxon, the sense of temporary

possession already strong on her, noted with jealous eyes that he was a favorite and desired object to them.

"Ain't they awful?" Mary voiced her disapproval. "They got a nerve. I know who they are. No respectable girl

"Oh, you Bill, you," one of them, a buxom young brunette, was calling. "Hope you ain't forgotten me, Bill."

Saxon flattered herself that he showed vexation, and she conceived an immense dislike for the brunette.

"Mebbe," he answered, and turned abruptly to Saxon. "Say, we old Americans oughta stick together, don't

you think? They ain't many of us left. The country's fillin' up with all kinds of foreigners."

He talked on steadily, in a low, confidential voice, head close to hers, as advertisement to the other girl that

From the next table on the opposite side, a young man had singled out Saxon. His dress was tough. His

companions, male and female, were tough. His face was inflamed, his eyes touched with wildness.

The girl beside him put her arm around his neck and tried to hush him, and through the mufflement of her

"I tell you she's some goods. Watch me go across an' win her from them cheap skates."

Saxon's eyes encountered the eyes of the girl, who glared hatred across at her. And in Billy's eyes she saw

moody anger smouldering. The eyes were more sullen, more handsome than ever, and clouds and veils and

lights and shadowe shifted and deepened in the blue of them until they gave her a sense of unfathomable

"Don't start a rough house, Bill," Bert cautioned. "They're from across the hay an' they don't know you, that's

Bert stood up suddenly, stepped over to the other table, whispered briefly, and came back. Every face at the

table was turned on Billy. The offendor arose brokenly, shook off the detaining hand of his girl, and came

over. He was a large man, with a hard, malignant face and bitter eyes. Also, he was a subdued man.

"You're Big Bill Roberts," he said thickly, clinging to the table as he reeled. "I take my hat off to you. I

apologire. I admire your taste in skirts, an' take it from me that's a compliment; but I did'nt know who you

was. If I'd knowed you was Bill Roberts there wouldn't been a peep from my flytrap. D'ye get me? I

Gruffly, Billy said, "It's all rightforget it, sport;" and sullenly he shook hands and with a slow, massive

Saxon was glowing. Here was a man, a protector, something to lean against, of whom even the Butchertown

After dinner there were two dances in the pavilion, and then the band led the way to the race track for the

games. The dancers followed, and all through the grounds the picnic parties left their tables to join in. Five

thousand packed the grassy slopes of the amphitheater and swarmed inside the race track. Here, first of the

events, the men were lining up for a tug of war. The contest was between the Oakland Bricklayers and the

San Francisco Bricklayers, and the picked braves, huge and heavy, were taking their positions along the rope.

They kicked heelholds in the soft earth, rubbed their hands with the soil from underfoot, and laughed and

The judges and watchers struggled vainly to keep back this crowd of relatives and friends. The Celtic blood

was up, and the Celtic faction spirit ran high. The air was filled with cries of cheer, advice, warning, and

threat. Many elected to leave the side of their own team and go to the side of the other team with the intention

of circumventing foul play. There were as many women as men among the jostling supporters. The dust from

the trampling, scuffling feet rose in the air, and Mary gasped and coughed and begged Bert to take her away.

But he, the imp in him elated with the prospect of trouble, insisted on urging in closer. Saxon clung to Billy,

"No place for a girl," he grumbled, looking down at her with a masked expression of absentmindedness,

while his elbow powerfully crushed on the ribs of a big Irishman who gave room. "Things'll break loose

when they start pullin'. They's been too much drink, an' you know what the Micks are for a rough house."

Saxon was very much out of place among these largebodied men and women. She seemed very small and

childlike, delicate and fragile, a creature from another race. Only Billy's skilled bulk and muscle saved her.

He was continually glancing from face to face of the women and always returning to study her face, nor was

Some excitement occurred a score of feet away from them, and to the sound of exclamations and blows a

surge ran through the crowd. A large man, wedged sidewise in the jam, was shoved against Saxon, crushing

her closely against Billy, who reached across to the man's shoulder with a massive thrust that was not so slow

as usual. An involuntary grunt came from the victim, who turned his head, showing sunreddened blond skin

"Get off your foot; you're standin' on it," was Billy's contemptuous reply, emphasized by an increase of

The Irishman grunted again and made a frantic struggle to twist his body around, but the wedging bodies on

"I'll break yer ugly face for yeh in a minute," he announced in wraththick tones.

Then his own face underwent transformation. The snarl left the lips, and the angry eyes grew genial.

"An' sure an' it's yerself," he said. "I didn't know it was yeh ashovin'. I seen yeh lick the Terrible Swede, if

"No, you didn't, Bo," Billy answered pleasantly. "You saw me take a good beatin' that night. The decision

The Irishman was now beaming. He had endeavored to pay a compliment with a lie, and the prompt

"Sure, an' a bad beatin' it was," he acknowledged, "but yeh showed the grit of a bunch of wildcats. Soon as I

can get me arm free I'm goin' to shake yeh by the hand an' help yeh aise yer young lady."

Frustrated in the struggle to get the crowd back, the referee fired his revolver in the air, and the tugofwar

was on. Pandemonium broke loose. Saxon, protected by the two big men, was near enough to the front to see

much that ensued. The men on the rope pulled and strained till their faces were red with effort and their joints

crackled. The rope was new, and, as their hands slipped, their wives and daughters sprang in, scooping up the

earth in double handfuls and pouring it on the rope and the hands of their men to give them better grip.

A stout, middleaged woman, carried beyond herself by the passion of the contest, seized the rope and pulled

beside her husband, encouraged him with loud cries. A watcher from the opposing team dragged her

screaming away and was dropped like a steer by an earblow from a partisan from the woman's team. He, in

turn, went down, and brawny women joined with their men in the battle. Vainly the judges and watchers

begged, pleaded, yelled, and swung with their fists. Men, as well as women, were springing in to thc rope and

pulling. No longer was it team against team, but all Oakland against all San Francisco, festooned with a

freeforall fight. Hands overlaid hands two and three deep in the struggle to grasp the rope. And hands that

found no holds, doubled into bunches of knuckles that impacted on the jaws of the watchers who strove to

Bert yelped with joy, while Mary clung to him, mad with fear. Close to the rope the fighters were going down

and being trampled. The dust arose in clouds, while from beyond, all around, unable to get into the battle,

could be heard the shrill and impotent ragescreams and rageyells of women and men.

"Dirty work, dirty work," Billy muttered over and over; and, though he saw much that occurred, assisted by

the friendly Irishman he was coolly and safely working Saxon back out of the melee.

At last the break came. The losing team, accompanied by its host of volunteers, was dragged in a rush over

the ground and disappeared under the avalanche of battling forms of the onlookers.

Leaving Saxon under the protection of the Irishman in an outer eddy of calm, Billy plunged back into the

mixup. Several minutes later he emerged with the missing coupleBert bleeding from a blow on the ear,

"Aw, wait," Bert begged. "It's worth eight dollars. It's cheap at any price. I ain't seen so many black eyes and

"Well, go on back an' enjoy yourself," Billy commended. "I'll take the girls up there on the side hill where we

can look on. But I won't give much for your good looks if some of them Micks lands on you."

The trouble was over in an amazingly short time, for from the judges' stand beside the track the announcer

was bellowing the start of the boys' footrace; and Bert, disappointed, joined Billy and the two girls on the

There were boys' races and girls' races, races of young women and old women, of fat men and fat women,

sack races and threelegged races, and the contestants strove around the small track through a Bedlam of

cheering supporters. The tugofwar was already forgotten, and good nature reigned again.

Five young men toed the mark, crouching with fingertips to the ground and waiting the starter's

revolvershot. Three were in their stockingfeet, and the remaining two wore spiked runningshoes.

"Young men's race," Bert read from the program. "An' only one prizetwentyfive dollars. See the

redhead with the spikesthe one next to the outside. San Francisco's set on him winning. He's their crack,

"How can I tell!" he answered. "I never saw any of 'em before. But they all look good to me. May the best

The revolver was fired, and the five runners were off and away. Three were outdistanced at the start. Redhead

led, with a blackhaired young man at his shoulder, and it was plain that the race lay between these two.

Halfway around, the blackhaired one took the lead in a spurt that was intended to last to the finish. Ten feet

"The boy's a streak," Billy commented. "He ain't tryin' his hardest, an' Redhead's just bustin' himself."

Still ten feet in the lead, the blackhaired one breasted the tape in a hubbub of cheers. Yet yells of

"Mmmm," he gloated. "Ain't Frisco sore? Watch out for fireworks now. See! He's bein' challenged. The

judges ain't payin' him the money. An' he's got a gang behind him. Oh! Oh! Oh! Ain't had so much fun since

"The Frisco bunch is challengin' him for a professional," Billy elucidated. "That's what they're all beefin'

about. But it ain't right. They all ran for that money, so they're all professional."

The crowd surged and argued and roared in front of the judges' stand. The stand was a rickety, twostory

affair, the second story open at the front, and here the judges could be seen debating as heatedly as the crowd

The blackhaired racer, backed by a dozen supporters, was climbing the outside stairs to the judges.

"The purseholder's his friend," Billy said. "See, he's paid him, an' some of the judges is willin' an' some are

beefin'. An' now that other gang's going upthey're Redhead's." He turned to Saxon with a reassuring smile.

"We're well out of it this time. There's goin' to be rough stuff down there in a minute."

"The judges are tryin' to make him give the money back," Bert explained. "An' if he don't the other gang'll

High above his head, the winner held the roll of paper containing the twentyfive silver dollars. His gang,

around him, was shouldering back those who tried to seize the money. No blows had been struck yet, but the

struggle increased until the frail structure shook and swayed. From the crowd beneath the winner was

variously addressed: "Give it baok, you dog!" "Hang on to it, Tim!" "You won fair, Timmy!" "Give it back,

you dirty robber!" Abuse unprintable as well as friendly advice was hurled at him.

The struggle grew more violent. Tim's supporters strove to hold him off the floor so that his hand would still

be above the grasping hands that shot up. Once, for an instant, his arm was jerked down. Again it went up.

But evidently the paper had broken, and with a last desperate effort, before he went down, Tim flung the coin

out in a silvery shower upon the heads of the crowd beneath. Then ensued a weary period of arguing and

"I wish they'd finish, so as we could get back to the dancin'," Mary complained. "This ain't no fun."

Slowly and painfully the judges' stand was cleared, and an announcer, stepping to the front of the stand,

"The judges have decided," he shouted, "that this day of good fellowship an' brotherhood"

"Hear! Hear!" Many of the cooler heads applauded. "That's the stuff!" "No fightin'!" "No hard feelin's!"

"An' therefore," the announcer became audible again, "the judges have decided to put up another purse of

"An' Tim?" bellowed scores of throats. "What about Tim?" "He's been robbed!" "The judges is rotten!"

"The judges have decided, for the sake of good feelin', that Timothy McManus will also run. If he wins, the

"Now wouldn't that jar you?" Billy grumbled disgustedly. "If Tim's eligible now, he was eligible the first

"An' so will Tim," Billy rejoined. "You can bet he's mad clean through, and he'll let out the links he was

Another quarter of an hour was spent in clearing the track of the excited crowd, and this time only Tim and

The leap of Tim, at the report of the revolver, put him a clean yard in the lead.

"I guess he's professional, all right, all right," Billy remarked. "An' just look at him go!"

Halfway around, Tim led by fifty feet, and, running swiftly, maintaining the same lead, he came down the

homestretch an easy winner. When directly beneath the group on the hillside, the incredible and unthinkable

happened. Standing close to the inside edge of the track was a dapper young man with a light switch cane. He

was distinctly out of place in such a gathering, for upon him was no earmark of the working class.

Afterward, Bert was of the opinion that he looked like a swell dancing master, while Billy called him "the

So far as Timothy McManus was concerned, the dapper young man was destiny; for as Tim passed him, the

young man, with utmost deliberation, thrust his cane between Tim's flying legs. Tim sailed through the air in

a headlong pitch, struck spreadeagled on his face, and plowed along in a cloud of dust.

There was an instant of vast and gasping silence. The young man, too, seemed petrified by the ghastliness of

his deed. It took an approciable interval of time for him, as well as for the onlookers, to realize what he had

done. They recovered first, and from a thousand throats the wild Irish yell went up. Redhead won the race

without a cheer. The storm center had shifted to the young man with the cane. After the yell, he had one

"Go it, sport!" Bert cheered, waving his hat in the air. "You're the goods for me! Who'd athought it? Who'd

"Phew! He's a streak himself," Billy admired. "But what did he do it for? He's no bricklayer."

Like a frightened rabbit, the mad roar at his heels, the young man tore up the track to an open space on the

hillside, up which he clawed and disappeared among the trees. Behind him toiled a hundred vengeful runners.

"It's too bad he's missing the rest of it," Billy said. "Look at 'em goin' to it."

The Oakland faction was outraged. Twice had its favorite runner been jobbed out of the race. This last was

only another vile trick of the Frisco faction. So Oakland doubled its brawny fists and swung into San

Francisco for blood. And San Francisco, consciously innocent, was no less willing to join issues. To be

charged with such a crime was no less monstrous than the crime itself. Besides, for too many tedious hours

had the Irish heroically suppressed themselves. Five thousands of them exploded into joyous battle. The

women joined with them. The whole amphitheater was filled with the conflict. There were rallies, retreats,

charges, and countercharges. Weaker groups were forced fighting up the hillsides. Other groups, bested,

fled among the trees to carry on guerrilla warfare, emerging in sudden dashes to overwhelm isolated enemies.

Half a dozen special policemen, hired by the Weasel Park management, received an impartial trouncing from

"Nohody's the friend of a policeman," Bert chortled, dabbing his handkerchief to his injured ear, which still

The bushes crackled behind him, and he sprang aside to let the locked forms of two men go by, rolling over

and over down the hill, each striking when uppermost, and followed by a screaming woman who rained

The judges, in the second story of the stand, valiantly withstood a fierce assault until the frail structure

"What's that woman doing?" Saxon asked, calling attention to an elderly woman beneath them on the track,

who had sat down and was pulling from her foot an elasticsided shoe of generous dimensions.

They watched, fascinated. The shoe was pulled on again over the bare foot. Then the woman slipped a rock

the size of her fist into the stocking, and, brandishing this ancient and horrible weapon, lumbered into the

"Oh!Oh!Oh!" Bert screamed, with every blow she struck "Hey, old flannelmouth! Watch out! You'll

get yours in a second. Oh! Oh! A peach! Did you see it? Hurray for the old lady! Look at her tearin' into 'em!

His voice died away regretfully, as the one with the stocking, whose hair had been clutched from behind by

"Go it, old girl!" he encouraged. "You win! Me for you every time! Now's your chance! Swat! Oh! My! A

"It's the biggest roughhouse I ever saw," Billy confided to Saxon. "It sure takes the Micks to mix it. But

what did that dude wanta do it for? That's what gets me. He wasn't a bricklayernot even a

workingmanjust a regular sissy dude that didn't know a livin' soul in the grounds. But if he wanted to raise

"It's that dude," Billy explained between gusts. "What did he wanta do it for? That's what gets my goat.

There was more crashing in the brush, and two women erupted upon the scene, one in flight, the other

pursuing. Almost ere they could realize it, the little group found itself merged in the astounding conflict that

covered, if not the face of creation, at least all the visible landscape of Weasel Park.

The fleeing woman stumbled in rounding the end of a picnic bench, and would have been caught had she not

seized Mary's arm to recover balance, and then flung Mary full into the arms of the woman who pursued.

This woman, largely built, middleaged, and too irate to comprehend, clutched Mary's hair by one hand and

lifted the other to smack her. Before the blow could fall, Billy had seized both the woman's wrists.

"Come on, old girl, cut it out," he said appeasingly. "You're in wrong. She ain't done nothin'."

Then the woman did a strange thing. Making no resistance, but maintaining her hold on the girl's hair, she

stood still and calmly began to scream. The scream was hideously compounded of fright and fear. Yet in her

face was neither fright nor fear. She regarded Billy coolly and appraisingly, as if to see how he took ither

"Aw, shut up, you battleax!" Bert vociferated, trying to drag her off by the shoulders.

The result was that The four rocked back and forth, while the woman calmly went on screaming. The scream

Saxon saw Billy's slow eyes glint suddenly to the hardness of steel, and at the same time she saw him put

pressure on his wristholds. The woman released her grip on Mary and was shoved back and free. Then the

first man of the rescue was upon them. He did not pause to inquire into the merits of the affair. It was

sufficient that he saw the woman reeling away from Billy and screaming with pain that was largely feigned.

The Irishman swung ponderously. Billy ducked, cutting his apology short, and as the sledgelike fist passed

over his head, he drove his left to the other's jaw. The big Irishman toppled over sidewise and sprawled on the

edge of the slope. Halfscrambled back to his feet and out of balance, he was caught by Bert's fist, and this

time went clawing down the slope that was slippery with short, dry grass. Bert was redoubtable. "That for

you, old girlmy compliments," was his cry, as he shoved the woman over the edge on to the treacherous

In the meantime, Billy had put Saxon in behind the protection of the picnic table. Mary, who was hysterical,

had evinced a desire to cling to him, and he had sent her sliding across the top of the table to Saxon.

"Come on, you flannelmouths!" Bert yelled at the newcomers, himself swept away by passion, his black

eyes flashing wildly, his dark face inflamed by the tooready blood. "Come on, you cheap skates! Talk about

"Shut your trapwe don't want a scrap with the girls here," Billy growled harshly, holding his position in

front of the table. He turned to the three rescuers, who were bewildered by the lack of anything visible to

rescue. "Go on, sports. We don't want a row. You're in wrong. They ain't nothin' doin' in the fight line. We

They still hesitated, and Billy might have succeeded in avoiding trouble had not the man who had gone down

the bank chosen that unfortunate moment to reappear, crawling groggily on hands and knees and showing a

bleeding face. Again Bert reached him and sent him downslope, and the other three, with wild yells, sprang in

on Billy, who punched, shifted position, ducked and punched, and shifted again ere he struck the thiird time.

His blows were clean end hard, scientifically delivered, with the weight of his body behind.

Saxon, looking on, saw his eyes and learned more about him. She was frightened, but clearseeing, and she

was startled by the disappearance of all depth of light and shadow in his eyes. They showed surface onlya

hard, bright surface, almost glazed, devoid of all expression save deadly seriousness. Bert's eyes showed

madness. The eyes of the Irishmen were angry and serious, and yet not all serious. There was a wayward

gleam in them, as if they enjoyed the fracas. But in Billy's eyes was no enjoyment. It was as if he had certain

Scarcely more expression did she note in the face, though there was nothing in common between it and the

one she had seen all day. The boyishness had vanished. This face was mature in a terrifying, ageless way.

There was no anger in it, Nor was it even pitiless. It seemed to have glazed as hard and passionlessly as his

eyes. Something came to her of her wonderful mother's tales of the ancient Saxons, and he seemed to her one

of those Saxons, and she caught a glimpse, on the well of her consciousness, of a long, dark boat, with a prow

like the beak of a bird of prey, and of huge, halfnaked men, winghelmeted, and one of their faces, it

seemed to her, was his face. She did not reason this. She felt it, and visioned it as by an unthinkable

clairvoyance, and gasped, for the flurry of war was over. It had lasted only seconds, Bert was dancing on the

edge of the slippery slope and mocking the vanquished who had slid impotently to the bottom. But Billy took

"Come on, you girls," he commanded. "Get onto yourself, Bert. We got to get onta this. We can't fight an

He led the retreat, holding Saxon's arm, and Bert, giggling and jubilant, brought up the rear with an indignant

For a hundred yards they ran and twisted through the trees, and then, no signs of pursuit appearing, they

slowed down to a dignified saunter. Bert, the troubleseeker, pricked his ears to the muffled sound of blows

They joined him on the edge of a dry ditch and looked down. In the bottom were two men, strays from the

fight, grappled together and still fighting. They were weeping out of sheer fatigue and helplessness, and the

"Hey, you, sportthrow sand in his eyes," Bert counseled. "That's it, blind him an' he's your'n."

"Stop that!" Billy shouted at the man, who was following instructions, "Or I'll come down there an' beat you

up myself. It's all overd'ye get me? It's all over an' everybody's friends. Shake an' make up. The drinks are

"It soon will be over," Billy grinned to Saxon. "I know 'em. Fight's fun with them. An' this big scrap's made

A group of disheveled men and women, still breathing heavily, were shaking hands all around.

"Come on, let's dance," Mary pleaded, urging them in the direction of the pavilion.

All over the park the warring bricklayers were shaking hands and making up, while the openair bars were

Saxon walked very close to Billy. She was proud of him. He could fight, and he could avoid trouble. In all

that had occurred he had striven to avoid trouble. And, also, consideration for her and Mary had been

"It's like takin' candy from a baby," he disclaimed. "They only roughhouse. They don't know boxin'. They're

wide open, an' all you gotta do is hit 'em. It ain't real fightin', you know." With a troubled, boyish look in his

eyes, he stared at his bruised knuckles. "An' I'll have to drive team tomorrow with 'em," he lamented.

At eight o'clock the Al Vista band played "Home, Sweet Home," and, following the hurried rush through the

twilight to the picnic train, the four managed to get double seats facing each other. When the aisles and

platforms were packed by the hilarious crowd, the train pulled out for the short run from the suburbs into

Oakland. All the car was singing a score of songs at once, and Bert, his head pillowed on Mary's breast with

her arms around him, started "On the Banks of the Wabash." And he sang the song through, undeterred by the

bedlam of two general fights, one on the adjacent platform, the other at the opposite end of the car, both of

which were finally subdued by special policemen to the screams of women and the crash of glass.

Billy sang a lugubrious song of many stanzas about a cowboy, the refrain of which was, "Bury me out on the

"That's one you never heard before; my father used to sing it," he told Saxon, who was glad that it was ended.

She had discovered the first flaw in him. He was tonedeaf. Not once had he been on the key.

"You bet your sweet life he don't," Bert exclaimed. "His friends'd kill him if he did."

"They all make fun of my singin'," he complained to Saxon. "Honest, now, do you find it as rotten as all

"It don't sound flat to me," he protested. "It's a regular josh on me. I'll bet Bert put you up to it. You sing

She began "When the Harvest Days Are Over." Bert and Mary joined in; but when Billy attempted to add his

voice he was dissuaded by a shinkick from Bert. Saxon sang in a clear, true soprano, thin but sweet, and she

"Now THAT is singing what is," he proclaimed, when she had finished. "Sing it again. Aw, go on. You do it

His hand slipped to hers and gathered it in, and as she sang again she felt the tide of his strength flood

"Look at 'em holdin' hands," Bert jeered. "Just aholdin' hands like they was afraid. Look at Mary an' me,

Come on an' kick in, you coldfeets. Get together. If you don't, it'll look suspicious. I got my suspicions

"Shut up!" Mary added the weight of her indignation. "You're awfully raw, Bert Wanhope, an' I won't have

She withdrew her arms and shoved him away, only to receive him forgivingly half a dozen seconds

"Come on, the four of us," Bert went on irrepressibly. "The night's young. Let's make a time of itPabst's

Cafe first, and then some. What you say, Bill? What you say, Saxon? Mary's game."

Saxon waited and wondered, half sick with apprehension of this man beside her whom she had known so

"Nope," he said slowly. "I gotta get up to a hard day's work tomorrow, and I guess the girls has got to, too."

Saxon forgave him his tonedeafness. Here was the kind of man she always had known existed. It was for

some such man that she had waited. She was twentytwo, and her first marriage offer had come when she

was sixteen. The last had occurred only the month before, from the foreman of the washingroom, and he

had been good and kind, but not young. But this one beside herhe was strong and kind and good, and

YOUNG. She was too young herself not to desire youth. There would have been rest from fancy starch with

the foreman, but there would have been no warmth. But this man beside her.... She caught herself on the

"No, Bert, don't tease he's right," Mary was saying. "We've got to get some sleep. It's fancy starch

It came to Saxon with a chill pang that she was surely older than Billy. She stole glances at the smoothness of

his face, and the essential boyishness of him, so much desired, shocked her. Of course he would marry some

girl years younger than himself, than herself. How old was he? Could it be that he was too young for her? As

he seemed to grow insecessible, she was drawn toward him more compellingly. He was so strong, so gentle.

She lived over the events of the day. There was no flaw there. He had considered her and Mary, always. And

he had torn the program up and danced only with her. Surely he had liked her, or he would not have done it.

She slightly moved her hand in his and felt the harsh contact of his teamster callouses. The sensation was

exquisite. He, too, moved his hand, to accommodate the shift of hers, and she waited fearfully. She did not

want him to prove like other men, and she could have hated him had he dared to take advantage of that slight

movement of her fingers and put his arm around her. He did not, and she flamed toward him. There was

fineness in him. He was neither rattlebrained, like Bert, nor coarse like other men she had encountered. For

she had had experiences, not nice, and she had been made to suffer by the lack of what was termed chivalry,

And he was a prizefighter. The thought of it almost made her gasp. Yet he answered not at all to her

conception of a prizefighter. But, then, he wasn't a prizefighter. He had said he was not. She resolved to ask

him about it some time if . . . if he took her out again. Yet there was little doubt of that, for when a man

danced with one girl a whole day he did not drop her immediately. Almost she hoped that he was a

prizefighter. There was a delicious tickle of wickedness about it. Prizefighters were such terrible and

mysterious men. In so far as they were out of the ordinary and were not mere common workingmen such as

carpenters and laundrymen, they represented romance. Power also they represented. They did not work for

bosses, but spectacularly and magnificently, with their own might, grappled with the great world and wrung

splendid living from its reluctant hands. Some of them even owned automobiles and traveled with a retinue of

trainers and servants. Perhaps it had been only Billy's modesty that made him say he had quit fighting. And

They said goodbye at the gate. Billy betrayed awkwardness that was sweet to Saxon. He was not one of the

takeitforgranted young men. There was a pause, while she feigned desire to go into the house, yet waited

"I live 'way up in East Oakland," he explained. "You know there's where the stable is, an' most of our teaming

is done in that section, so I don't knock around down this way much. But, say" His hand tightened on hers.

"We just gotta dance together some more. I'll tell you, the Orindore Club has its dance Wednesday. If you

And when they had arranged the details, and he had agreed that she should dance some of the dances with the

other fellows, and said good night again, his hand closed more tightly on hers and drew her toward him. She

resisted slightly, but honestly. It was the custom, but she felt she ought not for fear he might misunderstand.

And yet she wanted to kiss him as she had never wanted to kiss a man. When it came, her face upturned to

his, she realized that on his part it was an honest kiss. There hinted nothing behind it. Rugged and kind as

himself, it was virginal almost, and betrayed no long practice in the art of saying goodbye. All men were not

"Good night," she murmured; the gate screeched under her hand; and she hurried along the narrow walk that

But in the shadow of the narrow alley between the two houses she stood still and pleasured in the ring of his

foot falls down the cement sidewalk. Not until they had quite died away did she go on. She crept up the back

stairs and across the kitchen to her room, registering her thanksgiving that Sarah was asleep.

She lighted the gas, and, as she removed the little velvet hat, she felt her lips still tingling with the kiss. Yet it

had meant nothing. It was the way of the young men. They all did it. But their goodnight kisses had never

tingled, while this one tingled in her brain as wall as on her lip. What was it? What did it mean? With a

sudden impulse she looked at herself in the glass. The eyes were happy and bright. The color that tinted her

cheeks so easily was in them and glowing. It was a pretty reflection, and she smiled, partly in joy, partly in

appreciation, and the smile grew at sight of the even rows of strong white teeth. Why shouldn't Billy like that

face? was her unvoiced query. Other men had liked it. Other men did like it. Even the other girls admitted she

was a goodlooker. Charley Long certainly liked it from the way he made life miserable for her.

She glanced aside to the rim of the lookingglass where his photograph was wedged, shuddered, and made a

moue of distaste. There was cruelty in those eyes, and brutishness. He was a brute. For a year, now, he had

bullied her. Other fellows were afraid to go with her. He warned them off. She had been forced into almost

slavery to his attentions. She remembered the young bookkeeper at the laundrynot a workingman, but a

softhanded, softvoiced gentlemanwhom Charley had beaten up at the corner because he had been bold

enough to come to take her to the theater. And she had been helpless. For his own sake she had never dared

And now, Wednesday night, she was going with Billy. Billy! Her heart leaped. There would be trouble, but

With a quick movement, she jerked the photograph from its niche and threw it face down upon the chest of

drawers. It fell beside a small square case of dark and tarnished leather. With a feeling as of profanation she

again seized the offending photograph and flung it across the room into a corner. At the same time she picked

up the leather case. Springing it open, she gazed at the daguerreotype of a worn little woman with steady gray

eyes and a hopeful, pathetic mouth. Opposite, on the velvet lining, done in gold lettering, was, CARLTON

FROM DAISY. She read it reverently, for it represented the father she had never known, and the mother she

had so little known, though she could never forget that those wise sad eyes were gray.

Despite lack of conventional religion, Saxon's nature was deeply religious. Her thoughts of God were vague

and nebulous, and there she was frankly puzzled. She could not vision God. Here, in the daguerreotype, was

the concrete; much she had grasped from it, and always there seemed an infinite more to grasp. She did not

go to church. This was her high altar and holy of holies. She came to it in trouble, in loneliness, for counsel,

divination, end comfort. In so far as she found herself different from the girls of her acquaintance, she

quested here to try to identify her characteristics in the pictured face. Her mother had been different from

other women, too. This, forsooth, meant to her what God meant to others. To this she strove to be true, and

not to hurt nor vex. And how little she really knew of her mother, and of how much was conjecture and

surmise, she was unaware; for it was through many years she had erected this mothermyth.

Yet was it all myth? She resented the doubt with quick jealousy, and, opening the bottom drawer of the chest,

drew forth a battered portfolio. Out rolled manuscripts, faded and worn, and arose a faint far scent of

sweetkept age. The writing was delicate and curled, with the quaint fineness of half a century before. She

"Sweet as a windlute's airy strains Your gentle muse has learned to sing, And California's boundless plains

She wondered, for the thousandth time, what a windlute was; yet much of beauty, much of beyondness, she

sensed of this dimly remembered beautiful mother of hers. She communed a while, then unrolled a second

manuscript. "To C. B.," it read. To Carlton Brown, she knew, to her father, a lovepoem from her mother.

"I have stolen away from the crowd in the groves, Where the nude statues stand, and the leaves point and

shiver At ivycrowned Bacchus, the Queen of the Loves, Pandora and Psyche, struck voiceless forever."

This, too, was beyond her. But she breathed the beauty of it. Bacchus, and Pandora and Psychetalismans to

conjure with! But alas! the necromancy was her mother's. Strange, meaningless words that meant so much!

Her marvelous mother had known their meaning. Saxon spelled the three words aloud, letter by letter, for she

did not dare their pronunciation; and in her consciousness glimmered august connotations, profound and

unthinkable. Her mind stumbled and halted on the starbright and dazzling boundaries of a world beyond her

world in which her mother had roamed at will. Again and again, solemnly, she went over the four lines. They

were radiance and light to the world, haunted with phantoms of pain and unrest, in which she had her being.

There, hidden among those cryptic singing lines, was the clue. If she could only grasp it, all would be made

clear. Of this she was sublimely confident. She would understand Sarah's sharp tongue, her unhappy brother,

the cruelty of Charley Long, the justness of the bookkeeper's beating, the daylong, monthlong, yearlong

"The dusk of the greenhouse is luminous yet With quivers of opal and tremors of gold; For the sun is at rest,

"Flushes faintly the brow of a naiad that stands In the spray of a fountain, whose seedamethysts Tremble

lightly a moment on bosom and hands, Then dip in their basin from bosom and wrists."

"It's beautiful, just beautiful," she sighed. And then, appalled at the length of all the poem, at the volume of

the mystery, she rolled the manuscript and put it away. Again she dipped in the drawer, seeking the clue

This time it was a small package, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbon. She opened it carefully, with

the deep gravity and circumstance of a priest before an altar. Appeared a little redsatin Spanish girdle,

whaleboned like a tiny corset, pointed, the pioneer finery of a frontier woman who had crossed the plains. It

was handmade after the CaliforniaSpanish model of forgotten days. The very whalebone had been

homeshaped of the raw material from the whaleships traded for in hides and tallow. The black lace

trimming her mother had made. The triple edging of black velvet stripsher mother's hands had sewn the

Saxon dreamed over it in a maze of incoherent thought. This was concrete. This she understood. This she

worshiped as mancreated gods have been worshiped on less tangible evidence of their sojourn on earth.

Twentytwo inches it measured around. She knew it out of many verifications. She stood up and put it about

her waist. This was part of the ritual. It almost met. In places it did meet. Without her dress it would meet

everywhere as it had met on her mother. Closest of all, this survival of old CaliforniaVentura days brought

Saxon in touch. Hers was her mother's form. Physically, she was like her mother. Her grit, her ability to turn

off work that was such an amazement to others, were her mother's. Just so had her mother been an

amazement to her generationher mother, the toylike creature, the smallest and tha youngest of the

strapping pioneer brood, who nevertheless had mothered the brood. Always it had been her wisdom that was

sought, even by the brothers and sisters a dozen years her senior. Daisy, it was, who had put her tiny foot

down and commanded the removal from the fever flatlands of Colusa to the healthy mountains of Ventura;

who had backed the savage old Indianfighter of a father into a corner and fought the entire family that Vila

might marry the man of her choice; who had flown in the face of the family and of community morality and

demanded the divorce of Laura from her criminally weak husband; and who on the other hand, had held the

branches of the family together when only misunderstanding and weak humanness threatened to drive them

The peacemaker and the warrior! All the old tales trooped before Saxon's eyes. They were sharp with detail,

for she had visioned them many times, though their content was of things she had never seen. So far as details

were concerned, they were her own creation, for she had never seen an ox, a wild Indian, nor a prairie

schooner. Yet, palpitating and real, shimmering in the sunflashed dust of ten thousand hoofs, she saw pass,

from East to West, across a continent, the great hegira of the landhungry AngloSaxon. It was part and fiber

of her. She had been nursed on its traditions and its facts from the lips of those who had taken part. Clearly

she saw the long wagontrain, the lean, gaunt men who walked before, the youths goading the lowing oxen

that fell and were goaded to their feet to fall again. And through it all, a flying shuttle, weaving the golden

dazzling thread of personality, moved the form of her little, indomitable mother, eight years old, and nine ere

the great traverse was ended, a necromancer and a lawgiver, willing her way, and the way and the willing

Saxon saw Punch, the little, roughcoated Skyeterrier with the honest eyes (who had plodded for weary

months), gone lame and abandoned; she saw Daisy, the chit of a child, hide Punch in the wagon. She saw the

savage old worried father discover the added burden of the several pounds to the dying oxen. She saw his

wrath, as he held Punch by the scruff of the neck. And she saw Daisy, between the muzzle of the

longbarreled rifle and the little dog. And she saw Daisy thereafter, through days of alkali and heat, walking,

stumbling, in the dust of the wagons, the little sick dog, like a baby, in her arms.

But most vivid of all, Saxon saw the fight at Little Meadowand Daisy, dressed as for a gala day, in white, a

ribbon sash about her waist, ribbons and a roundcomb in her hair, in her hands small waterpails, step forth

into the sunshine on the flowergrown open ground from the wagon circle, wheels interlocked, where the

wounded screamed their delirium and babbled of flowing fountains, and go on, through the sunshine and the

wonderinhibition of the bulletdealing Indians, a hundred yards to the waterhole and back again.

Saxon kissed the little, red satin Spanish girdle passionately, and wrapped it up in haste, with dewy eyes,

abandoning the mystery and godhead of mother and all the strange enigma of living.

In bed, she projected against her closed eyelids the few rich scenes of her mother that her childmemory

retained. It was her favorite way of wooing sleep. She had done it all her lifesunk into the deathblackness

of sleep with her mother limned to the last on her fading consciousness. But this mother was not the Daisy of

the plains nor of the daguerreotype. They had been before Saxon's time. This that she saw nightly was an

older mother, broken with insomnia and brave with sorrow, who crept, always crept, a pale, frail creature,

gentle and unfaltering, dying from lack of sleep, living by will, and by will refraining from going mad, who,

nevertheless, could not will sleep, and whom not even the whole tribe of doctors could make sleep.

Creptalways she crept, about the house, from weary bed to weary chair and back again through long days

and weeks of torment, never complaining, though her unfailing smile was twisted with pain, and the wise

gray eyes, still wise and gray, were grown unutterably larger and profoundly deep.

But on this night Saxon did not win to sleep quickly; the little creeping mother came and went; and in the

intervals the face of Billy, with the clouddrifted, sullen, handsome eyes, burned against her eyelids. And

once again, as sleep welled up to smother her, she put to herself the question IS THIS THE MAN?

Tun work in the ironingroom slipped off, but the three days until Wednesday night were very long. She

"I can't see how you do it," Mary admired. "You'll make thirteen or fourteen this week at that rate."

Saxon laughed, and in the steam from the iron she saw dancing golden letters that spelled WEDNESDAY.

"Better not," came the warning. "You'll only make trouble for yourself. He ain't marryin'. Many a girl's found

"He's not . . . not . . ." she began, than looked the significance of the question she could not complete.

"Oh, nothin' like thatthough there's nothin' to stop him. He's straight, all right, all right. But he just won't

fall for anything in skirts. He dances, an' runs around, an' has a good time, an' beyond thatnitsky. A lot of

'em's got fooled on him. I bet you there's a dozen girls in love with him right now. An' he just goes on turnin'

'em down. There was Lily Sandersonyou know her. You seen her at that Slavonic picnic last summer at

"Well, she'd been runnin' with Butch Willows pretty steady, an' just because she could dance, Billy dances a

lot with her. Butch ain't afraid of nothin'. He wades right in for a showdown, an' nails Billy outside, before

everybody, an' reads the riot act. An' Billy listens in that slow, sleepy way of his, an' Butch gets hotter an'

"An' then Billy says to Butch, 'Are you done?' 'Yes,' Butch says; 'I've said my say, an' what are you goin' to

do about it?' An' Billy saysan' what d'ye think he said, with everybody lookin' on an' Butch with blood in

his eye? Well, he said, 'I guess nothin', Butch.' Just like that. Butch was that surprised you could knocked him

over with a feather. 'An' never dance with her no more?' he says. 'Not if you say I can't, Butch,' Billy says.

"Well, you know, any other man to take water the way he did from Butchwhy, everybody'd despise him.

But not Billy. You see, he can afford to. He's got a rep as a fighter, an' when he just stood back 'an' let Butch

have his way, everybody knew he wasn't scared, or backin' down, or anything. He didn't care a rap for Lily

The telling of this episode caused Saxon no little worry. Hers was the average woman's pride, but in the

matter of manconquering prowess she was not unduly conceited. Billy had enjoyed her dancing, and she

wondered if that were all. If Charley Long bullied up to him would he let her go as he had let Lily Sanderson

go? He was not a marrying man; nor could Saxon blind her eyes to the fact that he was eminently

marriageable. No wonder the girls ran after him. And he was a mansubduer as well as a womansubduer.

Men liked him. Bert Wanhope seemed actually to love him. She remembered the Butchertown tough in the

diningroom at Weasel Park who had come over to the table to apologize, and the Irishman at the

tugofwar who had abandoned all thought of fighting with him the moment he learned his identity.

A very much spoiled young man was a thought that flitted frequently through Saxon's mind; and each time

she condemned it as ungenerous. He was gentle in that tantalizing slow way of his. Despite his strength, he

did not walk roughshod over others. There was the affair with Lily Sanderson. Saxon analysed it again and

again. He had not cared for the girl, and he had immediately stepped from between her and Butch. It was just

the thing that Bert, out of sheer wickedness and love of trouble, would not have done. There would have been

a fight, hard feelings, Butch turned into an enemy, and nothing profited to Lily. But Billy had done the right

thingdone it slowly and imperturbably and with the least hurt to everybody. All of which made him more

She bought another pair of silk stockings that she had hesitated at for weeks, and on Tuesday night sewed and

drowsed wearily over a new shirtwaist and earned complaint from Sarah concerning her extravagant use of

Wednesday night, at the Orindore dance, was not all undiluted pleasure. It was shameless the way the girls

made up to Billy, and, at times, Saxon found his easy consideration for them almost irritating. Yet she was

compelled to acknowledge to herself that he hurt none of the other fellows' feelings in the way the girls hurt

hers. They all but asked him outright to dance with them, and little of their open pursuit of him escaped her

eyes. She resolved that she would not be guilty of throwing herself at him, and withheld dance after dance,

and yet was secretly and thrillingly aware that she was pursuing the right tactics. She deliberately

demonstrated that she was desirable to other men, as he involuntarily demonstrated his own desirableness to

Her happiness came when he coolly overrode her objections and insisted on two dances more than she had

allotted him. And she was pleased, as well as angered, when she chanced to overhear two of the strapping

young cannery girls. "The way that little sawedoff is monopolizin' him," said one. And the other: "You'd

think she might have the good taste to run after somebody of her own age." "Cradlesnatcher," was the final

sting that sent the angry blood into Saxon's cheeks as the two girls moved away, unaware that they had been

Billy saw her home, kissed her at the gate, and got her consent to go with him to the dance at Germania Hall

"I wasn't thinkin' of goin'," he sald. "But if you'll say the word . . . Bert's goin' to be there."

Next day, at the ironing boards, Mary told her that she and Bert were dated for Germania Hall.

The nod was repeated, and Mary, with suspended iron, gave her a long and curions look.

"Well," Mary decided, "if he does butt in maybe he'll get his. I'd like to see him get itthe big stiff! It all

"I'm no Lily Sanderson," Saxon answered indignantly. "I'll never give Billy Roberts a chance to turn me

"You will, if Charley Long butts in. Take it from me, Saxon, he ain't no gentleman. Look what he done to Mr.

Moody. That was a awful beatin'. An' Mr. Moody only a quiet little man that wouldn't harm a fly. Well, he

That night, outside the laundry entrance, Saxon found Charley Long waiting. As he stepped forward to greet

her and walk alongside, she felt the sickening palpitation that he had so thoroughly taught her to know. The

blood ebbed from her face with the apprehension and fear his appearance caused. She was afraid of the rough

bulk of the man; of the heavy brown eyes, dominant and confident; of the big blacksmithhands and the thick

strong fingers with the hairpads on the back to every first joint. He was unlovely to the eye, and he was

unlovely to all her finer sensibilities. It was not his strength itself, but the quality of it and the misuse of it,

that affronted her. The beating he had given the gentle Mr. Moody had meant halfhours of horror to her

afterward. Always did the memory of it come to her accompanied by a shudder. And yet, without shock, she

had seen Billy fight at Weasel Park in the same primitive mananimal way. But it had been ditferent. She

recognized, but could not analyze, the difference. She was aware only of the brutishness of this man's hands

"You're lookin' white an' all beat to a frazzle," he was saying. "Why don't you cut the work? You got to some

He laughed with harsh joviality. "Nothin' to it, Saxon. You're just cut out to be Mrs. Long, an' you're sure

"I wish I was as certain about all things as you are," she said with mild sarcasm that missed.

"Take it from me," he went on, "there's just one thing you can be certain ofan' that is that I am certain." He

was pleased with the cleverness of his idea and laughed approvingly. "When I go after anything I get it, an' if

anything gets in between it gets hurt. D'ye get that? It's me for you, an' that's all there is to it, so you might as

well make up your mind and go to workin' in my home instead of the laundry. Why, it's a snap. There

wouldn't be much to do. I make good money, an' you wouldn't want for anything. You know, I just washed

up from work an' skinned over here to tell it to you once more, so you wouldn't forget. I ain't ate yet, an' that

"You'd better go and eat then," she advised, though she knew the futility of attempting to get rid of him.

She scarcely heard what he said. It had come upon her suddenly that she was very tired and very small and

very weak alongside this colossus of a man. Would he dog her always? she asked despairingly, and seemed to

glimpse a vision of all her future life stretched out before her, with always the form and face of the burly

"Come on, kid, an' kick in," he continued. "It's the good old summer time, an' that's the time to get married."

"But I'm not going to marry you," she protested. "I've told you a thousand times already."

"Aw, forget it. You want to get them ideas out of your thinkbox. Of course, you're goin' to marry me. It's a

pipe. An' I'll tell you another pipe. You an' me's goin' acrost to Frisco Friday night. There's goin' to he big

"Oh, yes you are," he asserted with absolute assurance. "We'll eatch the last boat back, an' you'll have one

fine time. An' I'll put you next to some of the good dancers. Oh, I ain't a pincher, an' I know you like dancin'."

He shot a glance of suspicion at her from under the black thatch of brows that met above his nose and were as

"I'll make it my business. Remember that lahdedah bookkeeper rummy? Well, just keep on rememborin'

"I wish yon'd leave me alone," she pleaded resentfully. "Can't you be kind just for once?"

"If any rummy thinks he can butt in on you an' me, he'll learn different, an' I'm the little boy that'll learn

Her lips were drawn in tight silence, and in her cheeks were little angry spots of blood.

"Huh!As if I couldn't guess! Germania Hall. Well, I'll be there, an' I'll take you home afterward. D'ye get

that? An' you'd better tell the rummy to beat it unless you want to see'm get his face hurt."

Saxon, hurt as a prideful woman can be hurt by cavalier treatment, was tempted to cry out the name and

prowess of her newfound protector. And then came fear. This was a big man, and Billy was only a boy. That

was the way he affected her. She remembered her first impression of his hands and glanced quickly at the

hands of the man beside her. They seemed twice as large as Billy's, and the mats of hair seemed to advertise a

terrible strength. No, Billy could not fight this big brute. He must not. And then to Saxon came a wicked little

hope that by the mysterious and unthinkable ability that prizefighters possessed, Billy might be able to whip

this bully and rid her of him. With the next glance doubt came again, for her eye dwelt on the blacksmith's

broad shoulders, the cloth of the coat musclewrinkled and the sleeves bulging above the biceps.

"Why, they'll get hurt, of course," Long grinned. "And they'll deserve it, too. Any rummy that comes between

"That's right, get mad," he approved. "I like you for that, too. You've got spunk an' fight. I like to see it. It's

what a man needs in his wifeand not these fat cows of women. They're the dead ones. Now you're a live

"No, I'm not feeling good, and I'm going straight to bed as soon as I eat supper."

"I've given it to you straight," he went on. "If you don't go with me tomorrow night somebody'll get hurt."

He laughed as he threw his head back, stretched his big chest, and halflifted his heavy arms. The action

"And you haven't told me it wasn't. All the same, I'll be there. And I'll take you home, too. Be sure an' keep

plenty of round dances open fer me. That's right. Get mad. It makes you look fine."

The music stopped at the end of the waltz, leaving Billy and Saxon at the big entrance doorway of the

ballroom. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and they were promenading on to find seats, when Charley

"So you're the buttinsky, eh?" he demanded, his face malignant with passion and menace.

"You're goin' to get your head beaten off if you don't make yourself scarce pretty lively."

"I wouldn't want that to happen for the world," Billy drawled. "Come on, Saxon. This neighborhood's

"You're too fresh to keep, young fellow," he snarled. "You need saltin' down. D'ye get me?"

Long all but sprang upon him, his hands clenched, one arm just starting back for the punch while at the same

instant shoulders and chest were coming forward. But he restrained himself at sight of Billy's unstartled body

and cold and cloudy ayes. He had made no move of mind or muscle. It was as if he were unaware of the

"Yep, I do," Billy answered airily. "You're a recordbreaker at roughhousin'." (Here Long's face showed

pleasure.) "You ought to have the Police Gazette diamond belt for roughbousin' baby buggies'. I guess there

"Leave 'm alone, Charley," advised one of the young men who had crowded about them. "He's Bill Roberts,

Nevertheless it was noticeable, even to Saxon, that the fire had gone out of his fiercenes. Billy's name seemed

She signified yes with her eyes, though it seemed she must cry out a thousand things against this man who so

"Look here, sport, you don't want trouble with me. I've got your number. Besides, what do we want to fight

Billy shook his head slowly. "No; you're in wrong. I think she has a say in the matter."

"Well, say it then," Long snarled at Saxon. "who're you goin' to go with?me or him? Let's get it settled."

For reply, Saxon reached her free hand over to the hand that rested on Billy's arm.

Saxon was elated as they started to move away. Lily Sanderson's fate had not been hers, and her wonderful

manboy, without the threat of a blow, slow of speech and imperturbable, had conquered the big blacksmith.

"He's forced himself upon me all the time," she whispered to Billy. "He's tried to run me, and beaten up every

Billy halted immediately. Long, who was reluctantly moving to get out of the way, also halted.

"She says she don't want anything more to do with you," Billy said to him. "An' what she says goes. If I get a

whisper any time that you've been botherin' her, I'll attend to your case. D'ye get that?"

"All right, then. See you remember it. An' now get outa the way or I'll walk over you."

Long slunk back, muttering inarticulate threats, and Saxon moved on as in a dream. Charley Long had taken

water. He had been afraid of this smoothskinned, blueeyed boy. She was quit of himsomething no other

man had dared attempt for her. And Billy had liked her better than Lily Sanderson.

Twice Saxon tried to tell Billy the detalls of her acquaintance with Long, but each time was put off.

"I don't care a rap about it," Billy said the second time. "You're here, ain't you?"

But she insisted, and when, worked up and angry by the recital, she had finished, he patted her hand

"It's all right, Saxon," he said. "He's just a big stiff. I took his measure as soon as I looked at him. He won't

bother you again. I know his kind. He's a dog. Roughhouse? He couldn't roughhouse a milk wagon."

"But how do you do it?" she asked breathlessly. "Why are men so afraid of you? You're just wonderful."

"Say," he said, "I like your teeth. They're so white an' regular, an' not big, an' not dinky little baby's teeth

either. They're ... they're just right, an' they fit you. I never seen such fine teeth on a girl yet. D'ye know,

honest, they kind of make me hungry when I look at 'em. They're good enough to eat."

At midnight, leaving the insatiable Bert and Mary still dancing, Bllly and Saxon started for home. It was on

"It's one thing the fightin' game's taught me," he said. "To take care of myself. A fellow can't work all day

and dance all night and keep in condition. It's the same way with drinkin'an' not that I'm a little tin angel. I

know what it is. I've been soused to the guards an' all the rest of it. I like my beerbig schooners of it; but I

don't drink all I want of it. I've tried, but it don't pay. Take that big stiff tonight that butted in on us. He

ought to had my number. He's a dog anyway, but besides he had beer bloat. I sized that up the first rattle, an'

that's the difference about who takes the other fellow's number. Condition, that's what it is."

"But he is so big," Saxon protested. "Why, his fists are twice as big as yours."

"That don't mean anything. What counts is what's behind the fists. He'd turn loose like a buckin' bronco. If I

couldn't drop him at the start, all I'd do is to keep away, smother up, an' wait. An' all of a sudden he'd blow

upgo all to pieces, you know, wind, heart, everything, and then I'd have him where I wanted him. And the

"I'm not any more," he disclaimed hastily. "That's one thing the fightin' game taught meto leave it alone. It

don't pay. A fellow trains as fine as silktill he's all silk, his skin, everything, and he's fit to live for a

hundred years; an' then he climbs through the ropes for a hard twenty rounds with some tough customer that's

just as good as he is, and in those twenty rounds he frazzles out all his silk an' blows in a year of his life. Yes,

sometimes he blows in five years of it, or cuts it in half, or uses up all of it. I've watched 'em. I've seen

fellows strong as bulls fight a hard battle and die inside the year of consumption, or kidney disease, or

anything else. Now what's the good of it? Money can't buy what they throw away. That's why I quit the game

and went back to drivin' team. I got my silk, an' I'm goin' to keep it, that's all."

"It must make you feel proud to know you are the master of other men," she said softly, aware herself of

"It does," he admitted frankly. "I'm glad I went into the gamejust as glad as I am that I pulled out of it. ...

Yep, it's taught me a lotto keep my eyes open an' my head cool. Oh, I've got a temper, a peach of a temper.

I get scared of myself sometimes. I used to be always breakin' loose. But the fightin' taught me to keep down

"Don't you believe it. Just watch me, and sometime you'll see me break out that bad that I won't know what

"Say," he said, as they neared her neighborhood, "what are you doin' next Sunday?"

She did not answer immediately, and for the moment she was seeing the nightmare vision of her last

buggyride; of her fear and her leap from the buggy; and of the long miles and the stumbling through the

darkness in thinsoled shoes that bruised her feet on every rock. And then it came to her with a great swell of

"I love horses," she said. "I almost love them better than I do dancing, only I don't know anything about them.

My father rode a great roan warhorse. He was a captain of cavalry, you know. I never saw him, but

somehow I always can see him on that big horse, with a sash around his waist and his sword at his side. My

brother George has the sword now, but Tomhe's the brother I live with says it is mine because it wasn't his

father's. You see, they're only my halfbrothers. I was the only child by my mother's second marriage. That

Saxon ceased abruptly, embarrassed by her own garrulity; and yet the impulse was strong to tell this young

man all about herself, and it seemed to her that these far memories were a large part of her.

"Go on an' tell me about it," Billy urged. "I like to hear about the old people of the old days. My people was

along in there, too, an' somehow I think it was a better world to live in than now. Things was more sensible

and natural. I don't exactly say what I mean. But it's like this: I don't understand life today. There's the labor

unions an' employers' associations, an' strikes', an' hard times, an' huntin' for jobs, an' all the rest. Things

wasn't like that in the old days. Everybody farmed, an' shot their meat, an' got enough to eat, an' took care of

their old foiks. But now it's all a mixup that I can't understand. Mebbe I'm a fool, I don't know. But, anyway,

"Well, you see, when she was only a young woman she and Captain Brown fell in love. He was a soldier

then, before the war. And he was ordered East for the war when she was away nursing her sister Laura. And

then came the news that he was killed at Shiloh. And she married a man who had loved her for years and

years. He was a boy in the same wagontrain coming across the plains. She liked him, but she didn't love

him. And afterwerd came the news that my father wasn't killed after all. So it made her very sad, but it did

not spoil her life. She was a good mother end a good wife and all that, but she was always sad, and sweet, and

"And my father never married. He loved her all the time. I've got a lovely poem home that she wrote to him,

It's just wonderful, and it sings like music. Well, long, long afterward her husband died, and then she and my

father made their love marriage. They didn't get married until 1882, and she was pretty well along."

More she told him, as they stood hy the gate, and Saxon tried to think that the goodbye kiss was a trifle

"How about nine o'clock?" he queried across the gate. "Don't bother about lunch or anything. I'll fix all that

Sunday morning Saxon was beforehand in getting ready, and on her return to the kitchen from her second

"It's a shame an' a disgrace the way some people can afford silk stockings," she began. "Look at me, atoilin'

and astewin' day an' night, and I never get silk stockingsnor shoes, three pairs of them all at one time. But

there's a just God in heaven, and there'll be some mighty big surprises for some when the end comes and

Tom, smoking his pipe and cuddling his youngestborn on his knees, dropped an eyelid surreptitiously on his

cheek in token that Sarah was in a tantrum. Saxon devoted herself to tying a ribbon in the hair of one of the

little girls. Sarah lumbered heavily about the kitchen, washing and putting away the breakfast dishes. She

straightened her back from the sink with a groan and glared at Saxon with fresh hostility.

"You ain't sayin' anything, eh? An' why don't you? Because I guess you still got some natural shame in you

arunnin' with a prizefighter. Oh, I've heard about your goingson with Bill Roberts. A nice specimen he is.

"Oh, I don't know," Tom intervened. "Bill Roberts is a pretty good boy from what I hear."

"Why don't you marry Charley Long? He's crazy for you, and he ain't a drinkin' man."

"That's right," her brother supplemented. "An' I know for a fact that he keeps a keg in the house all the time

"Maybe I have," Tom said, wiping his mouth reminiscently with the back of his hand.

"Well, he can afford to keep a keg in the house if he wants to," she returned to the attack, which now was

directed at her husband as well. "He pays his bills, and he certainly makes good moneybetter than most

"Oh, yes, he has," Tom urged genially. "Blamed little he'd work in that shop, or any other shop in Oakland, if

he didn't keep in good standing with the Blacksmiths. You don't understand labor conditions, Sarah. The

"Oh, of course not," Sarah sniffed. "I don't understand anything. I ain't got a mind. I'm a fool, an' you tell me

so right before the children." She turned savagely on her eldest, who startled and shrank away. "Willie, your

mother is a fool. Do you get that? Your father says she's a foolsays it right before her face and yourn. She's

just a plain fool. Next he'll be sayin' she's crazy an' puttin' her away in the asylum. An' how will you like that,

Willie? How will you like to see your mother in a straitjacket an' a padded cell, shut out from the light of the

sun an' beaten like a nigger before the war, Willie, beaten an' clubbed like a regular black nigger? That's the

kind of a father you've got, Willie. Think of it, Willie, in a padded cell, the mother that bore you, with the

lunatics sereechin' an' screamin' all around, an' the quicklime eatin' into the dead bodies of them that's

She continued tirelessly, painting with pessimistic strokes the growing black future her husband was

meditating for her, while the boy, fearful of some vague, incomprehensible catastrophe, began to weep

silently, with a pendulous, trembling underlip. Saxon, for the moment, lost control of herself.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, can't we be together five minutes without quarreling?" she blazed.

"Who's quarreling? Can't I open my head without bein' jumped on by the two of you?"

Saxon shrugged her shoulders despairingly, and Sarah swung about on her husband.

"Seein' you love your sister so much better than your wife, wby did you want to marry me, that's borne your

children for you, an' slaved for you, an' toiled for you, an' worked her fingernails off for you, with no thanks,

an 'insultin' me before the children, an' sayin' I'm crazy to their faces. An' what have you ever did for me?

That's what I want to knowme, that's cooked for you, an' washed your stinkin' clothes, and fixed your

She thrust out a shapeless, swollen foot, encased in a monstrous, untended shoe, the dry, raw leather of which

"Look at that! That's what I say. Look at that!" Her voice was persistently rising and at the same time

growing throaty. "The only shoes I got. Me. Your wife. Ain't you ashamed? Where are my three pairs? Look

Speech failed her, and she sat down suddenly on a chair at the table, glaring unutterable malevolence and

misery. She arose with the abrupt stiffness of an automaton, poured herself a cup of cold coffee, and in the

same jerky way sat down again. As if too hot for her lips, she filled her saucer with the greasylooking,

nondescript fluid, and continued her set glare, her breast rising and falling with staccato, mechanical

In response, slowly, with utmost deliberation, as if the destiny of empires rested on the certitude of her act,

she turned the saucer of coffee upside down on the table. She lifted her right hand, slowly, hugely, and in the

same slow, huge way landed the open palm with a sounding slap on Tom's astounded cheek. Immediately

thereafter she raised her voice in the shrill, hoarse, monotonous madness of hysteria, sat down on the floor,

Willie's silent weeping turned to noise, and the two little girls, with the fresh ribbons in their hair, joined him.

Tom's face was drawn and white, though the smitten cheek still blazed, and Saxon wanted to put her arms

"Sarah, you ain't feelin' well. Let me put you to bed, and I'll finish tidying up."

"Take the children out in the yard, Tom, for a walk, anythingget them away," Saxon said. She was sick,

and white, and trembling. "Go, Tom, please, please. There's your hat. I'll take care of her. I know just how."

Left to herself, Saxon worked with frantic haste, assuming the calm she did not possess, but which she must

impart to the screaming bedlamite upon the floor. The light frame house leaked the noise hideously, and

Saxon knew that the houses on either side were hearing, and the street itself and the houses across the street.

Her fear was that Billy should arrive in the midst of it. Further, she was incensed, violated. Every fiber

rebelled, aimost in a nausea; yet she maintained cool control and stroked Sarah's forehead and hair with slow,

soothing movements. Soon, with one arm around her, she managed to win the first diminution in the strident,

atrocious, unceasing scream. A few minutes later, sobbing heavily, the elder woman lay in bed, across her

forehead and eyes a wetpack of towel for easement of the headache she and Saxon tacitly accepted as

When a clatter of hoofs came down the street and stopped, Saxon was able to slip to the front door and wave

"It's all right," she said. "Billy Roberts has come, and I've got to go. You go in and sit beside her for a while,

and maybe she'll go to sleep. But don't rush her. Let her have her own way. If she'll let you take her hand,

why do it. Try it, anyway. But first of all, as an opener and just as a matter of course, start wetting the towel

He was a kindly, easygoing man; but, after the way of a large percentage of the Western stock, he was

undemonstrative. He nodded, turned toward the door to obey, and paused irresolutely. The look he gave back

to Saxon was almost doglike in gratitude and allbrotherly in love. She felt it, and in spirit leapt toward it.

"No, it ain't. It's a shame, a blamed shame, that's what it is." He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I don't care for

myself. But it's for you. You got your life before you yet, little kid sister. You'll get old, and all that means,

fast enough. But it's a bad start for a day off. The thing for you to do is to forget all this, and skin out with

your fellow, an' have a good time." In the open door, his hand on the knob to close it after him, he halted a

second time. A spasm contracted his brow. "Hell! Think of it! Sarah and I used to go buggyriding once on a

In her bedroom Saxon completed her dressing, for an instant stepping upon a chair so as to glimpse critically

in the small wallmirror the hang of her readymade linen skirt. This, and the jacket, she had altered to fit,

and she had doublestitched the seams to achieve the coveted tailored effect. Still on the chair, all in the

moment of quick clearseeing, she drew the skirt tightly back and raised it. The sight was good to her, nor

did she underappraise the lines of the slender ankle above the low tan tie nor did she underappraise the

delicate yet mature swell of calf outlined in the fresh brown of a new cotton stocking. Down from the chair,

she pinned on a firm sailor hat of white straw with a brown ribbon around the crown that matched her ribbon

belt. She rubbed her cheeks quickly and fiercely to bring back the color Sarah had driven out of them, and

delayed a moment longer to put on her tan lislethread gloves. Once, in the fashionpage of a Sunday

supplement, she had read that no lady ever put on her gloves after she left the door.

With a resolute selfgrip, as she crossed the parlor and passed the door to Sarah's bedroom, through the thin

wood of which came elephantine moanings and low slubberings, she steeled herself to keep the color in her

cheeks and the brightness in her eyes. And so well did she succeed that Billy never dreamed that the radiant,

live young thing, tripping lightly down the steps to him, had just come from a bout with soulsickening

To her, in the bright sun, Billy's blondness was startling. His cheeks, smooth as a girl's, were touched with

color. The blue eyes seemed more cloudily blue than usual, and the crisp, sandy hair hinted more than ever of

the pale strawgold that was not there. Never had she seen him quite so royally young. As he smiled to greet

her, with a slow white flash of teeth from between red lips, she caught again the promise of easement and

rest. Fresh from the shattering chaos of her sisterinlaw's mind, Billy's tremendous calm was especially

satisfying, and Saxon mentally laughed to scorn the terrible temper he had charged to himself.

She had been buggyriding before, but always behind one horse, jaded, and livery, in a topbuggy, heavy

and dingy, such as livery stables rent because of sturdy unbreakableness. But here stood two horses,

headtossing and restless, shouting in every highlight glint of their satin, goldensorrel coats that they had

never been rented out in all their glorious young lives. Between them was a pole inconceivably slender, on

them were harnesses preposterously stringlike and fragile. And Billy belonged here, by elemental right, a

part of them and of it, a masterpart and a component, along with the spiderydelicate, narrowboxed, wide

and yellowwheeled, rubbertired rig, efficient and capable, as different as he was different from the other

man who had taken her out behind stolid, lumubering horses. He held the reins in one hand, yet, with low,

steady voice, confident and assuring, held the nervous young animals more by the will and the spirit of him.

It was no time for lingering. With the quick glance and foreknowledge of a woman, Saxon saw, not merely

the curious children clustering about, but the peering of adult faces from open doors and windows, and past

windowshades lifted up or held aside. With his free hand, Billy drew back the linen robe and helped her to a

place beside him. The highbacked, luxuriously upholstered seat of brown leather gave her a sense of great

comfort; yet even greater, it seemed to her, was the nearness and comfort of the man himself and of his body.

"How d'ye like 'em?" he asked, changing the reins to both hands and chirruping the horses, which went out

with a jerk in an immediacy of action that was new to her. "They're the boss's, you know. Couldn't rent

animals like them. He lets me take them out for exercise sometimes. If they ain't exercised regular they're a

handful.Look at King, there, prancin'. Some style, eh? Some style! The other one's the real goods, though.

Prince is his name. Got to have some bit on him to hold'm.Ah! Would you?Did you see'm, Saxon?

From behind came the admiring cheer of the neighborhood children, and Saxon, with a sigh of content, knew

"I don't know horses," Saxon said. "I've never been on one's back, and the only ones I've tried to drive were

single, and lame, or almost falling down, or something. But I'm not afraid of horses. I just love them. I was

"That's the stuff. That's what I like in a womangrit. Some of the girls I've had outwell, take it from me,

they made me sick. Oh, I'm hep to 'em. Nervous, an' trembly, an' screechy, an' wabbly. I reckon they come

out on my account an' not for the ponies. But me for the brave kid that likes the ponies. You're the real goods,

Saxon, honest to God you are. Why, I can talk like a streak with you. The rest of 'em make me sick. I'm like a

clam. They don't know nothin', an' they're that scared all the timewell, I guess you get me"

"You have to be born to love horses, maybe," she answered. "Maybe it's because I always think of my father

on his roan warhorse that makes me love horses. But, anyway, I do. When I was a little girl I was drawing

horses all the time. My mother always encouraged me. I've a scrapbook mostly filled with horses I drew

when I was little. Do you know, Billy, sometimes I dream I actually own a horse, all my own. And lots of

"I'll let you drive 'em, after a while, when they've worked their edge off. They're pullin' now.There, put

your hands in front of minetake hold tight. Feel that? Sure you feel it. An' you ain't feelin' it all by a long

Her eyes sparkled as she felt the apportioned pull of the mouths of the beautiful, live things; and he, looking

"What's the good of a woman if she can't keep up with a man?" he broke out enthusiastically.

"People that like the same things always get along best together," she answered, with a triteness that

"Why, Saxon, I've fought battles, good ones, frazzlin' my silk away to beat the band before whiskysoaked,

smokin' audiences of rotten fightfans, that just made me sick clean through. An' them, that couldn't take just

one stiff jolt or hook to jaw or stomach, acheerin' me an' yellin' for blood. Blood, mind you! An' them

without the blood of a shrimp in their bodies. Why, honest, now, I'd sooner fight before an audience of

oneyou for instance, or anybody I liked. It'd do me proud. But them sickenin', sapheaded stiffs, with the

grit of rabbits and the silk of mangy kyyi's, acheerin' meME! Can you blame me for quittin'the dirty

game?Why, I'd sooner fight before brokedown old plugs of workhorses that's candidates for

chickenmeat, than before them rotten bunches of stiffs with nothin' thicker'n water in their veins, an' Contra

"I...I didn't know prizefighting was like that," she faltered, as she released her hold on the lines and sank back

"It ain't the fightin', it's the fightcrowds," he defended with instant jealousy. "Of course, fightin' hurts a

young fellow because it frazzles the silk outa him an' all that. But it's the lowlifers in the audience that gets

me. Why the good things they say to me, the praise an' that, is insuiting. Do you get me? It makes me cheap.

Think of itboozeguzzlin' stiffs that 'd be afraid to mix it with a sick cat, not fit to hold the coat of any

decent man, think of them astandin' up on their hind legs an' yellin' an' cheerin' meME!"

A big bulldog, sliding obliquely and silently across the street, unconcerned with the team he was avoiding,

had passed so close that Prince, baring his teeth like a stallion, plunged his head down against reins and check

"Now he's some fighter, that Prince. An' he's natural. He didn't make that reach just for some lowlifer to

yell'm on. He just done it outa pure cussedness and himself. That's clean. That's right. Because it's natural.

And Saxon, glimpsing him sidewise, as he watched the horses and their way on the Sunday morning streets,

checking them back suddenly and swerving to avoid two boys coasting across street on a toy wagon, saw in

him deeps and intensities, all the magic connotations of temperament, the glimmer and hint of rages

profound, bleaknesses as cold and far as the stars, savagery as keen as a wolf's and clean as a stallion's, wrath

as implacable as a destroying angel's, and youth that was fire and life beyond time and place. She was awed

and fascinated, with the hunger of woman bridging the vastness to him, daring to love him with arms and

breast that ached to him, murmuring to herself and through all the halls of her soul, "You dear, you dear."

"Honest to God, Saxon," he took up the broken thread, "they's times when I've hated them, when I wanted to

jump over the ropes and wade into them, knockdown and dragout, an' show'm what fightin' was. Take that

night with Billy Murphy. Billy Murphy!if you only knew him. My friend. As clean an' game a boy as ever

jumped inside the ropes to take the decision. Him! We went to the Durant School together. We grew up

chums. His fight was my fight. My trouble was his trouble. We both took to the fightin' game. They matched

us. Not the first time. Twice we'd fought draws. Once the decision was his; once it was mine. The fifth fight

of two lovin' men that just loved each other. He's three years older'n me. He's a wife and two or three kids, an'

"I'm ten pounds heavierbut with heavyweights that 'a all right. He can't time an' distance as good as me, an'

I can keep set better, too. But he's cleverer an' quicker. I never was quick like him. We both can take

punishment, an' we're both twohanded, a wallop in all our fists. I know the kick of his, an' he knows my

kick, an' we're both real respectful. And we're evenmatched. Two draws, and a decision to each. Honest, I

He took the praise with a clear, unwavering look, and without hint of acknowledgment.

"We go alongsix roundsseven roundseight rounds; an' honors even. I've been timin' his rushes an'

straightleftin' him, an' meetin' his duck with a wicked little right uppercut, an' he's shaken me on the jaw

an' walloped my ears till my head's all singin' an' buzzin'. An' everything lovely with both of us, with a noise

"An' then his bad luck comes. We're just mixin' into a clinch that ain't arrived yet, when he shoots a short

hook to my headhis left, an' a real haymaker if it reaches my jaw. I make a forward duck, not quick

enough, an' he lands bingo on the side of my head. Honest to God, Saxon, it's that heavy I see some stars. But

it don't hurt an' ain't serious, that high up where the bone's thick. An' right there he finishes himself, for his

bad thumb, which I've known since he first got it as a kid fightin' in the sandlot at Watts Tracthe smashes

that thumb right there, on my hard head, back into the socket with an outtwist, an' all the old cords that'd

never got strong gets theirs again. I didn't mean it. A dirty trick, fair in the game, though, to make a guy

smash his hand on your head. But not between friends. I couldn't adone that to Bill Murphy for a million

"The hurt of it! Honest, Saxon, you don't know what hurt is till you've got a old hurt like that hurt again.

What can Billy Murphy do but slow down? He's got to. He ain't fightin' twohanded any more. He knows it; I

know it; The referee knows it; but nobody else. He goes on amoving that left of his like it's all right. But it

ain't. It's hurtin' him like a knife dug into him. He don't dast strike a real blow with that left of his. But it

hurts, anyway. Just to move it or not move it hurts, an' every little dabfeint that I'm too wise to guard,

knowin' there's no weight behind, why them little dabtouches on that poor thumb goes right to the heart of

him, an' hurts worse than a thousand boils or a thousand knockoutsjust hurts all over again, an' worse, each

"Now suppose he an' me was boxin' for fun, out in the back yard, an' he hurts his thumb that way, why we'd

have the gloves off in a jiffy an' I'd be putting cold compresses on that poor thumb of his an' bandagin' it that

tight to keep the inflammation down. But no. This is a fight for fightfans that's paid their admission for

"He has to go easy, now, an' I ain't aforcin' him none. I'm all shot to pieces. I don't know what to do. So I

slow down, an' the fans get hep to it. 'Why don't you fight?' they begin to yell; 'Fake! Fake!' 'Why don't you

"'Fight!' says The referee to me, low an' savage. 'Fight, or I'll disqualify youyou, Bill, I mean you.' An' this

"It ain't pretty. It ain't right. D'ye know what we was fightin' for? A hundred bucks. Think of it! An' the game

is we got to do our best to put our man down for the count because of the fans has bet on us. Sweet, ain't it?

"'Quit,' I says to Billy Murphy in a clinch; 'for the love of God, Bill, quit.' An' he says back, in a whisper, 'I

"An' then the referee drags us apart, an' a lot of the fans begins to hoot an' boo.

"'Now kick in, damn you, Bill Roberts, an' finish'm' the referee says to me, an' I tell'm to go to hell as Bill an'

me flop into the next clinch, not hittin', an' Bill touches his thumb again, an' I see the pain shoot across his

face. Game? That good boy's the limit. An' to look into the eyes of a brave man that's sick with pain, an' love

'm, an' see love in them eyes of his, an' then have to go on givin' 'm paincall that sport? I can't see it. But

the crowd's got its money on us. We don't count. We've sold ourselves for a hundred bucks, an' we gotta

"Let me tell you, Saxon, honest to God, that was one of the times I wanted to go through the ropes an' drop

"'For God's sake finish me, Bill,' Bill says to me in that clinch; 'put her over an' I'll fall for it, but I can't lay

"D'ye want to know? I cry there, right in the ring, in that clinch. The weeps for me. 'I can't do it, Bill,' I

whisper back, hangin' onto'm like a brother an' the referee ragin' an' draggin' at us to get us apart, an' all the

'You got 'm!' the audience is yellin'. 'Go in an' finish 'm!' 'The hay for him, Bill; put her across to the jaw an'

"'You got to, Bill, or you're a dog,' Bill says, lookin' love at me in his eyes as the referee's grip untangles us

"An' them wolves of fans yellin': 'Fake! Fake! Fake!' like that, an' keepin' it up.

"Well, I done it. They's only that way out. I done it. By God, I done it. I had to. I feint for 'm, draw his left,

duck to the right past it, takin' it across my shoulder, an come up with my right to his jaw. An' he knows the

trick. He's hep. He's beaten me to it an' blocked it with his shoulder a thousan' times. But this time he don't.

He keeps himself wide open on purpose. Blim! It lands. He's dead in the air, an' he goes down sideways,

strikin' his face first on the rosincanvas an' then layin' dead, his head twisted under 'm till you'd athought

his neck was broke. MEI did that for a hundred bucks an' a bunch of stiffs I'd be ashamed to wipe my feet

on. An' then I pick Bill up in my arms an' carry'm to his corner, an' help bring'm around. Well, they ain't no

kick comin'. They pay their money an' they get their blood, an' a knockout. An' a better man than them, that I

For a moment he was still, gazing straight before him at the horses, his face hard and angry. He sighed,

"An' I quit the game right there. An' Billy Murphy's laughed at me for it. He still follows it. A sideline, you

know, because he works at a good trade. But once in a while, when the house needs paintin', or the doctor

bills are up, or his oldest kid wants a bicycle, he jumps out an' makes fifty or a hundred bucks before some of

the clubs. I want you to meet him when it comes handy. He's some boy I'm tellin' you. But it did make me

Again the harshness and anger were in his face, and Saxon amazed herself by doing unconsciously what

women higher in the social scale have done with deliberate sincerity. Her hand went out impulsively to his

holding the lines, resting on top of it for a moment with quick, firm pressure. Her reward was a smile from

"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I never talk a streak like this to anybody. I just hold my hush an' keep my thinks to

myself. But, somehow, I guess it's funny, I kind of have a feelin' I want to make good with you. An' that's

The way led uptown, past the City Hall and the Fourteenth Street skyscrapers, and out Broadway to Mountain

View. Turning to the right at the cemetery, they climbed the Piedmont Heights to Blair Park and plunged into

the green coolness of Jack Hayes Canyon. Saxon could not suppress her surprise and joy at the quickness

"They are beautiful," she said. "I never dreamed I'd ever ride behind horses like them. I'm afraid I'll wake up

now and find it's a dream. You know, I dream horses all the time. I'd give anything to own one some time."

"It's funny, ain't it?" Billy answered. "I like horses that way. The boss says I'm a wooz at horses. An' I know

he's a dub. He don't know the first thing. An' yet he owns two hundred big heavy draughts besides this light

"It's a sure thing the boss don't. Then how does he have so many?two hundred of 'em, I'm tellin' you. He

thinks he likes horses. Honest to God, Saxon, he don't like all his horses as much as I like the last hair on the

last tail of the scrubbiest of the bunch. Yet they're his. Wouldn't it jar you?"

"Wouldn't it?" Saxon laughed appreciatively. "I just love fancy shirtwaists, an' I spent my life ironing some of

"An' the way some of them women gets their shirtwaists. It makes me sick, thinkin' of you ironin' 'em. You

know what I mean, Saxon. They ain't no use wastin' words over it. You know. I know. Everybody knows. An'

it's a hell of a world if men an' women sometimes can't talk to each other about such things." His manner was

almost apologetic yet it was defiantly and assertively right. "I never talk this way to other girls. They'd think

I'm workin up to designs on 'em. They make me sick the way they're always lookin' for them designs. But

you're different I can talk to you that way. I know I've got to. It's the square thing. You're like Billy Murphy,

She sighed with a great happiness, and looked at him with unconscious, loveshining eyes.

"It's the same way with me," she said. "The fellows I've run with I've never dared let talk about such things,

because I knew they'd take advantage of it. Why, all the time, with them, I've a feeling that we're cheating

and lying to each other, playing a game like at a masquerade ball." She paused for a moment, hesitant and

debating, then went on in a queer low voice. "I haven't been asleep. I've seen... and heard. I've had my

chances, when I was that tired of the laundry I'd have done almost anything. I could have got those fancy

shirtwaists... an' all the rest... and maybe a horse to ride. There was a bank cashier... married, too, if you

please. He talked to me straight out. I didn't count, you know. I wasn't a girl, with a girl's feelings, or

anything. I was nobody. It was just like a business talk. I learned about men from him. He told me what he'd

Her voice died away in sadness, and in the silence she could hear Billy grit his teeth.

"You can't tell me," he cried. "I know. It's a dirty worldan unfair, lousy world. I can't make it out. They's

no squareness in it.Women, with the best that's in 'em, bought an' sold like horses. I don't understand

women that way. I don't understand men that way. I can't see how a man gets anything but cheated when he

buys such things. It's funny, ain't it? Take my boss an' his horses. He owns women, too. He might aowned

you, just because he's got the price. An', Saxon, you was made for fancy shirtwaists an' all that, but, honest to

He broke off abruptly and reined in the horses. Around a sharp turn, speeding down the grade upon them, had

appeared an automobile. With slamming of brakes it was brought to a stop, while the faces of the occupants

took new lease of interest of life and stared at the young man and woman in the light rig that barred the way.

"Nothin' doin', kiddo," came the answer, as the chauffeur measured with hard, wise eyes the crumbling edge

"Then we camp," Billy announced cheerfully. "I know the rules of the road. These animals ain't automobile

broke altogether, an' if you think I'm goin' to have 'em shy off the grade you got another guess comin'."

"You needn't be a roadhog because you're a Rube," said the chauffeur. "We ain't agoin' to hurt your horses.

"That'll do you, sport," was Billy's retort. "You can't talk that way to yours truly. I got your number an' your

tag, my son. You're standin' on your foot. Back up the grade an' get off of it. Stop on the outside at the first

After a nervous consultation, the chauffeur obeyed, and the car backed up the hill and out of sight around the

"Them cheap skates," Billy sneered to Saxon, "with a couple of gallons of gasoline an' the price of a machine

"Takln' all night about it?" came the chauffeur's voice from around the bend. "Get a move on. You can pass."

"Get off your foot," Billy retorted contemptuously. "I'm acomin' when I'm ready to come, an' if you ain't

He slightly slacked the reins on the restless, headtossing animals, and without need of chirrup they took the

weight of the light vehicle and passed up the hill and apprehensively on the inside of the purring machine.

"Where was we?" Billy queried, as the clear road showed in front. "Yep, take my boss. Why should he own

"An' you yours. Yet we sell it to 'em like it was cloth across the counter at so much a yard. I guess you're hep

to what a few more years in the laundry'll do to you. Take me. I'm sellin' my silk slow every day I work. See

that little finger?" He shifted the reins to one hand for a moment and held up the free hand for inspection. "I

can't straighten it like the others, an' it's growin'. I never put it out fightin'. The teamin's done it. That's silk

gone across the counter, that's all. Ever see a old fourhorse teamster's hands? They look like claws they're

"Things weren't like that in the old days when our folks crossed the plains," she answered. "They might agot

their fingers twisted, but they owned the best goin' in the way of horses and such."

"Sure. They worked for themselves. They twisted their fingers for themselves. But I'm twistin' my fingers for

my boss. Why, d'ye know, Saxon, his hands is soft as a woman's that's never done any work. Yet he owns the

horses an' the stables, an' never does a tap of work, an' I manage to scratch my mealticket an' my clothes. It's

got my goat the way things is run. An' who runs 'em that way? That's what I want to know. Times has

"You bet your life he didn't, An' that's another thing that gets me. Who's God anyway? If he's runnin'

thingsan' what good is he if he ain't?then why does he let my boss, an' men like that cashier you

mentioned, why does he let them own the horses, an' buy the women, the nice little girls that oughta be lovin'

their own huabands, an' havin' children they're not ashamed of, an' just bein' happy aecordin' to their nature?"

The horses, resting frequently and lathered by the work, had climbed the steep grade of the old road to

Moraga Valley, and on the divide of the Contra Costa hills the way descended sharply through the green and

"Say, ain't it swell?" Billy queried, with a wave of his hand indicating the circled treegroups, the trickle of

"I love it"' Saxon affirmed. "It makes me want to live in the country, and I never have."

"Me, too, Saxon. I've never lived in the country in my lifean' all my folks was country folks."

There was no brake on the light carriage, and Billy became absorbed in managing his team down the steep,

winding road. Saxon leaned back, eyes closed, with a feeling of ineeffable rest. Time and again he shot

"Isn't it? But it just makes me feel that way. It's brave. Now the houses and streets and things in the city aren't

"By golly, I think you're right," he exclaimed. "It strikes me that way, now you speak of it. They ain't no

games or tricks here, no cheatin' an' no lyin'. Them trees just stand up natural an' strong an' clean like young

boys their first time in the ring before they've learned its rottenness an' how to doublecross an' lay down to

the bettin' odds an' the fightfans. Yep; it is brave. Say, Saxon, you see things, don't you?" His pause was

almost wistful, and he looked at her and studied her with a caressing softness that ran through her in resurgent

thrills. "D'ye know, I'd just like you to see me fight some timea real fight, with something doin' every

moment. I'd be proud to death to do it for you. An' I'd sure fight some with you lookin' on an' understandin'.

That'd be a fight what is, take it from me. An' that's funny, too. I never wanted to fight before a woman in my

life. They squeal and screech an' don't understand. But you'd understand. It's dead open an' shut you would."

A little later, swinging along the flat of the valley, through the little clearings of the farmers and the ripe

"Say, you've ben in love with fellows, lots of times. Tell me about it. What's it like?"

"Not really ever," she assured him, secretly exultant at his unconscious jealousy. "I never was really in love.

If I had been I'd be married now. You see, I couldn't see anything else to it but to marry a man if I loved

"Oh, I don't know," she smiled, half with facetiousness and half with certainty and pride. "I think I could

"The trouble is," she went on, "the men that loved me I never cared for that way.Oh, look!"

A cottontail rabbit had scuttled across the road, and a tiny dust cloud lingered like smoke, marking the way of

his flight. At the next turn a dozen quail exploded into the air from under the noses of the horses. Billy and

"Gee," he muttered, "I almost wisht I'd ben born a farmer. Folks wasn't made to live in cities."

"Not our kind, at least," she agreed. Followed a pause and a long sigh. "It's all so beautiful. It would be a

dream just to live all your life in it. I'd like to be an Indian squaw sometimes."

"About those fellows you thought you was in love with," he said finally. "You ain't told me, yet."

Billy's face abruptly stiffened, and she could see his eyes cloudy with doubt in the quick glance he flung at

"Oh, it was all right," she laughed. "I was only eight years old. You see, I'm beginning at the beginning. It

was after my mother died and when I was adopted by Cady. He kept a hotel and saloon. It was down in Los

Angeles. Just a small hotel. Workingmen, just common laborers, mostly, and some railroad men, stopped at

it, and I guess Al Stanley got his share of their wages. He was so handsome and so quiet and softspoken.

And he had the nicest eyes and the softest, cleanest hands. I can see them now. He played with me

sometimes, in the afternoon, and gave me candy and little presents. He used to sleep most of the day. I didn't

know why, then. I thought he was a fairy prince in disguise. And then he got killed, right in the barroom, but

first he killed the man that killed him. So that was the end of that love affair.

"Next was after the asylum, when I was thirteen and living with my brotherI've lived with him ever since.

He was a boy that drove a bakery wagon. Almost every morning, on the way to school, I used to pass him. He

would come driving down Wood Street and turn in on Twelfth. Maybe it was because he drove a horse that

attracted me. Anyway, I must have loved him for a couple of months. Then he lost his job, or something, for

"Then there was a bookkeeper when I was sixteen. I seem to run to bookkeepers. It was a bookkeeper at the

laundry that Charley Long beat up. This other one was when I was working in Hickmeyer's Cannery. He had

soft hands, too. But I quickly got all I wanted of him. He was . . . well, anyway, he had ideas like your boss.

And I never really did love him, truly and honest, Billy. I felt from the first that he wasn't just right. And

when I was working in the paperbox factory I thought I loved a clerk in Kahn's Emporiumyou know, on

Eleventh and Washington. He was all right. That was the trouble with him. He was too much all right. He

didn't have any life in him, any go. He wanted to marry me, though. But somehow I couldn't see it. That

shows I didn't love him. He was narrowchested and skinny, and his hands were always cold and fishy. But

my! he could dressjust like he came out of a bandbox. He said he was going to drown himself, and all

"And after that...well, there isn't any after that. I must have got particular, I guess, but I didn't see anybody I

could love. It seemed more like a game with the men I met, or a fight. And we never fought fair on either

side. Seemed as if we always had cards up our sleeves. We weren't honest or outspoken, but instead it seemed

as if we were trying to take advantage of each other. Charley Long was honest, though. And so was that bank

cashier. And even they made me have the fight feeling harder than ever. All of them always made me feel I

She stopped and looked with interest at the clean profile of his face as he watched and guided the homes. He

looked at her inquiringly, and her eyes laughed lazily into his as she stretched her arms.

"That's all," she concluded. "I've told you everything, which I've never done before to any one. And it's your

"Not much of a turn, Saxon. I've never cared for girlsthat is, not enough to want to marry 'em. I always

liked men betterfellows like Billy Murphy. Besides, I guess I was too interested in trainin' an' fightin' to

bother with women much. Why, Saxon, honest, while I ain't ben altogether goodyou understand what I

meanjust the same I ain't never talked love to a girl in my life. They was no call to."

"The girls have loved you just the same," she teased, while in her heart was a curious elation at his virginal

"Well, it wasn't my fault," he said slowly. "If they wanted to look sideways at me it was up to them. And it

was up to me to sidestep if I wanted to, wasn't it? You've no idea, Saxon, how a prizefighter is run after.

Why, sometimes it's seemed to me that girls an' women ain't got an ounce of natural shame in their makeup.

Oh, I was never afraid of them, believe muh, but I didn't hanker after 'em. A man's a fool that'd let them kind

"Maybe I haven't," was his discouraging reply. "Anyway, I don't see myself lovin' a girl that runs after me.

It's all right for Charleyboys, but a man that is a man don't like bein' chased by women."

"My mother always said that love was the greatest thing in the world," Saxon argued. "She wrote poems

"Oh, I don't know," she baffled, meeting his eyes with another lazy smile. "All I know is it's pretty good to be

At one o'clock Billy turned off the road and drove into an open space among the trees.

"Here's where we eat," he announced. "I thought it'd be better to have a lunch by ourselves than atop at one of

these roadside dinner counters. An' now, just to make everything safe an' comfortable, I'm goin' to unharness

the horses. We got lots of time. You can get the lunch basket out an' spread it on the laprobe."

As Saxon unpacked she basket she was appalled at his extravagance. She spread an amazing array of ham and

chicken sandwiches, crab salad, hardboiled eggs, pickled pigs' feet, ripe olives and dill pickles, Swiss

cheese, salted almonds, oranges and bananas, and several pint bottles of beer. It was the quantity as well as

the variety that bothered her. It had the appearance of a reckless attempt to buy out a whole delicatessen shop.

"You oughtn't to blow yourself that way," she reproved him as he sat down beside her. "Why it's enough for

"Then it's all right," he concluded. "I always believe in havin' plenty. Have some beer to wash the dust away

Later, the meal finished, he lay on his back, smoking a cigarette, and questioned her about her earlier history.

She had been telling him of her life in her brother's house, where she paid four dollars and a half a week

board. At fifteen she had graduated from grammar school and gone to work in the jute mills for four dollars a

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, except that all my relatives were hard up. It seemed they just

couldn't get on. They managed to scratch a lean living for themselves, and that was all. Cadyhe was the

saloonkeeperhad been a soldier in my father's company, and he always swore by Captain Kit, which was

their nickname for him. My father had kept the surgeons from amputating his leg in the war, and he never

forgot it. He was making money in the hotel and saloon, and I found out afterward he helped out a lot to pay

the doctors and to bury my mother alongside of father. I was to go to Uncle Willthat was my mother's

wish; but there had been fighting up in the Ventura Mountains where his ranch was, and men had been killed.

It was about fences and cattlemen or something, and anyway he was in jail a long time, and when he got his

freedom the lawyers had got his ranch. He was an old man, then, and broken, and his wife took sick, and he

got a job as night watchman for forty dollars a month. So he couldn't do anything for me, and Cady adopted

"Cady was a good man, if he did run a saloon. His wife was a big, handsomelooking woman. I don't think

she was all right . . . and I've heard so since. But she was good to me. I don't care what they say about her, or

what she was. She was awful good to me. After he died, she went altogether bad, and so I went into the

orphan asylum. It wasn't any too good there, and I had three years of it. And then Tom had married and

settled down to steady work, and he took me out to live with him. Andwell, I've been working pretty

She gazed sadly away across the fields until her eyes came to rest on a fence brightsplashed with poppies at

its base. Billy, who from his supine position had been looking up at her, studying and pleasuring in the

His hand closed sympathetically on her bare forearm, and as she looked down to greet his eyes she saw in

"Say, ain't your skin cool though," he said. "Now me, I'm always warm. Feel my hand."

It was warmly moist, and she noted microscopic beads of sweat on his forehead and cleanshaven upper lip.

She bent to him and with her handkerchief dabbed his lip and forehead dry, then dried his palms.

"I breathe through my skin, I guess," he explained. "The wise guys in the trainin' camps and gyms say it's a

good sign for health. But somehow I'm sweatin' more than usual now. Funny, ain't it?"

She had been forced to unclasp his hand from her arm in order to dry it, and when she finished, it returned to

"But, say, ain't your skin cool," he repeated with renewed wonder. "Soft as velvet, too, an' smooth as silk. It

Gently explorative, he slid his hand from wrist to elbow and came to rest half way back. Tired and languid

from the morning in the sun, she found herself thrilling to his touch and halfdreamily deciding that here was

"Now I've taken the cool all out of that spot." He did not look up to her, and she could see the roguish smile

He shifted his hand along her arm with soft sensuousness, and she, looking down at his lips, remembered the

"Go on and talk," he urged, after a delicious five minutes of silence. "I like to watch your lips talking. It's

"Well, there's some poppies over there by the fence I want to pick. And then it's time for us to be going."

"I lose," he laughed. "But you made twentyfive tickle kisses just the same. I counted 'em. I'll tell you what:

you sing 'When the Harvest Days Are Over,' and let me have your other cool arm while you're doin' it, and

She sang looking down into his eyes, which ware centered, not on hers, but on her lips. When she finished,

she slipped his hands from her arms and got up. He was about to start for the horses, when she held her jacket

out to him. Despite the independence natural to a girl who earned her own living, she had an innate love of

the little services and finenesses; and, also, she remembered from her childhood the talk by the pioneer

women of the courtesy and attendance of the caballeros of the SpanishCalifornia days.

Sunset greeted them when, after a wide circle to the east and south, they cleared the divide of the Contra

Costa hills and began dropping down the long grade that led past Redwood Peak to Fruitvale. Beneath them

stretched the flatlands to the bay, checkerboarded into fields and broken by the towns of Elmhurst, San

Leandro, and Haywards. The smoke of Oakland filled the western sky with haze and murk, while beyond,

Darkness was on them, and Billy had become curiously silent. For half an hour he had given no recognition

of her existence save once, when the chill evening wind caused him to tuck the robe tightly about her and

himself. Half a dozen times Saxon found herself on the verge of the remark, "What's on your mind?" but each

time let it remain unuttered. She sat very close to him. The warmth of their bodies intermingled, and she was

"Say, Saxon," he began abruptly. "It's no use my holdin' it in any longer. It's ben in my mouth all day, ever

She knew, very quietly and very gladly, that he meant it. Instinctively she wss impelled to hold off, to make

him woo her, to make herself more desirably valuable ere she yielded. Further, her woman's sensitiveness and

pride were offended. She had never dreamed of so forthright and bald a proposal from the man to whom she

would give herself. The simplicity and directness of Billy's proposal constituted almost a hurt. On the other

hand she wanted him so muchhow much she had not realized until now, when he had so unexpectedly

"Well you gotta say something, Saxon. Hand it to me, good or bad; but anyway hand it to me. An' just take

into consideration that I love you. Why, I love you like the very devil, Saxon. I must, because I'm askin' you

Another silence fell, and Saxon found herself dwelling on the warmth, tingling now, under the laprobe.

When she realized whither her thoughts led, she blushed guiltily in the darkness.

"How old are you, Billy?" she questioned, with a suddenness and irrelevance as disconcerting as his first

"As if I didn't know. When you left the orphan asylum and how old you were, how long you worked in the

jute mills, the cannery, the paperbox factory, the laundrymaybe you think I can't do addition. I knew how

"What of it? If it counted for anything, I wouldn't be lovin' you, would I? Your mother was dead right. Love's

the big stuff. It's what counts. Don't you see? I juat love you, an' I gotta have you. It's natural, I guess; and

I've always found with horses, dogs, and other folks, that what's natural is right. There's no gettin' away from

it, Saxon; I gotta have you, an' I'm just hopin' hard you gotta have me. Maybe my hands ain't soft like

bookkeepers' an' clerks, but they can work for you, an' fight like Sam Hill for you, and, Saxon, they can love

The old sex antagonism which she had always experienced with men seemed to have vanished. She had no

sense of being on the defensive. This was no game. It was what she had been looking for and dreaming about.

Before Billy she was defenseless, and there was an allsatisfaction in the knowledge. She could deny him

nothing. Not even if he proved to be like the others. And out of the greatness of the thought rose a greater

She did not speak. Instead, in a glow of spirit and flesh, she reached out to his left hand and gently tried to

remove it from the rein. He did not understand; but when she persisted he shifted the rein to his right and let

her have her will with the other hand. Her head bent over it, and she kissed the teamster callouses.

"I love your hands, Billy. To me they are the most beautiful hands in the world, and it would take hours of

He pulled them in to a standstill, soothed them with his voice, and made the reins fast around the whip. Then

"Now you know what I was thinkin' and why I was sweatin' when we was eatin' lunch. Just seemed I couldn't

hold in much longer from tellin' you. Why, you know, you looked good to me from the first moment I spotted

"And I think I loved you from that first day, too, Billy. And I was so proud of you all that day, you were so

kind and gentle, and so strong, and the way the men all respected you and the girls all wanted you, and the

way you fought those three Irishmen when I was behind the picnic table. I couldn't love or marry a man I

"Not half as much as I am right now of myself," he answered, "for having won you. It's too good to he true.

Maybe the alarm clock'll go off and wake me up in a couple of minutes. Well, anyway, if it does, I'm goin' to

make the best of them two minutes first. Watch out I don't eat you, I'm that hungry for you."

He smothered her in an embrace, holding her so tightly to him that it almost hurt. After what was to her an

agelong period of bliss, his arms relaxed and he seemed to make an effort to draw himself together.

"An' the clock ain't gone off yet," he whispered against her cheek. "And it's a dark night, an' there's Fruitvale

right ahead, an' if there ain't King and Prince standin' still in the middle of the road. I never thought the time'd

come when I wouldn't want to take the ribbons on a fine pair of horses. But this is that time. I just can't let go

of you, and I've gotta some time tonight. It hurts worse'n poison, but here goes."

He restored her to herself, tucked the disarranged robe about her, and chirruped to the impatient team.

"I know I'm awake now, but I don't know but maybe I dreamed all the rest, and I just want to make sure."

The days flew by for Saxon. She worked on steadily at the laundry, even doing more overtime than usual, and

all her free waking hours were devoted to preparations for the great change and to Billy. He had proved

himself God's own impetuous lover by insisting on getting married the next day after the proposal, and then

"Why wait?" he demanded. "We're not gettin' any younger so far as I can notice, an' think of all we lose every

In the end, he gave in to a month, which was well, for in two weeks he was transferred, with half a dozen

other drivers, to work from the big stables of Corberly and Morrison in West Oakland. Househunting in the

other end of town ceased, and on Pine Street, between Fifth and Fourth, and in immediate proximity to the

great Southern Pacific railroad yards, Billy and Saxon rented a neat cottage of four small rooms for ten

"Dogcheap is what I call it, when I think of the small rooms I've ben soaked for," was Billy's judgment.

"Look at the one I got now, not as big as the smallest here, an' me payin' six dollars a month for it."

"I ain't much of a scholar, Saxon, but I know simple arithmetic; I've soaked my watch when I was hard up,

and I can calculate interest. How much do you figure it will cost to furnish the house, carpets on the floor,

"We can do it nicely for three hundred dollars," she answered. "I've been thinking it over and I'm sure we can

"Three hundred," he muttered, wrinkling his brows with concentration. "Three hundred, say at six per

cent.that'd be six cents on the dollar, sixty cents on ten dollars, six dollars on the hundred, on three

hundred eighteen dollars. SayI'm a bear at multiplyin' by ten. Now divide eighteen by twelve, that'd be a

dollar an' a half a month interest." He stopped, satisfied that he had proved his contention. Then his face

quickened with a fresh thought. "Hold on! That ain't all. That'd be the interest on the furniture for four rooms.

"Four into fifteen, three times and three to carry," Saxon recited glibly. "Four into thirty is seven,

"Gee! You're the real bear at figures." He hesitated. "I didn't follow you. How much did you say it was?"

"Ah, ha! Now we'll see how much I've ben gouged for my one room. Ten dollars a month for four rooms is

two an' a half for one. Add thirtyseven an' a half cents interest on furniture, an' that makes two dollars an'

"There we are! Three dollars an' twelve an' a half cents I'm jiggered out of on the room I'm rentin'. Say! Bein'

"By golly, I never thought of that. It ought to be figured, too. Anyway, we've got a snap here, and next

Saturday afternoon you've gotta get off from the laundry so as we can go an' buy our furniture. I saw

Salinger's last night. I give'm fifty down, and the rest installment plan, ten dollars a month. In twentyfive

months the furniture's ourn. An' remember, Saxon, you wanta buy everything you want, no matter how much

She nodded, with no betrayal on her face of the myriad secret economies that filled her mind. A hint of

"You're so good to me, Billy," she murmured, as she came to him and was met inside his arms.

"So you've gone an' done it," Mary commented, one morning in the laundry. They had not been at work ten

minutes ere her eye had glimpsed the topaz ring on the third finger of Saxon's left hand. "Who's the lucky

"Can't you take a josh? I'm glad to death at the news. Billy's a awful good man, and I'm glad to see you get

him. There ain't many like him knockin' 'round, an' they ain't to be had for the askin'. An' you're both lucky.

You was just made for each other, an' you'll make him a better wife than any girl I know. when is it to be?"

Going home from the laundry a few days later, Saxon encountered Charley Long. He blocked the sidewalk,

"So you're runnin' with a prizefighter," he sneered. "A blind man can see your finish."

For the first time she was unafraid of this bigbodied, blackbrowed men with the hairymatted hands and

"See that? It's something, with all your strength, that you could never put on my finger. Billy Roberts put it

on inside a week. He got your number, Charley Long, and at the same time he got me."

"He's not like you," Saxon went on. "He's a man, every bit of him, a fine, clean man."

"I could tell you things about him. Saxon, straight, he ain't no good. If I was to tell you"

"You'd better get out of my way," she interrupted, "or I'll tell him, and you know what you'll get, you great

"So's Billy Roberts," she laughed, and continned on her way. After half a dozen steps she stopped. "Say," she

"About a block back," she said, "I saw a man with hip disease. You might go and beat him up."

Of one extravagance Saxon was guilty in the course of the brief engagement period. A full day's wages she

spent in the purchase of half a dozen cabinet photographs of herself. Billy had insisted that life was

unendurable could he not look upon her semblance the last thing when he went to bed at night and the first

thing when he got up in the morning. In return, his photographs, one conventional and one in the stripped

fighting costume of the ring, ornamented her looking glass. It was while gazing at the latter that she was

reminded of her wonderful mother's tales of the ancient Saxons and seaforagers of the English coasts. From

the chest of drawers that had crossed the plains she drew forth another of her several precious heirlooma

scrapbook of her mother's in which was pasted much of the fugitive newspaper verse of pioneer California

days. Also, there were copies of paintings and old wood engravings from the magazines of a generation and

Saxon ran the pages with familiar fingers and stopped at the picture she was seeking. Between bold headlands

of rock and under a gray cloudblown sky, a dozen boats, long and lean and dark, beaked like monstrous

birds, were landing on a foamwhitened beach of sand. The men in the boats, half naked, hugemuscled and

fairhaired, wore winged helmets. In their hands were swords and spears, and they were leaping, waistdeep,

into the seawash and wading ashore. Opposed to them, contesting the landing, were skinclad savages,

unlike Indians, however, who clustered on the beach or waded into the water to their knees. The first blows

were being struck, and here and there the bodies of the dead and wounded rolled in the surf. One fairhaired

invader lay across the gunwale of a boat, the manner of his death told by the arrow that transfixed his breast.

In the air, leaping past him into the water, sword in hand, was Billy. There was no mistaking it. The striking

blondness, the face, the eyes, the mouth were the same. The very expression on the face was what had been

Somewhere out of the ruck of those warring races had emerged Billy's ancestors, and hers, was her

afterthought, as she closed the book and put it back in the drawer. And some of those ancestors had made this

ancient and battered chest of drawers which had crossed the salt ocean and the plains and been pierced by a

bullet in the fight with the Indians at Little Meadow. Almost, it seemed, she could visualize the women who

had kept their pretties and their family homespun in its drawersthe women of those wandering generations

who were grandmothers and greater great grandmothers of her own mother. Well, she sighed, it was a good

stock to be born of, a hardworking, hardfighting stock. She fell to wondering what her life would have

been like had she been born a Chinese woman, or an Italian woman like those she saw, headshawled or

bareheaded, squat, ungainly and swarthy, who carried great loads of driftwood on their heads up from tha

beach. Then she laughed at her foolishness, remembered Billy and the fourroomed cottage on Pine Street,

and went to bed with her mind filled for the hundredth time with the details of the furniture.

"Our cattle were all played out," Saxon was saying, "and winter was so near that we couldn't dare try to cross

the Great American Desert, so our train stopped in Salt Lake City that winter. The Mormons hadn't got bad

They were seated around the table in the kitchen of the little Pine Street cottage, making a cold lunch of

sandwiches, tamales, and bottled beer. It being Sunday, the four were free from work, and they had come

early, to work harder than on any week day, washing walls and windows, scrubbing floors, laying carpets and

linoleum, hanging curtains, setting up the stove, putting the kitchen utensils and dishes away, and placing the

"Go on with the story, Saxon," Mary begged. "I'm just dyin' to hear. And Bert, you just shut up and listen."

"Well, that winter was when Del Hancock showed up. He was Kentucky born, but he'd been in the West for

years. He was a scout, like Kit Carson, and he knew him well. Many's a time Kit Carson and he slept under

the same blankets. They were together to California and Oregon with General Fremont. Well, Del Hancock

was passing on his way through Salt Lake, going I don't know where to raise a company of Rocky Mountain

trappers to go after beaver some new place he knew about. Ha was a handsome man. He wore his hair long

like in pictures, and had a silk sash around his waist he'd learned to wear in California from the Spanish, and

two revolvers in his belt. Any woman 'd fall in love with him first sight. Well, he saw Sadie, who was my

mother's oldest sister, and I guess she looked good to him, for he stopped right there in Salt Lake and didn't

go a step. He was a great Indian fighter, too, and I heard my Aunt Villa say, when I was a little girl, that he

had the blackest, brightest eyes, and that the way he looked was like an eagle. He'd fought duels, too, the way

"Sadie was a beauty, and she flirted with him and drove him crazy. Maybe she wasn't sure of her own mind, I

don't know. But I do know that she didn't give in as easy as I did to Billy. Finally, he couldn't stand it any

more. Ha rode up that night on horseback, wild as could be. 'Sadie,' he said, 'if you don't promise to marry me

tomorrow, I'll shoot myself tonight right back of the corral.' And he'd have done it, too, and Sadie knew it,

"Oh, I don't know," Mary sniffed. "A week after you first laid eyes on Billy you was engaged. Did Billy say

"I didn't give him a chance," Saxon confessed. "Anyway Del Hancock and Aunt Sadie got married next day.

And they were very happy afterward, only she died. And after that he was killed, with General Custer and all

the rest, by the Indians. He was an old man by then, but I guess he got his share of Indians before they got

him. Men like him always died fighting, and they took their dead with them. I used to know Al Stanley when

I was a little girl. He was a gambler, but he was game. A railroad man shot him in the back when he was

sitting at a table. That shot killed him, too. He died in about two seconds. But before he died he'd pulled his

"I don't like fightin'," Mary protested. "It makes me nervous. Bert gives me the willies the way he's always

"And I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers for a man without fighting spirit," Saxon answered. "why, we

wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for the fighting spirit of our people before us."

"You've got the real goods of a fighter in Billy," Bert assured her; "a yard long and a yard wide and genuine

A Number One, longfleeced wool. Billy's a Mohegan with a scalplock, that's what he is. And when he gets

his mad up it's a case of get out from under or something will fall on youhard."

Billy, who had taken no part in the conversation, got up, glanced into the bedroom off the kitchen, went into

the parlor and the bedroom off the parlor, then returned and stood gazing with puzzled brows into the kitchen

"What's eatin' you, old man," Bert queried. "You look as though you'd lost something or was markin' a

"Why, I'm just thinkin' where in Sam Hill's the bed an' stuff for the back bedroom."

"What d'ye want another bed for?" asked Bert. "Ain't one bed enough for the two of you?"

"We don't need that room," Saxon was saying to Billy. "And so I didn't plan any furniture. That money went

Billy came over to her, lifted her from the chair, and seated himself with her on his knees.

"That's right, little girl. I'm glad you did. The best for us every time. And tomorrow night I want you to run

up with me to Salinger's an' pick out a good bedroom set an' carpet for that room. And it must be good.

"That's right," he nodded. "Make it cost fifty dollars and not a cent less. We're goin' to have the best. And

what's the good of an empty room? It'd make the house look cheap. Why, I go around now, seein' this little

nest just as it grows an' softens, day by day, from the day we paid the cash money down an' nailed the keys.

Why, almost every moment I'm drivin' the horses, all day long, I just keep on seein' this nest. And when we're

married, I'll go on seein' it. And I want to see it complete. If that room'd he barefloored an' empty, I'd see

nothin' but it and its bare floor all day long. I'd be cheated. The house'd be a lie. Look at them curtains you

put up in it, Saxon. That's to make believe to the neighbors that it's furnished. Saxon, them curtains are lyin'

about that room, makin' a noise for every one to hear that that room's furnished. Nitsky for us. I'm goin' to see

"You might rent it," Bert suggested. "You're close to the railroad yards, and it's only two blocks to a

"Not on your life. I ain't marryin' Saxon to take in lodgers. If I can't take care of her, d'ye know what I'll do ?

Go down to Long Wharf, say 'Here goes nothin',' an' jump into the bay with a stone tied to my neck. Ain't I

It was contrary to her prudent judgment, but it fanned her pride. She threw her arms around her lover's neck,

"I guess we'll talk things over together first before ever I do anything," Billy was saying to Saxon.

"Listen to that," Mary triumphed. "You bet the man that marries me'll have to talk things over first."

"Billy's only givin' her hot air," Bert plagued. "They all do it before they're married."

"I'll bet Saxon leads him around by the nose. And I'm goin' to say, loud an' strong, that I'll lead the man

"Now you see why me an' Mary don't get married," he said. "I'm some big Indian myself, an' I'll be

"And I'm no squaw," Mary retaliated, "an' I wouldn't marry a big buck Indian if all the rest of the men in the

Saxon, intent on diverting the conversation into pleasanter channels, clapped her hands as if with sudden

"Oh! I forgot! I want to show you something." From her purse she drew a slender ring of plain gold and

passed it around. "My mother's wedding ring. I've worn it around my neck always, like a locket. I cried for it

so in the orphan asylum that the matron gave it back for me to wear. And now, just to think, after next

Tuesday I'll be wearing it on my finger. Look, Billy, see the engraving on the inside."

"Carlton to DaisyCarlton was my father's first name. And now, Billy, you've got to get it engraved for you

"If I come first with you, you come first with us. Billy, dear, I insist on W and S."

"You see," Mary said to Bert. "Having her own way and leading him by the nose already."

Sarah was conservative. Worse, she had crystallized at the end of her lovetime with the coming of her first

child. After that she was as set in her ways as plaster in a mold. Her mold was the prejudices and notions of

her girlhood and the house she lived in. So habitual was she that any change in the customary round assumed

the proportions of a revolution. Tom had gone through many of these revolutions, three of them when he

So it was that Saxon had held back the announcement of her approaching marriage until it was unavoidable.

"A prizefighter, a hoodlum, a plugugly," Sarah sneered, after she had exhausted herself of all calamitous

forecasts of her own future and the future of her children in the absence of Saxon's weekly four dollars and a

half. "I don't know what your mother'd thought if she lived to see the day when you took up with a tough like

Bill Roberts. Bill! Why, your mother was too refined to associate with a man that was called Bill. And all I

can say is you can say goodbye to silk stockings and your three pair of shoes. It won't be long before you'll

think yourself lucky to go sloppin' around in Congress gaiters and cotton stockin's two pair for a quarter."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of Billy not being able to keep me in all kinds of shoes," Saxon retorted with a proud toss

"You don't know what you're talkin' about." Sarah paused to laugh in mirthless discordance. "Watch for the

"But we're not going to have any babies ... that is, at first. Not until after the furniture is all paid for anyway."

"Wise in your generation, eh? In my days girls were more modest than to know anything about disgraceful

"The first I knew that babies were disgraceful. Why, Sarah, you, with your five, how disgraceful you have

been. Billy and I have decided not to be half as disgraceful. We're only going to have twoa boy and a girl."

Tom chuckled, but held the peace by hiding his face in his coffee cup. Sarah, though checked by this flank

attack, was herself an old hand in the art. So temporary was the setback that she scarcely paused ere hurling

"An' marryin' so quick, all of a sudden, eh? If that ain't suspicious, nothin' is. I don't know what young

women's comin' to. They ain't decent, I tell you. They ain't decent. That's what comes of Sunday dancin' an'

all the rest. Young women nowadays are like a lot of animals. Such fast an' looseness I never saw ..."

Saxon was white with anger, but while Sarah wandered on in her diatribe, Tom managed to wink privily and

"It's all right, kid sister," he comforted Saxon when they were alone. "There's no use talkin' to Sarah. Bill

Roberts is a good boy. I know a lot about him. It does you proud to get him for a husband. You're bound to he

happy with him . . ." His voice sank, and his face seemed suddenly to be very old and tired as he went on

anxiously. "Take warning from Sarah. Don't nag. Whatever you do, don't nag. Don't give him a

perpetualmotion line of chin. Kind of let him talk once in a while. Men have some horse sense, though

Sarah don't know it. Why, Sarah actually loves me, though she don't make a noise like it. The thing for you is

to love your husband, and, by thunder, to make a noise of lovin' him, too. And then you can kid him into

doing 'most anything you want. Let him have his way once in a while, and he'll let you have yourn. But you

just go on lovin' him, and leanin' on his judgementhe's no fooland you'll be all hunkydory. I'm scared

"Oh, I'll do it, Tom," Saxon nodded, smiling through the tears his sympathy had brought into her eyes. "And

on top of it I'm going to do something else, I'm going to make Billy love me and just keep on loving me. And

then I won't have to kid him into doing some of the things I want. He'll do them because he loves me, you

Later, when she had put on her hat to start for the laundry, she found Tom waiting for her at the corner.

"An', Saxon," he said, hastily and haltingly, "you won't take anything I've said . . . you know . .about Sarah

. . . as bein' in any way disloyal to her? She's a good woman, an' faithful. An' her life ain't so easy by a long

shot. I'd bite out my tongue before I'd say anything against her. I gueas all folks have their troubles. It's hell to

"You've been awful good to me, Tom. I can never forget it. And I know Sarah means right. She does do her

"I won't be able to give you a wedding present," her brother ventured apologetically. "Sarah won't hear of it.

Says we didn't get none from my folks when we got married. But I got something for you just the same. A

"When you told me you was goin' to get married, I just happened to think of it, an' I wrote to brother George,

askin' him for it for you. An' by thunder he sent it by express. I didn't tell you because I didn't know but

maybe he'd sold it. He did sell the silver spurs. He needed the money, I guess. But the other, I had it sent to

the shop so as not to bother Sarah, an' I sneaked it in last night an' hid it in the woodshed."

"The one he wore on his roan war horse! Oh, Tom, you couldn't give me a better present. Let's go back now. I

want to see it. We can slip in the back way. Sarah's washing in the kitchen, and she won't begin hanging out

"I spoke to Sarah about lettin' you take the old chest of drawers that was your mother's," Tom whispered, as

they stole along the narrow alley between the houses. "Only she got on her high horse. Said that Daisy was as

much my mother as yourn, even if we did have different fathers, and that the chest had always belonged in

Daisy's family and not Captain Kit's, an' that it was mine, an' what was mine she had some sayso about."

"It's all right," Saxon reassured him. "She sold it to me last night. She was waiting up for me when I got home

"Yep, she was on the warpath all day after I mentioned it. How much did you give her for it?"

"Robberyit ain't worth it," Tom groaned. "It's all cracked at one end and as old as the hills."

"I'd have given ten dollars for it. I'd have given 'most anything for it, Tom. It was mother's, you know. I

In the woodshed Tom resurrected the hidden treasure and took off the wrapping paper. Appeared a rusty,

steelscabbarded saber of the heavy type carried by cavalry officers in Civil War days. It was attached to a

motheaten sash of thickwoven crimson silk from which hung heavy silk tassels. Saxon almost seized it

from her brother in her eagerness. She drew forth the blade and pressed her lips to the steel.

It was her last day at the laundry. She was to quit work that evening for good. And the next afternoon, at five,

she and Billy were to go before a justice of the peace and be married. Bert and Mary were to be the witnesses,

and after that the four were to go to a private room in Barnum's Restaurant for the wedding supper. That over,

Bert and Mary would proceed to a dance at Myrtle Hall, while Billy and Saxon would take the Eighth Street

car to Seventh and Pine. Honeymoons are infrequent in the working class. The next morning Billy must be at

All the women in the fancy starch room knew it was Saxon's last day. Many exulted for her, and not a few

were envious of her, in that she had won a husband and to freedom from the suffocating slavery of the ironing

board. Much of bantering she endured; such was the fate of every girl who married out of the fancy starch

room. But Saxon was too happy to be hurt by the teasing, a great deal of which was gross, but all of which

In the steam that arose from under her iron, and on the surfaces of the dainty lawns and muslins that flew

under her hands, she kept visioning herself in the Pine Street cottage; and steadily she hummed under her

By three in the afternoon the strain of the pieceworkers in the humid, heated room grew tense. Elderly

women gasped and sighed; the color went out of the cheeks of the young women, their faces became drawn

and dark circles formed under their eyes; but all held on with weary, unabated speed. The tireless, vigilant

forewoman kept a sharp lookout for incipient hysteria, and once led a narrowchested, stoopshouldered

Saxon was startled by the wildest scream of terror she had evor heard. The tense thread of human resolution

snapped; wills and nerves broke down, and a hundred women suspended their irons or dropped them. It was

Mary who had screamed so terribly, and Saxon saw a strange black animal flapping great clawlike wings

and nestling on Mary's shoulder. With the scream, Mary crouched down, and the strange creature, darting

into the air, fluttered full into the startled face of a woman at the next board. This woman promptly screamed

and fainted. Into the air again, the flying thing darted hither and thither, while the shrieking, shrinking women

threw up their arms, tried to run away along the aisles, or cowered under their ironing boards.

"It's only a bat!" the forewoman shouted. She was furious. "Ain't you ever seen a bat? It won't eat you!"

But they were ghetto people, and were not to be quieted. Some woman who could not see the cause of the

uproar, out of her overwrought apprehension raised the cry of fire and precipitated the panic rush for the

doors. All of them were screaming the stupid, soulsickening high note of terror, drowning the forewoman's

voice. Saxon had been merely startled at first, but the screaming panic broke her grip on herself and swept her

away. Though she did not scream, she fled with the rest. When this horde of crazed women debouched on the

next department, Those who worked there joined in the stampede to escape from they knew not what danger.

In ten minutes the laundry was deserted, save for a few men wandering about with hand grenades in futile

The forewoman was stout, but indomitable. Swept along half the length of an aisle by the terrorstricken

women, she had broken her way back through the rout and quickly caught the lightblinded visitant in a

"Maybe I don't know what God looks like, but take it from me I've seen a tintype of the devil," Mary gurgled,

But Saxon was angry with herself, for she had been as frightened as the rest in that wild flight for

"We're a lot of fools," she said. "It was only a bat. I've heard about them. They live in the country. They

wouldn't hurt a fly. They can't see in the daytime. That was what was the matter with this one. It was only a

"Huh, you can't string me," Mary replied. "It was the devil." She sobbed a moment, and then laughed

hysterically again. "Did you see Mrs. Bergstrom faint? And it only touched her in the face. Why, it was on

my shoulder and touching my bare neck like the hand of a corpse. And I didn't faint." She laughed again. "I

"Not me. I'm goin' home after that, if they fire me. I couldn't iron for sour apples now, I'm that shaky."

One woman had broken a leg, another an arm, and a number nursed milder bruises and bruises. No bullying

nor entreating of the forewoman could persuade the women to return to work. They were too upset and

nervous, and only here and there could one be found brave enough to reenter the bullding for the hats and

lunch baskets of the others. Saxon was one of the handful that returned and worked till six o'clock.

The four were at the table in the private room at Barnum's. The wedding supper, simple enough, but

seemingly too expensive to Saxon, had been eaten. Bert, in his hand a glass of California red wine, which the

management supplied for fifty cents a bottle, was on his feet endeavoring a speech. His face was flushed; his

"You've ben drinkin' before you met me," Mary continued. "I can see it stickin' out all over you."

"Consult an oculist, my dear," he replied. "Bertram is himself tonight. An' he is here, arisin' to his feet to

give the glad hand to his old pal. Bill, old man, here's to you. It's howdedo an' goodbye, I guess. You're a

married man now, Bill, an' you got to keep regular hours. No more runnin' around with the boys. You gotta

take care of yourself, an' get your life insured, an' take out an accident policy, an' join a buildin' an' loan

"Now you shut up, Bert," Mary broke in. "You don't talk about buryin's at weddings. You oughta be ashamed

"Whoa, Mary! Back up! I said what I said because I meant it. I ain't thinkin' what Mary thinks. What I was

thinkin' ... Let me tell you what I was thinkin'. I said buryin' association, didn't I? Well, it was not with the

He was so evidently seeking a way out of his predicament, that Mary tossed her head triumphantly. This

"Let me tell you why," he went on. "Because, Bill, you got such an allfired pretty wife, that's why. All the

fellows is crazy over her, an' when they get to runnin' after her, what'll you be doin'? You'll be gettin' busy.

And then won't you need a buryin' association to bury 'em? I just guess yes. That was the compliment to your

"Who says I'm squiffed? Me? Not on your life. I'm seein' all things in a clear white light. An' I see Bill there,

my old friend Bill. An' I don't see two Bills. I see only one. Bill was never twofaced in his life. Bill, old

man, when I look at you there in the married harness, I'm sorry" He ceased abruptly and turned on Mary.

"Now don't go up in the air, old girl. I'm onto my job. My grandfather was a state senator, and he could spiel

graceful an' pleasin' till the cows come home. So can I.Bill, when I look at you, I'm sorry. I repeat, I'm

sorry. He glared challengingly at Mary. "For myself when I look at you an' know all the happiness you got a

hammerlock on. Take it from me, you're a wise guy, bless the women. You've started well. Keep it up. Marry

'em all, bless 'em. Bill, here's to you. You're a Mohegan with a scalplock. An' you got a squaw that is some

squaw, take it from me. Minnehaha, here's to youto the two of youan' to the papooses, too, goshdang

He drained the glass suddenly and collapsed in his chair, blinking his eyes across at the wedded couple while

tears trickled unheeded down his cheeks. Mary's hand went out soothingly to his, completing his

"By God, I got a right to cry," he sobbed. "I'm losin' my best friend, ain't I? It'll never be the same again

never. When I think of the fun, an' scrapes, an' good times Bill an' me has had together, I could darn near hate

"Aw, it's only one of his cryin' jags," Mary said, with a harshness that her free hand belied as it caressed his

hair with soothing strokes. "Buck up, Bert. Everything's all right. And now it's up to Bill to say something

"I'm no hotair artist," Billy grumbled. "What'll I say, Saxon? They ain't no use tellin' 'em how happy we are.

"Tell them we're always going to he happy," she said. "And thank them for all their good wishes, and we both

wish them the same. And we're always going to be together, like old times, the four of us. And tell them

they're invited down to 507 Pine Street next Sunday for Sunday dinner.And, Mary, if you want to come

"You've told'm yourself, better'n I could." Billy clapped his hands. "You did yourself proud, an' I guess they

He stood up, his hand on his glass. His clear blue eyes under the dark brows and framed by the dark lashes,

seemed a deeper blue, and accentuated the blondness of hair and skin. The smooth cheeks were rosynot

with wine, for it was only his second glassbut with health and joy. Saxon, looking up at him, thrilled with

pride in him, he was so welldressed, so strong, so handsome, so cleanlookingher manboy. And she

was aware of pride in herself, in her woman's desirableness that had won for her so wonderful a lover.

"Well, Bert an' Mary, here you are at Saxon's and my wedding supper. We're just goin' to take all your good

wishes to heart, we wish you the same back, and when we say it we mean more than you think we mean.

Saxon an' I believe in tit for tat. So we're wishin' for the day when the table is turned clear around an' we're

sittin' as guests at your weddin' supper. And then, when you come to Sunday dinner, you can both stop

Saturday night in the spare bedroom. I guess I was wised up when I furnished it, eh?"

"I never thought it of you, Billy!" Mary exclaimed. "You're every hit as raw as Bert. But just the same ... "

There was a rush of moisture to her eyes. Her voice faltered and broke. She smiled through her tears at them,

then turned to look at Bert, who put his arm around her and gathered her on to his knees.

When they left the restaurant, the four walked to Eighth and Broadway, where they stopped beside the

electric car. Bert and Billy were awkward and silent, oppressed by a strange aloofness. But Mary embraced

"It's all right, dear," Mary whispered. "Don't be scared. It's all right. Think of all the other women in the

The conductor clanged the gong, and the two couples separated in a sudden hubbub of farewell.

"Oh, you Mohegan!" Bert called after, as the car got under way. "Oh, you Minnehaha!"

The car stopped at Seventh and Pine, the terminus of the line. It was only a little over two blocks to the

"Funny, isn't it?" he said, as the key turned in tlie lock. "You an' me. Just you an' me."

While he lighted the lamp in the parlor, Saxon was taking off her hat. He went into the bedroom and lighted

the lamp there, then turned back and stood in the doorway. Saxon, still unaccountably fumbling with her

The first evening after the marriage night Saxon met Billy at the door as he came up the front steps. After

their embrace, and as they crossed the parlor hand in hand toward the kitchen, he filled his lungs through his

"My, but this house smells good, Saxon! It ain't the coffeeI can smell that, too. It's the whole house. It

He washed and dried himself at the sink, while she heated the frying pan on the front hole of the stove with

the lid off. As he wiped his hands he watched her keenly, and cried out with approbation as she dropped the

"Where'd you learn to cook steak on a dry, hot pan? It's the only way, but darn few women seem to know

As she took the cover off a second frying pan and stirred the savory contents with a kitchen knife, he came

behind her, passed his arms under her armpits with downdrooping hands upon her breasts, and bent his

"Umumummm! Fried potatoes with onions like mother used to make. Me for them. Don't they smell

The pressure of his hands relaxed, and his cheek slid caressingly past hers as he started to release her. Then

his hands closed down again. She felt his lips on her hair and heard his advertised inhalation of delight.

"Umummmm! Don't you smell goodyourself, though! I never understood what they meant when they

His joy was boundless. When he returned from combing his hair in the bedroom and sat down at the small

"Say, bein' married is a whole lot more than it's cracked up to be by most married folks. Honest to God,

Saxon, we can show 'em a few. We can give 'em cards and spades an' little casino an' win out on big casino

"An' that is that we didn't get married quick enough. Just think. I've lost a whole week of this."

Her eyes shone with gratitude and happiness, and in her heart she solemnly pledged herself that never in all

Supper finished, she cleared the table and began washing the dishes at the sink. When he evinced the

intention of wiping them, she caught him by the lapels of the coat and backed him into a chair.

"You'll sit right there, if you know what's good for you. Now be good and mind what I say. Also, you will

smoke a cigarette.No; you're not going to watch me. There's the morning paper beside you. And if you

As he smoked and read, she continually glanced across at him from her work. One thing more, she

"Nope. They'ra sore, and there's only one thing to do 'em any good, an' that's lookin' at you."

When she had washed the dish towel and scalded out the sink, she took off her kitchen apron, came to him,

After he had adjudged them well, he ouched and informed her that there was still some hurt in the right eye.

And Billy became physician for a while and she the patient. When the cure was accomplished, she led him

into the parlor, where, by the open window, they succeeded in occupying the same Morris chair. It was the

most expensive comfort in the house. It had cost seven dollars and a half, and, though it was grander than

anything she had dreamed of possessing, the extravagance of it had worried her in a halfguilty way all day.

The salt chill of the air that is the blessing of all the bay cities after the sun goes down crept in about them.

They heard the switch engines puffing in the railroad yards, and the rumbling thunder of the Seventh Street

local slowing down in its run from the Mole to stop at West Oakland station. From the street came the noise

of children playing in the summer night, and from the steps of the house next door the low voices of

"Can you beat it?" Billy murmured. "When I think of that sixdollar furnished room of mine, it makes me

sick to think what I was missin' all the time. But there's one satisfaction. If I'd changed it sooner I wouldn't

"Your skin's so cool," he said. "It ain't cold; it's cool. It feels good to the hand."

"And your voice is cool," he went on. "It gives me the feeling just as your hand does when you rest it on my

forehead. It's funny. I can't explain it. But your voice just goes all through me, cool and fine. It's like a wind

of coolnessjust right. It's like the first of the seabreeze settin' in in the afternoon after a scorchin' hot

morning. An' sometimes, when you talk low, it sounds round and sweet like the 'cello in the Macdonough

Theater orchestra. And it never goes high up, or sharp, or squeaky, or scratchy, like some women's voices

when they're mad, or fresh, or excited, till they remind me of a bum phonograph record. Why, your voice, it

just goes through me till I'm all tremblinglike with the everlastin' cool of it. It's it's straight delicious. I

After a few minutes, in which, so inexpreasible was her happiness that she could only pass her hand through

"I'll tell you what you remind me of. Did you ever see a thoroughbred mare, all shinin' in the sun, with hair

like satin an' skin so thin an' tender that the least touch of the whip leaves a markall fine nerves, an'

delicate an' sensitive, that'll kill the toughest bronco when it comes to endurance an' that can strain a tendon

in a flash or catch deathofcold without a blanket for a night? I wanta tell you they ain't many beautifuler

sights in this world. An' they're that finestrung, an' sensitive, an' delicate. You gotta handle 'em rightside

up, glass, with care. Well, that's what you remind me of. And I'm goin' to make it my job to see you get

handled an' gentled in the same way. You're as different from other women as that kind of a mare is from

scrub workhorse mares. You're a thoroughbred. You're cleancut an' spirited, an' your lines ...

"Say, d'ye know you've got some figure? Well, you have. Talk about Annette Kellerman. You can give her

cards and spades. She's Australian, an' you're American, only your figure ain't. You're different. You're

niftyI don't know how to explain it. Other women ain't built like you. You belong in some other country.

You're Frenchy, that's what. You're built like a French woman an' more than thatthe way you walk, move,

And he, who had never been out of California, or, for that matter, had never slept a night away from his

birthtown of Oakland, was right in his judgment. She was a flower of AngloSaxon stock, a rarity in the

exceptional smallness and fineness of hand and foot and bone and grace of flesh and carriagesome

throwback across the face of time to the foraying NormanFrench that had intermingled with the sturdy

"And in the way you carry your clothes. They belong to you. They seem just as much part of you as the cool

of your voice and skin. They're always all right an' couldn't be better. An' you know, a fellow kind of likes to

be seen taggin' around with a woman like you, that wears her clothes like a dream, an' hear the other fellows

say: 'Who's Bill's new skirt? She's a peach, ain't she? Wouldn't I like to win her, though.' And all that sort of

And Saxon, her cheek pressed to his, knew that she was paid in full for all her midnight sewings and the

torturing hours of drowsy stitching when her head nodded with the weariness of the day's toil, while she

recreated for herself filched ideas from the dainty garments that had steamed under her passing iron.

"Say, Saxon, I got a new name for you. You're my Tonic Kid. That's what you are, the Tonic Kid."

"Isn't it wonderful, our meeting, Billy? We might never have met. It was just by accident that we did."

They sat on in a silence that was quick with unuttered love, till she felt him slowly draw her more closely and

his lips come near to her ear as they whispered: "What do you say we go to bed?"

Many evenings they spent like this, varied with an occasional dance, with trips to the Orpheum and to Bell's

Theater, or to the moving picture shows, or to the Friday night band concerts in City Hall Park. Often, on

Sunday, she prepared a lunch, and he drove her out into the hills behind Prince and King, whom Billy's

Each morning Saxon was called by the alarm clock. The first morning he had insisted upon getting up with

her and building the fire in the kitchen stove. She gave in the first morning, but after that she laid the fire in

the evening, so that all that was required was the touching of a match to it. And in bed she compelled him to

remain for a last little doze ere she called him for breakfast. For the first several weeks she prepared his lunch

for him. Then, for a week, he came down to dinner. After that he was compelled to take his lunch with him. It

"You're not starting right with a man," Mary cautioned. "You wait on him hand and foot. You'll spoil him if

"He's the breadwinner," Saxon replied. "He works harder than I, and I've got more time than I know what to

do withtime to burn. Besides, I want to wait on him because I love to, and because ... well, anyway, I want

Despite the fastidiousness of her housekeeping, Saxon, once she had systematized it, found time and to spare

on her hands. Especially during the periods in which her husband carried his lunch and there was no midday

meal to prepare, she had a number of hours each day to herself. Trained for years to the routine of factory and

laundry work, she could not abide this unaccustomed idleness. She could not bear to sit and do nothing, while

she could not pay calls on her girlhood friends, for they still worked in factory and laundry. Nor was she

acquainted with the wives of the neighborhood, save for one strange old woman who lived in the house next

door and with whom Saxon had exchanged snatches of conversation over the backyard division fence.

One timeconsuming diversion of which Saxon took advantage was free and unlimited baths. In the orphan

asylum and in Sarah's house she had been used to but one bath a week. As she grew to womanhood she had

attempted more frequent baths. But the effort proved disastrous, arousing, first, Sarah's derision, and next, her

wrath. Sarah had crystallized in the era of the weekly Saturday night bath, and any increase in this cleansing

function was regarded by her as putting on airs and as an insinuation against her own cleanliness. Also, it was

an extravagant misuse of fuel, and occasioned extra towels in the family wash. But now, in Billy's house,

with her own stove, her own tub and towels and soap, and no one to say her nay, Saxon was guilty of a daily

orgy. True, it was only a common washtub that she placed on the kitchen floor and filled by hand; but it was

a luxury that had taken her twentyfour years to achieve. It was from the strange woman next door that

Saxon received a hint, dropped in casual conversation, of what proved the culminating joy of bathing. A

simple thinga few drops of druggist's ammonia in the water; but Saxon had never heard of it before.

She was destined to learn much from the strange woman. The acquaintance had begun one day when Saxon,

in the back yard, was hanging out a couple of corset covers and several pieces of her finest undergarments.

The woman leaning on the rail of her back porch, had caught her eye, and nodded, as it seemed to Saxon, half

"You're newly married, aren't you?" the woman asked. "I'm Mrs. Higgins. I prefer my first name, which is

"And I'm Mrs. Roberts," Saxon replied, thrilling to the newness of the designation on her tongue. "My first

"La la," laughed Mercedes Higgins. "I forgot I was in America. In other lands all Americans are called

"Oh, you happy, soft, beautiful young thing. I could envy you to hatredyou with all the manworld ripe to

be twisted about your pretty little fingers. And you don't realize your fortune. No one does until it's too late."

Mercedes Higgins sighed again and changed the subject. She nodded her head at the garments.

"I see you like pretty things. It is good judgment for a young woman. They're the bait for menhalf the

weapons in the battle. They win men, and they hold men" She broke off to demand almost fiercely: "And

Saxon ceased, troubled and surprised that she should be so intimate with a stranger.

"'Tis a queer thing, this love of men," Mercedes said. "And a failing of all women is it to believe they know

men like books. And with breaking hearts, die they do, most women, out of their ignorance of men and still

foolishly believing they know all about them. Oh, la la, the little fools. And so you say, little newmarried

woman, that you will make your man love you always and always? And so they all say it, knowing men and

the queerness of men's love the way they think they do. Easier it is to win the capital prize in the Little

Louisiana, but the little newmarried women never know it until too late. But youyou have begun well.

Stay by your pretties and your looks. 'Twas so you won your man, 'tis so you'll hold him. But that is not all.

Some time I will talk with you and tell what few women trouble to know, what few women ever come to

know.Saxon!'tis a strong, handsome name for a woman. But you don't look it. Oh, I've watched you.

French you are, with a Frenchiness beyond dispute. Tell Mr. Roberts I congratulate him on his good taste."

"And come and see me some time. You will never be sorry. I can teach you much. Come in the afternoon.

My man is night watchman in the yards and sleeps of mornings. He's sleeping now."

Saxon went into the house puzzling and pondering. Anything but ordinary was this lean, darkskinned

woman, with the face withered as if scorched in great heats, and the eyes, large and black, that flashed and

flamed with advertisement of an unquenched inner conflagration. Old she wasSaxon caught herself

debating anywhere between fifty and seventy; and her hair, which had once been blackest black, was streaked

plentifully with gray. Especially noteworthy to Saxon was her speech. Good English it was, better than that to

which Saxon was accustomed. Yet the woman was not American. On the other hand, she had no perceptible

accent. Rather were her words touched by a foreignness so elusive that Saxon could not analyze nor place it.

"Uh, huh," Billy said, when she had told him that evening of the day's event. "So SHE'S Mrs. Higgins? He's a

watchman. He's got only one arm. Old Higgins an' hera funny bunch, the two of them. The people's scared

of hersome of 'em. The Dagoes an' some of the old Irish dames thinks she's a witch. Won't have a thing to

do with her. Bert was tellin' me about it. Why, Saxon, d'ye know, some of 'em believe if she was to get mad

at 'em, or didn't like their mugs, or anything, that all she's got to do is look at 'em an' they'll curl up their toes

an' croak. One of the fellows that works at the stableyou've seen 'mHendersonhe lives around the

"Oh, I don't know," Saxon defended her new acquaintance. "She may be crazy, but she says the same thing

"Then I take my hat off to her," Billy responded. "No wheels in her head if she says that. Take it from me,

"And she speaks good English, Billy, like a school teacher, like what I guess my mother used to speak. She's

"She told me to congratulate you on your good taste in marrying me," Saxon laughed.

"She did, eh? Then give her my love. Me for her, because she knows a good thing when she sees it, an' she

It was on another day that Mercedes Higgins nodded, half to Saxon, and half to the dainty women's things

"Steam laundry. That's business, and it's stupid. Only common things should go to a steam laundry. That is

their punishment for being common. But the pretties! the dainties! the flimsies!la la, my dear, their

washing is an art. It requires wisdom, genius, and discretion fine as the clothes are fine. I will give you a

recipe for homemade soap. It will not harden the texture. It will give whiteness, and softness, and life. You

can wear them long, and fine white clothes are to be loved a long time. Oh, fine washing is a refinement, an

art. It is to be done as an artist paints a picture, or writes a poem, with love, holily, a true sacrament of beauty.

"I shall teach you better ways, my dear, better ways than you Yankees know. I shall teach you new pretties."

She nodded her head to Saxon's underlinen on the line. "I see you make little laces. I know all lacesthe

Belgian, the Maltese, the Mechlinoh, the many, many loves of laces! I shall teach you some of the simpler

ones so that you can make them for yourself, for your brave man you are to make love you always and

On her first visit to Mercedes Higgins, Saxon received the recipe for homemade soap and her head was

filled with a minutiae of instruction in the art of fine washing. Further, she was fascinated and excited by all

the newness and strangeness of the withered old woman who blew upon her the breath of wider lands and

"No, and yes, and neither, and more. My father was Irish, my mother PeruvianSpanish. 'Tis after her I took,

in color and looks. In other ways after my father, the blueeyed Celt with the fairy song on his tongue and the

restless feet that stole the rest of him away to farwandering. And the feet of him that he lent me have led me

Saxon remembered her school geography, and with her mind's eye she saw a certain outline map of a

"I had to be born somewhere. It was a great ranch, my mother's. You could put all Oakland in one of its

Mercedes Higgins sighed cheerfully and for the time was lost in retrospection. Saxon was curious to hear

more about this woman who must have lived much as the SpanishCalifornians had lived in the old days.

"You received a good education," she said tentatively. "Your English is perfect."

"Ah, the English came afterward, and not in school. But, as it goes, yes, a good education in all things but the

most importantmen. That, too, came afterward. And little my mother dreamedshe was a grand lady,

what you call a cattlequeenlittle she dreamed my fine education was to fit me in the end for a night

watchman's wife." She laughed genuinely at the grotesqueness of the idea. "Night watchman, laborers, why,

we had hundreds, yes, thousands that toiled for us. The peonsthey are like what you call slaves, almost,

and the cowboys, who could ride two hundred miles between side and side of the ranch. And in the big house

servants beyond remembering or counting. La la, in my mother's house were many servants."

"But our servants were lazy and dirty. The Chinese are the servants par excellence. So are the Japanese, when

you find a good one, but not so good as the Chinese. The Japanese maidservants are pretty and merry, but you

never know the moment they'll leave you. The Hindoos are not strong, but very obedient. They look upon

sahibs and memsahibs as gods! I was a memsahibwhich means woman. I once had a Russian cook who

always spat in the soup for luck. It was very funny. But we put up with it. It was the custom."

"And the strangest of all, down in the South Seas, black slaves, little kinkyhaired cannibals with bones

through their noses. When they did not mind, or when they stole, they were tied up to a cocoanut palm behind

the compound and lashed with whips of rhinoceros hide. They were from an island of cannibals and

headhunters, and they never cried out. It was their pride. There was little Vibi, only twelve years oldhe

waited on meand when his back was cut in shreds and I wept over him, he would only laugh and say,

'Short time little bit I take 'm head belong big fella white marster.' That was Bruce Anstey, the Englishman

who whipped him. But little Vibi never got the head. He ran away and the bushmen cut off his own head and

"Ah, those were wild, gay, savage days. Would you believe it, my dear, in three years those Englishmen of

the plantation drank up oceans of champagne and Scotch whisky and dropped thirty thousand pounds on the

adventure. Not dollarspounds, which means one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. They were princes

while it lasted. It was splendid, glorious. It was mad, mad. I sold half my beautiful jewels in New Zealand

before I got started again. Bruce Anstey blew out his brains at the end. Roger went mate on a trader with a

black crew, for eight pounds a month. And Jack Gilbraithhe was the rarest of them all. His people were

wealthy and titled, and he went home to England and sold cat's meat, sat around their big house till they gave

him more money to start a rubber plantation in the East Indies somewhere, on Sumatra, I thinkor was it

And Saxon, back in her own kitchen and preparing supper for Billy, wondered what lusts and rapacities had

led the old, burntfaced woman from the big Peruvian ranch, through all the world, to West Oakland and

Barry Higgins Old Barry was not the sort who would fling away his share of one hundred and fifty thousand

dollars, much less ever attain to such opulence. Besides, she had mentioned the names of other men, but not

Much more Mercedes had talked, in snatches and fragments. There seemed no great country nor city of the

old world or the new in which she had not been. She had even been in Klondike, ten years before, in a

halfdozen flashing sentences picturing the furclad, bemoccasined miners sowing the barroom floors with

thousands of dollars' worth of gold dust. Always, so it seemed to Saxon, Mrs. Higgins had been with men to

Saxon, brooding over her problem of retaining Billy's love, of never staling the freshness of their feeling for

each other and of never descending from the heights which at present they were treading, felt herself impelled

toward Mrs. Higgins. SHE knew; surely she must know. Had she not hinted knowledge beyond ordinary

Several weeks went by, during which Saxon was often with her. But Mrs. Higgins talked of all other matters,

taught Saxon the making of certain simple laces, and instructed her in the arts of washing and of marketing.

And then, one afternoon, Saxon found Mrs. Higgins more voluble than usual, with words, cleanuttered, that

rippled and tripped in their haste to escape. Her eyes were flaming. So flamed her face. Her words were

flames. There was a smell of liquor in the air and Saxon knew that the old woman had been drinking.

Nervous and frightened, at the same time fascinated, Saxon hemstitched a linen handkerchief intended for

"Listen, my dear. I shall tell you about the world of men. Do not be stupid like all your people, who think me

foolish and a witch with the evil eye. Ha! ha! When I think of silly Maggie Donahue pulling the shawl across

her baby's face when we pass each other on the sidewalk! A witch I have been, 'tis true, but my witchery was

with men. Oh, I am wise, very wise, my dear. I shall tell you of women's ways with men, and of men's ways

with women, the best of them and the worst of them. Of the brute that is in all men, of the queerness of them

that breaks the hearts of stupid women who do not understand. And all women are stupid. I am not stupid. La

"I am an old woman. And like a woman, I'll not tell you how old I am. Yet can I hold men. Yet would I hold

men, toothless and a hundred, my nose touching my chin. Not the young men. They were mine in my young

days. But the old men, as befits my years. And well for me the power is mine. In all this world I am without

kin or cash. Only have I wisdom and memoriesmemories that are ashes, but royal ashes, jeweled ashes.

Old women, such as I, starve and shiver, or accept the pauper's dole and the pauper's shroud. Not I. I hold my

man. True, 'tis only Barry Higginsold Barry, heavy, an ox, but a male man, my dear, and queer as all men

are queer. 'Tis true, he has one arm." She shrugged her shoulders. "A compensation. He cannot beat me, and

"But when I think of my wild young lovers, princes, mad with the madness of youth! I have lived. It is

enough. I regret nothing. And with old Barry I have my surety of a bite to eat and a place by the fire. And

why? Because I know men, and shall never lose my cunning to hold them. 'Tis bitter sweet, the knowledge of

them, more sweet than bittermen and men and men! Not stupid dolts, nor fat bourgeois swine of business

men, but men of temperament, of flame and fire; madmen, maybe, but a lawless, royal race of madmen.

"Little wifewoman, you must learn. Variety! There lies the magic. 'Tis the golden key. 'Tis the toy that

amuses. Without it in the wife, the man is a Turk; with it, he is her slave, and faithful. A wife must be many

wives. If you would have your husband's love you must be all women to him. You must be ever new, with the

dew of newness ever sparkling, a flower that never blooms to the fulness that fades. You must be a garden of

flowers, ever new, ever fresh, ever different. And in your garden the man must never pluck the last of your

"Listen, little wifewoman. In the garden of love is a snake. It is the commonplace. Stamp on its head, or it

will destroy the garden. Remember the name. Commonplace. Never be too intimate. Men only seem gross.

Women are more gross than men.No, do not argue, little newwife. You are an infant woman. Women are

less delicate than men. Do I not know? Of their own husbands they will relate the most intimate lovesecrets

to other women. Men never do this of their wives. Explain it. There is only one way. In all things of love

women are less delicate. It is their mistake. It is the father and the mother of the commonplace, and it is the

"Be delicate, little wifewoman. Never be without your veil, without many veils. Veil yourself in a thousand

veils, all shimmering and glittering with costly textures and precious jewels. Never let the last veil be drawn.

Against the morrow array yourself with more veils, ever more veils, veils without end. Yet the many veils

must not seem many. Each veil must seem the only one between you and your hungry lover who will have

nothing less than all of you. Each time he must seem to get all, to tear aside the last veil that hides you. He

must think so. It must not be so. Then there will be no satiety, for on the morrow he will find another last veil

"Remember, each veil must seem the last and only one. Always you must seem to abandon all to his arms;

always you must reserve more that on the morrow and on all the morrows you may abandon. Of such is

variety, surprise, so that your man's pursuit will be everlasting, so that his eyes will look to you for newness,

and not to other women. It was the freshness and the newness' of your beauty and you, the mystery of you,

that won your man. When a man has plucked and smelled all the sweetness of a flower, he looks for other

flowers. It is his queerness. You must ever remain a flower almost plucked yet never plucked, stored with

"Stupid women, and all are stupid, think the first winning of the man the final victory. Then they settle down

and grow fat, and state, and dead, and heartbroken. Alas, they are so stupid. But you, little infantwoman

with your first victory, you must make your lovelife an unending chain of victories. Each day you must win

your man again. And when you have won the last victory, when you can find no more to win, then ends love.

Finis is written, and your man wanders in strange gardens. Remember, love must be kept insatiable. It must

have an appetite knifeedged and never satisfied. You must feed your lover well, ah, very well, most well;

Mrs. Higgins stood up suddenly and crossed out of the room. Saxon had not failed to note the litheness and

grace in that lean and withered body. She watched for Mrs. Higgins' return, and knew that the litheness and

"Scarcely have I told you the first letter in love's alphabet," said Mercedes Higgins, as she reseated herself.

In her hands was a tiny instrument, beautifully grained and richly brown, which resembled a guitar save that

it bore four strings. She swept them back and forth with rhythmic forefinger and lifted a voice, thin and

mellow, in a fashion of melody that was strange, and in a foreign tongue, warmvoweled, allvoweled, and

loveexciting. Softly throbbing, voice and strings arose on sensuous crests of song, died away to whisperings

and caresses, drifted through lovedusks and twilights, or swelled again to lovecries barbarically imperious

in which were woven plaintive calls and madnesses of invitation and promise. It went through Saxon until

she was as this instrument, swept with passional strains. It seemed to her a dream, and almost was she dizzy,

"If your man had clasped the last of you, and if all of you were known to him as an old story, yet, did you

sing that one song, as I have sung it, yet would his arms again go out to you and his eyes grow warm with the

"The golden koa, the king of woods," Mercedes was crooning over the instrument. "The ukulelethat is

what the Hawaiians call it, which means, my dear, the jumping flea. They are goldenfleshed, the Hawalians,

a race of lovers, all in the warm cool of the tropic night where the trade winds blow."

Again she struck the strings. She sang in another language, which Saxon deemed must be French. It was a

gaylydevilish lilt, tripping and tickling. Her large eyes at times grew larger and wilder, and again narrowed

in enticement and wickedness. When she ended, she looked to Saxon for a verdict.

"They all have their worth, little infantwoman with so much to learn. There are times when men may be

won with wine. There are times when men may be won with the wine of song, so queer they are. La la, so

many ways, so many ways. There are your pretties, my dear, your dainties. They are magic nets. No

fisherman upon the sea ever tangled fish more successfully than we women with our flimsies. You are on the

right path. I have seen men enmeshed by a corset cover no prettier, no daintier, than these of yours I have

"I have called the washing of fine linen an art. But it is not for itself alone. The greatest of the arts is the

conquering of men. Love is the sum of all the arts, as it is the reason for their existence. Listen. In all times

and ages have been women, great wise women. They did not need to be beautiful. Greater then all woman's

beauty was their wisdom. Princes end potentates bowed down before them. Nations battled over them.

Empires crashed because of them. Religions were founded on them. Aphrodite, Astarte, the worships of the

And thereafter Saxon listened, in a maze, to what almost seemed a wild farrago, save that the strange

meaningless phrases were fraught with dim, mysterious significance. She caught glimmerings of profounds

inexpressible and unthinkable that hinted connotations lawless and terrible. The woman's speech was a lava

rush, scorching and searing; and Saxon's cheeks, and forehead, and neck burned with a blush that

continuously increased. She trembled with fear, suffered qualms of nausea, thought sometimes that she would

faint, so madly reeled her brain; yet she could not tear herself away, sad sat on and on, her sewing forgotten

on her lap, staring with inward sight upon a nightmare vision beyond all imagining. At last, when it seemed

she could endure no more, and while she was wetting her dry lips to cry out in protest, Mercedes ceased.

"And here endeth the first lesson," she said quite calmly, then laughed with a laughter that was tantalizing

"I am frightened," Saxon quavered huskily, with a halfsob of nervousness. "You frighten me. I am very

"It is indeed to be frightened at," she said. "It is solemn; it is terrible; it is magnificent!"

Saxon had been cleareyed all her days, though her field of vision had been restricted. Cleareyed, from her

childhood days with the saloonkeeper Cady and Cady's goodnatured but unmoral spouse, she had observed,

and, later, generalized much upon sex. She knew the postnuptial problem of retaining a husband's love, as

few wives of any class knew it, just as she knew the prenuptial problem of selecting a husband, as few girls

She had of herself developed an eminently rational philosophy of love. Instinctively, and consciously, too,

she had made toward delicacy, and shunned the perils of the habitual and commonplace. Thoroughly aware

she was that as she cheapened herself so did she cheapen love. Never, in the weeks of their married life, had

Billy found her dowdy, or harshly irritable, or lethargic. And she had deliberately permeated her house with

her personal atmosphere of coolness, and freshness, and equableness. Nor had she been ignorant of such

assets as surprise and charm. Her imagination had not been asleep, and she had been born with wisdom. In

Billy she had won a prize, and she knew it. She appreciated his lover's ardor and was proud. His

openhanded liberality, his desire for everything of the best, his own personal cleanliness and care of himself

she recognized as far beyond the average. He was never coarse. He met delicacy with delicacy, though it was

obvious to her that the initiative in all such matters lay with her and must lie with her always. He was largely

unconscious of what he did and why. But she knew in all full clarity of judgment. And he was such a prize

Despite her clear sight of her problem of keeping Billy a lover, and despite the considerable knowledge and

experience arrayed before her mental vision, Mercedes Higgins had spread before her a vastly wider

panorama. The old woman had verified her own conclusions, given her new ideas, clinched old ones, and

even savagely emphasized the tragic importance of the whole problem. Much Saxon remembered of that mad

preachment, much she guessed and felt, and much had been beyond her experience and understanding. But

the metaphors of the veils and the flowers, and the rules of giving to abandonment with always more to

abandon, she grasped thoroughly, and she was enabled to formulate a bigger and stronger lovephilosophy.

In the light of the revelation she reexamined the married lives of all she had ever known, and, with sharp

With renewed ardor Saxon devoted herself to her household, to her pretties, and to her charms. She marketed

with a keener desire for the best, though never ignoring the need for economy. From the women's pages of

the Sunday supplements, and from the women's magazines in the free reading room two blocks away, she

gleaned many idess for the preservation of her looks. In a systematic way she exercised the various parts of

her body, and a certain period of time each day she employed in facial exercises and massage for the purpose

of retaining the roundness and freshness, and firmness and color. Billy did not know. These intimacies of the

toilette were not for him. The results, only, were his. She drew books from the Carnegie Library and studied

physiology and hygiene, and learned a myriad of things about herself and the ways of woman's health that

she had never been taught by Sarah, the women of the orphan asylum, nor by Mrs. Cady.

After long debate she subscribed to a woman's magazine, the patterns and lessons of which she decided were

the best suited to her taste and purse. The other woman's magazines she had aceess to in the free reading

room, and more than one pattern of lace and embroidery she copied by means of tracing paper. Before the

lingerie windows of the uptown shops she often stood and studied; nor was she above taking advantage, when

small purchases were made, of looking over the goods at the handembroidered underwear counters. Once,

she even considered taking up with handpainted china, but gave over the idea when she learned its

She slowly replaced all her simple maiden underlinen with garments which, while still simple, were wrought

with beautiful French embroidery, tucks, and drawnwork. She crocheted fine edgings on the inexpensive

knitted underwear she wore in winter. She made little corset covers and chemises of fine but fairly

inexpensive lawns, and, with simple flowered designs and perfect laundering, her nightgowns were always

sweetly fresh and dainty. In some publication she ran across a brief printed note to the effect that French

women were just beginning to wear fascinating beruffled caps at the breakfast table. It meant nothing to her

that in her case she must first prepare the breakfast. Promptly appeared in the house a yard of dotted Swiss

muslin, and Saxon was deep in experimenting on patterns for herself, and in sorting her bits of laces for

suitable trimmings. The resultant dainty creation won Mercedes Higgins' enthusiastic approval.

Saxon made for herself simple house slips of pretty gingham, with neat low collars turned back from her

fresh round throat. She crocheted yards of laces for her underwear, and made Battenberg in abundance for her

table and for the bureau. A great achievement, that aroused Billy's applause, was an Afghan for the bed. She

even ventured a rag carpet, which, the women's magazines informed her, had newly returned into fashion. As

a matter of course she hemstitched the best table linen and bed linen they could afford.

As the happy months went by she was never idle. Nor was Billy forgotten. When the cold weather came on

she knitted him wristlets, which he always religiously wore from the house and pocketed immediately

thereafter. The two sweaters she made for him, however, received a better fate, as did the slippers which she

The hard practical wisdom of Mercedes Higgins proved of immense help, for Saxon strove with a fervor

almost religious to have everything of the best and at the same time to be saving. Here she faced the financial

and economic problem of keeping house in a society where the cost of living rose faster than the wages of

industry. And here the old woman taught her the science of marketing so thoroughly that she made a dollar of

Billy's go half as far again as the wives of the neighborhood made the dollars of their men go.

Invariably, on Saturday night, Billy poured his total wages into her lap. He never asked for an accounting of

what she did with it, though he continually reiterated that he had never fed so well in his life. And always, the

wages still untouched in her lap, she had him take out what he estimated he would need for spending money

for the week to come. Not only did she bid him take plenty but she insisted on his taking any amount extra

that he might desire at any time through the week. And, further, she insisted he should not tell her what it was

"You've always had money in your pocket," she reminded him, "and there's no reason marriage should

change that. If it did, I'd wish I'd never married you. Oh, I know about men when they get together. First one

treats and then another, and it takes money. Now if you can't treat just as freely as the rest of thcm, why I

know you so well that I know you'd stay away from them. And that wouldn't be right ... to you, I mean. I

And Billy buried her in his arms and swore she was the greatest little bit of woman that ever came down the

"Why," he jubilated; "not only do I feed better, and live more comfortable, and hold up my end with the

fellows; but I'm actually saving moneyor you are for me. Here I am, with furniture being paid for regular

every month, and a little woman I'm mad over, and on top of it money in the bank. How much is it now?"

"Sixtytwo dollars," she told him. "Not so bad for a rainy day. You might get sick, or hurt, or something

It was in midwinter, when Billy, with quite a deal of obvious reluctance, broached a money matter to Saxon.

His old friend, Billy Murphy, was laid up with la grippe, and one of his children, playing in the street, had

been seriously injured by a passing wagon. Billy Murphy, still feeble after two weeks in bed, had asked Billy

"It's perfectly safe," Billy concluded to Saxon. "I've known him since we was kids at the Durant School

"That's got nothing to do with it," Saxon chided. "If you were single you'd have lent it to him immediately,

"Not by a damn sight," he cried. "It ain't mine. It's ourn. And I wouldn't think of lettin' anybody have it

"Nope," Billy laughed. "I knew, if I did, you'd be madder'n a hatter. I just told him I'd try an' figure it out.

"Oh, Billy," she murmured, her voice rich and low with love; "maybe you don't know it, but that's one of the

The more Saxon saw of Mercedes Higgins the less did she understand her. That the old woman was a

closefisted miser, Saxon soon learned. And this trait she found hard to reconcile with her tales of

squandering. On the other hand, Saxon was bewildered by Mercedes' extravagance in personal matters. Her

underlinen, handmade of course, was very costly. The table she set for Barry was good, but the table for

herself was vastly better. Yet both tables were set on the same table. While Barry contented himaelf with

solid round steak, Mercedes ate tenderloin. A huge, tough muttonchop on Barry's plate would be balanced by

tiny French chops on Mercedes' plate. Tea was brewed in separate pots. So was coffee. While Barry gulped

twentyfive cent tea from a large and heavy mug, Mercedes sipped threedollar tea from a tiny cup of

Belleek, rosetinted, fragile as all eggshell. In the same manner, his twentyfive cent coffee was diluted

"'Tis good enough for the old man," she told Saxon. "He knows no better, and it would be a wicked sin to

Little traffickings began between the two women. After Mercedes had freely taught Saxon the loosewristed

facility of playing accompaniments on the ukulele, she proposed an exchange. Her time was past, she said,

for such frivolities, and she offered the instrument for the breakfast cap of which Saxon had made so good a

"It's worth a few dollars," Mercedes said. "It cost me twenty, though that was years ago. Yet it is well worth

"But wouldn't the cap be frivolous, too?" Saxon queried, though herself well pleased with the bargain.

"'Tis not for my graying hair," Mercedes frankly disclaimed. "I shall sell it for the money. Much that I do,

when the rheumatism is not maddening my fingers, I sell. La la, my dear, 'tis not old Barry's fifty a month

that'll satisfy all my expensive tastes. 'Tis I that make up the difference. And old age needs money as never

"I am well satisfied with the trade," Saxon said. "And I shall make me another cap when I can lay aside

"Make several," Mercedes advised. "I'll sell them for you, keeping, of course, a small commission for my

services. I can give you six dollars apiece for them. We will consult about them. The profit will more than

Four eventful things happened in the course of the winter. Bert and Mary got married and rented a cottage in

the neighborhood three blocks away. Billy's wages were cut, along with the wages of all the teamsters in

Oakland. Billy took up shaving with a safety razor. And, finally, Saxon was proven a false prophet and Sarah

Saxon made up her mind, beyond any doubt, ere she confided the news to Billy. At first, while still

suspecting, she had felt a frightened sinking of the heart and fear of the unknown and unexperienced. Then

had come economic fear, as she contemplated the increased expense entailed. But by the time she had made

surety doubly sure, all was swept away before a wave of passionate gladness. HERS AND BILLY'S! The

phrase was continually in her mind, and each recurrent thought of it brought an actual physical pleasurepang

The night she told the news to Billy, he withheld his own news of the wagecut, and joined with her in

"What'll we do? Go to the theater to celebrate?" he asked, relaxing the pressure of his embrace so that she

might speak. "Or suppose we stay in, just you and me, and ... and the three of us?"

"Stay in," was her verdict. "I just want you to hold me, and hold me, and hold me."

"That's what I wanted, too, only I wasn't sure, after bein' in the house all day, maybe you'd want to go out."

There was frost in the air, and Billy brought the Morris chair in by the kitchen stove. She lay cuddled in his

"We didn't make no mistake in our lightning marriage with only a week's courtin'," he reflected aloud. "Why,

Saxon, we've been courtin' ever since just the same. And now . . . my God, Saxon, it's too wonderful to be

true. Think of it! Ourn! The three of us! The little rascal! I bet he's goin' to he a boy. An' won't I learn 'm to

put up his fists an' take care of himself! An' swimmin' too. If he don't know how to swim by the time he's

"SHE'S goin' to he a boy," Billy retorted, joining in the playful misuse of pronouns.

And both laughed and kissed, and sighed with content. "I'm goin' to turn pincher, now," he announced, after

quite an interval of meditation. "No more drinks with the boys. It's me for the water wagon. And I'm goin' to

ease down on smokes. Huh! Don't see why I can't roll my own cigarettes. They're ten times cheaper'n tailor

mades. An' I can grow a beard. The amount of money the barbers get out of a fellow in a year would keep a

"Just you let your beard grow, Mister Roberts, and I'll get a divorce," Saxon threatened. "You're just too

handsome and strong with a smooth face. I love your face too much to have it covered up.Oh, you dear!

you dear! Billy, I never knew what happiness was until I came to live with you."

"I thought I was going to he happy married," she went on; "but I never dreamed it would be like this." She

turned her head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Billy, it isn't happiness. It's heaven."

And Billy resolutely kept undivulged the cut in wages. Not until two weeks later, when it went into effect,

and he poured the diminished sum into her lap, did he break it to her. The next day, Bert and Mary, already a

month married, had Sunday dinner with them, and the matter came up for discussion. Bert was particularly

pessmistic, and muttered dark hints of an impending strike in the railroad shops.

"If you'd all shut your traps, it'd be all right," Mary criticized. "These union agitators get the railroad sore.

They give me the cramp, the way they butt in an' stir up trouble. If I was boss I'd cut the wages of any man

"But look at Billy," Bert argued "The teamsters ain't ben sayin' a word, not a peep, an' everything lovely, and

then, bang, right in the neck, a ten per cent cut. Oh, hell, what chance have we got? We lose. There's nothin'

left for us in this country we've made and our fathers an' mothers before us. We're all shot to pieces. We Can

see our finishwe, the old stock, the children of the white people that broke away from England an' licked

the tar outa her, that freed the slaves, an' fought the Indians, 'an made the West! Any gink with half an eye

"Fight. That's all. The country's in the hands of a gang of robbers. Look at the Southern Pacific. It runs

"Aw, rats, Bert," Billy interrupted. "You're takin' through your lid. No railroad can ran the government of

"You're a bonehead," Bert sneered. "And some day, when it's too late, you an' all the other boneheads'll

realize the fact. Rotten? I tell you it stinks. Why, there ain't a man who wants to go to state legislature but has

to make a trip to San Francisco, an' go into the S. P. offices, an' take his hat off, an' humbly ask permission.

Why, the governors of California has been railroad governors since before you and I was born. Huh! You

can't tell me. We're finished. We're licked to a frazzle. But it'd do my heart good to help string up some of the

dirty thieves before I passed out. D'ye know what we are?we old white stock that fought in the wars, an'

broke the land, an' made all this? I'll tell you. We're the last of the Mohegans."

"He scares me to death, he's so violent," Mary said with unconcealed hostility. "If he don't quit shootin' off

his mouth he'll get fired from the shops. And then what'll we do? He don't consider me. But I can tell you one

thing all right, all right. I'll not go back to the laundry." She held her right hand up and spoke with the

"Oh, I know what you're drivin' at," Bert said with asperity. "An' all I can tell you is, livin' or dead, in a job or

out, no matter what happens to me, if you will lead that way, you will, an' there's nothin' else to it."

"I guess I kept straight before I met you," she came back with a toss of the head. "And I kept straight after I

Hot words were on Bert's tongue, but Saxon intervened and brought about peace. She was concerned over the

outcome of their marriage. Both were highstrung, both were quick and irritable, and their continual clashes

The safety razor was a great achievement for Saxon. Privily she conferred with a clerk she knew in Pierce's

hardware store and made the purchase. On Sunday morning, after breakfast, when Billy was starting to go to

the barber shop, she led him into the bedroom, whisked a towel aside, and revealed the razor box, shaving

mug, soap, brush, and lather all ready. Billy recoiled, then came back to make curious investigation. He gazed

"You shave three times a week," she urged. "That's fortyfive cents. Call it half a dollar, and there are

fiftytwo weeks in the year. Twentysix dollars a year just for shaving. Come on, dear, and try it. Lots of

He shook his head mutinously, and the cloudy deeps of his eyes grew more cloudy. She loved that sullen

handsomeness that made him look so boyish, and, laughing and kissing him, she forced him into a chair, got

Threatening him with, "If you open your mouth to kick I'll shove it in," she coated his face with lather.

"Wait a minute," she checked him, as he reached desperately for the razor. "I've been watching the barbers

"There," she said, when she had coated his face a second time. "You're ready to begin. Only remember, I'm

With great outward show of rebellion, half genuine, half facetious, he made several tentative scrapes with the

He examined his face in the glass, and a streak of blood showed in the midst of the lather.

"Cut!by a safety razor, by God! Sure, men swear by it. Can't blame 'em. Cut! By a safety!"

"But wait a second," Saxon pleaded. "They have to be regulated. The clerk told me. See those little screws.

Again Billy applied the blade to his face. After a couple of scrapes, be looked at himself closely in the mirror,

grinned, and went on shaving. With swiftness and dexterity he scraped his face clean of lather. Saxon clapped

"Fine," Billy approved. "Great! Here. Give me your hand. See what a good job it made."

He started to rub her hand against his cheek. Saxon jerked away with a little cry of disappointment, then

"It's a fake, that's what it is. It cuts the hide, but not the hair. Me for the barber."

"You haven't given it a fair trial yet. It was regulated too much. Let me try my hand at it. There, that's it,

"It gets theouch!hair," Billy grunted, frowning and making faces. "But itgee!say!ouch!pulls

"Stay with it," she encouraged. "Don't give up the ship, big Injun with a scalplock. Remember what Bert says

At the end of fifteen minutes he rinsed his face and dried it, sighing with relief.

"It's a shave, in a fashion, Saxon, but I can't say I'm stuck on it. It takes out the nerve. I'm as weak as a cat."

"The back of my neckhow can I shave the back of my neck? I'll have to pay a barber to do it."

Saxon's consternation was tragic, but it only lasted a moment. She took the brush in her hand.

Billy moaned and groaned in the abjectness of humility and surrender, and let her have her way.

"There, and a good job," she informed him when she had finished. "As easy as falling off a log. And besides,

it means twentysix dollars a year. And you'll buy the crib, the baby buggy, the pinning blankets, and lots

The unexpected and lingering impact of her lips on the back of his neck made him writhe with mingled

Two days later, though vowing in the intervening time to have nothing further to do with the instrument of

the devil, he permitted Saxon to assist him to a second shave. This time it went easier.

"It ain't so bad," he admitted. "I'm gettin' the hang of it. It's all in the regulating. You can shave as close as

you want an' no more close than you want. Barbers can't do that. Every once an' awhile they get my face

The third shave was an unqualified success, and the culminating bliss was reached when Saxon presented him

with a bottle of witch hazel. After that he began active proselyting. He could not wait a visit from Bert, but

"We've ben boobs all these years, Bert, runnin' the chances of barber's itch an' everything. Look at this, eh?

See her take hold. Smooth as silk. Just as easy... There! Six minutes by the clock. Can you beat it? When I get

my hand in, I can do it in three. It works in the dark. It works under water. You couldn't cut yourself if you

tried. And it saves twentysix dollars a year. Saxon figured it out, and she's a wonder, I tell you."

The trafficking between Saxon and Mercedes increased. The latter commanded a ready market for all the fine

work Saxon could supply, while Saxon was eager and happy in the work. The expected babe and the cut in

Billy's wages had caused her to regard the economic phase of existence more seriously than ever. Too little

money was being laid away in the bank, and her conscience pricked her as she considered how much she was

laying out on the pretty necessaries for the household and herself. Also, for the first time in her life she was

spending another's earnings. Since a young girl she had been used to spending her own, and now, thanks to

Mercedes she was doing it again, and, out of her profits, assaying more expensive and delightful adventures

Mercedes suggested, and Saxon carried out and even bettered, the dainty things of thread and texture. She

made ruffled chemises of sheer linen, with her own fine edgings and French embroidery on breast and

shoulders; linen handmade combination undersuits; and nightgowns, fairy and cobwebby, embroidered,

trimmed with Irish lace. On Mercedes' instigation she executed an ambitious and wonderful breakfast cap for

She was happy and busy every waking moment, nor was preparation for the little one neglected. The only

ready made garments she bought were three fine little knit shirts. As for the rest, every bit was made by her

own handsfeatherstitched pinning blankets, a crocheted jacket and cap, knitted mittens, embroidered

bonnets; slim little princess slips of sensible length; underskirts on absurd Lilliputian yokes;

silkembroidered white flannel petticoats; stockings and crocheted boots, seeming to burgeon before her eyes

with wriggly pink toes and plump little calves; and last, but not least, many deliciously soft squares of

bird'seye linen. A little later, as a crowning masterpiece, she was guilty of a dress coat of white silk,

embroidered. And into all the tiny garments, with every stitch, she sewed love. Yet this love, so unceasingly

sewn, she knew when she came to consider and marvel, was more of Billy than of the nebulous, ungraspable

"Huh," was Billy's comment, as he went over the mite's wardrobe and came back to center on the little knit

shirts, "they look more like a real kid than the whole kit an' caboodle. Why, I can see him in them regular

Saxon, with a sudden rush of happy, unshed tears, held one of the little shirts up to his lips. He kissed it

But Saxon's moneyearning was doomed to cease ignominiously and tragically. One day, to take advantage

of a department store bargain sale, she crossed the bay to San Francisco. Passing along Sutter Street, her eye

was attracted by a display in the small window of a small shop. At first she could not believe it; yet there, in

the honored place of the window, was the wonderful breakfast cap for which she had received twelve dollars

from Mercedes. It was marked twentyeight dollars. Saxon went in and interviewed the shopkeeper, an

"Oh, I don't want to buy anything," Saxon said. "I make nice things like you have here, and I wanted to know

The woman darted a keen glance to Saxon's left hand, noted the innumerable tiny punctures in the ends of the

"I paid twenty dollars to the woman that made that." Saxon repressed an almost spasmodic gasp, and thought

coolly for a space. Mercedes had given her twelve. Then Mercedes had pocketed eight, while she, Saxon, had

"Would you please show me other handmade things nightgowns, chemises, and such things, and tell me the

"We add only a small amount when we sell," the woman went on; "you see, light and rent and such things, as

Amongst the beautiful stuff Saxon went over, she found a nightgown and a combination undersuit of her own

manufacture. For the former she had received eight dollars from Mercedes, it was marked eighteen, and the

woman had paid fourteen; for the latter Saxon received six, it was marked fifteen, and the woman had paid

"Thank you," Saxon said, as she drew on her gloves. "I should like to bring you some of my work at those

"And I shall be glad to buy it ... if it is up to the mark." The woman looked at her severely. "Mind you, it

must be as good as this. And if it is, I often get special orders, and I'll give you a chance at them."

"But I did all the work and bought all the materials, yet you actually cleared more out of it than I did. You got

"And why shouldn't I, my dear? I was the middleman. It's the way of the world. 'Tis the middlemen that get

"That is your quarrel with the world, not with me," Mercedes rejoined sharply, then immediately softened

with one of her quick changes. "We mustn't quarrel, my dear. I like you so much. La la, it is nothing to you,

who are young and strong with a man young and strong. Listen, I am an old woman. And old Barry can do

little for me. He is on his last legs. His kidneys are 'most gone. Remember, 'tis I must bury him. And I do him

honor, for beside me he'll have his last long steep. A stupid, dull old man, heavy, an ox, 'tis true; but a good

old fool with no trace of evil in him. The plot is bought and paid forthe final installment was made up, in

part, out of my commissions from you. Then there are the funeral expenses. It must be done nicely. I have

Saxon sniffed the air carefully, and knew the old woman had been drinking again.

"Come, my dear, let me show you." Leading Saxon to a large sea chest in the bedroom, Mercedes lifted the

lid. A faint perfume, as of rosepetals, floated up. "Behold, my burial trousseau. Thus I shall wed the dust."

Saxon's amazement increased, as, article by article, the old woman displayed the airiest, the daintiest, the

most delicious and most complete of bridal outfits. Mercedes held up an ivory fan.

"In Venice 'twas given me, my dear.See, this comb, turtle shell; Bruce Anstey made it for me the week

before he drank his last bottle and scattered his brave mad brains with a Colt's 44.This scarf. La la, a

"And all that will be buried with you," Saxon mused, "Oh, the extravagance of it!"

"Why not? I shall die as I have lived. It is my pleasure. I go to the dust as a bride. No cold and narrow bed for

me. I would it were a coach, covered with the soft things of the East, and pillows, pillows, without end."

"It would buy you twenty funerals and twenty plots," Saxon protested, shocked by this blasphemy of

"'Twill be as I have lived," Mercedes said complacently. "And it's a fine bride old Barry'll have to come and

lie beside him." She closed the lid and sighed. "Though I wish it were Bruce Anstey, or any of the pick of my

young men to lie with me in the great dark and to crumble with me to the dust that is the real death."

She gazed at Saxon with eyes heated by alcohol and at the same time cool with the coolness of content.

"In the old days the great of earth were buried with their live slaves with them. I but take my flimsies, my

"Death is brave, and good, and kind. I do not fear death. 'Tis of men I am afraid when I am dead. So I

"Many are wanted," was the answer. "Do you know what becomes of the aged poor who have no money for

burial? They are not buried. Let me tell you. We stood before great doors. He was a queer man, a professor

who ought to have been a pirate, a man who lectured in class rooms when he ought to have been storming

walled cities or robbing banks. He was slender, like Don Juan. His hands were strong as steel. So was his

spirit. And he was mad, a bit mad, as all my young men have been. 'Come, Mercedes,' he said; 'we will

inspect our brethren and become humble, and glad that we are not as theyas yet not yet. And afterward,

tonight, we will dine with a more devilish taste, and we will drink to them in golden wine that will be the

"He thrust the great doors open, and by the hand led me in. It was a sad company. Twentyfour, that lay on

marble slabs, or sat, half erect and propped, while many young men, bright of eye, bright little knives in their

"They were the pauper dead, my dear. 'Come, Mercedes,' said he. 'There is more to show you that will make

us glad we are alive.' And he took me down, down to the vats. The salt vats, my dear. I was not afraid. But it

was in my mind, then, as I looked, how it would be with me when I was dead. And there they were, so many

lumps of pork. And the order came, 'A woman; an old woman.' And the man who worked there fished in the

vats. The first was a man he drew to see. Again he fished and stirred. Again a man. He was impatient, and

grumbled at his luck. And then, up through the brine, he drew a woman, and by the face of her she was old,

"I have seen, my dear, I know. And I tell you fear not the wrath of God when you are dead. Fear only the salt

vats. And as I stood and looked, and as be who led me there looked at me and smiled and questioned and

bedeviled me with those mad, black, tiredscholar's eyes of his, I knew that that was no way for my dear

clay. Dear it is, my clay to me; dear it has been to others. La la, the salt vat is no place for my kissed lips and

love lavished body." Mercedes lifted the lid of the chest and gazed fondly at her burial pretties. "So I have

made my bed. So I shall lie in it. Some old philosopher said we know we must die; we do not believe it. But

"My dear, remember the salt vats, and do not be angry with me because my commissions have been heavy.

To escape the vats I would stop at nothing steal the widow's mite, the orphan's crust, and pennies from a dead

"Do you believe in God?" Saxon asked abruptly, holding herself together despite cold horror.

"And punishment?" Saxon probed, remembering the unthinkable tale of the other's life.

"Impossible, my dear. As some old poet said, 'God's a good fellow.' Some time I shall talk to you about God.

Never be afraid of him. Be afraid only of the salt vats and the things men may do with your pretty flesh after

Billy quarreled with good fortune. He suspected he was too prosperous on the wages he received. What with

the accumulating savings account, the paying of the monthly furniture installment and the house rent, the

spending money in pocket, and the good fare he was eating, he was puzzled as to how Saxon managed to pay

for the goods used in her fancy work. Several times he had suggested his inability to see how she did it, and

He opened his mouth to speak further, then closed it and for five minutes thought with knitted brows.

"Say," he said, "what's become of that frilly breakfast cap you was workin' on so hard, I ain't never seen you

Saxon hesitated, with pursed lips and teasing eyes. With her, untruthfulness had always been a difficult

matter. To Billy it was impossible. She could see the clouddrift in his eyes deepening and his face hardening

And thereat she related everything, not omitting Mercedes Higgins' part in the transaction, nor Mercedes

Higgins' remarkable burial trousseau. But Billy was not to be led aside by the latter. In terms anything but

"Nothing doing. I won't listen to it. I married you, and I'll take care of you. Nobody can say Bill Roberts' wife

"Nope. That's one thing I won't stand for, Saxon. Not that I don't like fancy work. I do. I like it like hell,

every bit you make, but I like it on YOU. Go ahead and make all you want of it, for yourself, an' I'll put up

for the goods. Why, I'm just whistlin' an' happy all day long, thinkin' of the boy an' seein' you at home here

workin' away on all them nice things. Because I know how happy you are adoin' it. But honest to God,

Saxon, it'd all be spoiled if I knew you was doin' it to sell. You see, Bill Roberts' wife don't have to work.

"I want you to have all you want," be continued. "An' you're goin' to get it as long as I got two hands stickin'

on the ends of my arms. I guess I know how good the things are you weargood to me, I mean, too. I'm dry

behind the ears, an' maybe I've learned a few things I oughtn't to before I knew you. But I know what I'm

talkin' about, and I want to say that outside the clothes down underneath, an' the clothes down underneath the

He threw up his hands as if despairing of ability to express what he thought and felt, then essayed a further

"It's not a matter of bein' only clean, though that's a whole lot. Lots of women are clean. It ain't that. It's

something more, an' different. It's ... well, it's the look of it, so white, an' pretty, an' tasty. It gets on the

imagination. It's something I can't get out of my thoughts of you. I want to tell you lots of men can't strip to

advantage, an' lots of women, too. But youwell, you're a wonder, that's all, and you can't get too many of

"For that matter, Saxon, you can just blow yourself. There's lots of easy money layin' around. I'm in great

condition. Billy Murphy pulled down seventyfive round iron dollars only last week for puttin' away the

"There's Carl Hansen," Billy argued. "The second Sharkey, the alfalfa sportin' writers are callin' him. An' he

calls himself Champion of the United States Navy. Well, I got his number. He's just a big stiff. I've seen 'm

fight, an' I can pass him the sleep medicine just as easy. The Secretary of the Sportin' Life Club offered to

match me. An' a hundred iron dollars in it for the winner. And it'll all be yours to blow in any way you want.

"If I can't work for money, you can't fight," was Saxon's ultimatum, immediately withdrawn. "But you and I

don't drive bargains. Even if you'd let me work for money, I wouldn't let you fight. I've never forgotten what

you told me about how prizefighters lose their silk. Well, you're not going to lose yours. It's half my silk, you

know. And if you won't fight, I won't workthere. And more, I'll never do anything you don't want me to,

"Same here," Billy agreed. "Though just the same I'd like most to death to have just one go at that squarehead

Hansen." He smiled with pleasure at the thought. "Say, let's forget it all now, an' you sing me 'Harvest Days'

When she had complied, accompanying herself on the ukulele, she suggested his weird "Cowboy's Lament."

In some inexplicable way of love, she had come to like her husband's one song. Because he sang it, she liked

its inanity and monotonousness; and most of all, it seemed to her, she loved his hopeless and adorable flatting

of every note. She could even sing with him, flatting as accurately and deliciously as he. Nor did she

"You and I get along together with it fine," she equivoeated; for in such matters she did not deem the untruth

Spring was on when the strike came in the railroad shops. The Sunday before it was called, Saxon and Billy

had dinner at Bert's house. Saxon's brother came, though he had found it impossible to bring Sarah, who

refused to budge from her household rut. Bert was blackly pessimistic, and they found him singing with

"Nobody loves a milyunaire. Nobody likes his looks. Nobody'll share his slightest care, He classes with

thugs and crooks. Thriftiness has become a crime, So spend everything you earn; We're living now in a funny

Mary went about the dinner preparation, flaunting unmistakable signals of rebellion; and Saxon, rolling up

her sleeves and tying on an apron, washed the breakfast dishes. Bert fetched a pitcher of steaming beer from

"It oughta come years ago," was Bert's dictum. "It can't come any too quick now to suit me, but it's too late.

We're beaten thumbs donn. Here's where the last of the Mohegans gets theirs, in the neck, kerwhop!"

"Oh, I don't know," Tom, who had been smoking his pipe gravely, began to counsel. "Organized labor's

gettin' stronger every day. Why, I can remember when there wasn't any unions in California, Look at us

"You talk like an organizer," Bert sneered, "shovin' the bull con on the boneheads. But we know different.

Organized wages won't buy as much now as unorganized wages used to buy. They've got us whipsawed.

Look at Frisco, the labor leaders doin' dirtier polities than the old parties, pawin' an' squabblin' over graft, an'

goin' to San Quentin, whilewhat are the Frisco carpenters doin'? Let me tell you one thing, Tom Brown, if

you listen to all you hear you'll hear that every Frisco carpenter is union an' gettin' full union wages. Do you

believe it? It's a damn lie. There ain't a carpenter that don't rebate his wages Saturday night to the contractor.

An' that's your buildin' trades in San Francisco, while the leaders are makin' trips to Europe on the earnings of

the tenderloinwhen they ain't coughing it up to the lawyers to get out of wearin' stripes."

"That's all right," Tom concurred. "Nobody's denyin' it. The trouble is labor ain't quite got its eyes open. It

"Socialism, eh?" Bert caught him up with scorn. "Wouldn't they sell us out just as the Ruefs and Schmidts

"Get men that are honest," Billy said. "That's the whole trouble. Not that I stand for socialism. I don't. All our

folks was a long time in America, an' I for one won't stand for a lot of fat Germans an' greasy Russian Jews

"Your country!" Bert cried. "Why, you bonehead, you ain't got a country. That's a fairy story the grafters

"But don't vote for the grafters," Billy contended. "If we selected honest men we'd get honest treatment."

"I wish you'd come to some of our meetings, Billy," Tom said wistfully. "If you would, you'd get your eyes

"Not on your life," Billy declined. ""When you catch me in a socialist meeting'll be when they can talk like

Mary was too angry with her husband, because of the impending strike and his incendiary utterances, to hold

conversation with Saxon, and the latter, bepuzzled, listened to the conflicting opinions of the men.

"Where are we at?" she asked them, with a merriness that concealed her anxiety at heart.

"But meat and oil have gone up again," she chafed. "And Billy's wages have been cut, and the shop men's

"The only thing to do is fight like hell," Bert answered. "Fight, an' go down fightin'. That's all. We're licked

"A hell of a chance you'd have against regular troops and machine guns," Billy retorted.

"Oh, not that way. There's such things as greasy sticks that go up with a loud noise and leave holes. There's

"Oh, ho!" Mary burst out upon him, arms akimbo. "So that's what it means. That's what the emery in your

Her husband ignored her. Tom smoked with a troubled air. Billy was hurt. It showed plainly in his face.

"You ain't ben doin' that, Bert?" he asked, his manner showing his expectancy of his friend's denial.

"Sure thing, if you wont to know. I'd see'm all in hell if I could, before I go."

"He's a bloodyminded anarchist," Mary complained. "Men like him killed McKinley, and Garfield, an'an'

an' all the rest. He'll be hung. You'll see. Mark my words. I'm glad there's no children in sight, that's all."

"I know. I hear him talkin' in his sleep. He swears and curses something awful, an' grits his teeth. Listen to

Bert, his handsome face bitter and devilmaycare, had tilted his chair back against the wall and was singing

"Nobody loves a milyunaire, Nobody likes his looks, Nobody'll share his slightest care, He classes with

Tom was saying something about reasonableness and justice, and Bert ceased from singing to catch him up.

"Justice, eh? Another pipedream. I'll show you where the working class gets justice. You remember

ForbesJ. Alliston Forbeswrecked the Alta California Trust Company an' salted down two cold millions.

I saw him yesterday, in a big hellbent automobile. What'd he get? Eight years' sentence. How long did he

serve? Less'n two years. Pardoned out on account of ill health. Ill hell! We'll be dead an' rotten before he

kicks the bucket. Here. Look out this window. You see the back of that house with the broken porch rail. Mrs.

Danaker lives there. She takes in washin'. Her old man was killed on the railroad. Nitsky on

damagescontributory negligence, or fellowservantsomethingorother flimflam. That's what the courts

handed her. Her boy, Archie, was sixteen. He was on the road, a regular roadkid. He blew into Fresno an'

rolled a drunk. Do you want to know how much he got? Two dollars and eighty cents. Get that?

Twoeighty. And what did the alfalfa judge hand'm? Fifty years. He's served eight of it already in San

Quentin. And he'll go on serving it till he croaks. Mrs. Danaker says he's bad with consumptioncaught it

inside, but she ain't got the pull to get'm pardoned. Archie the Kid steals two dollars an' eighty cents from a

drunk and gets fifty years. J. Alliston Forbes sticks up the Alta Trust for two millions en' gets less'n two

years. Who's country is this anyway? Yourn an' Archie the Kid's? Guess again. It's J. Alliston Forbes'Oh:

"Nobody likes a milyunaire, Nobody likes hia looks, Nobody'll share his slightest care, He classes with

Mary, at the sink, where Saxon was just finishing the last dish, untied Saxon's apron and kissed her with the

"Now you sit down, dear. You mustn't tire yourself, and it's a long way to go yet. I'll get your sewing for you,

Saxon sewed and listened, and Bert's face grew bleak and bitter as he contemplated the baby clothes in her

"There you go," he blurted out, "bringin' kids into the world when you ain't got any guarantee you can feed

"Aw, what's the use of gettin' grouched?" Billy cheered. "It's a pretty good country."

"It WAS a pretty good country," Bert replied, "when we was all Mohegans. But not now. We're jiggerooed.

We're hornswoggled. We're backed to a standstill. We're doublecrossed to a fareyouwell. My folks

fought for this country. So did yourn, all of you. We freed the niggers, killed the Indians, an starved, an'

froze, an' sweat, an' fought. This land looked good to us. We cleared it, an' broke it, an' made the roads, an'

built the cities. And there was plenty for everyhody. And we went on fightin' for it. I had two uncles killed at

Gettysburg. All of us was mixed up in that war. Listen to Saxon talk any time what her folks went through to

get out here an' get ranches, an' horses, an' cattle, an' everything. And they got 'em. All our folks' got 'em,

"Sure thing," Bert continued. "That's the very point. We're the losers. We've ben robbed. We couldn't mark

cards, deal from the bottom, an' ring in cold decks like the others. We're the white folks that failed. You see,

times changed, and there was two kinds of us, the lions and the plugs. The plugs only worked, the lions only

gobbled. They gobbled the farms, the mines, the factories, an' now they've gobbled the government. We're the

white folks an' the children of white folks, that was too busy being good to be smart. We're the white folks

"You'd make a good soapboxer," Tom commended, "if only you'd get the kinks straightened out in your

"It sounds all right, Bert," Billy said, "only it ain't. Any man can get rich today"

"Or be president of the United States," Bert snapped. "Sure thingif he's got it in him. Just the same I ain't

heard you makin' a noise like a millionaire or a president. Why? You ain't got it in you. You're a bonehead. A

At the table, while they ate, Tom talked of the joys of farmlife he had known as a boy and as a young man,

and confided that it was his dream to go and take up government land somewhere as his people had done

before him. Unfortunately, as he explained, Sarah was set, so that the dream must remain a dream.

"It's all in the game," Billy sighed. "It's played to rules. Some one has to get knocked out, I suppose."

A little later, while Bert was off on a fresh diatribe, Billy became aware that he was making comparisons.

This house was not like his house. Here was no satisfying atmosphere. Things seemed to run with a jar. He

recollected that when they arrived the breakfast dishes had not yet been washed. With a man's general

obliviousness of household affairs, he had not noted details; yet it had been borne in on him, all morning, in a

myriad ways, that Mary was not the housekeeper Saxon was. He glanced proudly across at her, and felt the

spur of an impulse to leave his seat, go around, and embrace her. She was a wife. He remembered her dainty

undergarmenting, and on the instant, into his brain, leaped the image of her so appareled, only to be shattered

"Hey, Bill, you seem to think I've got a grouch. Sure thing. I have. You ain't had my experiences. You've

always done teamin' an' pulled down easy money prizefightin'. You ain't known hard times. You ain't ben

through strikes. You ain't had to take care of an old mother an' swallow dirt on her account. It wasn't until

"Take that time I tackled the Niles Electric an' see what a workplug gets handed out to him. The Head

Cheese sizes me up, pumps me a lot of questions, an' gives me an application blank. I make it out, payin' a

dollar to a doctor they sent me to for a health certificate. Then I got to go to a picture garage an' get my mug

taken for the Niles Electric rogues' gallery. And I cough up another dollar for the mug. The Head Squirt takes

the blank, the health certificate, and the mug, an' fires more questions. DID I BELONG TO A LABOR

UNION?ME? Of course I told'm the truth I guess nit. I needed the job. The grocery wouldn't give me any

"Huh, thinks I, here's where I'm a real carman. Back platform for me, where I can pick up the fancy skirts.

Nitsky. Two dollars, please. Memy two dollars. All for a pewter badge. Then there was the

uniformnineteen fifty, and get it anywhere else for fifteen. Only that was to be paid out of my first month.

And then five dollars in change in my pocket, my own money. That was the rule.I borrowed that five from

Tom Donovan, the policeman. Then what? They worked me for two weeks without pay, breakin' me in."

"I only worked a month. Then we organized, and they busted our union higher'n a kite."

"And you boobs in the shops will be busted the same way if you go out on strike," Mary informed him.

"That's what I've ben tellin' you all along," Bert replied. "We ain't got a chance to win."

Saxon went about her housework greatly troubled. She no longer devoted herself to the making of pretties.

The materials cost money, and she did not dare. Bert's thrust had sunk home. It remained in her quivering

consciousness like a shaft of steel that ever turned and rankled. She and Billy were responsible for this

coming young life. Could they be sure, after all, that they could adequately feed and clothe it and prepare it

for its way in the world? Where was the guaranty? She remembered, dimly, the blight of hard times in the

past, and the plaints of fathers and mothers in those days returned to her with a new significance. Almost

Hard times were already in the neighborhood, where lived the families of the shopmen who had gone out on

strike. Among the small storekeepers, Saxon, in the course of the daily marketing, could sense the air of

despondency. Light and geniality seemed to have vanished. Gloom pervaded everywhere. The mothers of the

children that played in the streets showed the gloom plainly in their faces. When they gossiped in the

evenings, over front gates and on door stoops, their voices were subdued and less of laughter rang out.

Mary Donahue, who had taken three pints from the milkman, now took one pint. There were no more family

trips to the moving picture shows. Scrapmeat was harder to get from the butcher. Nora Delaney, in the third

house, no longer bought fresh fish for Friday. Salted codfish, not of the best quality, was now on her table.

The sturdy children that ran out upon the street between meals with huge slices of bread and butter and sugar

now came out with no sugar and with thinner slices spread more thinly with butter. The very custom was

Everywhere was manifest a pinching and scraping, a tightenig and shortening down of expenditure. And

everywhere was more irritation. Women became angered with one another, and with the children, more

She looked at him closely, and felt fear for him in a vague, numb way. His black eyes seemed to burn with a

continuous madness. The brown face was leaner, the skin drawn tightly across the cheekbones. A slight twist

had come to the mouth, which seemed frozen into bitterness. The very carriage of his body and the way he

wore his hat advertised a recklessness more intense than had been his in the past.

Sometimes, in the long afternoons, sitting by the window with idle hands, she caught herself reconstructing in

her vision that folkmigration of her people across the plains and mountains and deserts to the sunset land by

the Western sea. And often she found herself dreaming of the arcadian days of her people, when they had not

lived in cities nor been vexed with labor unions and employers' associations. She would remember the old

people's tales of selfsufficingness, when they shot or raised their own meat, grew their own vegetables, were

their own blacksmiths and carpenters, made their own shoesyes, and spun the cloth of the clothes they

wore. And something of the wistfulness in Tom's face she could see as she recollected it when he talked of

A farmer's life must be fine, she thought. Why was it that people had to live in cities? Why had times

changed? If there had been enough in the old days, why was there not enough now? Why was it necessary for

men to quarrel and jangle, and strike and fight, all about the matter of getting work? Why wasn't there work

for all?Only that morning, and she shuddered with the recollection, she had seen two scabs, on their way to

work, beaten up by the strikers, by men she knew by sight, and some by name, who lived in the

neighhorhood. It had happened directly across the street. It had been cruel, terriblea dozen men on two.

The children had begun it by throwing rocks at the scabs and cursing them in ways children should not know.

Policemen had run upon the scene with drawn revolvers, and the strikers had retreated into the houses and

through the narrow alleys between the houses. One of the scabs, unconscious, had been carried away in an

ambulance; the other, assisted by special railroad police, had been taken away to the shops. At him, Mary

Donahue, standing on her front stoop, her child in her arms, had hurled such vile abuse that it had brought the

blush of shame to Saxon's cheeks. On the stoop of the house on the other side, Saxon had noted Mercedes, in

the height of the beating up, looking on with a queer smile. She had seemed very eager to witness, her nostrils

dilated and swelling like the beat of pulses as she watched. It had struck Saxon at the time that the old woman

To Mercedes, who was so wise in love, Saxon went for explanation of what was the matter with the world.

But the old woman's wisdom in affairs industrial and economic was cryptic and unpalatable.

"La la, my dear, it is so simple. Most men are born stupid. They are the slaves. A few are born clever. They

"I'm afraid he was not interested," Mercedes smiled. "I doubt he even knows that it happened."

"I was frightened to death," Saxon declared. "I was made sick by it. And yet youI saw youyou looked

"La la, I have seen men killed. It is nothing strange. All men die. The stupid ones die like oxen, they know

not why. It is quite funny to see. They strike each other with fists and clubs, and break each other's heads. It is

gross. They are like a lot of animals. They are like dogs wrangling over bones. Jobs are bones, you know.

Now, if they fought for women, or ideas, or bars of gold, or fabulous diamonds, it would be splendid. But no;

"Oh, if I could only understand!" Saxon murmured, her hands tightly clasped in anguish of incomprehension

"There is nothing to understand. It is clear as print. There have always been the stupid and the clever, the

"Why is a peasant a peasant, my dear? Because he is a peasant. Why is a flea a flea?"

"Oh, but my dear, I have answered. The philosophies of the world can give no better answer. Why do you

like your man for a husband rather than any other man? Because you like him that way, that is all. Why do

you like? Because you like. Why does fire burn and frost bite? Why are there clever men and stupid men?

masters and slaves? employers and workingmen? Why is black black? Answer that and you answer

"But it is not right That men should go hungry and without work when they want to work if only they can get

"Oh, but it is right, just as it is right that stone won't burn like wood, that sea sand isn't sugar, that thorns

But such doctrine of reality made no impression on Saxon. Frankly, she could not comprehend. It seemed like

"Then we have no liberty and independence," she cried passionately. "One man is not as good as another. My

"Yet all my people fought for these things," Saxon urged, remembering her school history and the sword of

"Democracythe dream of the stupid peoples. Oh, la la, my dear, democracy is a lie, an enchantment to

keep the work brutes content, just as religion used to keep them content. When they groaned in their misery

and toil, they were persuaded to keep on in their misery and toil by pretty tales of a land beyond the skies

where they would live famously and fat while the clever ones roasted in everlasting fire. Ah, how the clever

ones must have chuckled! And when that lie wore out, and democracy was dreamed, the clever ones saw to it

that it should be in truth a dream, nothing but a dream. The world belongs to the great and clever."

"I? Of the working people? My dear, because I had misfortune with moneys invested, because I am old and

can no longer win the brave young men, because I have outlived the men of my youth and there is no one to

go to, because I live here in the ghetto with Barry Higgins and prepare to diewhy, my dear, I was born with

the masters, and have trod all my days on the necks of the stupid. I have drunk rare wines and sat at feasts

that would have supported this neighborhood for a lifetime. Dick Golden and Iit was Dickie's money, but I

could have had it Dick Golden and I dropped four hundred thousand francs in a week's play at Monte Carlo.

He was a Jew, but he was a spender. In India I have worn jewels that could have saved the lives of ten

"I kept my jewelsla la, and was robbed of them by a brute of a Russian officer within the year."

"They were cheap spawn. They fester and multiply like maggots. They meant nothingnothing, my dear,

nothing. No more than your work people mean here, whose crowning stupidity is their continuing to beget

So it was that while Saxon could get little glimmering of common sense from others, from the terrible old

woman she got none at all. Nor could Saxon bring herself to believe much of what she considered Mercedes'

romancing. As the weeks passed, the strike in the railroad shops grew bitter and deadly. Billy shook his head

and confessed his inability to make head or tail of the troubles that were looming on the labor horizon.

"I don't get the hang of it," he told Saxon. "It's a mixup. It's like a roughhouse with the lights out. Look at us

teamsters. Here we are, the talk just starting of going out on sympathetic strike for the millworkers. They've

ben out a week, most of their places is filled, an' if us teamsters keep on haulin' the millwork the strike's

"Yet you didn't consider striking for yourselves when your wages were cut," Saxon said with a frown.

"Oh, we wasn't in position then. But now the Frisco teamsters and the whole Frisco Water Front

Confederation is liable to back us up. Anyway, we're just talkin' about it, that's all. But if we do go out, we'll

"It's rotten politics," he said another time. "Everybody's rotten. If we'd only wise up and agree to pick out

"But if you, and Bert, and Tom can't agree, how do you expect all the rest to agree?" Saxon asked.

"It gets me," he admitted. "It's enough to give a guy the willies thinkin' about it. And yet it's plain as the nose

on your face. Get honest men for politics, an' the whole thing's straightened out. Honest men'd make honest

laws, an' then honest men'd get their dues. But Bert wants to smash things, an' Tom smokes his pipe and

dreams pipe dreams about by an' by when everybody votes the way he thinks. But this by an' by ain't the

point. We want things now. Tom says we can't get them now, an' Bert says we ain't never goin' to get them.

What can a fellow do when everybody's of different minds? Look at the socialists themselves. They're always

disagreeing, splittin' up, an' firin' each other out of the party. The whole thing's bughouse, that's what, an' I

almost get dippy myself thinkin' about it. The point I can't get out of my mind is that we want things now."

"What is it?" he asked, his voice husky with anxiety. "You ain't sick ... or .. or anything?"

One hand she had pressed to her heart; but the startle and fright in her eyes was changing into a pleased

intentness, while on her mouth was a little mysterious smile. She seemed oblivious to her husband, as if

listening to some message from afar and not for his ears. Then wonder and joy transfused her face, and she

The next evening when Billy came home from work, Saxon caused him to know and undertake more of the

"I've been thinking it over, Billy," she began, "and I'm such a healthy, strong woman that it won't have to be

"Nothin' doin' in that line, Saxon. You're goin' to have Doc Hentley. He's Bill Murphy's doc, an' Bill swears

"But the doctor will charge twenty dollars," Saxon pursued, "and make me get a nurse because I haven't any

womenfolk to come in. But Martha Skelton would do everything, and it would be so much cheaper."

"Listen to me, little wife. The Roberts family ain't on the cheap. Never forget that. You've gotta have the

baby. That's your business, an' it's enough for you. My business is to get the money an' take care of you. An'

the best ain't none too good for you. Why, I wouldn't run the chance of the teeniest accident happenin' to you

for a million dollars. It's you that counts. An' dollars is dirt. Maybe you think I like that kid some. I do. Why,

I can't get him outa my head. I'm thinkin' about'm all day long. If I get fired, it'll be his fault. I'm clean dotty

over him. But just the same, Saxon, honest to God, before I'd have anything happen to you, break your little

finger, even, I'd see him dead an' buried first. That'll give you something of an idea what you mean to me.

"Why, Saxon, I had the idea that when folks got married they just settled down, and after a while their

business was to get along with each other. Maybe it's the way it is with other people; but it ain't that way with

you an' me. I love you more 'n more every day. Right now I love you more'n when I began talkin' to you five

minutes ago. An' you won't have to get a nurse. Doc Hentley'll come every day, an' Mary'll come in an' do the

housework, an' take care of you an' all that, just as you'll do for her if she ever needs it."

As the days and weeks pussed, Saxon was possessed by a conscious feeling of proud motherhood in her

swelling breasts. So essentially a normal woman was she, that motherhood was a satisfying and passionate

happiness. It was true that she had her moments of apprehension, but they were so momentary and faint that

Only one thing troubled her, and that was the puzzling and perilous situation of labor which no one seemed to

"They're always talking about how much more is made by machinery than by the old ways," she told her

brother Tom. "Then, with all the machinery we've got now, why don't we get more?"

"Now you're talkin'," he answered. "It wouldn't take you long to understand socialism."

Again he sighed. She noted the weary, patient look in his face, the bent shoulders, the laborgnarled hands,

It began quietly, as the fateful unexpected so often begins. Children, of all ages and sizes, were playing in the

street, and Saxon, by the open front window, was watching them and dreaming day dreams of her child soon

to be. The sunshine mellowed peacefully down, and a light wind from the bay cooled the air and gave to it a

tang of salt. One of the children pointed up Pine Street toward Seventh. All the children ceased playing, and

stared and pointed. They formed into groups, the larger boys, of from ten to twelve, by themselves, the older

girls anxiously clutching the small children by the hands or gathering them into their arms.

Saxon could not see the cause of all this, but she could guess when she saw the larger boys rush to the gutter,

pick up stones, and sneak into the alleys between the houses. Smaller boys tried to imitate them. The girls,

dragging the tots by the arms, banged gates and clattered up the front steps of the small houses. The doors

slammed behind them, and the street was deserted, though here and there front shades were drawn aside so

that anxiousfaced women might peer forth. Saxon heard the uptown train puffing and snorting as it pulled

out from Center Street. Then, from the direction of Seventh, came a hoarse, throaty manroar. Still, she could

see nothing, and she remembered Mercedes Higgins' words "THEY ARE LIKE DOGS WRANGLING

The roar came closer, and Saxon, leaning out, saw a dozen scabs, conveyed by as many special police and

Pinkertons, coming down the sidewalk on her side of tho street. They came compactly, as if with discipline,

while behind, disorderly, yelling confusedly, stooping to pick up rocks, were seventyfive or a hundred of the

striking shopmen. Saxon discovered herself trembling with apprehension, knew that she must not, and

controlled herself. She was helped in this by the conduct of Mercedes Higgins. The o]d woman came out of

her front door, dragging a chair, on which she coolly seated herself on the tiny stoop at the top of the steps.

In the hands of the special police were clubs. The Pinkertons carried no visible weapons. The strikers, urging

on from behind, seemed content with yelling their rage and threats, and it remained for the children to

precipitate the conflict. From across the street, between the Olsen and the Isham houses, came a shower of

stones. Most of these fell short, though one struck a scab on the head. The man was no more than twenty feet

away from Saxon. He reeled toward her front picket fence, drawing a revolver. With one hand he brushed the

blood from his eyes and with the other he discharged the revolver into the Isham house. A Pinkerton seized

his arm to prevent a second shot, and dragged him along. At the same instant a wilder roar went up from the

strikers, while a volley of stones came from between Saxon's house and Maggie Donahue's. The scabs and

their protectors made a stand, drawing revolvers. From their hard, determined facesfighting men by

professionSaxon could augur nothing but bloodshed and death. An elderly man, evidently the leader, lifted

a soft felt hat and mopped the perspiration from the bald top of his head. He was a large man, very rotund of

belly and helpless looking. His gray beard was stained with streaks of tobacco juice, and he was smoking a

cigar. He was stoopshouldered, and Saxon noted the dandruff on the collar of his coat,

One of the men pointed into the street, and several of his companions laughed. The cause of it was the little

Olsen boy, barely four years old, escaped somehow from his mother and toddling toward his economic

enemies. In his right he bore a rock so heavy that he could scarcely lift it. With this he feebly threatened

them. His rosy little face was convulsed with rage, and he was screaming over and over "Dam scabs! Dam

scabs! Dam scabs!" The laughter with which they greeted him only increased his fury. He toddled closer, and

with a mighty exertion threw the rock, It fell a scant six feet beyond his hand.

This much Saxon saw, and also Mrs. Olsen rushing into the street for her child. A rattling of revolvershots

from the strikers drew Saxon's attention to the men beneath her. One of them cursed sharply and examined

the biceps of his left arm, which hung limply by his side, Down the hand she saw the blood beginning to drip.

She knew she ought not remain and watch, but the memory of her fighting forefathers was with her, while she

possessed no more than normal human fearif anything, less. She forgot her child in the eruption of battle

that had broken upon her quiet street, And she forgot the strikers, and everything else, in amazement at what

had happened to the roundbellied, cigarsmoking leader. In some strange way, she knew not how, his head

had become wedged at the neck between the tops of the pickets of her fence. His body hung down outside,

the knees not quite touching the ground. His hat had fallen off, and the sun was making an astounding high

light on his bald spot. The cigar, too, was gone. She saw he was looking at her. One hand, between the

pickets, seemed waving at her, and almost he seemed to wink at her jocosely, though she knew it to be the

Possibly a second, or, at most, two seconds, she gazed at this, when she was aroused by Bert's voice. He was

running along the sidewMk, in front of her house, and behind him charged several more strikers, while he

In his left hand he carried a pickhandle, in his right a revolver, already empty, for he clicked the cylinder

vainly around as he ran. With an abrupt stop, dropping the pickhandle, he whirled half about, facing Saxon's

gate. He was sinking down, when he straightened himself to throw the revolver into the face of a scab who

was jumping toward him. Then he began swaying, at the same time sagging at the knees and waist. Slowly,

with infinite effort, he caught a gate picket in his right hand, and, still slowly, as if lowering himself, sank

It was battle without quartera massacre. The scabs and their protectors, surrounded, backed against Saxon's

fence, fought like cornered rats, but could not withstand the rush of a hundred men. Clubs and pickhandles

were swinging, revolvers were exploding, and cobblestones were flung with crushing effect at arm's distance.

Saxon saw young Frank Davis, a friend of Bert's and a father of several months' standing, press the muzzle of

his revolver against a scab's stomach and fire. There were curses and snarls of rage, wild cries of terror and

pain. Mercedes was right. These things were not men. They were beasts, fighting over bones, destroying one

JOBS ARE BONES; JOBS ARE BONES. The phrase was an incessant iteration in Saxon's brain. Much as

she might have wished it, she was powerless now to withdraw from the window. It was as if she were

paralyzed. Her brain no longer worked. She sat numb, staring, incapable of anything save seeing the rapid

horror before her eyes that flashed along like a moving picture film gone mad. She saw Pinkertons, special

police, and strikers go down. One scab, terribly wounded, on his knees and begging for mercy, was kicked in

the face. As he sprawled backward another striker, standing over him, fired a revolver into his chest, quickly

and deliberately, again and again, until the weapon was empty. Another scab, backed over the pickets by a

hand clutching his throat, had his face pulped by a revolver butt. Again and again, continually, the revolver

rose and fell, and Saxon knew the man who wielded itChester Johnson. She had met him at dances and

danced with him in the days before she was married. He had always been kind and good natured. She

remembered the Friday night, after a City Hall band concert, when he had taken her and two other girls to

Tony's Tamale Grotto on Thirteenth street. And after that they had all gone to Pabst's Cafe and drunk a glass

of beer before they went home. It was impossible that this could be the same Chester Johnson. And as she

looked, she saw the roundbellied leader, still wedged by the neck between the pickets, draw a revolver with

his free hand, and, squinting horribly sidewise, press the muzzle against Chester's side. She tried to scream a

warning. She did scream, and Chester looked up and saw her. At that moment the revolver went off, and he

collapsed prone upon the body of the scab. And the bodies of three men hung on her picket fence.

Anything could happen now. Quite without surprise, she saw the strikers leaping the fence, trampling her few

little geraniums and pansies into the earth as they fled between Mercedes' house and hers. Up Pine street,

from the railroad yards, was coming a rush of railroad police and Pinkertons, firing as they ran. While down

Pine street, gongs clanging, horses at a gallop, came three patrol wagons packed with police. The strikers

were in a trap. The only way out was between the houses and over the back yard fences. The jam in the

narrow alley prevented them all from escaping. A dozen were cornered in the angle between the front of her

house and the steps. And as they had done, so were they done by. No effort was made to arrest. They were

clubbed down and shot down to the last man by the guardians of the peace who were infuriated by what had

It was all over, and Saxon, moving as in a dream, clutching the banister tightly, came down the front steps.

The roundbellied leader still leered at her and fluttered one hand, though two big policemen were just

bending to extricate him. The gate was off its hinges, which seemed strange, for she had been watching all

Bert's eyes were closed. His lips were bloodflecked, and there was a gurgling in his throat as if he were

trying to say something. As she stooped above him, with her handkerchief brushing the blood from his cheek

where some one had stepped on him, his eyes opened. The old defiant light was in them. He did not know

her. The lips moved, and faintly, almout reminiscently, he murmured, "The last of the Mohegans, the last of

the Mohegans." Then he groaned, and the eyelids drooped down again. He was not dead. She knew that, The

She looked up. Mercedes stood beside her. The old woman's eyes were very bright, her withered cheeks

Mercedes nodded, turned to a sergeant of police, and made the request to him. The sergeant gave a swift

"Don't be a fool." Mercedes was beckoning to Mrs. Olsen across the street. "You go into the house, little

mother that is to be. This is bad for you. We'll carry him in. Mrs. Olsen is coming, and we'll get Maggie

Saxon led the way into the back bedroom which Billy had insisted on furnishing. As she opened the door, the

carpet seemed to fly up into her face as with the force of a blow, for she remembered Bert had laid that

carpet. And as the women placed him on the bed she recalled that it was Bert and she, between them, who

And then she felt very queer, and was surprised to see Mercedes regarding her with questioning, searching

eyes. After that her queerness came on very fast, and she descended into the hell of pain that is given to

women alone to know. She was supported, halfcarried, to the front bedroom. Many faces were about

herMercedes, Mrs. Olsen, Maggie Donahue. It seemed she must ask Mrs. Olsen if she had saved little Emil

from the street, but Mercedes cleared Mrs. Olsen out to look after Bert, and Maggie Donahue went to answer

a knock at the front door. From the street came a loud hum of voices, punctuated by shouts and commands,

and from time to time there was a clanging of the gongs of ambulances and patrol wagon's. Then appeared

the fat, comfortable face of Martha Shelton, and, later, Dr. Hentley came. Once, in a clear interval, through

the thin wall Saxon heard the high opening notes of Mary's hysteria. And, another time, she heard Mary

Billy could never get over the shock, during that period, of Saxon's appearance. Morning after morning, and

evening after evening when he came home from work, he would enter the room where she lay and fight a

royal battle to hide his feelings and make a show of cheerfulness and geniality. She looked so small lying

there so small and shrunken and weary, and yet so childlike in her smallness. Tenderly, as he sat beside her,

he would take up her pale hand and stroke the slim, transparent arm, marveling at the smallness and delicacy

And when she told them how he had attacked, singlehanded, the whole twentyfour fighting men, Billy's face

He halted awkwardly, and his very evident fear that he had hurt her touched Saxon. She put her hand out to

"I never asked beforenot that it matters ... now. But I waited for you to tell me. Was it ... ?"

She pressed his hand, and almost it was she that sympathized with him in his affliction.

"I never told you, Billyyou were so set on a boy; but I planned, just the same, if it was a girl, to call her

"Say, Saxon, you know I did want a boy like the very dickens ... well, I don't care now. I think I'm set just as

hard on a girl, an', well, here's hopin' the next will be called ... you wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Only there ain't goin' to be a next. I didn't know what havin' children was like before. You can't run any

"Hear the big, strong, afraidman talk!" she jeered, with a wan smile. "You don't know anything about it.

How can a man? I am a healthy, natural woman. Everything would have been all right this time if ... if all that

He did not tell her that the old night watchman was dying, two thin walls and half a dozen feet away.

Saxon's lips were trembling, and she began to cry weakly, clinging to Billy's hand with both of hers.

"II can't help it," she sobbed. "I'll be all right in a minute ... Our little girl, Billy. Think of it! And I never

She was still lying on her bed, when, one evening, Mary saw fit to break out in bitter thanksgiving that she

"Aw, what are you talkin' about?" Billy demanded. "You'll get married some time again as sure as beans is

"Not to the best man living," she proclaimed. "And there ain't no call for it. There's too many people in the

world now, else why are there two or three men for every job? And, besides, havin' children is too terrible."

Saxon, with a look of patient wisdom in her face that became glorified as she spoke, made answer:

"I ought to know what it means. I've been through it, and I'm still in the thick of it, and I want to say to you

right now, out of all the pain and the ache and the sorrow, that it is the most beautiful, wonderful thing in the

As Saxon's strength came back to her (and when Doctor Hentley had privily assured Billy that she was sound

as a dollar), she herself took up the matter of the industrial tragedy that had taken place before her door. The

militia had been called out immediately, Billy informed her, and was encamped then at the foot of Pine street

on the waste ground next to the railroad yards. As for the strikers, fifteen of them were in jail. A house to

house search had been made in the neighborhood by the police, and in this way nearly the whole fifteen, all

wounded, had been captured. It would go hard with them, Billy foreboded gloomily. The newspapers were

demanding blood for blood, and all the ministers in Oakland had preached fierce sermons against the strikers.

The railroad had filled every place, and it was well known that the striking shopmen not only would never get

their old jobs back but were blacklisted in every railroad in the United States. Already they were beginning to

scatter. A number had gone to Panama, and four were talking of going to Ecuador to work in the shops of the

With anxiety keenly concealed, she tried to feel out Billy's opinion on what had happened.

"They'll hang Chester Johnson, anyway," be answered indirectly. "You know him. You told me you used to

dance with him. He was caught redhanded, lyin' on the body of a scab he beat to death. Old Jelly Belly's got

three bullet holes in him, but he ain't goin' to die, and he's got Chester's number. They'll hang'm on Jelly

Belly's evidence. It was all in the papers. Jelly Belly shot him, too, ahangin' by the neck on our pickets."

Saxon shuddered. Jelly Belly must be the man with the bald spot and the tobaccostained whiskers.

"I guess that's the way it seemed to Jelly Belly, stuck on the pickets," Billy smiled grimly. "But he's a hard

one to kill. He's been shot an' cut up a dozen different times. But they say now he'll be crippled for lifehave

to go around on crutches, or in a wheelchair. That'll stop him from doin' any more dirty work for the

railroad. He was one of their top gunfightersalways up to his ears in the thick of any fightin' that was

goin' on. He never was leery of anything on two feet, I'll say that much for'm."

"Up on Adeline, near Tenthfine neighborhood an' fine twostoried house. He must pay thirty dollars a

"Yep. I never seen his wife, but he's got one son, Jack, a passenger engineer. I used to know him. He was a

nifty boxer, though he never went into the ring. An' he's got another son that's teacher in the high school. His

name's Paul. We're about the same age. He was great at baseball. I knew him when we was kids. He pitched

Saxon sat back in the Morris chair, resting and thinking. The problem was growing more complicated than

ever. This elderly, roundbellied, and baldheaded gunfighter, too, had a wife and family. And there was

Frank Davis, married barely a year and with a baby boy. Perhaps the scab he shot in the stomach had a wife

and children. All seemed to be acquainted, members of a very large family, and yet, because of their

particular families, they battered and killed each other. She had seen Chester Johnson kill a scab, and now

they were going to hang Chester Johnson, who had married Kittie Brady out of the cannery, and she and

Vainly Saxon waked for Billy to say something that would show he did not countenance the killing of the

"They killed Bert," he countered. "An' a lot of others. An' Frank Davis. Did you know he was dead? Had his

whole lower jaw shot awaydied in the ambulance before they could get him to the receiving hospital.

Billy did not reply, but she heard him mutter hoarsely. She knew he said "God damn them"; but when she

asked, "What?" he made no answer. His eyes were deep with troubled clouds, while the mouth had hardened,

To her it was a heartstab. Was he, too, like the rest? Would he kill other men who had families, like Bert,

and Frank Davis, and Chester Johnson had killed? Was he, too, a wild beast, a dog that would snarl over a

She sighed. Life was a strange puzzle. Perhaps Mercedes Higgins was right in her cruel statement of the

"What of it," Billy laughed harshly, as if in answer to her unuttered questions. "It's dog eat dog, I guess, and

it's always ben that way. Take that scrap outside there. They killed each other just like the North an' South did

"But workingmen can't win that way, Billy. You say yourself that it spoiled their chance of winning."

"I suppose not," he admitted reluctantly. "But what other chance they've got to win I don't see. Look at 'us.

"The bosses are cuttin' loose all along the line for a high old time. Say they're goin' to beat us to our knees till

we come crawlin' back abeggin' for our jobs. They've bucked up real high an' mighty what of all that killin'

the other day. Havin' the troops out is half the fight, along with havin' the preachers an' the papers an' the

public behind 'em. They're shootin' off their mouths already about what they're goin' to do. They're sure

gunning for trouble. First, they're goin' to hang Chester Johnson an' as many more of the fifteen as they can.

They say that flat. The Tribune, an' the Enquirer an' the Times keep sayin' it over an over every day. They're

all unionhustin' to beat the band. No more closed shop. To hell with organized labor. Why, the dirty little

Intelligencer come out this morning an' said that every union official in Oakland ought to be run outa town or

"Look at us. It ain't a case any more of sympathetic strike for the millworkers. We got our own troubles.

They've fired our four best menthe ones that was always on the conference committees. Did it without

cause. They're lookin' for trouble, as I told you, an' they'll get it, too, if they don't watch out. We got our tip

"What "s the difference?" Billy shrugged his shoulders, then continued. "It's better to strike than to get fired.

We beat 'em to it, that's all, an' we catch 'em before they're ready. Don't we know what they're doin'? They're

collectin' gradin'camp drivers an' muleskinners all up an' down the state. They got forty of 'em, feedin' 'em

in a hotel in Stockton right now, an' ready to rush 'em in on us an' hundreds more like 'em. So this Saturday's

Saxon closed her eyes and thought quietly for five minutes. It was not her way to take things excitedly. The

coolness of poise that Billy so admired never deserted her in time of emergency. She realized that she herself

was no more than a mote caught up in this tangled, nonunderstandable conflict of many motes.

"We'll have to draw from our savings to pay for this month's rent," she said brightly.

"We ain't got as much in the bank as you think," he confessed. "Bert had to be buried, you know, an I

"Forty dollars. I was goin' to stand off the butcher an' the rest for a while. They knew I was good pay. But

they put it to me straight. They'd been carryin' the shopmen right along an was up against it themselves. An'

now with that strike smashed they're pretty much smashed themselves. So I took it all out of the bank. I knew

"It was the only right thing to do, Billy. I would have done it if you were lying sick, and Bert would have

"Gee, Saxon, a fellow can always count on you. You're like my right hand. That's why I say no more babies.

"We've got to economize," she mused, nodding her appreciation. "How much is in bank?"

"Just about thirty dollars. You see, I had to pay Martha Skelton an' for the ... a few other little things. An' the

union took time by the neck and levied a four dollar emergency assessment on every member just to be ready

if the strike was pulled off. But Doc Hentley can wait. He said as much. He's the goods, if anybody should

"I liked him. But I don't know about doctors. He's the first I ever hadexcept when I was vaccinated once,

"Looks like the street car men are goin' out, too. Dan Fallon's come to town. Came all the way from New

York. Tried to sneak in on the quiet, but the fellows knew when he left New York, an' kept track of him all

the way acrost. They have to. He's JohnnyontheSpot whenever street car men are licked into shape. He's

won lots of street car strikes for tha bosses. Keeps an army of strike breakers an' ships them all over the

country on special trains wherever they're needed. Oakland's never seen labor troubles like she's got and is

"Aw, that's all right. I can take care of myself. An' besides, it ain't as though we was licked. We got a good

"No gunfighting or dynamite," he assented. "But a heap of scabs'll get their heads broke. That has to be."

"Not so as any slob can testify before a court to havin' seen me." Then, with a quick shift, he changed the

subject. "Old Barry Higgins is dead. I didn't want to tell you till you was outa bed. Buried'm a week ago. An'

the old woman's movin' to Frisco. She told me she'd be in to say goodbye. She stuck by you pretty well

them first couple of days, an' she showed Martha Shelton a few that made her hair curl. She got Martha's goat

With Billy on strike and away doing picket duty, and with the departure of Mercedes and the death of Bert,

Saxon was left much to herself in a loneliness that even in one as healthyminded as she could not fail to

produce morbidness. Mary, too, had left, having spoken vaguely of taking a job at housework in Piedmont.

Billy could help Saxon little in her trouble. He dimly sansed her suffering, without comprehending the scope

and intensity of it. He was too manpractical, and, by his very sex, too remote from the intimate tragedy that

was hers. He was an outsider at the best, a friendly onlooker who saw little. To her the baby had been quick

and real. It was still quick and real. That was her trouble. By no deliberate effort of will could she fill the

achiiig void of its absence. Its reality became, at times, an hallucination. Somewhere it still was, and she must

find it. She would catch herself, on occasion, listening with strained ears for the cry she had never heard, yet

which, in fancy, she had heard a thousand times in the happy months before the end. Twice she left her bed in

her sleep and went searchingeach time coming to herself beside her mother's chest of drawers in which

were the tiny garments. To herself, at such moments, she would say, "I had a baby once." And she would say

One day, on the Eighth street cars, a young mother sat beside her, a crowing infant in her arms. And Saxon

The mother looked at her, startled, halfdrew the baby tighter in her arms, jealously, or as if in fear; then she

Tear's welled into her eyes, and the telling of her grief seemed to have brought relief. But all the day she

suffered from an almost overwhelming desire to recite her sorrow to the worldto the paying teller at the

bank, to the elderly floorwalker in Salinger's, to the blind woman, guided by a little boy, who played on the

concertinato every one save the policeman. The police were new and terrible creatures to her now. She had

seen them kill the strikers as mercilessly as the strikers had killed the scabs. And, unlike the strikers, the

police were professional killers. They were not fighting for jobs. They did it as a business. They could have

taken prisoners that day, in the angle of her front steps and the house. But they had not. Unconsciously,

whenever approaching one, she edged across the sidewalk so as to get as far as possible away from him. She

did not reason it out, but deeper than consciousness was the feeling that they were typical of something

At Eighth and Broadway, waiting for her car to return home, the policeman on the corner recognized her and

greeted her. She turned white to the lips, and her heart fluttered painfully. It was only Ned Hermanmann,

fatter, bronderfaced, jollier looking than ever. He had sat across the aisle from her for three terms at school.

He and she had been monitors together of the composition books for one term. The day the powder works

blew up at Pinole, breaking every window in the school, he and she had not joined in the panic rush for

outofdoors. Both had remained in the room, and the irate principal had exhibited them, from room to

room, to the cowardly classes, and then rewarded them with a month's holiday from school. And after that

Ned Hermanmann had become a policeman, and married Lena Highland, and Saxon had heard they had five

But, in spite of all that, he was now a policeman, and Billy was now a striker. Might not Ned Hermanmann

some day club and shoot Billy just as those other policemen clubbed and shot the strikers by her front steps?

She nodded and choked, unable to speak, and started to move toward her car which was coming to a stop.

"No; I'm all right," she gasped hurriedly. "I'm not going to take it. I've forgotten something."

She turned away dizzily, up Broadway to Ninth. Two blocks along Ninth, she turned down Clay and back to

As the summer months dragged along, the industrial situation in Oakland grew steadily worse. Capital

everywhere seemed to have selected this city for the battle with organized labor. So many men in Oakland

were out on strike, or were locked out, or were unable to work because of the dependence of their trades on

the other tiedup trade's, that odd jobs at common labor were hard to obtain. Billy occasionally got a day's

wdrk to do, but did not earn enough to make both ends meet, despite the small strike wages received at first,

The table she set had scarcely anything in common with that of their first married year. Not alone was every

item of cheaper quality, but many items had disappeared. Meat, and the poorest, was very seldom on the

table. Cow's milk had given place to condensed milk, and even the sparing use of the latter had ceased. A roll

of butter, when they had it, lastad half a dozen times as long as formerly. Where Billy had been used to

drinking three cups of coffee for breakfast, he now drank one. Saxon boiled this coffee an atrocious length of

The blight of hard times was on all the neighborhood. The families not involved in one strike were touched

by some other strike or by the cessation of work in some dependent trade. Many single young men who were

lodgers had drifted away, thus increasing the house rent of the families which had sheltered them.

"Gott!" said the butcher to Saxon. "We working class all suffer together. My wife she cannot get her teeth

Once, when Billy was preparing to pawn his watch, Saxon suggested his borrowing the money from Billy

"I was plannin' that," Billy answered, "only I can't now. I didn't tell you what happened Tuesday night at the

Sporting Life Club. You remember that squarehead Champion of the United States Navy? Bill was matched

with him, an' it was sure easy money. Bill had 'm goin' south by the end of the sixth round, an' at the seventh

went in to finish 'm. And thenjust his luck, for his trade's idle nowhe snaps his right forearm. Of course

the squarehead comes back at 'm on the jump, an' it's good night for Bill. Gee! Us Mohegans are gettin' our

"No; but just the same there's too much truth in the word for me to like it. Sometimes it seems as though he

was right. Times have changed. They've changed even since I was a little girl. We crossed the plains and

opened up this country, and now we're losing even the chance to work for a living in it. And it's not my fault,

it's not your fault. We've got to live well or bad just hy luck, it seems. There's no other way to explain it."

"It beats me," Billy concurred. "Look at the way I worked last year. Never missed a day. I'd want to never

miss a day this year, an' here I haven't done a tap for weeks an' weeks an' weeks. Say! Who runs this country

Saxon had stopped the morning paper, but frequently Maggie Donahue's boy, who served a Tribune route,

tossed an "extra" on her steps. From its editorials Saxon gleaned that organized labor was trying to run the

country and that it was making a mess of it. It was all the fault of domineering laborso ran the editorials,

column by column, day by day; and Saxon was convinced, yet remained unconvinced. The social puzzle of

The teamsters' strike, backed financially by the teamsters of San Francisco and by the allied unions of the San

Francisco Water Front Confederation, promised to be longdrawn, whether or not it was successful. The

Oakland harnesswashers and stablemen, with few exceptions, had gone out with the teamsters. The teaming

firm's were not halffilling their contracts, but the employers' association was helping them. In fact, half the

employers' associations of the Pacific Coast were helping the Oakland Employers' Association.

Saxon was behind a month's rent, which, when it is considered that rent was paid in advance, was equivalent

to two months. Likewise, she was two months behind in the installments on the furniture. Yet she was not

"We're givin' you all the rope we can," said their collector. "My orders is to make yon dig up every cent I can

and at the same time not to be too hard. Salinger's are trying to do the right thing, but they're up against it,

too. You've no idea how many accounts like yours they're carrying along. Sooner or later they'll have to call a

halt or get it in the neck themselves. And in the meantime just see if you can't scrape up five dollars by next

One of the stablemen who had not gone out, Henderson by name, worked at Billy's stables. Despite the

urging of the bosses to eat and sleep in the stable like the other men, Henderson had persisted in coming

home each morning to his little house around the corner from Saxon's on Fifth street. Several times she had

seen him swinging along defiantly, his dinner pail in his hand, while the neighborhood boys dogged his heels

at a safe distance and informed him in yapping chorus that he was a scab and no good. But one evening, on

his way to work, in a spirit of bravado he went into the PileDrivers' Home, the saloon at Seventh and Pine.

There it was his mortal mischance to encounter Otto Frank, a striker who drove from the same stable. Not

many minutes later an ambulance was hurrylug Henderson to the receiving hospital with a fractured skull,

while a patrol wagon was no less swiftly carrying Otto Frank to the city prison.

Maggie Donahue it was, eyes shining with gladness, who told Saxon of the happening.

"But his poor wife!" was Saxon's cry. "She's not strong. And then the children. She'll never be able to take

Saxon was both shocked and hurt by the Irishwoman's brutality. But Maggie was implacable.

" 'Tis all she or any woman deserves that'll put up an' live with a scab. What about her children? Let'm starve,

Mrs. Olsen's attitude was different. Beyond passive sentimental pity for Henderson's wife and children, she

gave them no thought, her chief concern being for Otto Frank and Otto Frank's wife and childrenherself

"If he dies, they will hang Otto," she asid. "And then what will poor Hilda do? She has varicose veins in both

legs, and she never can stand on her feet all day an' work for wages. And me, I cannot help. Ain't Carl out of

"It will give the strike a black eye, especially if Henderson croaks," he worried, when he came home. "They'll

hang Frank on record time. Besides, we'll have to put up a defense, an' lawyers charge like Sam Hill. They'll

eat a hole in our treasury you could drive every team in Oakland through. An' if Frank hadn't ben screwed up

with whisky he'd never adone it. He's the mildest, goodnaturedest man sober you ever seen."

Twice that evening Billy left the house to find out if Henderson was dead yet. In the morning the papers gave

little hope, and the evening papers published his death. Otto Frank lay in jail without bail. The Tribune

demanded a quick trial and summary execution, calling on the prospective jury manfully to do its duty and

dwelling at length on the moral effect that would be so produced upon the lawless working class. It went

further, emphasising the salutary effect machine guns would have on the mob that had taken the fair city of

And all such occurrences struck at Saxon personally. Practically alone in the world, save for Billy, it was her

life, and his, and their mutual lovelife, that was menaced. From the moment he left the house to the moment

of his return she knew no peace of mind. Rough work was afoot, of which he told her nothing, and she knew

he was playing his part in it. On more than one occasion she noticed freshbroken skin on his knuckles. At

such times he was remarkably taciturn, and would sit in brooding silence or go almost immediately to bed.

She was afraid to have this habit of reticence grow on him, and bravely she bid for his confidence. She

climbed into his lap and inside his arms, one of her arms around his neck, and with the free hand she caressed

"Now listen to me, Billy Boy," she began lightly. "You haven't been playing fair, and I won't have it. No!"

She pressed his lips shut with her fingers. "I'm doing the talking now, and because you haven't been doing

your share of the talking for some time. You remember we agreed at the start to always talk things over. I was

the first to break this, when I sold my fancy work to Mrs. Higgins without speaking to you about it. And I

was very sorry. I am still sorry. And I've never done it since. Now it's your turn. You're not talking things

"Billy, you're dearer to me than anything else in the world. You know that. We're sharing each other's lives,

only, just now, there's something you're not sharing. Every time your knuckles are sore, there's something

you don't share. If you can't trust me, you can't trust anybody. And, besides, I love you so that no matter what

"How can I? I'm not your boss, Billy. I wouldn't boss you for anything in the world. And if you'd let me boss

"With you? You've never seen me mad yet. Now come on and be generous and tell me how you hurt your

"All right. I'll tell you how it happened." He stopped and giggled with genuine boyish glee at some

recollection. "It's like this. You won't be mad, now? We gotta do these sort of things to hold our own. Well,

here's the show, a regular movin' picture except for file talkin'. Here's a big rube comin' along, hayseed

stickin' out all over, hands like hams an' feet like Mississippi gunboats. He'd make half as much again as me

in size an' he's young, too. Only he ain't lookin' for trouble, an' he's as innocent as ... well, he's the innocentest

scab that ever come down the pike an' bumped into a couple of pickets. Not a regular strikebreaker, you see,

just a big rube that's read the bosses' ads an' come ahumpin' to town for the big wages.

"An' here's Bud Strothers an' me comin' along. We always go in pairs that way, an' sometimes bigger

bunches. I flag the rube. 'Hello,' says I, 'lookin' for a job?' 'You bet,' says he. 'Can you drive?' 'Yep.' 'Four

horses!' 'Show me to 'em,' says he. 'No josh, now,' says I; 'you're sure wantin' to drive?' 'That's what I come to

town for,' he says. 'You're the man we're lookin' for,' says I. 'Come along, an' we'll have you busy in no time.'

"You see, Saxon, we can't pull it off there, because there's Tom Scanlonyou know, the redheaded cop

only a couple of blocks away an' pipin' us off though not recognizin' us. So away we go, the three of us, Bud

an' me leadin' that boob to take our jobs away from us I guess nit. We turn into the alley back of Campwell's

" 'I don't think he wants to drive,' Bud says, considerin'. An' the rube says quick, 'You betcher life I do.'

'You're dead sure you want that job?' I says. Yes, he's dead sure. Nothin's goin' to keep him away from that

job. Why, that job's what he come to town for, an' we can't lead him to it too quick.

" 'Well, my friend,' says I, 'it's my sad duty to inform you that you've made a mistake.' 'How's that?' he says.

'Go on,' I says; 'you're standin' on your foot.' And, honest to God, Saxon, that gink looks down at his feet to

"An' thenBiff! Bang! Bingo! Swat! Zooie! Kerslambangoblam! Fireworks, Fourth of July, Kingdom

Come, blue lights, skyrockets, an' hell firejust like that. It don't take long when you're scientific an'

trained to tandem work. Of course it's hard on the knuckles. But say, Saxon, if you'd seen that rube before an'

Billy halted to give vent to his own mirth. Saxon forced herself to join with him, but down in her heart was

horror. Mercedes was right. The stupid workers wrangled and snarled over jobs. The clever masters rode in

automobiles and did not wrangle and snarl. They hired other stupid ones to do the wrangling and snarling for

them. It was men like Bert and Frank Davis, like Chester Johnson and Otto Frank, like Jelly Belly and the

Pinkertons, like Henderson and all the rest of the scabs, who were beaten up, shot, clubbed, or hanged. Ah,

the clever ones were very clever. Nothing happened to them. They only rode in their automobiles.

" 'You big stiffs,' the rube snivels as he crawls to his feet at the end," Billy was continuing. " 'You think you

still want that job?' I ask. He shakes his head. Then I read'm the riot act 'They's only one thing for you to do,

old hoss, an' that's beat it. D'ye get me? Beat it. Back to the farm for YOU. An' if you come monkeyin' around

town again, we'll be real mad at you. We was only foolin' this time. But next time we catch you your own

"An'say!you oughta seen'm beat it. I bet he's goin' yet. Ah' when he gets back to Milpitas, or Sleepy

Hollow, or wherever he hangs out, an' tells how the boys does things in Oakland, it's dollars to doughnuts

they won't be a rube in his district that'd come to town to drive if they offered ten dollars an hour."

"But that was nothin'," Billy went on. "A bunch of the boys caught another one this morning. They didn't do a

thing to him. My goodness gracious, no. In less'n two minutes he was the worst wreck they ever hauled to the

receivin' hospital. The evenin' papers gave the score: nose broken, three bad scalp wounds, front teeth out, a

broken collarbone, an' two broken ribs. Gee! He certainly got all that was comin' to him. But that's nothin'.

D'ye want to know what the Frisco teamsters did in the big strike before the Earthquake? They took every

scab they caught an' broke both his arms with a crowbar. That was so he couldn't drive, you see. Say, the

"But is it necessary, Billy, to be so terrible? I know they're scabs, and that they're taking the bread out of the

strikers' children's mouths to put in their own children's mouths, and that it isn't fair and all that; but just the

"Sure thing," Billy answered confidently. "We just gotta throw the fear of God into themwhen we can do it

"Then the union hires the lawyers to defend us, though that ain't much good now, for the judges are pretty

hostyle, an' the papers keep hammerin' away at them to give stiffer an' stiffer sentences. Just the same, before

this strike's over there'll be a whole lot of guys awishin' they'd never gone scabbin'."

Very cautiously, in the next half hour, Saxon tried to feel out her husband's attitude, to find if he doubted the

rightness of the violence he and his brother teamsters committed. But Billy's ethical sanction was

rockbedded and profound. It never entered his head that he was not absolutely right. It was the game.

Caught in its tangled meshes, he could see no other way to play it than the way all men played it. He did not

stand for dynamite and murder, however. But then the unions did not stand for such. Quite naive was his

explanation that dynamite and murder did not pay; that such actions always brought down the condemnation

of the public and broke the strikes. But the healthy beating up of a scab, he contendedthe "throwing of the

fear of God into a scab," as he expressed itwas the only right and proper thing to do.

"Our folks never had to do such things," Saxon said finally. "They never had strikes nor scabs in those times."

"You bet they didn't," Billy agreed "Them was the good old days. I'd liked to alived then." He drew a long

A gleam of light came, when Billy got a job driving a grading team for the contractors of the big bridge then

building at Niles. Before he went he made certain that it was a union job. And a union job it was for two

days, when the concrete workers threw down their tools. The contractors, evidently prepared for such

happening, immediately filled the places of the concrete men with nonunion Italians. Whereupon the

carpenters, structural ironworkers and teamsters walked out; and Billy, lacking train fare, spent the rest of the

But she wondered why it was that when men wanted to work, and there was work to do, yet they were unable

to work because their unions said no. Why were there unions? And, if unions had to be, why were not all

workingmen in them? Then there would be no scabs, and Billy could work every day. Also, she wondered

where she was to get a sack of flour, for she had long since ceased the extravagance of baker's bread. And so

many other of the neighborhood women had done this, that the little Welsh baker had closed up shop and

gone away, taking his wife and two little daughters with him. Look where she would, everybody was being

One afternoon came a caller at her door, and that evening came Billy with dubious news. He had been

approached that day. All he had to do, he told Saxon, was to say the word, and he could go into the stable as

The nearness of such a sum, the possibility of it, was almost stunning to Saxon, sitting at a supper which

consisted of boiled potatoes, warmedover beans, and a small dry onion which they were eating raw. There

was neither bread, coffee, nor butter. The onion Billy had pulled from his pocket, having picked it up in the

street. One hundred dollars a month! She moistened her lips and fought for control.

"That's easy," was his answer. "They got a dozen reasons. The guy the boss has had exercisin' Prince and

King is a dub. King has gone lame in the shoulders. Then they're guessin' pretty strong that I'm the party

that's put a lot of their scabs outa commission. Macklin's ben their foreman for years an' yearswhy I was in

knee pants when he was foreman. Well, he's sick an' all in. They gotta have somebody to take his place.

Then, too, I've been with 'em a long time. An' on top of that, I'm the man for the job. They know I know

"Think of it, Billy!" she broathed. "A hundred dollars a month! A hundred dollars a month!"

It was not a question. Nor was it a statement. It was anything Saxon chose to make of it. They looked at each

other. She waited for him to speak; but he continued merely to look. It came to her that she was facing one of

the decisive moments of her life, and she gripped herself to face it in all coolness. Nor would Billy proffer her

the slightest help. Whatever his own judgment might be, he masked it with an expressionless face. His eyes

"You ... you can't do that, Billy," she said finally. "You can't throw the fellows down."

"Put her there!" he cried, their hands meeting and clasping. "You're the truest true blue wife a man ever had.

If all the other fellows' wives was like you, we could win any strike we tackled."

"Than it doesn't make any difference being married. I've got to stand by you in everything you stand for. I'd

She remembered her caller of the afternoon, and knew the moment was too propitious to let pass.

"There was a man here this afternoon, Billy. He wanted a room. I told him I'd speak to you. He said he would

pay six dollars a month for the back bedroom. That would pay half a month's installment on the furniture and

Billy's old hostility to the idea was instantly uppermost, and Saxon watched him anxiously.

"No; he's firing on the freight run to San Jose. Harmon, he said his name was, James Harmon. They've just

transferred him from the Truckee division. He'll sleep days mostly, he said; and that's why he wanted a quiet

In the end, with much misgiving, and only after Saxon had insistently pointed out how little work it entailed

"But I don't want you makin' beds for any man. It ain't right, Saxon. I oughta take care of you."

"And you would," she flashed back at him, "if you'd take the foremanship. Only you can't. It wouldn't be

James Harmon proved even less a bother than Saxon had anticipated. For a fireman he was scrupulously

clean, always washing up in the roundhouse before he came home. He used the key to the kitchen door,

coming and going by the back steps. To Saxon he barely said howdoyoudo or good day; and, sleeping in

the day time and working at night, he was in the house a week before Billy laid eyes on him.

Billy had taken to coming home later and later, and to going out after supper by himself. He did not offer to

tell Saxon where he went. Nor did she ask. For that matter it required little shrewdness on her part to guess.

The fumes of whisky were on his lips at such times. His slow, deliberate ways were even slower, even more

deliberate. Liquor did not affect his legs. He walked as soberly as any man. There was no hesitancy, no

faltering, in his muscular movements. The whisky went to his brain, making his eyes heavylidded and the

cloudiness of them more cloudy. Not that he was flighty, nor quick, nor irritable. On the contrary, the liquor

imparted to his mental processes a deep gravity and brooding solemnity. He talked little, but that little was

ominous and oracular. At such times there was no appeal from his judgment, no discussion. He knew, as God

knew. And when he chose to speak a harsh thought, it was tenfold harsher than ordinarily, because it

seemed to proceed out of such profundity of cogitation, because it was as prodigiously deliberate in its

It was not a nice side he was showing to Saxon. It was, almost, as if a stranger had come to live with her.

Despite herself, she found herself beginning to shrink from him. And little could she comfort herself with the

thought that it was not his real self, for she remembered his gentleness and considerateness, all his finenesses

of the past. Then he had made a continual effort to avoid trouble and fighting. Now he enjoyed it, exulted in

it, went looking for it. All this showed in his face. No longer was he the smiling, pleasantfaced boy. He

smiled infrequently now. His face was a man's face. The lips, the eyes, the lines were harsh as his thoughts

He was rarely unkind to Saxon; but, on the other hand he was rarely kind. His attitude toward her was

growing negative. He was disinterested. Despite the fight for the union she was enduring with him, putting up

with him shoulder to shoulder, she occupied but little space in his mind. When he acted toward her gently,

she could see that it was merely mechanical, just as she was well aware that the endearing terms he used, the

endearing caresses he gave, were only habitual. The spontaneity and warmth had gone out. Often, when he

was not in liquor, flashes of the old Billy came back, but even such flashes dwindled in frequency. He was

growing preoccupied, moody. Hard times and the bitter stresses of industrial conflict strained him. Especially

was this apparent in his sleep, when he suffered paroxysms of lawless dreams, groaning and muttering,

clenching his fists, grinding his teeth, twisting with muscular tensions, his face writhing with passions and

violences, his throat guttering with terrible curses that rasped and aborted on his lips. And Saxon, lying

beside him, afraid of this visitor to her bed whom she did not know, remembered what Mary had told her of

Bert. He, too, had cursed and clenched his fists, in his nights fought out the battles of his days.

One thing, however, Saxon saw clearly. By no deliberate act of Billy's was he becoming this other and

unlovely Billy. Were there no strike, no snarling and wrangling over jobs, there would be only the old Billy

she had loved in all absoluteness. This sleeping terror in him would have lain asleep. It was something that

was being awakened in him, an image incarnate of outward conditions, as cruel, as ugly, as maleficent as

were those outward conditions. But if the strike continued, then, she feared, with reason, would this other and

grisly self of Billy strengthen to fuller and more forbidding stature. And this, she knew, would mean the

wreck of their lovelife. Such a Billy she could not love; in its nature such a Billy was not lovable nor

capable of love. And then, at the thought of offspring, she shuddered. It was too terrible. And at such

moments of contemplation, from her soul the inevitable plaint of the human went up: WHY? WHY? WHY?

"Why won't the building trades come out?" he demanded wrathfuly of the obscurity that veiled the ways of

living and the world. "But no; O'Brien won't stand for a strike, and he has the Building Trades Council under

his thumb. But why don't they chuck him and come out anyway? We'd win hands down all along the line. But

no, O'Brien's got their goat, an' him up to his dirty neck in politics an' graft! An' damn the Federation of

Labor! If all the railroad boys had come out, wouldn't the shop men have won instead of bein' licked to a

frazzle? Lord, I ain't had a smoke of decent tobacco or a cup of decent coffee in a coon's age. I've forgotten

what a square meal tastes like. I weighed myself yesterday. Fifteen pounds lighter than when the strike

begun. If it keeps on much more I can fight middleweight. An' this is what I get after payin' dues into the

union for years and years. I can't get a square meal, an' my wife has to make other men's beds. It makes my

"Who said it was?" Billy snapped roughly. "Can't I kick in general if I want to? Just the same it makes me

sick. What's the good of organized labor if it don't stand together? For two cents I'd chuck the whole thing up

an' go over to the employers. Only I wouldn't, God damn them! If they think they can beat us down to our

knees, let'em go ahead an' try it, that's all. But it gets me just the same. The whole world's clean dippy. They

ain't no sense in anything. What's the good of supportin' a union that can't win a strike? What's the good of

knockin' the blocks off of scabs when they keep acomin' thick as ever? The whole thing's bughouse, an' I

Such an outburst on Billy's part was so unusual that it was the only time Saxon knew it to occur. Always he

was sullen, and dogged, and unwhipped; while whisky only served to set the maggots of certitude crawling in

One night Billy did not get home till after twelve. Saxon's anxiety was increased by the fact that police

fighting and head breaking had been reported to have occurred. When Billy came, his appearance verified the

report. His coatsleeves were half torn off. The Windsor tie had disappeared from under his soft turneddown

collar, and every button had been ripped off the front of the shirt. When he took his hat off, Saxon was

"D'ye know who did that? That Dutch slob Hermanmann, with a riot club. An' I'll get'm for it some day, good

an' plenty. An' there's another fellow I got staked out that'll be my meat when this strike's over an' things is

"Not of Blanchard, Perkins and Company?" Saxon asked, busy washing Billy's hurt and making her usual

"Yep; except he's the son of the old man. What's he do, that ain't done a tap of work in all his life except to

blow the old man's money? He goes strikebreakin'. Grandstand play, that's what I call it. Gets his name in

the papers an makes all the skirts he runs with fluster up an' say: 'My! Some bear, that Roy Blanchard, some

bear.' Some bearthe gazabo! He'll be bearmeat for me some day. I never itched so hard to lick a man in

"Andoh, I guess I'll pass that Dutch cop up. He got his already. Somebody broke his head with a lump of

coal the size of a water bucket. That was when the wagons was turnin' into Franklin, just off Eighth, by the

old Galindo Hotel. They was hard fightin' there, an' some guy in the hotel lams that coal down from the

"They was fightin' every block of the waybricks, cobblestones, an' policeclubs to beat the band. They

don't dast call out the troops. An' they was afraid to shoot. Why, we tore holes through the police force, an'

the ambulanees and patrol wagons worked overtime. But say, we got the procession blocked at Fourteenth

and Broadway, right under the nose of the City Hall, rushed the rear end, cut out the horses of five wagons,

an' handed them college guys a few lovepats in passin'. All that saved 'em from hospital was the police

reserves. Just the same we had 'em jammed an hour there. You oughta seen the street cars blocked,

"He led the procession, an' he drove my team. All the teams was from my stable. He rounded up a lot of them

college fellowsfraternity guys, they're calledyaps that live off their fathers' money. They come to the

stable in big tourin' cars an' drove out the wagons with half the police of Oakland to help them. Say, it was

sure some day. The sky rained cobblestones. An' you oughta heard the clubs on our headsrattattattat,

rattattattat! An' say, the chief of police, in a police auto, sittin' up like God Almightyjust before we got

to Peralta street they was a block an' the police chargin', an' an old woman, right from her front gate, lammed

the chief of police full in the face with a dead cat. Phew! You could hear it. 'Arrest that woman!' he yells,

with his handkerchief out. But the boys beat the cops to her an' got her away. Some day? I guess yes. The

receivin' hospital went outa commission on the jump, an' the overflow was spilled into St. Mary's Hospital,

an' Fabiola, an' I don't know where else. Eight of our men was pulled, an' a dozen of the Frisco teamsters

that's come over to help. They're holy terrors, them Frisco teamsters. It seemed half the workingmen of

Oakland was helpin' us, an' they must be an army of them in jail. Our lawyers'll have to take their cases, too.

"But take it from me, it's the last we'll see of Roy Blanchard an' yaps of his kidney buttin' into our affairs. I

guess we showed 'em some football. You know that brick buildin' they're puttin' up on Bay street? That's

where we loaded up first, an', say, you couldn't see the wagonseats for bricks when they started from the

stables. Blanchard drove the first wagon, an' he was knocked clean off the seat once, but he stayed with it."

"Brave?" Billy flared. "With the police, an' the army an' navy behind him? I suppose you'll be takin' their part

next. Brave? Atakin' the food outa the mouths of our women an children. Didn't Curley Jones's little kid die

last night? Mother's milk not nourishin', that's what it was, because she didn't have the right stuff to eat. An' I

know, an' you know, a dozen old aunts, an' sisterinlaws, an' such, that's had to hike to the poorhouse

In the morning paper Saxon read the exciting account of the futile attempt to break the teamsters' strike. Roy

Blanchard was hailed a hero and held up as a model of wealthy citizenship. And to save herself she could not

help glowing with appreciation of his courage. There was something fine in his going out to face the snarling

pack. A brigadier general of the regular army was quoted as lamenting the fact that the troops had not been

called out to take the mob by the throat and shake law and order into it. "This is the time for a little healthful

bloodletting," was the conclusion of his remarks, after deploring the pacific methods of the police. "For not

until the mob has been thoroughly beaten and cowed will tranquil industrial conditions obtain."

That evening Saxon and Billy went up town. Returning home and finding nothing to eat, he had taken her on

one arm, his overcoat on the other. The overcoat he had pawned at Uncle Sam's, and he and Saxon had eaten

drearily at a Japanese restaurant which in some miraculous way managed to set a semisatisfying meal for

ten cents. After eating, they started on their way to spend an additional five cents each on a moving picture

At the Central Bank Building, two striking teamsters accosted Billy and took him away with them. Saxon

waited on the corner, and when he returned, three quarters of an hour later, she knew he had been drinking.

Half a block on, passing the Forum Cafe, he stopped suddenly. A limousine stood at the curb, and into it a

young man was helping several wonderfully gowned women. A chauffeur sat in the driver's sent. Billy

touched the young man on the arm. He was as broadshouldered as Billy and slightly taller. Blueeyed,

"You're Blanchard," Billy began. "I seen you yesterday lead out that bunch of teams."

"Didn't I do it all right?" Blanchard asked gaily, with a flash of glance to Saxon and back again.

"A striker. It just happens you drove my team, that's all. No; don't move for a gun." (As Blanchard half

reached toward his hip pocket.) "I ain't startin' anythin' here. But I just want to tell you something."

"Sure," Billy went on without any diminution of his exasperating slowness. "What I want to tell you is that

I'm after you. Not now, when the strike's on, but some time later I'm goin' to get you an' give you the beatin'

Blanchard looked Billy over with new interest and measuring eyes that sparkled with appreciation.

"All right, then, my friend. Look me up after the strike is settled, and I'll give you a chance at me."

Blanchard nodded, smiled genially to both of them, raised his hat to Saxon, and stepped into the machine.

From now on, to Saxon, life seemed bereft of its last reason and rhyme. It had become senseless, nightmarish.

Anything irrational was possible. There was nothing stable in the anarchic flux of affairs that swept her on

she knew not to what catastrophic end. Had Billy been dependable, all would still have been well. With him

to cling to she would have faced everything fearlessly. But he had been whirled away from her in the

prevailing madness. So radical was the change in him that he seemed almost an intruder in the house.

Spiritually he was such an intruder. Another man looked out of his eyesa man whose thoughts were of

violence and hatred; a man to whom there was no good in anything, and who had become an ardent

protagonist of the evil that was rampant aud universal. This man no longer condemned Bert, himself

Saxon strove to maintain that sweetness and coolness of flesh and spirit that Billy had praised in the old days.

Once, only, she lost control. He had been in a particularly ugly mood, and a final harshness and unfairness cut

He was speechless and abashed, and could only stare at her face, which was white with anger.

"Aw, can't you put up with a piece of bad temper?" he muttered, half apologetically, yet half defiantly. "God

After he left the house she flung herself on the bed and cried heartbrokenly. For she, who knew so

thoroughly the humility of love, was a proud woman. Only the proud can be truly humble, as only the strong

may know the fullness of gentleness. But what was the use, she demanded, of being proud and game, when

the only person in the world who mattered to her lost his own pride and gameness and fairness and gave her

And now, as she had faced alone the deeper, organic hurt of the loss of her baby, she faced alone another,

and, in a way, an even greater personal trouble. Perhaps she loved Billy none the less, but her love was

changing into something less proud, less confident, less trusting; it was becoming shot through with

pitywith the pity that is parent to contempt. Her own loyalty was threatening to weaken, and she shuddered

She struggled to steel herself to face the situation. Forgiveness stole into her heart, and she knew relief until

the thought came that in the truest, highest love forgiveness should have no place. And again she cried, and

continued her battle. After all, one thing was incontestable: THIS BILLY WES NOT THE BILLY SHE HAD

LOVED. This Billy was another man, a sick man, and no more to be held responsible than a feverpatient in

the ravings of delirium. She must be Billy's nurse, without pride, without contempt, with nothing to forgive.

Besides, he was really bearing the brunt of the fight, was in the thick of it, dizzy with the striking of blows

and the blows he received. If fault there was, it lay elsewhere, somewhere in the tangled scheme of things that

So Saxon arose and buckled on her armor again for the hardest fight of all in the world's arenathe woman's

fight. She ejected from her thought all doubting and distrust. She forgave nothing, for there was nothing

requiring forgiveness. She pledged herself to an absoluteness of belief that her love and Billy's was unsullied,

unperturbedserere as it had always been, as it would be when it came back again after the world settled

That night, when he came home, she proposed, as an emergency measure, that she should resume her

needlework and help keep the pot boiling until the strike was over, But Billy would hear nothing of it.

"It's all right," he assured her repeatedly. "They ain't no call for you to work. I'm goin' to get some money

before the week is out. An' I'll turn it over to you. An' Saturday night we'll go to the showa real show, no

movin' pictures. Harvey's nigger minstrels is comin' to town. We'll go Saturday night. I'll have the money

Friday evening he did not come home to supper, which Saxon regretted, for Maggie Donahue had returned a

pan of potatoes and two quarts of flour (borrowed the week before), and it was a hearty meal that awaited

him. Saxon kept the stove going till nine o'clock, when, despite her reluctance, she went to bed. Her

preference would have been to wait up, but she did not dare, knowing full well what the effect would be on

The clock had just struck one, when she heard the click of the gate. Slowly, heavily, ominously, she heard

him come up the steps and fumble with his key at the door. He entered the bedroom, and she heard him sigh

as he sat down. She remained quiet, for she had learned the hypersensitiveness induced by drink and was

fastidiously careful not to hurt him even with the knowledge that she had lain awake for him. It was not easy.

Her hands were clenched till the nails dented the palms, and her body was rigid in her passionate effort for

Without looking at him, she complied; but so violent was the nervous trembling of her hands that the glass

"I ain't drunk, Saxon," he said in the darkness, a hint of amusement in his thick voice. "I've only had two or

On her second attempt with the lamp she succeeded. When she turned to look at him she screamed with

fright. Though she had heard his voice and knew him to be Billy, for the instant she did not recognize him.

His face was a face she had never known. Swollen, bruised, discolored, every feature had been beaten out of

all semblance of familiarity. One eye was entirely closed, the other showed through a narrow slit of

bloodcongested flesh. One ear seemed to have lost most of its skin. The whole face was a swollen pulp. His

right jaw, in particular, was twice the size of the left. No wonder his speech had been thick, was her thought,

as she regarded the fearfully cut and swollen lips that still bled. She was sickened by the sight, and her heart

went out to him in a great wave of tenderness. She wanted to put her arms around him, and cuddle and soothe

"You poor, poor boy," she cried. "Tell me what you want me to do first. I don't know about such things."

"If you could help me get my clothes off," he suggested meekly and thickly. "I got 'em on before I stiffened

"And then hot waterthat will be good," she said, as she began gently drawing his coat sleeve over a puffed

"I told you they was all thumbs," he grimaced, holding up his hand and squinting at it with the fraction of

"You sit and wait," she said, "till I start the fire and get the hot water going. I won't be a minute. Then I'll

From the kitchen she could hear him mumbling to himself, and when she returned he was repeating over and

Drunken he was not, she could see that, and from his babbling she knew he was partly delirious.

"He was a surprise box," he wandered on, while she proceeded to undress him; and bit by bit she was able to

piece together what had happened. "He was an unknown from Chicago. They sprang him on me. The

secretary of the Acme Club warned me I'd have my hands full. An' I'd awon if I'd been in condition. But

fifteen pounds off without trainin' ain't condition, Then I'd been drinkin' pretty regular, an' I didn't have my

But Saxon, stripping his undershirt, no longer heard him. As with his face, she could not recognize his

splendidly muscled back. The white sheath of silken skin was torn and bloody. The lacerations occurred

"The ropes. I was up against 'em more times than I like to remember. Gee! He certainly gave me mine. But I

fooled 'm. He couldn't put me out. I lasted the twenty rounds, an' I wanta tell you he's got some marks to

remember me by. If he ain't got a couple of knuckles broke in the left hand I'm a geezer.Here, feel my head

here. Swollen, eh? Sure thing. He hit that more times than he's wishin' he had right now. But, oh, what a

lacin'! What a lacin'! I never had anything like it before. The Chicago Terror, they call 'm. I take my hat off to

'm. He's some bear. But I could amade 'm take the count if I'd ben in condition an' had my wind.Oh!

Fumbling at his waistband, Saxon's hand had come in contact with a brightly inflamed surface larger than a

"That's from the kidney blows," Billy explained. "He was a regular devil at it. 'Most every clench, like clock

work, down he'd chop one on me. It got so sore I was wincin' ... until I got groggy an' didn't know much of

anything. It ain't a knockout blow, you know, but it's awful wearin' in a long fight. It takes the starch out of

When his knees were bared, Saxon could see the skin across the kneecaps was broken and gone.

"The skin ain't made to stand a heavy fellow like me on the knees," he volunteered. "An' the rosin in the

The tears were in Saxon's eyes, and she could have cried over the manhandled body of her beautiful sick boy.

As she carried his pants across the room to hang them up, a jingle of money came from them. He called her

"We needed the money, we needed the money," he kept muttering, as he vainly tried to count the coins; and

It cut her to the heart, for she could not but remember the harsh thoughts that had threatened her loyalty

during the week past. After all, Billy, the splendid physical man, was only a boy, her boy. And he had faced

and endured all this terrible punishment for her, for the house and tha furniture that were their house and

furniture. He said so, now, when he scarcely knew what he said. He said "WE needed the money." She was

not so absent from his thoughts as she had fancied. Here, down to the naked tieribs of his soul, when he was

half unconscious, the thought of her persisted, was uppermost. We needed the money. WE!

The tears were trickling down her checks as she bent over him, and it seemed she had never loved him so

"Here; you count," he said, abandoning the effort and handing the money to her. "... How much do you make

"That's right ... the loser's end ... twenty dollars. I had some drinks, an' treated a couple of the boys, an' then

there was carfare. If I'd awon, I'd agot a hundred. That's what I fought for. It'd aput us on Easy street for a

In bed, he could not sleep because of his pain, and hour by hour she worked over him, renewing the hot

compresses over his bruises, soothing the lacerations with witch hazel and cold cream and the tenderest of

finger tips. And all the while, with broken intervals of groaning, he babbled on, living over the fight, seeking

relief in telling her his trouble, voicing regret at loss of the money, and crying out the hurt to his pride. Far

"He couldn't put me out, anyway. He had full swing at me in the times when I was too much in to get my

hands up. The crowd was crazy. I showed 'em some stamina. They was times when he only rocked me, for I'd

evaporated plenty of his steam for him in the openin' rounds. I don't know how many times he dropped me.

"Sometimes, toward the end, I could see three of him in the ring at once, an' I wouldn't know which to hit an'

"But I fooled 'm. When I couldn't see, or feel, an' when my knees was shakin an my head goin' like a

merrygoround, I'd fall safe into clenches just the same. I bet the referee's arms is tired from draggin' us

"But what a lacin'! What a lacin'! Say, Saxon ... where are you? Oh, there, eh? I guess I was dreamin'. But,

say, let this be a lesson to you. I broke my word an' went fightin', an' see what I got. Look at me, an' take

warnin' so you won't make the same mistake an' go to makin' an' sellin' fancy work again ...

"But I fooled 'emeverybody. At the beginnin' the bettin' was even. By the sixth round the wise gazabos was

offerin' two to one against me. I was licked from the first drop outa the boxanybody could see that; but he

couldn't put me down for the count. By the tenth round they was offerin' even that I wouldn't last the round.

At the eleventh they was offerin' I wouldn't last the fifteenth. An' I lasted the whole twenty. But some

"Why, they was four rounds I was in dreamland all the time ... only I kept on my feet an' fought, or took the

count to eight an' got up, an' stalled an' covered an' whanged away. I don't know what I done, except I must

adone like that, because I wasn't there. I don't know a thing from the thirteenth, when he sent me to the mat

"Where was I? Oh, yes. I opened my eyes, or one eye, because I had only one that would open. An' there I

was, in my corner, with the towels goin' an' ammonia in my nose an' Bill Murphy with a chunk of ice at the

back of my neck. An' there, across the ring, I could see the Chicago Terror, an' I had to do some thinkin' to

remember I was fightin' him. It was like I'd been away somewhere an' just got back. 'What round's this

comin'?' I ask Bill. 'The eighteenth,' says he. 'The hell,' I says. 'What's come of all the other rounds? The last I

was figlitin' in was the thirteenth.' 'You're a wonder,' says Bill. 'You've ben out four rounds, only nobody

knows it except me. I've ben tryin' to get you to quit all the time.' Just then the gong sounds, an' I can see the

Terror startin' for me. 'Quit,' says Bill, makin' a move to throw in the towel. 'Not on your life,' I says. 'Drop it,

Bill.' But he went on wantin' me to quit. By that time the Terror had come across to my corner an' was

standin' with his hands down, lookin' at me. The referee was lookin', too, an' the house was that quiet, lookin',

"'Watch me,' says I. An' with that I make a rush for the Terror, catchin' him unexpeeted. I'm that groggy I

can't stand, but I just keep agoin', wallopin' the Terror clear across the ring to his corner, where he slips an'

"Where was I?My head's still goin' round I guess. It's buzzin' like a swarm of bees."

"Oh, yes. Well, no sooner are we on our feetan' I can't standI rush 'm the same way back across to my

corner an' fall on 'm. That was luck. We got up, an' I'd afallen, only I clenched an' held myself up by him. 'I

"I hadn't his goat, but I was playin' to get a piece of it, an' I got it, rushin' 'm as soon as the referee drags us

apart an' fetchin' 'm a lucky wallop in the stomach that steadied 'm an' made him almighty careful. Too

almighty careful. He was afraid to chance a mix with me. He thought I had more fight left in me than I had.

"An' he couldn't get me. He didn't get me. An' in the twentieth we stood in the middle of the ring an'

exchanged wallops even. Of course, I'd made a fine showin' for a licked man, but he got the decision, which

was right. But I fooled 'm. He couldn't get me. An' I fooled the gazabos that was bettin' he would on short

At last, as dawn came on, Billy slept. He groaned and moaned, his face twisting with pain, his body vainly

So this was prizefighting, Saxon thought. It was much worse than she had dreamed. She had had no idea that

such damage could be wrought with padded gloves. He must never fight again. Street rioting was preferable.

She was wondering how much of his silk had been lost, when he mumbled and opened his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, ere it came to her that his eyes were unseeing and that he was in delirium.

Again he called her, and she cried her presence loudly in his ear. He sighed with relief and muttered

His eyes closed, and he slept more soundly, though his muttering continued. She had heard of congestion of

the brain, and was frightened. Then she remembered his telling her of the ice Billy Murphy had held against

Throwing a shawl over her head, she ran to the Pile Drivers' Home on Seventh street. The barkeeper had just

opened, and was sweeping out. From the refrigerator he gave her all the ice she wished to carry, breaking it

into convenient pieces for her. Back in the house, she applied the ice to the base of Billy's brain, placed hot

irons to his feet, and bathed his head with witch hazel made cold by resting on the ice.

He slept in the darkened room until late afternoon, when, to Saxon's dismay, he insisted on getting up.

"Gotta make a showin'," he explained. "They ain't goin' to have the laugh on me."

In torment he was helped by her to dress, and in torment he went forth from the house so that his world

should have ocular evidence that the beating he had received did not keep him in bed.

It was another kind of pride, different from a woman's, and Saxon wondered if it were the less admirable for

In the days that followed Billy's swellings went down and the bruises passed away with surprising rapidity.

The quick healing of the lacerations attested the healthiness of his blood. Only remained the black eyes,

unduly conspicuous on a face as blond as his. The discoloration was stubborn, persisting half a month, in

Otto Frank's trial had been expeditious. Found guilty by a jury notable for the business and professional men

on it, the death sentence was passed upon him and he was removed to San Quentin for execution.

The case of Chester Johnson and the fourteen others had taken longer, but within the same week, it, too, was

finished. Chester Johnson was sentenced to be hanged. Two got life; three, twenty years. Only two were

The effect on Saxon was to throw her into deep depression. Billy was made gloomy, but his fighting spirit

"Always some men killed in battle," he said. "That's to be expected. But the way of sentencin' 'em gets me.

All found guilty was responsible for the killin'; or none was responsible. If all was, then they should get the

same sentence. They oughta hang like Chester Johnson, or else he oughtn't to hang. I'd just like to know how

the judge makes up his mind. It must be like markin' China lottery tickets. He plays hunches. He looks at a

guy an' waits for a spot or a number to come into his head. How else could he give Johnny Black four years

an' Cal Hutchins twenty years? He played the hunches as they came into his head, an' it might just as easy ben

"I know both them boys. They hung out with the Tenth an' Kirkham gang mostly, though sometimes they ran

with my gang. We used to go swimmin' after school down to Sandy Beach on the marsh, an' in the Transit

slip where they said the water was sixty feet deep, only it wasn't. An' once, on a Thursday, we dug a lot of

clams together, an' played hookey Friday to peddle them. An' we used to go out on the Rock Wall an' catch

pogies an' rock cod. One daythe day of the eclipseCal caught a perch half as big as a door. I never seen

such a fish. An' now he's got to wear the stripes for twenty years. Lucky he wasn't married. If he don't get the

consumption he'll be an old man when he comes out. Cal's mother wouldn't let 'm go swimmin', an' whenever

she suspected she always licked his hair with her tongue. If it tasted salty, he got a beltin'. But he was onto

himself. Comin' home, he'd jump somebody's front fence an' hold his head under a faucet."

"I used to dance with Chester Johnson," Saxon said. "And I knew his wife, Kittie Brady, long and long ago.

She had next place at the table to me in the paperbox factory. She's gone to San Francisco to her married

sister's. She's going to have a baby, too. She was awfully pretty, and there was always a string of fellows after

The effect of the conviction and severe sentences was a bad one on the union men. Instead of being

disheartening, it intensified the bitterness. Billy's repentance for having fought and the sweetness and

affection which had flashed up in the days of Saxon's nursing of him were blotted out. At home, he scowled

and brooded, while his talk took on the tone of Bert's in the last days ere that Mohegan died. Also, Billy

Saxon wellnigh abandoned hope. Almost was she steeled to the inevitable tragedy which her morbid fancy

painted in a thousand guises. Oftenest, it was of Billy being brought home on a stretcher. Sometimes it was a

call to the telephone in the corner grocery and the curt information by a strange voice that her husband was

lying in the receiving hospital or the morgue. And when the mysterious horsepoisoning cases occurred, and

when the residence of one of the teaming magnates was half destroyed by dynamite, she saw Billy in prison,

or wearing stripes, or mounting to the scaffold at San Quentin while at the same time she could see the little

Yet her lively imagination failed altogether to anticipate the real catastrophe. Harmon, the fireman lodger,

passing through the kitchen on his way out to work, had paused to tell Saxon about the previous day's

trainwreck in the Alviso marshes, and of how the engineer, imprisoned under the overturned engine and

unhurt, being drowned by the rising tide, had begged to be shot. Billy came in at the end of the narrative, and

from the somber light in his heavylidded eyes Saxon knew he had been drinking. He glowered at Harmon,

Harmon felt the awkwardness of the situation, and did his best to appear oblivious.

"I don't care what you was tellin' her. But I got something to tell you, Mister Man. My wife's made up your

"Well, I don't like your mug," Billy informed him. "You're standin' on your foot. Get off of it. Get out. Beat

"I don't know what's got into him," Saxon gasped hurriedly to the fireman. "He's not himself. Oh, I am so

"An' I oughta knock your block off for you. Don't see any reason I shouldn't, for that matter."

"You here still? Well, if you won't go into the other room, I'll see that you do."

His hand clutched her arm. For one instant she resisted his strength; and in that instant, the flesh crushed

In the front room she could only lie back in the Morris chair sobbing, and listen to what occurred in the

kitchen. "I'll stay to the end of the week," the fireman was saying. "I've paid in advance."

"Don't make no mistake," came Billy's voice, so slow that it was almost a drawl, yet quivering with rage.

"You can't get out too quick if you wanta stay healthyyou an' your traps with you. I'm likely to start

Then came the unmistakable impact of a blow; the crash of glass; a scuffle on the back porch; and, finally,

the heavy bumps of a body down the steps. She heard Billy reenter the kitchen, move about, and knew he was

sweeping up the broken glass of the kitchen door. Then he washed himself at the sink, whistling while he

dried his face and hands, and walked into the front room. She did not look at him. She was too sick and sad.

"I'm goin' up town," he stated. "They's a meeting of the union. If I don't come back it'll be because that

He opened the front door and paused. She knew he was looking at her. Then the door closed and she heard

Saxon was stunned. She did not think. She did not know what to think. The whole thing was

incomprehensible, incredible. She lay back in the chair, her eyes closed, her mind almost a blank, crushed by

The voices of children playing in the street aroused her. Night had fallen. She groped her way to a lamp and

lighted it. In the kitchen she stared, lips trembling, at the pitiful, half prepared meal. The fire had gone out.

The water had boiled away from the potatoes. When she lifted the lid, a burnt smell arose. Methodically she

scraped and cleaned the pot, put things in order, and peeled and sliced the potatoes for next day's frying. And

just as methodically she went to bed. Her lack of nervousness, her placidity, was abnormal, so abnormal that

she closed her eyes and was almost immediately asleep. Nor did she awaken till the sunshine was streaming

It was the first night she and Billy had slept apart. She was amazed that she had not lain awake worrying

about him. She lay with eyes wide open, scarcely thinking, until pain in her arm attracted her attention. It was

where Billy had gripped her. On examination she found the bruised flesh fearfully black and blue. She was

astonished, not by the spiritual fact that such bruise had been administered by the one she loved most in the

world, but by the sheer physical fact that an instant's pressure had inflicted so much damage. The strength of

a man was a terrible thing. Quite impersonally, she found herself wondering if Charley Long were as strong

It was not until she dressed and built the fire that she began to think about more immediate things. Billy had

not returned. Then he was arrested. What was she to do?leave him in jail, go away, and start life afresh? Of

course it was impossible to go on living with a man who had behaved as he had. But then, came another

thought, WAS it impossible? After all, he was her husband. FOR BETTER OR WORSEthe phrase

reiterated itself, a monotonous accompaniment to her thoughts, at the back of her consciousness. To leave

him was to surrender. She carried the matter before the tribunal of her mother's memory. No; Daisy would

never have surrendered. Daisy was a fighter. Then she, Saxon, must fight. Besidesand she acknowledged

itreadily, though in a cold, dead waybesides, Billy was better than most husbands. Better than any other

husband she had heard of, she concluded, as she remembered many of his earlier nicenesses and finenesses,

and especially his eternal chant: NOTHING IS TOO GOOD FOR US. THE ROBERTSES AIN'T ON THE

At eleven o'clock she had a caller. It was Bud Strothers, Billy's mate on strike duty. Billy, he told her, had

refused bail, refused a lawyer, had asked to be tried by the Court, had pleaded guilty, and had received a

sentence of sixty dollars or thirty days. Also, he had refused to let the boys pay his fine.

"He's clean looney," Strothers summed up. "Won't listen to reason. Says he'll serve the time out. He's been

tankin' up too regular, I guess. His wheels are buzzin'. Here, he give me this note for you. Any time you want

anything send for me. The boys'll all stand by Bill's wife. You belong to us, you know. How are you off for

Proudly she disclaimed any need for money, and not until her visitor departed did she read Billy's note:

Dear SaxonBud Strothers is going to give you this. Don't worry about me. I am going to take my medicine.

I deserve ityou know that. I guess I am gone bughouse. Just the same, I am sorry for what I done. Don't

come to see me. I don't want you to. If you need money, the union will give you some. The business agent is

all right. I will be out in a month. Now, Saxon, you know I love you, and just say to yourself that you forgive

Bud Strothers was followed by Maggie Donahue, and Mrs. Olsen, who paid neighborly calls of cheer and

were tactful in their offers of help and in studiously avoiding more reference than was necessary to Billy's

In the afternoon James Harmon arrived. He limped slightly, and Saxon divined that he was doing his best to

minimize that evidence of hurt. She tried to apologize to him, but he would not listen.

"I don't blame you, Mrs. Roberts," he said. "I know it wasn't your doing. But your husband wasn't just

himself, I guess. He was fightin' mad on general principles, and it was just my luck to get in the way, that was

"I know all about it. I used to punish the drink myself, and I done some funny things in them days. And I'm

sorry I swore that warrant out and testified. But I was hot in the collar. I'm cooled down now, an' I'm sorry I

"You're awfully good and kind," she said, and then began hesitantly on what was bothering her. "You ... you

"Yes; that wouldn't do, would it? I'll tell you: I'll pack up right now, and skin out, and then, before six o'clock,

Much as he demurred, she compelled him to receive back the unexpired portion of his rent. He shook her

hand heartily at leaving, and tried to get her to promise to call upon him for a loan any time she might be in

"It's all right," he assured her. "I'm married, and got two boys. One of them's got his lungs touched, and she's

And as he went down the steps she wondered that so kind a man should be in so madly cruel a world.

The Donahue boy threw in a spare evening paper, and Saxon found half a column devoted to Billy. It was not

nice. The fact that he had stood up in the police court with his eyes blacked from some other fray was noted.

He was described as a bully, a hoodlum, a roughneck, a professional slugger whose presence in the ranks

was a disgrace to organized labor. The assault he had pleaded guilty of was atrocious and unprovoked, and if

he were a fair sample of a striking teamster, the only wise thing for Oakland to do was to break up the union

and drive every member from the city. And, finally, the paper complained at the mildness of the sentence. It

should have been six months at least. The judge was quoted as expressing regret that he had been unable to

impose a six months' sentence, this inability being due to the condition of the jails, already crowded beyond

capacity by the many eases of assault committed in the course of the various strikes.

That night, in bed, Saxon experienced her first loneliness. Her brain seemed in a whirl, and her sleep was

broken by vain gropings for the form of Billy she imagined at her side. At last, she lighted the lamp and lay

staring at the ceiling, wideeyed, conning over and over the details of the disaster that had overwhelmed her.

She could forgive, and she could not forgive. The blow to her lovelife had been too savage, too brutal. Her

pride was too lacerated to permit her wholly to return in memory to the other Billy whom she loved. Wine in,

wit out, she repeated to herself; but the phrase could not absolve the man who had slept by her side, and to

whom she had consecrated herself. She wept in the loneliness of the alltoospacious bed, strove to forget

Billy's incomprehensible cruelty, even pillowed her cheek with numb fondness against the bruise of her arm;

but still resentment burned within her, a steady flame of protest against Billy and all that Billy had done. Her

throat was parched, a dull ache never ceased in her breast, and she was oppressed by a feeling of goneness.

In the morning she received a visit from Sarahthe second in all the period of her marriage; and she could

easily guess her sisterinlaw's ghoulish errand. No exertion was required for the assertion of all of Saxon's

pride. She refused to be in the slightest on the defensive. There was nothing to defend, nothing to explain.

Everything was all right, and it was nobody's business anyway. This attitude but served to vex Sarah.

"I warned you, and you can't say I didn't," her diatribe ran. "I always knew he was no good, a jailbird, a

hoodlum, a slugger. My heart sunk into my boots when I heard you was runnin' with a prizefighter. I told you

so at the time. But no; you wouldn't listen, you with your highfalutin' notions an' more pairs of shoes than any

decent woman should have. You knew better'n me. An' I said then, to Tom, I said, 'It's all up with Saxon

now.' Them was my very words. Them that touches pitch is defiled. If you'd only amarried Charley Long!

Then the family wouldn't aben disgraced. An' this is only the beginnin', mark me, only the beginnin'. Where

it'll end, God knows. He'll kill somebody yet, that plugugly of yourn, an' be hanged for it. You wait an' see,

that's all, an' then you'll remember my words. As you make your bed, so you will lay in it"

"Oh, it's the style," Saxon retorted airily. "Everybody's getting a taste of jail. Wasn't Tom arrested at some

This was unanswerable, and Sarah executed her favorite tactic of attack in flank.

"A nice comedown for you, I must say, that was raised straight an' right, acuttin' up didoes with a lodger."

"Oh, a blind man can read between the lines. A lodger, a young married woman with no self respect, an' a

"And I want you to understand it," Saxon continued. "It makes a woman proud to have men fight over her. I

am proud. Do you hear? I am proud. I want you to tell them so. I want you to tell all your neighbors. Tell

everybody. I am no cow. Men like me. Men fight for me. Men go to jail for me. What is a woman in the

world for, if it isn't to have men like her? Now, go, Sarah; go at once, and tell everybody what you've read

between the lines. Tell them Billy is a jailbird and that I am a bad woman whom all men desire. Shout it out,

and good luck to you. And get out of my house. And never put your feet in it again. You are too decent a

woman to come here. You might lose your reputation. And think of your children. Now get out. Go."

Not until Sarah had taken an amazed and horrified departure did Saxon fling herself on the bed in a

convulsion of tears. She had been ashamed, before, merely of Billy's inhospitality, and surliness, and

unfairness. But she could see, now, the light in which others looked on the affair. It had not entered Saxon's

head. She was confident that it had not entered Billy's. She knew his attitude from the first. Always he had

opposed taking a lodger because of his proud faith that his wife should not work. Only hard times had

compelled his consent, and, now that she looked back, almost had she inveigled him into consenting.

But all this did not alter the viewpoint the neighborhood must hold, that every one who had ever known her

must hold. And for this, too, Billy was responsible. It was more terrible than all the other things he had been

guilty of put together. She could never look any one in the face again. Maggie Donahue and Mrs. Olsen had

been very kind, but of what must they have been thinking all the time they talked with her? And what must

they have said to each other? What was everybody saying?over front gates and back fences,the men

Later, exhausted by her grief, when the tears no longer fell, she grew more impersonal, and dwelt on the

disasters that had befallen so many women since the strike troubles beganOtto Frank's wife, Henderson's

widow, pretty Kittie Brady, Mary, all the womenfolk of the other workmen who were now wearing the

stripes in San Quentin. Her world was crashing about her ears. No one was exempt. Not only had she not

escaped, but hers was the worst disgrace of all. Desperately she tried to hug the delusion that she was asleep,

that it was all a nightmare, and that soon the alarm would go off and she would get up and cook Billy's

She did not leave the bed that day. Nor did she sleep. Her brain whirled on and on, now dwelling at insistent

length upon her misfortunes, now pursuing the most fantastic ramifications of what she considered her

disgrace, and, again, going back to her childhood and wandering through endless trivial detail. She worked at

all the tasks she had ever done, performing, in fancy, the myriads of mechanical movements peculiar to each

occupationshaping and pasting in the paper box factory, ironing in the laundry, weaving in the jute mill,

peeling fruit in the cannery and countless boxes of scalded tomatoes. She attended all her dances and all her

picnics over again; went through her school days, recalling the face and name and seat of every schoolmate;

endured the gray bleakness of the years in the orphan asylum; revisioned every memory of her mother, every

tale; and relived all her life with Billy. But everand here the torment layshe was drawn back from these

farwanderings to her present trouble, with its parch in the throat, its ache in the breast, and its gnawing,

All that night Saxon lay, unsleeping, without taking off her clothes, and when she arose in the morning and

washed her face and dressed her hair she was aware of a strange numbness, of a feeling of constriction about

her head as if it were bound by a heavy band of iron. It seemed like a dull pressure upon her brain. It was the

beginning of an illness that she did not know as illness. All she knew was that she felt queer. It was not fever.

It was not cold. Her bodily health was as it should be, and, when she thought about it, she put her condition

down to nervesnerves, according to her ideas and the ideas of her class, being unconnected with disease.

She had a strange feeling of loss of self, of being a stranger to herself, and the world in which she moved

seemed a vague and shrouded world. It lacked sharpness of definition. Its customary vividness was gone. She

had lapses of memory, and was continually finding herself doing unplanned things. Thus, to her

astonishment, she came to in the back yard hanging up the week's wash. She had no recollection of having

done it, yet it had been done precisely as it should have been done. She had boiled the sheets and pillowslips

and the table linen. Billy's woolens had been washed in warm water only, with the homemade soap, the

recipe of which Mercedes had given her. On investigation, she found she had eaten a mutton chop for

breakfast. This meant that she had been to the butcher shop, yet she had no memory of having gone.

Curiously, she went into the bedroom. The bed was made up and everything in order.

At twilight she came upon herself in the front room, seated by the window, crying in an ecstasy of joy. At

first she did not know what this joy was; then it came to her that it was because she had lost her baby. "A

blessing, a blessing," she was chanting aloud, wringing her hands, but with joy, she knew it was with joy that

The days came and went. She had little notion of time. Sometimes, centuries agone, it seemed to her it was

since Billy had gone to jail. At other times it was no more than the night before. But through it all two ideas

persisted: she must not go to see Billy in jail; it was a blessing she had lost her baby.

Once, Bud Strothers came to see her. She sat in the front room and talked with him, noting with fascination

that there were fringes to the heels of his trousers. Another day, the business agent of the union called. She

told him, as she had told Bud Strothers, that everything was all right, that she needed nothing, that she could

A fear began to haunt her. WHEN HE CAME OUT. No; it must not be. There must not be another baby. It

might LIVE. No, no, a thousand times no. It must not be. She would run away first. She would never see

This fear persisted. In her nightmareridden sleep it became an accomplished fact, so that she would awake,

trembling, in a cold sweat, crying out. Her sleep had become wretched. Sometimes she was convinced that

she did not sleep at all, and she knew that she had insomnia, and remembered that it was of insomnia her

She came to herself one day, sitting in Doctor Hentley's office. He was looking at her in a puzzled way.

And then she knew why she had come. Simply, explicitly,she told him. He shook his head slowly.

"I don't mean that," he answered. "I mean I can't tell you. I dare not. It is against the law. There is a doctor in

In vain she pleaded with him. He instanced his own wife and children whose existence forbade his imperiling

Saxon poured her heart out to him. She told of her first year of happiness with Billy, of the hard times caused

by the labor troubles, of the change in Billy so that there was no lovelife left, of her own deep horror. Not if

it died, she concluded. She could go through that again. But if it should live. Billy would soon be out of jail,

and then the danger would begin. It was only a few words. She would never tell any one. Wild horses could

But Doctor Hentley continued to shake his head. "I can't tell you, little woman. It's a shame, but I can't take

the risk. My hands are tied. Our laws are all wrong. I have to consider those who are dear to me."

It was when she got up to go that he faltered. "Come here," he said. "Sit closer."

He prepared to whisper in her ear, then, with a sudden excess of caution, crossed the room swiftly, opened the

door, and looked out. When he sat down again he drew his chair so close to hers that the arms touched, and

"No, no," he shut her off when she tried to voice her gratitude. "I have told you nothing. You were here to

As he talked he moved her toward the door. When he opened it, a patient for the dentist in the adjoining

"What you need is that tonic I prescribed. Remember that. And don't pamper your appetite when it comes

back. Eat strong, nourishing food, and beefsteak, plenty of beefsteak. And don't cook it to a cinder. Good

At times the silent cottage became unendurable, and Saxon would throw a shawl about her head and walk out

the Oakland Mole, or cross the railroad yards and the marshes to Sandy Beach where Billy had said he used

to swim. Also, by going out the Transit slip, by climbing down the piles on a precarious ladder of iron spikes,

and by crossing a boom of logs, she won access to the Rock Wall that extended far out into the bay and that

served as a barrier between the mudflats and the tidescoured channel of Oakland Estuary. Here the fresh sea

breezes blew and Oakland sank down to a smudge of smoke behind her, while across the bay she could see

the smudge that represented San Francisco. Ocean steamships passed up and down the estuary, and

She gazed at the sailors on the ships, wondered on what far voyages and to what far lands they went,

wondered what freedoms were theirs. Or were they girt in by as remorseless and cruel a world as the dwellers

in Oakland were? Were they as unfair, as unjust, as brutal, in their dealings with their fellows as were the city

dwellers? It did not seem so, and sometimes she wished herself on board, outbound, going anywhere, she

cared not where, so long as it was away from the world to which she had given her best and which had

She did not know always when she left the house, nor where her feet took her. Once, she came to herself in a

strange part of Oakland. The street was wide and lined with rows of shade trees. Velvet lawns, broken only

by cement sidewalks, ran down to the gutters. The houses stood apart and were large. In her vocabulary they

were mansions. What had shocked her to consciousness of herself was a young man in the driver's seat of a

touring car standing at the curb. He was looking at her curiously and she recognized him as Roy Blanchard,

whom, in front of the Forum, Billy had threatened to whip. Beside the car, bareheaded, stood another young

man. He, too, she remembered. He it was, at the Sunday picnic where she first met Billy, who had thrust his

cane between the legs of the flying footracer and precipitated the freeforall fight. Like Blanchard, he was

looking at her curiously, and she became aware that she had been talking to herself. The babble of her lips

still beat in her ears. She blushed, a rising tide of shame heating her face, and quickened her pace. Blanchard

sprang out of the car and came to her with lifted hat. "Is anything the matter?" he asked.

She shook her head, and, though she had stopped, she evinced her desire to go on.

"I know you," he said, studying her face. "You were with the striker who promised me a licking."

"Oh! Good for him." He regarded her pleasantly and frankly. "But about yourself? Isn't there anything I can

"No, I'm all right," she answered. "I have been sick," she lied; for she never dreamed of connecting her

"You look tired," he pressed her. "I can take you in the machine and run you anywhere you want. It won't be

"If... if you would tell me where I can catch the Eighth street cars. I don't often come to this part of town."

He told her where to find an electric car and what transfers to make, and she was surprised at the distance she

"Well, good bye," he smiled good humoredly. "And tell that husband of yours to keep in good condition. I'm

"Oh, but you can't fight with him," she warned. "You mustn't. You haven't got a show."

"Good for you," he admired. "That's the way for a woman to stand up for her man. Now the average woman

"But I'm not afraid. .. for him. It's for you. He's a terrible fighter. You wouldn't have any chance. It would be

"Yes," she nodded. "That's just what he would call it. And whenever he tells you you are standing on your

She went on down the sidewalk, his cheery good bye ringing in her ears. He was kindshe admitted it

honestly; yet he was one of the clever ones, one of the masters, who, according to Billy, were responsible for

all the cruelty to labor, for the hardships of the women, for the punishment of the labor men who were

wearing stripes in San Quentin or were in the death cells awaiting the scaffold. Yet he was kind, sweet

natured, clean, good. She could read his character in his face. But how could this be, if he were responsible

for so much evil? She shook her head wearily. There was no explanation, no understanding of this world

As for her having strayed into that neighborhood of fine residences, she was unsurprised. It was in line with

her queerness. She did so many things without knowing that she did them. But she must be careful. It was

Especially she liked the Rock Wall. There was a freedom about it, a wide spaciousness that she found herself

instinctively trying to breathe, holding her arms out to embrace and make part of herself. It was a more

natural world, a more rational world. She could understand itunderstand the green crabs with white

bleached claws that scuttled before her and which she could see pasturing on greenweeded rocks when the

tide was low. Here, hopelessly manmade as the great wall was, nothing seemed artificial. There were no

men here, no laws nor conflicts of men. The tide flowed and ebbed; the sun rose and set; regularly each

afternoon the brave west wind came romping in through the Golden Gate, darkening the water, cresting tiny

wavelets, making the sailboats fly. Everything ran with frictionless order. Everything was free. Firewood lay

about for the taking. No man sold it by the sack. Small boys fished with poles from the rocks, with no one to

drive them away for trespass, catching fish as Billy had caught fish, as Cal Hutchins had caught fish. Billy

had told her of the great perch Cal Hutchins caught on the day of the eclipse, when he had little dreamed the

And here was food, food that was free. She watched the small boys on a day when she had eaten nothing, and

emulated them, gathering mussels from the rocks at low water, cooking them by placing them among the

coals of a fire she built on top of the wall. They tasted particularly good. She learned to knock the small

oysters from the rocks, and once she found a string of freshcaught fish some small boy had forgotten to take

Here drifted evidences of man's sinister handiworkfrom a distance, from the cities. One flood tide she

found the water covered with muskmelons. They bobbed and bumped along up the estuary in countless

thousands. Where they stranded against the rocks she was able to get them. But each and every melonand

she patiently tried scores of themhad been spoiled by a sharp gash that let in the salt water. She could not

"They do it, the people who have too much," the old woman explained, straightening her laborstiffened back

with such an effort that almost Saxon could hear it creak. The old woman's black eyes flashed angrily, and

her wrinkled lips, drawn tightly across toothless gums, wry with bitterness. "The people that have too much.

"But the poor people cannot buy them anyway," Saxon objected. "It would not hurt the price."

"I do not know. It is their way. They chop each melon so that the poor people cannot fish them out and eat

anyway. They do the same with the oranges, with the apples. Ah, the fishermen! There is a trust. When the

boats catch too much fish, the trust throws them overboard from Fisherman Wharf, boatloads, and

boatloads, and boatloads of the beautiful fish. And the beautiful good fish sink and are gone. And no one

And Saxon could not understand a world that did such thingsa world in which some men possessed so

much food that they threw it away, paying men for their labor of spoiling it before they threw it away; and in

the same world so many people who did not have enough food, whose babies died because their mothers'

milk was not nourishing, whose young men fought and killed one another for the chance to work, whose old

men and women went to the poorhouse because there was no food for them in the little shacks they wept at

leaving. She wondered if all the world were that way, and remembered Mercedes' tales. Yes; all the world

was that way. Had not Mercedes seen ten thousand families starve to death in that far away India, when, as

she had said, her own jewels that she wore would have fed and saved them all? It was the poorhouse and the

She was one of the stupid. She must be. The evidence all pointed that way. Yet Saxon refused to accept it.

She was not stupid. Her mother had not been stupid, nor had the pioneer stock before her. Still it must be so.

Here she sat, nothing to eat at home, her lovehusband changed to a brute beast and lying in jail, her arms

and heart empty of the babe that would have been there if only the stupid ones had not made a shambles of

She sat there, racking her brain, the smudge of Oakland at her back, staring across the bay at the smudge of

Ban Francisco. Yet the sun was good; the wind was good, as was the keen salt air in her nostrils; the blue sky,

flecked with clouds, was good. All the natural world was right, and sensible, and beneficent. It was the

manworld that was wrong, and mad, and horrible. Why were the stupid stupid? Was it a law of God? No; it

could not be. God had made the wind, and air, and sun. The manworld was made by man, and a rotten job it

was. Yet, and she remembered it well, the teaching in the orphan asylum, God had made everything. Her

mother, too, had believed this, had believed in this God. Things could not be different. It was ordained.

For a time Saxon sat crushed, helpless. Then smoldered protest, revolt. Vainly she asked why God had it in

for her. What had she done to deserve such fate? She briefly reviewed her life in quest of deadly sins

committed, and found them not. She had obeyed her mother; obeyed Cady, the saloonkeeper, and Cady's

wife; obeyed the matron and the other women in the orphan asylum; obeyed Tom when she came to live in

his house, and never run in the streets because he didn't wish her to. At school she had always been honorably

promoted, and never had her deportment report varied from one hundred per cent. She had worked from the

day she left school to the day of her marriage. She had been a good worker, too. The little Jew who ran the

paper box factory had almost wept when she quit. It was the same at the cannery. She was among the

highline weavers when the jute mills closed down. I And she had kept straight. It was not as if she had been

ugly or unattractive. She had known her temptations and encountered her dangers. The fellows had been

crazy about her. They had run after her, fought over her, in a way to turn most girls' heads. But she had kept

straight. And then had come Billy, her reward. She had devoted herself to him, to his house, to all that would

nourish his love; and now she and Billy were sinking down into this senseless vortex of misery and

No, God was not responsible. She could have made a better world herselfa finer, squarer world. This being

so, then there was no God. God could not make a botch. The matron had been wrong, her mother had been

wrong. Then there was no immortality, and Bert, wild and crazy Bert, falling at her front gate with his foolish

Looking thus at life, shorn of its superrational sanctions, Saxon floundered into the morass of pessimism.

There was no justification for right conduct in the universe, no square deal for her who had earned reward, for

the millions who worked like animals, died like animals, and were a long time and forever dead. Like the

hosts of more learned thinkers before her, she concluded that the universe was unmoral and without concern

And now she sat crushed in greater helplessness than when she had included God in the scheme of injustice.

As long as God was, there was always chance for a miracle, for some supernatural intervention, some

rewarding with ineffable bliss. With God missing, the world was a trap. Life was a trap. She was like a linnet,

caught by small boys and imprisoned in a cage. That was because the linnet was stupid. But she rebelled. She

fluttered and beat her soul against the hard face of things as did the linnet against the bars of wire. She was

not stupid. She did not belong in the trap. She would fight her way out of the trap. There must be such a way

out. When canal boys and railsplitters, the lowliest of the stupid lowly, as she had read in her school history,

could find their way out and become presidents of the nation and rule over even the clever ones in their

automobiles, then could she find her way out and win to the tiny reward she cravedBilly, a little love, a

little happiness. She would not mind that the universe was unmoral, that there was no God, no immortality.

She was willing to go into the black grave and remain in its blackness forever, to go into the salt vats and let

the young men cut her dead flesh to sausagemeat, ifif only she could get her small meed of happiness

How she would work for that happiness! How she would appreciate it, make the most of each least particle of

it! But how was she to do it, Where was the paths She could not vision it. Her eyes showed her only the

smudge of San Francisco, the smudge of Oakland, where men were breaking heads and killing one another,

where babies were dying, born and unborn, and where women were weeping with bruised breasts.

Her vague, unreal existence continued. It seemed in some previous lifetime that Billy had gone away, that

another lifetime would have to come before he returned. She still suffered from insomnia. Long nights

passed in succession, during which she never closed her eyes. At other times she slept through long stupors,

waking stunned and numbed, scarcely able to open her heavy eyes, to move her weary limbs. The pressure of

the iron band on her head never relaxed. She was poorly nourished. Nor had she a cent of money. She often

went a whole day without eating. Once, seventytwo hours elapsed without food passing her lips. She dug

clams in the marsh, knocked the tiny oysters from the rocks, and gathered mussels.

And yet, when Bud Strothers came to see how she was getting along, she convinced him that all was well.

One evening after work, Tom came, and forced two dollars upon her. He was terribly worried. He would like

to help more, but Sarah was expecting another baby. There had been slack times in his trade because of the

strikes in the other trades. He did not know what the country was coming to. And it was all so simple. All

they had to do was see things in his way and vote the way he voted. Then everybody would get a square deal.

"Think," she said, "think of all the men and women who died in those two thousand years, and socialism has

not come yet. And in two thousand years more it may be as far away as ever. Tom, your socialism never did

"If they believed as you do. Only they don't. You don't succeed in making them."

And before her fancy passed the countless generations of the stupid lowly, the Billys and Saxons, the Berts

and Marys, the Toms and Sarahs. And to what end? The salt vats and the grave. Mercedes was a hard and

wicked woman, but Mercedes was right. The stupid must always be under the heels of the clever ones. Only

she, Saxon, daughter of Daisy who had written wonderful poems and of a soldierfather on a roan warhorse,

daughter of the strong. generations who hall won half a world from wild nature and the savage Indianno,

she was not stupid. It was as if she suffered false imprisonment. There was some mistake. She would find the

With the two dollars she bought a sack of flour and half a sack of potatoes. This relieved the monotony of her

clams and mussels. Like the Italian and Portuguese women, she gathered driftwood and carried it home,

though always she did it with shamed pride, timing her arrival so that it would be after dark. One day, on the

mudflat side of the Rock Wall, an Italian fishing boat hauled up on the sand dredged from the channel.

From the top of the wall Saxon watched the men grouped about the charcoal brazier, eating crusty Italian

bread and a stew of meat and vegetables, washed down with long draughts of thin red wine. She envied them

their freedom that advertised itself in the heartiness of their meal, in the tones of their chatter and laughter, in

the very boat itself that was not tied always to one place and that carried them wherever they willed.

Afterward, they dragged a seine across the mudflats and up on the sand, selecting for themselves only the

larger kinds of fish. Many thousands of small fish, like sardines, they left dying on the sand when they sailed

away. Saxon got a sackful of the fish, and was compelled to make two trips in order to carry them home,

Her lapses of consciousness continued. The strangest thing she did while in such condition was on Sandy

Beach. There she discovered herself, one windy afternoon, lying in a hole she had dug, with sacks for

blankets. She had even roofed the hole in rough fashion by means of drift wood and marsh grass. On top of

Another time she came to herself walking across the marshes, a bundle of driftwood, tied with balerope, on

her shoulder. Charley Long was walking beside her. She could see his face in the starlight. She wondered

dully how long he had been talking, what he had said. Then she was curious to hear what he was saying. She

was not afraid, despite his strength, his wicked nature, and tho loneliness and darkness of the marsh.

"It's a shame for a girl like you to have to do this," he was saying, apparently in repetition of what he had

"Listen, Charley Long. Billy's only doing thirty days, and his time is almost up. When he gets out your life

won't be worth a pinch of salt if I tell him you've been bothering me. Now listen. If you go right now away

The big blacksmith stood in scowling indecisions his face pathetic in its fierce yearning, his hands making

"Why, you little, small thing," he said desperately, "I could break you in one hand. I couldwhy, I could do

anything I wanted. I don't want to hurt you, Saxon. You know that. Just say the word"

"God!" he muttered in involuntary admiration. "You ain't afraid. You ain't afraid."

"Why ain't you afraid?" he demanded at last, after peering into the surrounding darkness as if searching for

When he had gone she shifted the load of wood to her other shoulder and started on, in her breast a quiet thrill

of pride in Billy. Though behind prison bars, still she leaned against his strength. The mere naming of him

On the day that Otto Frank was hanged she remained indoors. The evening papers published the account.

There had been no reprieve. In Sacramento was a railroad Governor who might reprieve or even pardon

bankwreckers and grafters, but who dared not lift his finger for a workingman. All this was the talk of the

The next day Saxon started out the Rock Wall, and the specter of Otto Frank walked by her side. And with

him was a dimmer, mistier specter that she recognized as Billy. Was he, too, destined to tread his way to Otto

Frank's dark end? Surely so, if the blood and strike continued. He was a fighter. He felt he was right in

fighting. It was easy to kill a man. Even if he did not intend it, some time, when he was slugging a scab, the

scab would fracture his skull on a stone curbing or a cement sidewalk. And then Billy would hang. That was

why Otto Frank hanged. He had not intended to kill Henderson. It was only by accident that Henderson's

She wrung her hands and wept loudly as she stumbled among the windy rocks. The hours passed, and she

was lost to herself and her grief. When she came to she found herself on the far end of the wall where it jutted

into the bay between the Oakland and Alameda Moles. But she could see no wall. It was the time of the full

moon, and the unusual high tide covered the rocks. She was knee deep in the water, and about her knees

swam scores of big rock rats, squeaking and fighting, scrambling to climb upon her out of the flood. She

screamed with fright and horror, and kicked at them. Some dived and swam away under water; others circled

about her warily at a distance; and one big fellow laid his teeth into her shoe. Him she stepped on and crushed

with her free foot. By this time, though still trembling, she was able coolly to consider the situation. She

waded to a stout stick of driftwood a few feet away, and with this quickly cleared a space about herself.

A grinning small boy, in a small, brightpainted and halfdecked skiff, sailed close in to the wall and let go

"Yes," she answered. "There are thousands of big rats here. I'm afraid of them."

He nodded, ran close in, spilled the wind from his sail, the boat's way carrying it gently to her.

"Shove out its bow," he commanded. "That's right. I don't want to break my centerboard.... An' then jump

She obeyed, stepping in lightly beside him. He held the tiller up with his elbow, pulled in on the sheet, and as

He was a slender, almost frail lad, of twelve or thirteen years, though healthy enough, with sunburned

Despite his possession of the pretty boat, Saxon was quick to sense that he was one of them, a child of the

He looked at her keenly. "Well, you take to it like a duck to water is all I can say about it. Where d'ye want

He opened his mouth to speak, gave her another long look, considered for a space, then asked suddenly: "Got

"SayI'll tell you, I'm goin' out on this ebb to Goat Island for rockcod, an' I'll come in on the flood this

evening. I got plenty of lines an' bait. Want to come along7 We can both fish. And what you catch you can

Saxon hesitated. The freedom and motion of the small boat appealed to her. Like the ships she had envied, it

"All right," she consented. "Though remember, I don't know anything about boats."

"Aw, that's all right.Now I'm goin' to go about. When I say 'Hard alee!' like that, you duck your head so

He executed the maneuver, Saxon obeyed, and found herself sitting beside him on the opposite side of the

boat, while the boat itself, on the other tack, was heading toward Long Wharf where the coal bunkers were.

She was aglow with admiration, the more so because the mechanics of boatsailing was to her a complex and

"Taught myself, just naturally taught myself. I liked it, you see, an' what a fellow likes he's likeliest to do.

This is my second boat. My first didn't have a centerboard. I bought it for two dollars an' learned a lot, though

it never stopped leaking. What d 'ye think I paid for this one? It's worth twentyfive dollars right now. What

"Six dollars. Think of it! A boat like this! Of course I done a lot of work, an' the sail cost two dollars, the oars

one forty, an' the paint one seventyfive. But just the same eleven dollars and fifteen cents is a real bargain. It

took me a long time saving for it, though. I carry papers morning and eveningthere's a boy taking my route

for me this afternoonI give 'm ten cents, an' all the extras he sells is his; and I'd agot the boat sooner only

I had to pay for my shorthand lessons. My mother wants me to become a court reporter. They get sometimes

as much as twenty dollars a day. Gee! But I don't want it. It's a shame to waste the money on the lessons."

"What do you want?" she asked, partly from idleness, and yet with genuine curiosity; for she felt drawn to

Turning his head slowly, he followed the skyline, pausing especially when his eyes rested landward on the

brown Contra Costa hills, and seaward, past Alcatraz, on the Golden Glate. The wistfulness in his eyes was

"Don't you ever feel that way?" he asked, bidding for sympathy with his dream. "Don't you sometimes feel

you'd die if you didn't know what's beyond them hills an' what's beyond the other hills behind them hills? An'

the Golden Gate! There's the Pacific Ocean beyond, and China, an' Japan, an' India, an'. .. an' all the coral

islands. You can go anywhere out through the Golden Gateto Australia, to Africa, to the seal islands, to the

North Pole, to Cape Horn. Why, all them places are just waitin' for me to come an' see 'em. I've lived in

Oakland all my life, but I'm not going to live in Oakland the rest of my life, not by a long shot. I'm goin' to

Again, as words failed to express the vastness of his desire, the wave of his arm swept the circle of the world.

Saxon thrilled with him. She too, save for her earlier childhood, had lived in Oakland all her life. And it had

been a good place in which to live. .. until now. And now, in all its nightmare horror, it was a place to get

away from, as with her people the East had been a place to get away from. And why not? The world tugged at

her, and she felt in touch with the lad's desire. Now that she thought of it, her race had never been given to

staying long in one place. Always it had been on the move. She remembered back to her mother's tales, and

to the wood engraving in her scrapbook where her halfclad forebears, sword in hand, leaped from their lean

"You bet!" His eyes glistened, and he looked at her with new interest. "I'm an AngloSaxon, every inch of

me. Look at the color of my eyes, my skin. I'm awful white where I ain't sunburned. An' my hair was yellow

when I was a baby. My mother says it'll be dark brown by the time I'm grown up, worse luck. Just the same,

I'm AngloSaxon. I am of a fighting race. We ain't afraid of nothin'. This baythink I'm afraid of it!" He

looked out over the water with flashing eye of scorn. "Why, I've crossed it when it was howlin' an' when the

scow schooner sailors said I lied an' that I didn't. Huh! They were only squareheads. Why, we licked their

kind thousands of years ago. We lick everything we go up against. We've wandered all over the world,

licking the world. On the sea, on the land, it's all the same. Look at Ivory Nelson, look at Davy Crockett, look

at Paul Jones, look at Clive, an' Kitchener, an' Fremont, an' Kit Carson, an' all of 'em."

Saxon nodded, while he continued, her own eyes shining, and it came to her what a glory it would be to be

the mother of a manchild like this. Her body ached with the fancied quickening of unborn life. A good

stock, a good stock, she thought to herself. Then she thought of herself and Billy, healthy shoots of that same

stock, yet condemned to childlessness because of the trap of the manmade world and the curse of being

"My father was a soldier in the Civil War," he was telling her, "a scout an' a spy. The rebels were going to

hang him twice for a spy. At the battle of Wilson's Creek he ran half a mile with his captain wounded on his

back. He's got a bullet in his leg right now, just above the knee. It's been there all these years. He let me feel it

once. He was a buffalo hunter and a trapper before the war. He was sheriff of his county when he was twenty

years old. An' after the war, when he was marshal of Silver City, he cleaned out the bad men an'

gunfighters. He's been in almost every state in the Union. He could wrestle any man at the railings in his

day, an' he was bully of the raftsmen of the Susquehanna when he was only a youngster. His father killed a

man in a standup fight with a blow of his fist when he was sixty years old. An' when he was seventyfour, his

second wife had twins, an' he died when he was plowing in the field with oxen when he was ninetynine

years old. He just unyoked the oxen, an' sat down under a tree, an' died there sitting up. An' my father's just

like him. He's pretty old now, but he ain't afraid of nothing. He's a regular AngloSaxon, you see. He's a

special policeman, an' he didn't do a thing to the strikers in some of the fightin'. He had his face all cut up

"Gee!" he cried. "You're lucky. Now if mine had been only Erlingyou know, Erling the Boldor Wolf, or

"Only John," he admitted sadly. "But I don't let 'em call one John. Everybody's got to call me Jack. I've

scrapped with a dozen fellows that tried to call me John, or Johnniewouldn't that make you

They were now off the coal bunkers of Long Wharf, and the boy put the skiff about, heading toward San

Francisco. They were well out in the open bay. The west wind had strengthened and was whitecapping the

strong ebb tide. The boat drove merrily along. When splashes of spray flew aboard, wetting them, Saxon

laughed, and the boy surveyed her with approval. They passed a ferryboat, and the passengers on the upper

deck crowded to one side to watch them. In the swell of the steamer's wake, the skiff shipped quarterfull of

"That's right," he said. "Go ahead an' bale out." And, when she had finished: "We'll fetch Goat Island next

tack. Right there off the Torpedo Station is where we fish, in fifty feet of water an' the tide runnin' to beat the

band. You're wringing wet, ain't you? Gee! You're like your name. You're a Saxon, all right. Are you

"What'd you want to do that for, Now you can't wander over the world like I'm going to. You're tied down.

"Sure, everybody gets married. But that's no reason to be in a rush about it. Why couldn't you wait a while,

like me, I'm goin' to get married, too, but not until I'm an old man an' have been everywheres."

Under the lee of Goat Island, Saxon obediently sitting still, he took in the sail, and, when the boat had drifted

to a position to suit him, he dropped a tiny anchor. He got out the fish lines and showed Saxon how to bait

her hooks with salted minnows. Then they dropped the lines to bottom, where they vibrated in the swift tide,

"They'll bite pretty soon," he encouraged. "I've never failed but twice to catch a mess here. What d'ye say we

Vainly she protested she was not hungry. He shared his lunch with her with a boy's rigid equity, even to the

Still the rockcod did not bite. From under the sternsheets he drew out a clothbound book.

"Free Library," he vouchsafed, as he began to read, with one hand holding the place while with the other he

"Listen to this," he said after a few minutes, and he read several pages descriptive of a great flooded tropical

"Think of that!" he concluded. "That's the Amazon river in flood time in South America. And the world's full

of places like thateverywhere, most likely, except Oakland. Oakland's just a place to start from, I guess.

Now that's adventure, I want to tell you. Just think of the luck of them boys! All the same, some day I'm

going to go over the Andes to the headwaters of the Amazon, all through the rubber country, an' canoe down

the Amazon thousands of miles to its mouth where it's that wide you can't see one bank from the other an'

where you can scoop up perfectly fresh water out of the ocean a hundred miles from land."

But Saxon was not listening. One pregnant sentence had caught her fancy. Oakland just a place to start from.

She had never viewed the city in that light. She had accepted it as a place to live in, as an end in itself. But a

place to start from! Why not! Why not like any railroad station or ferry depot! Certainly, as things were

going, Oakland was not a place to stop in. The boy was right. It was a place to start from. But to go where?

Here she was halted, and she was driven from the train of thought by a strong pull and a series of jerks on the

line. She began to haul in, hand under hand, rapidly and deftly, the boy encouraging her, until hooks, sinker,

and a big gasping rockcod tumbled into the bottom of the boat. The fish was free of the hook, and she baited

"Did you ever read Captain Mayne Reid?" he asked. "Or Captain Marryatt? Or Ballantyne?"

"And you an AngloSaxon!" he cried derisively. "Why, there's stacks of 'em in the Free Library. I have two

cards, my mother's an' mine, an' I draw 'em out all the time, after school, before I have to carry my papers. I

stick the books inside my shirt, in front, under the suspenders. That holds 'em. One time, deliverin' papers at

Second an' Marketthere's an awful tough gang of kids hang out thereI got into a fight with the leader.

He hauled off to knock my wind out, an' he landed square on a book. You ought to seen his face. An' then I

landed on him. An' then his whole gang was goin' to jump on me, only a couple of ironmolders stepped in

"Nobody," the boy confessed reluctantly. "I think I was lickin' him, but the molders called it a draw because

the policeman on the beat stopped us when we'd only teen fightin' half an hour. But you ought to seen the

He broke off abruptly and began hauling in his line. Saxon, too, was hauling in. And in the next couple of

That night, long after dark, the little, halfdecked skiff sailed up the Oakland Estuary. The wind was fair but

light, and the boat moved slowly, towing a long pile which the boy had picked up adrift and announced as

worth three dollars anywhere for the wood that was in it. The tide flooded smoothly under the full moon, and

Saxon recognized the points they passedthe Transit slip, Sandy Beach, the shipyards, the nail works,

Market street wharf. The boy took the skiff in to a dilapidated boatwharf at the foot of Castro street, where

the scow schooners, laden with sand and gravel, lay hauled to the shore in a long row. He insisted upon an

equal division of the fish, because Saxon had helped catch them, though he explained at length the ethics of

At Seventh and Poplar they separated, Saxon walking on alone to Pine street with her load of fish. Tired

though she was from the long day, she had a strange feeling of wellbeing, and, after cleaning the fish, she

fell asleep wondering, when good times came again, if she could persuade Billy to get a boat and go out with

She slept all night, without stirring, without dreaming, and awoke naturally and, for the first time in weeks,

refreshed. She felt her old self, as if some depressing weight had been lifted, or a shadow had been swept

away from between her and the sun. Her head was clear. The seeming iron band that had pressed it so hard

was gone. She was cheerful. She even caught herself humming aloud as she divided the fish into messes for

Mrs. Olsen, Maggie Donahue, and herself. She enjoyed her gossip with each of them, and, returning home,

plunged joyfully into the task of putting the neglected house in order. She sang as she worked, and ever as

she sang the magic words of the boy danced and sparkled among the notes: OAKLAND IS JUST A PLACE

Everything was clear as print. Her and Billy's problem was as simple as an arithmetic problem at school: to

carpet a room so many feet long, so many feet wide, to paper a room so many feet high, so many feet around.

She had been sick in her head, she had had strange lapses, she had been irresponsible. Very well. All this had

been because of her troublestroubles in which she had had no hand in the making. Billy's case was hers

precisely. He had behaved strangely because he had been irresponsible. And all their troubles were the

troubles of the trap. Oakland was the trap. Oakland was a good place to start from.

She reviewed the events of her married life. The strikes and the hard times had caused everything. If it had

not been for the strike of the shopmen and the fight in her front yard, she would not have lost her baby. If

Billy had not been made desperate by the idleness and the hopeless fight of the teamsters, he would not have

taken to drinking. If they had not been hard up, they would not have taken a lodger, and Billy would not be in

Her mind was made up. The city was no place for her and Billy, no place for love nor for babies. The way out

was simple. They would leave Oakland. It was the stupid that remained and bowed their heads to fate. But

she and Billy were not stupid. They would not bow their heads. They would go forth and face fate.Where,

she did not know. But that would come. The world was large. Beyond the encircling hills, out through the

Golden Gate, somewhere they would find what they desired. The boy had been wrong in one thing. She was

not tied to Oakland, even if she was married. The world was free to her and Billy as it had been free to the

wandering generations before them. It was only the stupid who had been left behind everywhere in the race's

wandering. The strong had gone on. Well, she and Billy were strong. They would go on, over the brown

The day before Billy's release Saxon completed her meager preparations to receive him. She was without

money, and, except for her resolve not to offend Billy in that way again, she would have borrowed ferry fare

from Maggie Donahue and journeyed to San Francisco to sell some of her personal pretties. As it was, with

bread and potatoes and salted sardines in the house, she went out at the afternoon low tide and dug clams for

a chowder. Also, she gathered a load of driftwood, and it was nine in the evening when she emerged from the

marsh, on her shoulder a bundle of wood and a shorthandled spade, in her free hand the pail of clams. She

sought the darker side of the street at the corner and hurried across the zone of electric light to avoid detection

by the neighbors. But a woman came toward her, looked sharply and stopped in front of her. It was Mary.

Saxon looked at her old friend curiously, with a swift glance that sketched all the tragedy. Mary was thinner,

though there was more color in her cheekscolor of which Saxon had her doubts. Mary's bright eyes were

handsomer, largertoo large, too feverish bright, too restless. She was well dressedtoo well dressed; and

she was suffering from nerves. She turned her head apprehensively to glance into the darkness behind her.

"My God!" Saxon breathed. "And you. .." She shut her lips, then began anew. "Come along to the house," she

"If you're ashamed to be seen with me" Mary blurted, with one of her old quick angers.

"No, no," Saxon disclaimed. "It's the driftwood and the clams. I don't want the neighbors to know. Come

"No; I can't, Saxon. I'd like to, but I can't. I've got to catch the next train to F'risco. I've ben waitin' around. I

"I read about it in the papers," Mary went on hurriedly, looking behind her. "I was in Stockton when it

happened." She turned upon Saxon almost savagely. "You don't blame me, do you? I just couldn't go back to

work after bein' married. I was sick of work. Played out, I guess, an' no good anyway. But if you only knew

how I hated the laundry even before I got married. It's a dirty world. You don't dream. Saxon, honest to God,

you could never guess a hundredth part of its dirtiness. Oh, I wish I was dead, I wish I was dead an' out of it

all. Listenno, I can't now. There's the down train puffin' at Adeline. I'll have to run for it. Can I come"

Behind her the speaker had partly emerged from the darkness. No workingman, Saxon could see thatlower

And by her answer and its accents Saxon knew that Mary was afraid of this man who prowled on the rim of

She caught Saxon's free hand, and Saxon felt a small hot coin pressed into it. She tried to resist, to force it

"No, no," Mary pleaded. "For old times. You can do as much for me some day. I'll see you again. Good bye."

Suddenly, sobbing, she threw her arms around Saxon's waist, crushing the feathers of her hat against the load

of wood as she pressed her face against Saxon's breast. Then she tore herself away to arm's length,

"Aw, get a hustle, get a hustle," came from the darkness the peremptory voice of the man.

In the house, the lamp lighted, Saxon looked at the coin. It was a fivedollar pieceto her, a fortune. Then

she thought of Mary, and of the man of whom she was afraid. Saxon registered another black mark against

Oakland. Mary was one more destroyed. They lived only five years, on the average, Saxon had heard

somewhere. She looked at the coin and tossed it into the kitchen sink. When she cleaned the clams, she heard

It was the thought of Billy, next morning, that led Saxon to go under the sink, unscrew the cap to the

catchtrap, and rescue the fivedollar piece. Prisoners were not well fed, she had been told; and the thought of

placing clams and dry bread before Billy, after thirty days of prison fare, was too appalling for her to

contemplate. She knew how he liked to spread his butter on thick, how he liked thick, rare steak fried on a

Not until after nine o'clock did Billy arrive, and she was dressed in her prettiest house gingham to meet him.

She peeped on him as he came slowly up the front steps, and she would have run out to him except for a

group of neighborhood children who were staring from across the street. The door opened before him as his

hand reached for the knob, and, inside, he closed it by backing against it, for his arms were filled with Saxon.

No, he had not had breakfast, nor did he want any now that he had her. He had only stopped for a shave. He

had stood the barber off, and he had walked all the way from the City Hall because of lack of the nickel

carfare. But he'd like a bath most mighty well, and a change of clothes. She mustn't come near him until he

When all this was accomplished, he sat in the kitchen and watched her cook, noting the driftwood she put in

the stove and asking about it. While she moved about, she told how she had gathered the wood, how she had

managed to live and not be beholden to the union, and by the time they were seated at the table she was

telling him about her meeting with Mary the night before. She did not mention the five dollars.

Billy stopped chewing the first mouthful of steak. His expression frightened her. He spat the meat out on his

"You got the money to buy the meat from her," he accused slowly. "You had no money, no more tick with

The terrifying, ageless look had come into his face, the bleak and passionless glaze into his eyes, which she

had first seen on the day at Weasel Park when he had fought with the three Irishmen.

"What else did you buy?" he demandednot roughly, not angrily, but with the fearful coldness of a rage that

To her surprise, she had grown calm. What did it matter? It was merely what one must expect, living in

Oaklandsomething to be left behind when Oakland was a thing behind, a place started from.

He emptied his plate of meat and her plate into the frying pan, likewise the roll of butter and the slice on the

table, and on top he poured the contents of the coffee canister. All this he carried into the back yard and

dumped in the garbage can. The coffee pot he emptied into the sink. "How much of the money you got left?"

"Three dollars and eighty cents," she counted, handing it to him. "I paid fortyfive cents for the steak."

He ran his eye over the money, counted it, and went to the front door. She heard the door open and close, and

knew that the silver had been flung into the street. When he came back to the kitchen, Saxon was already

"Nothin's too good for the Robertses," he said; "but, by God, that sort of truck is too high for my stomach. It's

He glanced at the fried potatoes, the fresh slice of dry bread, and the glass of water she was placing by his

"It's all right," she smiled, as he hesitated. "There's nothing left that's tainted."

He shot a swift glance at her face, as if for sarcasm, then sighed and sat down. Almost immediately he was up

"I'm goin' to eat in a minute, but I want to talk to you first," he said, sitting down and holding her closely.

"Besides, that water ain't like coffee. Gettin' cold won't spoil it none. Now, listen. You're the only one I got in

this world. You wasn't afraid of me an' what I just done, an' I'm glad of that. Now we'll forget all about Mary.

I got charity enough. I'm just as sorry for her as you. I'd do anything for her. I'd wash her feet for her like

Christ did. I'd let her eat at my table, an' sleep under my roof. But all that ain't no reason I should touch

anything she's earned. Now forget her. It's you an' me, Saxon, only you an' me an' to hell with the rest of the

world. Nothing else counts. You won't never have to be afraid of me again. Whisky an' I don't mix very well,

so I'm goin' to cut whisky out. I've been clean off my nut, an' I ain't treated you altogether right. But that's all

"Now take this thing. I oughtn't to acted so hasty. But I did. I oughta talked it over. But I didn't. My damned

temper got the best of me, an' you know I got one. If a fellow can keep his temper in boxin', why he can keep

it in bein' married, too. Only this got me too suddenlike. It's something I can't stomach, that I never could

stomach. An' you wouldn't want me to any more'n I'd want you to stomach something you just couldn't."

"You don't know what you're letting yourself in for," she warned. "Maybe you'd better back out before it's too

"No more Oakland. No more living in Oakland. I'll die if I have to. It's pull up stakes and get out."

"I do. I want to chuck Oakland just as hard as you wanted to chuck the beefsteak, the coffee, and the butter."

She could see him brace himself. She could feel him brace his very body ere he answered.

"All right then, if that's what you want. We'll quit Oakland. We'll quit it cold. God damn it, anyway, it never

done nothin' for me, an' I guess I'm husky enough to scratch for us both anywheres. An' now that's settled,

And she told him all she had thought out, marshaled all the facts in her indictment of Oakland, omitting

nothing, not even her last visit to Doctor Hentley's office nor Billy's drinking. He but drew her closer and

proclaimed his resolves anew. The time passed. The fried potatoes grew cold, and the stove went out.

When a pause came, Billy stood up, still holding her. He glanced at the fried potatoes.

"Stone cold," he said, then turned to her. "Come on. Put on your prettiest. We're goin' up town for something

to eat an' to celebrate. I guess we got a celebration comin', seein' as we're going to pull up stakes an' pull our

freight from the old burg. An' we won't have to walk. I can borrow a dime from the barber, an' I got enough

His junk proved to be several gold medals won in his amateur days at boxing tournaments. Once up town and

in the pawnshop, Uncle Sam seemed thoroughly versed in the value of the medals, and Billy jingled a handful

He was as hilarious as a boy, and she joined in his good spirits. When he stopped at a corner cigar store to

"Oh, I'm a regular devil," he laughed. "Nothing's too good todaynot even tailormade smokes. An' no

They strolled to the restaurant at Seventh and Broadway where they had had their wedding supper.

"Sure," he agreed, "an' take a private room so as the waiter'll have to knock on the door each time he

"It will be too expensive, Billy. You'll have to tip him for the knocking. We'll take the regular dining room."

"Order anything you want," Billy said largely, when they were seated. "Here's family porterhouse, a dollar an'

"And hashbrowned," she abetted, "and coffee extra special, and some oysters firstI want to compare them

"Here's mussels bordelay. Try an order of them, too, an' see if they beat your Rock Wall ones."

"Why not?" Saxon cried, her eyes dancing. "The world is ours. We're just travelers through this town."

"Yep, that's the stuff," Billy muttered absently. He was looking at the theater column. He lifted his eyes from

the paper. "Matinee at Bell's. We can get reserved seats for a quarter.Doggone the luck anyway!"

His exclamation was so aggrieved and violent that it brought alarm into her eyes.

"If I'd only thought," he regretted, "we could agone to the Forum for grub. That's the swell joint where

They bought reserved tickets at Bell's Theater; but it was too early for the performance, and they went down

Broadway and into the Electric Theater to while away the time on a moving picture show. A cowboy film

was run off, and a French comic; then came a rural drama situated somewhere in the Middle West. It began

with a farm yard scene. The sun blazed down on a corner of a barn and on a rail fence where the ground lay

in the mottled shade of large trees overhead. There were chickens, ducks, and turkeys, scratching, waddling,

moving about. A big sow, followed by a rolypoly litter of seven little ones, marched majestically through

the chickens, rooting them out of the way. The hens, in turn, took it out on the little porkers, pecking them

when they strayed too far from their mother. And over the top rail a horse looked drowsily on, ever and anon,

at mathematically precise intervals, switching a lazy tail that flashed high lights in the sunshine.

"Sure. An' that horse's tail! It's the most natural ever. Gee! I bet he knows the trick of clampin' it down over

A dog ran upon the scene. The mother pig turned tail and with short ludicrous jumps, followed by her

progeny and pursued by the dog, fled out of the film. A young girl came on, a sunbonnet hanging down her

back, her apron caught up in front and filled with grain which she threw to the buttering fowls. Pigeons flew

down from the top of the film and joined in the scrambling feast. The dog returned, wading scarcely noticed

among the feathered creatures, to wag his tail and laugh up at the girl. And, behind, the horse nodded over the

rail and switched on. A young man entered, his errand immediately known to an audience educated in

moving pictures. But Saxon had no eyes for the lovemaking, the pleading forcefulness, the shy reluctance,

of man and maid. Ever her gaze wandered back to the chickens, to the mottled shade under the trees, to the

warm wall of the barn, to the sleepy horse with its ever recurrent whisk of tail

"Oh, Billy," she sighed. "I'd just die of happiness in a place like that." And, when the film was ended. "We

They sat through a repetition of the performance, and when the farm yard scene appeared, the longer Saxon

looked at it the more it affected her. And this time she took in further details. She saw fields beyond, rolling

hills in the background, and a cloudflecked sky. She identified some of the chickens, especially an

obstreperous old hen who resented the thrust of the sow's muzzle, particularly pecked at the little pigs, and

laid about her with a vengeance when the grain fell. Saxon looked back across the fields to the hills and sky,

breathing the spaciousness of it, the freedom, the content. Tears welled into her eyes and she wept silently,

"I know a trick that'd fix that old horse if he ever clamped his tail down on me," Billy whispered

He looked at her, and followed her gaze to the screen. "Oh," he said, and cogitated. "An' why shouldn't we?"

Her lips trembled in her eagerness, and her whisper broke and was almost inaudible "Sure," he said. It was

"What you want is yourn, an' I'll scratch my fingers off for it. An' I've always had a hankerin' for the country

myself. Say! I've known horses like that to sell for half the price, an' I can sure cure 'em of the habit."

It was early evening when they got off the car at Seventh and Pine on their way home from Bell's Theater.

Billy and Saxon did their little marketing together, then separated at the corner, Saxon to go on to the house

and prepare supper, Billy to go and see the boysthe teamsters who had fought on in the strike during his

Her heart leaped at the smile. It was his old, unsullied lovesmile which she wanted always to see on his

facefor which, armed with her own wisdom and the wisdom of Mercedes, she would wage the utmost

woman's war to possess. A thought of this flashed brightly through her brain, and it was with a proud little

smile that she remembered all her pretty equipment stored at home in the bureau and the chest of drawers.

Threequarters of an hour later, supper ready, all but the putting on of the lamb chops at the sound of his

step, Saxon waited. She heard the gate click, but instead of his step she heard a curious and confused scraping

of many steps. She flew to open the door. Billy stood there, but a different Billy from the one she had parted

from so short a time before. A small boy, beside him, held his hat. His face had been freshwashed, or,

rather, drenched, for his shirt and shoulders were wet. His pale hair lay damp and plastered against his

forehead, and was darkened by oozing blood. Both arms hung limply by his side. But his face was composed,

"It's all right," he reassured Saxon. "The joke's on me. Somewhat damaged but still in the ring." He stepped

gingerly across the threshold. "Come on in, you fellows. We're all mutts together."

He was followed in by the boy with his hat, by Bud Strothers and another teamster she knew, and by two

strangers. The latter were big, hardfeatured, sheepishfaced men, who stared at Saxon as if afraid of her.

"First thing is to get him on the bed an' cut his clothes off him. Both arms is broke, and here are the ginks that

He indicated the two strangers, who shuffled their feet with embarrassment and looked more sheepish than

Billy sat down on the bed, and while Saxon held the lamp, Bud and the strangers proceeded to cut coat, shirt,

"Not on your life," Billy concurred. "I had 'em send for Doc Hentley. He'll be here any minute. Them two

arms is all I got. They've done pretty well by me, an' I gotta do the same by them. No medical students

"But how did it happens" Saxon demanded, looking from Billy to the two strangers, puzzled by the amity that

"Oh, they're all right," Billy dashed in. "They done it through mistake. They're Frisco teamsters, an' they

"Yes, missus," one of them rumbled hoarsely. "It's all a mistake, an'... well, the joke's on us."

Not only was Saxon not excited, but she was scarcely perturbed. What had happened was only to be

It was in line with all that Oakland had already done to her and hers, and, besides, Billy was not dangerously

hurt. Broken arms and a sore head would heal. She brought chairs and seated everybody.

"Now tell me what happened," she begged. "I'm all at sea, what of you two burleys breaking my husband's

"An' you got a right," Bud Strothers assured her. "You see, it happened this way"

"We'd come over to lend a hand, seein' as the Oakland boys was gettin' some the short end of it," one spoke

up, "an' we've sure learned some scabs there's better trades than drivin' team. Well, me an' Jackson here was

nosin' around to see what we can see, when your husband comes moseyin' along. When he"

"Hold on," Jackson interrupted. "get it straight as you go along. We reckon we know the boys by sight. But

"As you might say, put away for a while," the first teamster took up the tale. "So, when we sees what we

thinks is a scab dodgin' away from us an' takin' the shortcut through the alley"

"Yep, back of the grocery," the first teamster went on; "why, we're sure he's one of them squarehead scabs,

hired through Murray an' Ready, makin' a sneak to get into the stables over the back fences."

"So we don't waste any time," Jackson said, addressing himself to Saxon. "We've done it before, an' we know

how to do 'em up brown an' tie 'em with baby ribbon. So we catch your husband right in the alley."

"I was lookin' for Bud," said Billy. "The boys told me I'd find him somewhere around the other end of the

"That." The man pointed to the wound in Billy's scalp. "I laid 'm out. He went down like a steer, an' got up on

his knees dippy, agabblin' about somebody standin' on their foot. He didn't know where he was at, you see,

"That's when I come to myself, when the bones broke," Billy corroborated. "An' there was the two of 'em

givin' me the haha. 'That'll last you some time,' Jackson was sayin'. An' Anson says, 'I'd like to see you drive

horses with them arms.' An' then Jackson says, 'let's give 'm something for luck.' An' with that he fetched me

"Well, it sent me into dreamland over again," Billy sighed. "An' when I come to, here was Bud an' Anson an'

Jackson dousin' me at a water trough. An' then we dodged a reporter an' all come home together."

"The reporterguy just insisted on samplin' it," he said. Then, to Billy: "That's why I cut around Ninth an'

A few minutes later Doctor Hentley arrived, and drove the men from the rooms. They waited till he had

finished, to assure themselves of Billy's well being, and then departed. In the kitchen Doctor Hentley washed

his hands and gave Saxon final instructions. As he dried himself he sniffed the air and looked toward the

"Throw them away. Throw them out. They're death and corruption. TyphoidI've got three cases now, all

When he had gone, Saxon obeyed. Still another mark against Oakland, she reflectedOakland, the

"If it wouldn't drive a man to drink," Billy groaned, when Saxon returned to him. "Did you ever dream such

luck? Look at all my fights in the ring, an' never a broken bone, an' here, snap, snap, just like that, two arms

"Well, wouldn't it be worse if you intended staying on in Oakland where it might happen again?"

"I can see myself becomin' a farmer an' plowin' with a pair of pipestems like these," he persisted.

"Doctor Hentley says they'll be stronger at the break than ever before. And you know yourself that's true of

cleanbroken bones. Now you close your eyes and go to sleep. You're all done up, and you need to keep your

He closed his eyes obediently. She slipped a cool hand under the nape of his neck and let it rest.

"That feels good," he murmured. "You're so cool, Saxon. Your hand, and you, all of you. Bein' with you is

"Oh, nothin'. I was just thinkin'thinking of them mutts doin' me upme, that's done up more scabs than I

Next morning Billy awoke with his blues dissipated. From the kitchen Saxon heard him painfully wrestling

"I got a new song you never heard," he told her when she came in with a cup of coffee. "I only remember the

chorus though. It's the old man talkin' to some hobo of a hired man that wants to marry his daughter. Mamie,

that Billy Murphy used to run with before he got married, used to sing it. It's a kind of a sobby song. It used

to always give Mamie the weeps. Here's the way the chorus goesan' remember, it's the old man spielin'."

"O treat my daughter kindily; An' say you'll do no harm, An' when I die I'll will to you My little house an'

farm My horse, my plow, my sheep, my cow, An' all them little chickens in the gaarden.

"It's them little chickens in the garden that gets me," he explained. "That's how I remembered itfrom the

chickens in the movin' pictures yesterday. An' some day we'll have little chickens in the garden, won't we, old

"An' I'll be the old geezer sayin' them same words to the hired man," Billy carried the fancy along. "It don't

"And I've a song you never heard, Billy. Tom's always singing it. He's crazy about taking up government land

and going farming, only Sarah won't think of it. He sings it something like this:

"We'll have a little farm, A pig, a horse, a cow, And you will drive the wagon, And I will drive the plow."

"Only in this case I guess it's me that'll do the plowin'," Billy approved. "Say, Saxon, sing 'Harvest Days.'

After that she feared the coffee was growing cold and compelled Billy to take it. In the helplessness of two

"I'll tell you one thing," Billy said, between mouthfuls. "Once we get settled down in the country you'll have

that horse you've been wishin' for all your life. An' it'll be all your own, to ride, drive, sell, or do anything you

And, again, he ruminated: "One thing that'll come handy in the country is that I know horses; that's a big start.

I can always get a job at thatif it ain't at union wages. An' the other things about farmin' I can learn fast

enough.Say, d'ye remember that day you first told me about wantin' a horse to ride all your life?"

Saxon remembered, and it was only by a severe struggle that she was able to keep the tears from welling into

her eyes. She seemed bursting with happiness, and she was remembering many thingsall the warm promise

of life with Billy that had been hers in the days before hard times. And now the promise was renewed again.

Since its fulfillment had not come to them, they were going away to fulfill it for themselves and make the

Impelled by a halffeigned fear, she stole away into the kitchen bedroom where Bert had died, to study her

face in the bureau mirror. No, she decided; she was little changed. She was still equipped for the battlefield of

love. Beautiful she was not. She knew that. But had not Mercedes said that the great women of history who

had won men had not been beautiful? And yet, Saxon insisted, as she gazed at her reflection, she was

anything but unlovely. She studied her wide gray eyes that were so very gray, that were always alive with

light and vivacities, where, in the surface and depths, always swam thoughts unuttered, thoughts that sank

down and dissolved to give place to other thoughts. The brows were excellentshe realized that. Slenderly

penciled, a little darker than her light brown hair, they just fitted her irregular nose that was feminine but not

weak, that if anything was piquant and that picturesquely might be declared impudent.

She could see that her face was slightly thin, that the red of her lips was not quite so red, and that she had lost

some of her quick coloring. But all that would come back again. Her mouth was not of the rosebud type she

saw in the magazines. She paid particular attention to it. A pleasant mouth it was, a mouth to be joyous with,

a mouth for laughter and to make laughter in others. She deliberately experimented with it, smiled till the

corners dented deeper. And she knew that when she smiled her smile was provocative of smiles. She laughed

with her eyes alonea trick of hers. She threw back her head and laughed with eyes and mouth together,

And she remembered Billy's praise of her teeth, the night at Germanic Hall after he had told Charley Long he

was standing on his foot. "Not big, and not little dinky baby's teeth either," Billy had said, ".. . just right, and

they fit you." Also, he had said that to look at them made him hungry, and that they were good enough to eat.

She recollected all the compliments he had ever paid her. Beyond all treasures, these were treasures to

herthe love phrases, praises, and admirations. He had said her skin was coolsoft as velvet, too, and

smooth as silk. She rolled up her sleeve to the shoulder, brushed her cheek with the white skin for a test, with

deep scrutiny examined the fineness of its texture. And he had told her that she was sweet; that he hadn't

known what it meant when they said a girl was sweet, not until he had known her. And he had told her that

her voice was cool, that it gave him the feeling her hand did when it rested on his forehead. Her voice went

all through him, he had said, cool and fine, like a wind of coolness. And he had likened it to the first of the

sea breeze setting in the afternoon after a scorching hot morning. And, also, when she talked low, that it was

He had called her his Tonic Kid. He had called her a thoroughbred, cleancut and spirited, all fine nerves and

delicate and sensitive. He had liked the way she carried her clothes. She carried them like a dream, had been

his way of putting it. They were part of her, just as much as the cool of her voice and skin and the scent of her

And her figure! She got upon a chair and tilted the mirror so that she could see herself from hips to feet. She

drew her skirt back and up. The slender ankle was just as slender. The calf had lost none of its delicately

mature swell. She studied her hips, her waist, her bosom, her neck, the poise of her head, and sighed

contentedly. Billy must be right, and he had said that she was built like a French woman, and that in the

He had said so many things, now that she recalled them all at one time. Her lips! The Sunday he proposed he

had said: "I like to watch your lips talking. It's funny, but every move they make looks like a tickly kiss." And

afterward, that same day: "You looked good to me from the first moment I spotted you." He had praised her

housekeeping. He had said he fed better, lived more comfortably, held up his end with the fellows, and saved

money. And she remembered that day when he had crushed her in his arms and declared she was the greatest

She ran her eyes over all herself in the mirror again, gathered herself together into a whole, compact and good

to look upondelicious, she knew. Yes, she would do. Magnificent as Billy was in his man way, in her own

way she was a match for him. Yes, she had done well by Billy. She deserved muchall he could give her,

the best he could give her. But she made no blunder of egotism. Frankly valuing herself, she as frankly

valued him. When he was himself, his real self, not harassed by trouble, not pinched by the trap, not

maddened by drink, her manboy and lover, he was well worth all she gave him or could give him.

Saxon gave herself a farewell look. No. She was not dead, any more than was Billy's love dead, than was her

love dead. All that was needed was the proper soil, and their love would grow and blossom. And they were

"Oh, Billy!" she called through the partition, still standing on the chair, one hand tipping the mirror forward

and back, so that she was able to run her eyes from the reflection of her ankles and calves to her face, warm

"What's the game?" came his puzzled query. "What are you so stuck on yourself for!"

"Because you love me," she answered. "I love every bit of me, Billy, because. .. because. .. well, because you

Between feeding and caring for Billy, doing the housework, making plans, and selling her store of pretty

needlework, the days flew happily for Saxon. Billy's consent to sell her pretties had been hard to get, but at

"It's only the ones I haven't used," she urged; "and I can always make more when we get settled somewhere."

What she did not sell, along with the household linen and hers and Billy's spare clothing, she arranged to

"Go ahead," Billy said. "This is your picnic. What you say goes. You're Robinson Crusoe an' I'm your man

She held up one foot and then the other, encased in stout walking shoes which she had begun that morning to

"It'll be regular trampin', though," he argued. "An' I never heard of a woman tramp."

"Then here's one. Why, Billy, there's no shame in tramping. My mother tramped most of the way across the

Plains. And 'most everybody else's mother tramped across in those days. I don't care what people will think. I

guess our race has been on the tramp since the beginning of creation, just like we'll be, looking for a piece of

After a few days, when his scalp was sufficiently healed and the boneknitting was nicely in process, Billy

was able to be up and about. He was still quite helpless, however, with both his arms in splints.

Doctor Hentley not only agreed, but himself suggested, that his bill should wait against better times for

settlement. Of government land, in response to Saxon's eager questioning, he knew nothing, except that he

Tom, on the contrary, was confident that there was plenty of government hand. He talked of Honey Lake, of

"But you can't tackle it at this time of year, with winter comin' on," he advised Saxon. "The thing for you to

do is head south for warmer weathersay along the coast. It don't snow down there. I tell you what you do.

Go down by San Jose and Salinas an' come out on the coast at Monterey. South of that you'll find government

land mixed up with forest reserves and Mexican rancheros. It's pretty wild, without any roads to speak of. All

they do is handle cattle. But there's some fine redwood canyons, with good patches of farming ground that

run right down to the ocean. I was talkin' last year with a fellow that's been all through there. An' I'd agone,

like you an' Billy, only Sarah wouldn't hear of it. There's gold down there, too. Quite a bunch is in there

prospectin', an' two or three good mines have opened. But that's farther along and in a ways from the coast.

Saxon shook her head. "We're not looking for gold but for chickens and a place to grow vegetables. Our folks

had all the chance for gold in the early days, and what have they got to show for it?"

"I guess you're right," Tom conceded. "They always played too big a game, an' missed the thousand little

chances right under their nose. Look at your pa. I've heard him tell of selling three Market street lots in San

Francisco for fifty dollars each. They're worth five hundred thousand right now. An' look at Uncle Will. He

had ranches till the cows come home. Satisfied? No. He wanted to be a cattle king, a regular Miller and Lux.

An' when he died he was a night watchman in Los Angeles at forty dollars a month. There's a spirit of the

times, an' the spirit of the times has changed. It's all big business now, an' we're the small potatoes. Why, I've

heard our folks talk of livin' in the Western Reserve. That was all around what's Ohio now. Anybody could

get a farm them days. All they had to do was yoke their oxen an' go after it, an' the Pacific Ocean thousands

of miles to the west, an' all them thousands of miles an' millions of farms just waitin' to be took up. A

hundred an' sixty acres? Shucks. In the early days in Oregon they talked six hundred an' forty acres. That was

the spirit of them timesfree land, an' plenty of it. But when we reached the Pacific Ocean them times was

ended. Big business begun; an' big business means big business men; an' every big business man means

thousands of little men without any business at all except to work for the big ones. They're the losers, don't

you see? An' if they don't like it they can lump it, but it won't do them no good. They can't yoke up their oxen

an' pull on. There's no place to pull on. China's over there, an' in between's a mighty lot of salt water that's no

"Yes," her brother went on. "We can all see it after it's happened, when it's too late."

"They were luckier," Tom contended. "Some won, but most lost, an' just as good men lost. It was almost like

a lot of boys scramblin' on the sidewalk for a handful of small change. Not that some didn't have farseein'.

But just take your pa, for example. He come of good Down East stock that's got business instinct an' can add

to what it's got. Now suppose your pa had developed a weak heart, or got kidney disease, or caught

rheumatism, so he couldn't go gallivantin' an' rainbow chasin', an' fightin' an' explorin' all over the West.

Why, most likely he'd a settled down in San Franciscohe'd ahad toan' held onto them three Market

street lots, an' bought more lots, of course, an' gone into steamboat companies, an' stock gamblin', an' railroad

"Why, he'd abecome big business himself. I know 'm. He was the most energetic man I ever saw, think

quick as a wink, as cool as an icicle an' as wild as a Comanche. Why, he'd acut a swath through the free an'

easy big business gamblers an' pirates of them days; just as he cut a swath through the hearts of the ladies

when he went gallopin' past on that big horse of his, sword clatterin', spurs jinglin', his long hair fiyin',

straight as an Indian, cleanbuilt an' graceful as a blueeyed prince out of a fairy book an' a Mexican

caballero all rolled into one; just as he cut a swath through the Johnny Rebs in Civil War days, chargin' with

his men all the way through an' back again, an' yellin' like a wild Indian for more. Cady, that helped raise

"Why, if your pa'd only got laid up in San Francisco, he would aben one of the big men of the West. An' in

that case, right now, you'd be a rich young woman, travelin' in Europe, with a mansion on Nob Hill along

with the Floods and Crockers, an' holdin' majority stock most likely in the Fairmount Hotel an' a few little

concerns like it. An' why ain't you? Because your pa wasn't smart? No. His mind was like a steel trap. It's

because he was filled to burstin' an' spillin' over with the spirit of the times; because he was full of fire an'

vinegar an' couldn't set down in one place. That's all the difference between you an' the young women right

now in the Flood and Crocker families. Your father didn't catch rheumatism at the right time, that's all."

"Just the same, I've got them beaten," she said. "The Miss Floods and Miss Crockers can't marry

Tom looked at her, taken aback for the moment, with admiration, slowly at first, growing in his face.

"Well, all I got to say," he enunciated solemnly, "is that Billy's so lucky he don't know how lucky he is."

Not until Doctor Hentley gave the word did the splints come off Billy's arms, and Saxon insisted upon an

additional two weeks' delay so that no risk would be run. These two weeks would complete another month's

rent, and the landlord had agreed to wait payment for the last two months until Billy was on his feet again.

Salinger's awaited the day set by Saxon for taking back their furniture. Also, they had returned to Billy

"The rest you've paid will be rent," the collector told Saxon. "And the furniture's second hand now, too. The

deal will be a loss to Salinger's' and they didn't have to do it, either; you know that. So just remember they've

Out of this sum, and out of what was realized from Saxon's pretties, they were able to pay all their small bills

"I hate owin' things worse 'n poison," Billy said to Saxon. "An' now we don't owe a soul in this world except

She smiled her approval, for she shared with Billy his horror of debt, just as both shared it with that early tide

Saxon timed her opportunity when Billy was out of the house to pack the chest of drawers which had crossed

the Atlantic by sailing ship and the Plains by ox team. She kissed the bullet hole in it, made in the fight at

Little Meadow, as she kissed her father's sword, the while she visioned him, as she always did, astride his

roan warhorse. With the old religious awe, she pored over her mother's poems in the scrapbook, and clasped

her mother's red satin Spanish girdle about her in a farewell embrace. She unpacked the scrapbook in order

to gaze a last time at the wood engraving of the Vikings, sword in hand, leaping upon the English sands.

Again she identified Billy as one of the Vikings, and pondered for a space on the strange wanderings of the

seed from which she sprang. Always had her race been landhungry, and she took delight in believing she

had bred true; for had not she, despite her life passed in a city, found this same landhunger in her? And was

she not going forth to satisfy that hunger, just as her people of old time had done, as her father and mother

before her? She remembered her mother's tale of how the promised land looked to them as their battered

wagons and weary oxen dropped down through the early winter snows of the Sierras to the vast and

flowering sunland of California: In fancy, herself a child of nine, she looked down from the snowy heights

as her mother must have looked down. She recalled and repeated aloud one of her mother's stanzas:

"'Sweet as a windlute's airy strains Your gentle muse has learned to sing And California's boundless plains

She sighed happily and dried her eyes. Perhaps the hard times were past. Perhaps they had constituted HER

Plains, and she and Billy had won safely across and were even then climbing the Sierras ere they dropped

Salinger's wagon was at the house, taking out the furniture, the morning they left. The landlord, standing at

the gate, received the keys, shook hands with them, and wished them luck. "You're goin' at it right," he

congratulated them. "Sure an' wasn't it under me roll of blankets I tramped into Oakland meself forty year

ago! Buy land, like me, when it's cheap. It'll keep you from the poorhouse in your old age. There's plenty of

new towns springin' up. Get in on the ground floor. The work of your hands'll keep you in food an' under a

roof, an' the lend 'll make you well to do. An' you know me address. When you can spare send me along that

small bit of rent. An' good luck. An' don't mind what people think. 'Tis them that looks that finds."

Curious neighbors peeped from behind the blinds as Billy and Saxon strode up the street, while the children

gazed at them in gaping astonishment. On Billy's back, inside a painted canvas tarpaulin, was slung the roll of

bedding. Inside the roll were changes of underclothing and odds and ends of necessaries. Outside, from the

lashings, depended a frying pan and cooking pail. In his hand he carried the coffee pot. Saxon carried a small

telescope basket protected by black oilcloth, and across her back was the tiny ukulele case.

"We must look like holy frights," Billy grumbled, shrinking from every gaze that was bent upon him.

"It'd be all right, if we were going camping," Saxon consoled. "Only we're not."

"But they don't know that," she continued. "It's only you know that, and what you think they're thinking isn't

what they're thinking at all. Most probably they think we're going camping. And the best of it is we are going

At this Billy cheered up, though he muttered his firm intention to knock the block off of any guy that got

"Say," he said suddenly. "I seen an opera once, where fellows wandered over the country with guitars slung

on their backs just like you with that strummystrum. You made me think of them. They was always singin'

"And when we go down country roads we'll sing as we go along, and we'll sing by the campfires, too. We're

going camping, that's all. Taking a vacation and seeing the country. So why shouldn't we have a good time?

Why, we don't even know where we're going to sleep tonight, or any night. Think of the fun!"

"It's a sporting proposition all right, all right," Billy considered. "But, just the same, let's turn off an' go

around the block. There's some fellows I know, standin' up there on the next corner, an' I don't want to knock

The car ran as far as Hayward's, but at Saxon's suggestion they got off at San Leandro.

"It doesn't matter where we start walking," she said, "for start to walk somewhere we must. And as we're

looking for land and finding out about land, the quicker we begin to investigate the better. Besides, we want

to know all about all kinds of land, close to the big cities as well as back in the mountains."

"Gee!this must be the Porchugeeze headquarters," was Billy's reiterated comment, as they walked through

"Some tall crowdin', I guess," Billy grumbled. "It looks like the freeborn American ain't got no room left in

"Then it's his own fault," Saxon said, with vague asperity, resenting conditions she was just beginning to

"Oh, I don't know about that. I reckon the American could do what the Porchugeeze do if he wanted to. Only

he don't want to, thank God. He ain't much given to livin' like a pig often leavin's."

"Not in the country, maybe," Saxon controverted. "But I've seen an awful lot of Americans living like pigs in

Billy grunted unwilling assent. "I guess they quit the farms an' go to the city for something better, an' get it in

"Look at all the children!" Saxon cried. "School's letting out. And nearly all are Portuguese, Billy, NOT

"They never wore glad rags like them in the old country," Billy sneered. "They had to come over here to get

Saxon nodded affirmation, and a great light seemed suddenly to kindle in her understanding.

"That's the very point, Billy. They're doing itdoing it farming, too. Strikes don't bother THEM."

"You don't call that dinky gardening farming," he objected, pointing to a piece of land barely the size of an

"Oh, your ideas are still big," she laughed. "You're like Uncle Will, who owned thousands of acres and

wanted to own a million, and who wound up as night watchman. That's what was the trouble with all us

Americans. Everything large scale. Anything less than one hundred and sixty acres was small scale."

"Just the same," Billy held stubbornly, "large scale's a whole lot better'n small scale like all these dinky

Saxon sighed. "I don't know which is the dinkier," she observed finally, "owning a few little acres and the

team you're driving, or not owning any acres and driving a team somebody else owns for wages."

"Go on, Robinson Crusoe," he growled good naturedly. "Rub it in good an' plenty. An' the worst of it is it's

correct. A hell of a freeborn American I've been, adrivin' other folkses' teams for a livin', astrikin' and

asluggin' scabs, an' not bein' able to keep up with the installments for a few sticks of furniture. Just the same

I was sorry for one thing. I hated worse in Sam Hill to see that Morris chair go backyou liked it so. We did

They were well out of San Leandro, walking through a region of tiny holdings"farmlets," Billy called

First, it was "Treat my daughter kindily," and then she swung into oldfashioned darky campmeeting

"Oh! de Judgmen' Day am rollin' roan', Rollin', yes, arollin', I hear the trumpets' awful soun', Rollin', yes,

A big touring car, dashing past, threw a dusty pause in her singing, and Saxon delivered herself of her latest

"Now, Billy, remember we're not going to take up with the first piece of land we see. We've got to go into

"And we've got to get them open. ''Tis them that looks that finds.' There's lots of time to learn things. We

don't care if it takes months and months. We're footloose. A good start is better than a dozen bad ones. We've

got to talk and find out. We'll talk with everybody we meet. Ask questions. Ask everybody. It's the only way

"Then I'll ask," she cried. "We've got to win out at this game, and the way is to know. Look at all these

Portuguese. Where are all the Americans? They owned the land first, after the Mexicans. What made the

Americans clear out? How do the Portuguese make it go? Don't you see, We've got to ask millions of

"I's g'wine back to Dixie, I's g'wine back to Dixie, I's g'wine where de orange blossoms grow, For I hear de

chillun eallin', I see de sad tears fallin' My heart's turned back to Dixie, An' I mus'go."

She broke off to exclaim: "Oh! What a lovely place! See that arborjust covered with grapes!"

Again and again she was attracted by the small places they passed. Now it was: "Look at the flowers!" or:

MenAmericansdriving along in buggies or runabouts looked at Saxon and Billy curiously. This Saxon

could brook far easier than could Billy, who would mutter and grumble deep in his throat.

"You never can tell. He's our kind. Go ahead, Billy. You just speak to him. He isn't working now anyway,

and he'll be more likely to talk. See that tree in there, just inside the gate, and the way the branches are grown

together. It's a curiosity. Ask him about it. That's a good way to get started."

The lineman, a young fellow, paused in the cracking of a hardboiled egg to stare up at the couple.

Billy swung his pack from his shoulders to the ground, and Saxon rested her telescope basket.

"Peddlin'?" the young man asked, too discreet to put his question directly to Saxon, yet dividing it between

"No," she spoke up quickly. "We're looking for land. Do you know of any around here?"

Again he desisted from the egg, studying them with sharp eyes as if to fathom their financial status.

"I guess I ought to. I was born here. And land like this all around you runs at from two to three hundred to

"Oh, them times is past. They used to give away land once, an' if you was good, throw in all the cattle runnin'

"Ain't none, an' never was. This was old Mexican grants. My grandfather bought sixteen hundred of the best

acres around here for fifteen hundred dollarsfive hundred down an' the balance in five years without

interest. But that was in the early days. He come West in '48, tryin' to find a country without chills an' fever."

"You bet he did. An' if him an' father 'd held onto the land it'd been better than a gold mine, an' I wouldn't be

Here the two men wandered off into a discussion of union affairs and the strike situation; but Saxon refused

The young fellow broke away from union matters with an effort, and for a moment regarded her with lack

"Because they worked the land overtime. Because they worked mornin', noon, an' night, all hands, women an'

kids. Because they could get more out of twenty acres than we could out of a hundred an' sixty. Look at old

SilvaAntonio Silva. I've known him ever since I was a shaver. He didn't have the price of a square meal

when he hit this section and begun leasin' land from my folks. Look at him nowworth two hundred an' fifty

thousan' cold, an' I bet he's got credit for a million, an' there's no tellin' what the rest of his family owns."

"Blamed if it was," came the retort, tinged slightly with color. "We never saw it stickin' out so as you could

notice it. The money was in the hands of the Porchugeeze, I guess. They knew a few more 'n we did, that's

Saxon showed such dissatisfaction with his explanation that he was stung to action. He got up wrathfully.

"Come on, an' I'll show you," he said. "I'll show you why I'm workin' for wages when I might aben a

millionaire if my folks hadn't been mutts. That's what we old Americans are, Mutts, with a capital M."

He led them inside the gate, to the fruit tree that had first attracted Saxon's attention. From the main crotch

diverged the four main branches of the tree. Two feet above the crotch the branches were connected, each to

"You think it growed that way, eh? Well, it did. But it was old Silva that made it just the samecaught two

sprouts, when the tree was young, an' twisted 'em together. Pretty slick, eh? You bet. That tree'll never blow

down. It's a natural, springy brace, an' beats iron braces stiff. Look along all the rows. Every tree's that way.

"Figure it out for yourself. They don't need props when the crop's heavy. Why, when we had a heavy crop,

we used to use five props to a tree. Now take ten acres of trees. That'd be some several thousan' props. Which

cost money, an' labor to put in an' take out every year. These here natural braces don't have to have a thing

done. They're Johnnyonthespot all the time. Why, the Porchugeeze has got us skinned a mile. Come on,

Billy, with city notions of trespass, betrayed perturbation at the freedom they were making of the little farm.

"Oh, it's all right, as long as you don't step on nothin'," the lineman reassured him. "Besides, my grandfather

used to own this. They know me. Forty years ago old Silva come from the Azores. Went sheepherdin' in the

mountains for a couple of years, then blew in to San Leandro. These five acres was the first land he leased.

That was the beginnin'. Then he began leasin' by the, hundreds of acres, an' by the hundredan'sixties. An'

his sisters an' his uncles an' his aunts begun pourin' in from the Azoresthey're all related there, you know;

"An' old Silva wound up by buyin' these five acres from grandfather. Pretty soonan' father by that time was

in the hole to the neckhe was buyin' father's land by the hundredan'sixties. An' all the rest of his

relations was coin' the same thing. Eather was always gettin' rich quick, an' he wound up by dyin' in debt. But

old Silva never overlooked a bet, no matter how dinky. An' all the rest are just like him. You see outside the

fence there, clear to the wheeltracks in the roadhorsebeans. We'd ascorned to do a picayune thing like

that. Not Silva. Why he's got a town house in San Leandro now. An' he rides around in a

fourthousan'dollar tourin' car. An' just the same his front door yard grows onions clear to the sidewalk. He

clears three hundred a year on that patch alone. I know ten acres of land he bought last year,a thousan' an

acre they asked'm, an' he never batted an eye. He knew it was worth it, that's all. He knew he could make it

pay. Back in the hills, there, he's got a ranch of five hundred an' eighty acres, bought it dirt cheap, too; an' I

want to tell you I could travel around in a different tourin' car every day in the week just outa the profits he

makes on that ranch from the horses all the way from heavy draughts to fancy steppers.

"By bein' wise to farmin'. Why, the whole blame family works. They ain't ashamed to roll up their sleeves an'

digsons an' daughters an' daughterinlaws, old man, old woman, an' the babies. They have a sayin' that a

kid four years old that can't pasture one cow on the county road an' keep it fat ain't worth his salt. Why, the

Silvas, the whole tribe of 'em, works a hundred acres in peas, eighty in tomatoes, thirty in asparagus, ten in

"But how do they do it?" Saxon continued to demand. "We've never been ashamed to work. We've worked

hard all our lives. I can outwork any Portuguese woman ever born. And I've done it, too, in the jute mills.

There were lots of Portuguese girls working at the looms all around me, and I could outweave them, every

"Many's the time I've asked myself that same question. 'We're better'n these cheap emigrants,' I'd say to

myself. 'We was here first, an' owned the land. I can lick any Dago that ever hatched in the Azores. I got a

better education. Then how in thunder do they put it all over us, get our land, an' start accounts in the banks?'

An' the only answer I know is that we ain't got the sabe. We don't use our headpieces right. Something's

wrong with us. Anyway, we wasn't wised up to farming. We played at it. Show you? That's what I brung you

in forthe way old Silva an' all his tribe farms. Book at this place. Some cousin of his, just out from the

Azores, is makin' a start on it, an' payin' good rent to Silva. Pretty soon he'll be up to snuff an' buyin' land for

"Look at thatthough you ought to see it in summer. Not an inch wasted. Where we got one thin crop, they

get four fat crops. An' look at the way they crowd itcurrants between the tree rows, beans between the

currant rows, a row of beans close on each side of the trees, an' rows of beans along the ends of the tree rows.

Why, Silva wouldn't sell these five acres for five hundred an acre cash down. He gave grandfather fifty an

acre for it on long time, an' here am I, workin' for the telephone company an' putting' in a telephone for old

Silva's cousin from the Azores that can't speak American yet. Horsebeans along the roadsay, when Silva

swung that trick he made more outa fattenin' hogs with 'em than grandfather made with all his farmin'.

Grandfather stuck up his nose at horsebeans. He died with it stuck up, an' with more mortgages on the land

he had left than you could shake a stick at. Plantin' tomatoes wrapped up in wrappin' paperever heard of

that? Father snorted when he first seen the Porchugeeze doin' it. An' he went on snortin'. Just the same they

got bumper crops, an' father's housepatch of tomatoes was eaten by the black beetles. We ain't got the sabe,

or the knack, or something or other. Just look at this piece of groundfour crops a year, an' every inch of

soil workin' over time. Why, back in town there, there's single acres that earns more than fifty of ours in the

old days. The Porchugeeze is naturalborn farmers, that's all, an' we don't know nothin' about farmin' an'

Saxon talked with the lineman, following him about, till one o'clock, when he looked at his watch, said good

bye, and returned to his task of putting in a telephone for the latest immigrant from the Azores.

When in town, Saxon carried her oilclothwrapped telescope in her hand; but it was so arranged with loops,

that, once on the road, she could thrust her arms through the loops and carry it on her back. When she did

A mile on from the lineman, they stopped where a small creek, fringed with brush, crossed the county road.

Billy was for the cold lunch, which was the last meal Saxon had prepared in the Pine street cottage; but she

was determined upon building a fire and boiling coffee. Not that she desired it for herself, but that she was

impressed with the idea that everything at the starting of their strange wandering must be as comfortable as

possible for Billy's sake. Bent on inspiring him with enthusiasm equal to her own, she declined to dampen

"Now one thing we want to get out of our heads right at the start, Billy, is that we're in a hurry. We're not in a

hurry, and we don't care whether school keeps or not. We're out to have a good time, a regular adventure like

you read about in books.My! I wish that boy that took me fishing to Goat Island could see me now.

Oakland was just a place to start from, he said. And, well, we've started, haven't we? And right here's where

we stop and boil coffee. You get the fire going, Billy, and I'll get the water and the things ready to spread

"Say," Billy remarked, while they waited for the water to boil, "d'ye know what this reminds me of?"

Saxon was certain she did know, but she shook her head. She wanted to hear him say it.

"Why, the second Sunday I knew you, when we drove out to Moraga Valley behind Prince and King. You

"Perhaps it would have been too much like housekeeping," she laughed; "kind of what Mary would call

"That's the way with all of them," Billy growled somberly. "I've always noticed it's the fastidious, ladeda

ones that turn out the rottenest. They're like some horses I know, ashyin' at the things they're the least afraid

Saxon was silent, oppressed by a sadness, vague and remote, which the mention of Bert's widow had served

"I know something else that happened that day which you'd never guess," Billy reminisced. "I bet you

Billy's eyes answered, and quite spontaneously he reached over, caught her hand, and pressed it caressingly

"It's little, but oh my," he said, addressing the imprisoned hand. Then he gazed at Saxon, and she warmed

"Say, this country air gives some appetite," he mumbled, as he sank his teeth into his fifth breadandmeat

Saxon's mind had reverted to all the young lineman had told her, and she completed a sort of general resume

"An' we've sure learned one thing," Billy said. "An' that is that this is no place for us, with land a thousan' an

"But just the same it's the Portuguese that gave it its price, and they make things go on itsend their children

to school... and have them; and, as you said yourself, they're as fat as butterballs."

"But all the same, I'd sooner have forty acres at a hundred an acre than four at a thousan' an acre. Somehow,

She was in full sympathy with him. In her heart of hearts the forty acres tugged much the harder. In her way,

allowing for the difference of a generation, her desire for spaciousness was as strong as her Uncle Will's.

"Well, we're not going to stop here," she assured Billy. "We're going in, not for forty acres, but for a hundred

"An' I guess the government owes it to us for what our fathers an' mothers done. I tell you, Saxon, when a

woman walks across the plains like your mother done, an' a man an' wife gets massacred by the Indians like

"An' we'll collect all right, all right, somewhere down in them redwood mountains south of Monterey."

It was a good afternoon's tramp to Niles, passing through the town of Haywards; yet Saxon and Billy found

time to diverge from the main county road and take the parallel roads through acres of intense cultivation

where the land was farmed to the wheeltracks. Saxon looked with amazement at these small,

brownskinned immigrants who came to the soil with nothing and yet made the soil pay for itself to the tune

On every hand was activity. Women and children were in the fields as well as men. The land was turned

endlessly over and over. They seemed never to let it rest. And it rewarded them. It must reward them, or their

children would not be able to go to school, nor would so many of them be able to drive by in rattletrap,

"Look at their faces," Saxon said. "They are happy and contented. They haven't faces like the people in our

"Oh, sure, they got a good thing," Billy agreed. "You can see it stickin' out all over them. But they needn't get

chesty with ME, I can tell you that muchjust because they've jiggerrooed us out of our land an'

"No, they're not, come to think of it. All the same, they ain't so wise. I bet I could tell 'em a few about

It was sunset when they entered the little town of Niles. Billy, who had been silent for the last half mile,

"Say. .. I could put up for a room in the hotel just as well as not. What d 'ye think?"

"How long do you think our twenty dollars will last at that rate? Besides, the only way to begin is to begin at

"Then you'd better think I'm game, too," she flashed forgivingly. "And now we'll have to see about getting

They bought a round steak, potatoes, onions, and a dozen eating apples, then went out from the town to the

fringe of trees and brush that advertised a creek. Beside the trees, on a sand bank, they pitched camp. Plenty

of dry wood lay about, and Billy whistled genially while he gathered and chopped. Saxon, keen to follow his

every mood, was cheered by the atrocious discord on his lips. She smiled to herself as she spread the

blankets, with the tarpaulin underneath, for a table, having first removed all twigs from the sand. She had

much to learn in the matter of cooking over a campfire, and made fair progress, discovering, first of all, that

control of the fire meant far more than the size of it. When the coffee was boiled, she settled the grounds with

a partcup of cold water and placed the pot on the edge of the coals where it would keep hot and yet not boil.

She fried potato dollars and onions in the same pan, but separately, and set them on top of the coffee pot in

the tin plate she was to eat from, covering it with Billy's inverted plate. On the dry hot pan, in the way that

delighted Billy, she fried the steak. This completed, and while Billy poured the coffee, she served the steak,

putting the dollars and onions back into the frying pan for a moment to make them piping hot again.

"What more d'ye want than this?" Billy challenged with deeptoned satisfaction, in the pause after his final

cup of coffee, while he rolled a cigarette. He lay on his side, full length, resting on his elbow. The fire was

burning brightly, and Saxon's color was heightened by the flickering flames. "Now our folks, when they was

on the move, had to be afraid for Indians, and wild animals and all sorts of things; an' here we are, as safe as

bugs in a rug. Take this sand. What better bed could you ask? Soft as feathers. Sayyou look good to me,

heap little squaw. I bet you don't look an inch over sixteen right now, Mrs. BabeintheWoods."

"Don't I?" she glowed, with a flirt of the head sideward and a white flash of teeth. "If you weren't smoking a

"Say," he began, with transparently feigned seriousness. "I want to ask you something, if you don't mind.

Now, of course, I don't want to hurt your feelin's or nothin', but just the same there's something important I'd

"Well, it's just this, Saxon. I like you like anything an' all that, but here's night come on, an' we're a thousand

miles from anywhere, andwell, what I wanta know is: are we really an' truly married, you an' me?"

"Oh, nothing; but I'd kind aforgotten, an' I was gettin' embarrassed, you know, because if we wasn't, seein'

"That will do you," she said severely. "And this is just the time and place for you to get in the firewood for

He started to obey, but paused to throw his arm about her and draw her close. Neither spoke, but when he

went his way Saxon's breast was fluttering and a song of thanksgiving breathed on her lips.

The night had come on, dim with the light of faint stars. But these had disappeared behind clouds that seemed

to have arisen from nowhere. It was the beginning of California Indian summer. The air was warm, with just

"I've a feeling as if we've just started to live," Saxon said, when Billy, his firewood collected, joined her on

the blankets before the fire. "I've learned more today than ten years in Oakland." She drew a long breath and

Billy said nothing. With steady eyes he was staring into the fire, and she knew he was turning something over

"What is it," she asked, when she saw he had reached a conclusion, at the same time resting her hand on the

"Just been framin' up that ranch of ourn," he answered. "It's all well enough, these dinky farmlets. They'll do

for foreigners. But we Americans just gotta have room. I want to be able to look at a hilltop an' know it's my

land, and know it's my land down the other side an' up the next hilltop, an' know that over beyond that, down

alongside some creek, my mares are most likely grazin', an' their little colts grazin' with 'em or kickin' up

their heels. You know, there's money in raisin' horsesespecially the big workhorses that run to eighteen

hundred an' two thousand pounds. They're payin' for 'em, in the cities, every day in the year, seven an' eight

hundred a pair, matched geldings, four years old. Good pasture an' plenty of it, in this kind of a climate, is all

they need, along with some sort of shelter an' a little hay in long spells of bad weather. I never thought of it

before, but let me tell you that this ranch proposition is beginnin' to look good to ME."

Saxon was all excitement. Here was new information on the cherished subject, and, best of all, Billy was the

"There'll be room for that and for everything on a quarter section," she encouraged.

"Sure thing. Around the house we'll have vegetables an' fruit and chickens an' everything, just like the

"Not much. The cobblestones eat horses up fast. That's where I'll get my brood mares, from the ones knocked

out by the city. I know THAT end of it. They sell 'em at auction, an' they're good for years an' years, only no

There ensued a long pause. In the dying fire both were busy visioning the farm to be.

"It's pretty still, ain't it?" Billy said, rousing himself at last. He gazed about him. "An' black as a stack of

black cats." He shivered, buttoned his coat, and tossed several sticks on the fire. "Just the same, it's the best

kind of a climate in the world. Many's the time, when I was a little kid, I've heard my father brag about

California's bein' a blanket climate. He went East, once, an' staid a summer an' a winter, an' got all he wanted.

"My mother said there never was such a land for climate. How wonderful it must have seemed to them after

crossing the deserts and mountains. They called it the land of milk and honey. The ground was so rich that all

"And wild game everywhere," Billy contributed. "Mr. Roberts, the one that adopted my father, he drove cattle

from the San Josquin to the Columbia river. He had forty men helpin' him, an' all they took along was powder

"The hills were full of deer, and my mother saw whole herds of elk around Santa Rosa. Some time we'll go

"And when my father was a young man, somewhere up north of Sacramento, in a creek called Cache Slough,

the tules was full of grizzliest He used to go in an' shoot 'em. An' when they caught 'em in the open, he an' the

Mexicans used to ride up an' rope themcatch them with lariats, you know. He said a horse that wasn't

afraid of grizzlies fetched ten times as much as any other horse An' panthers!all the old folks called 'em

painters an' catamounts an' varmints. Yes, we'll go to Santa Rosa some time. Maybe we won't like that land

By this time the fire had died down, and Saxon had finished brushing and braiding her hair. Their bedgoing

preliminaries were simple, and in a few minutes they were side by side under the blankets. Saxon closed her

eyes, but could not sleep. On the contrary, she had never been more wide awake. She had never slept out of

doors in her life, and by no exertion of will could she overcome the strangeness of it. In addition, she was

stiffened from the long trudge, and the sand, to her surprise, was anything but soft. An hour passed. She tried

to believe that Billy was asleep, but felt certain he was not. The sharp crackle of a dying ember startled her.

"Yep," came his low answer, "an' thinkin' this sand is harder'n a cement floor. It's one on me, all right. But

Both shifted their postures slightly, but vain was the attempt to escape from the dull, aching contact of the

An abrupt, metallic, whirring noise of some nearby cricket gave Saxon another startle. She endured the sound

"Do you think it's a rattlesnake?" she asked, maintaining a calmness she did not feel.

"I saw two, in the window of Bowman's Drug Store An' you know, Billy, they've got a hollow fang, and

"Brrrr," Billy shivered, in fear that was not altogether mockery. "Certain death, everybody says, unless

"He eats 'em alive! He eats 'em alive! Bosco! Bosco!" Saxon responded, mimicking the cry of a sideshow

barker. Just the same, all Bosco's rattlers had the poisonsacs cut outa them. They must ahad. Gee! It's

funny I can't get asleep. I wish that damned thing'd close its trap. I wonder if it is a rattlesnake."

"No; it can't be," Saxon decided. "All the rattlesnakes are killed off long ago."

"Then where did Bosco get his?" Billy demanded with unimpeachable logic. "An' why don't you get to

"Because it's all new, I guess," was her reply. "You see, I never camped out in my life."

"Neither did I. An' until now I always thought it was a lark." He changed his position on the maddening sand

and sighed heavily. "But we'll get used to it in time, I guess. What other folks can do, we can, an' a mighty lot

of 'em has camped out. It's all right. Here we are, free an' independent, no rent to pay, our own bosses"

He stopped abruptly. From somewhere in the brush came an intermittent rustling. When they tried to locate it,

it mysteriously ceased, and when the first hint of drowsiness stole upon them the rustling as mysteriously

"It sounds like something creeping up on us," Saxon suggested, snuggling closer to Billy.

"Well, it ain't a wild Indian, at all events," was the best he could offer in the way of comfort. He yawned

deliberately. "Aw, shucks! What's there to be scared of? Think of what all the pioneers went through."

Several minutes later his shoulders began to shake, and Saxon knew he was giggling.

"I was just thinkin' of a yarn my father used to tell about," he explained. "It was about old Susan Kleghorn,

one of the Oregon pioneer women. WallEyed Susan, they used to call her; but she could shoot to beat the

band. Once, on the Plains, the wagon train she was in, was attacked by Indians. They got all the wagons in a

circle, an' all hands an' the oxen inside, an' drove the Indians off, killin' a lot of 'em. They was too strong that

way, so what'd the Indians do, to draw 'em out into the open, but take two white girls, captured from some

other train, an' begin to torture 'em. They done it just out of gunshot, but so everybody could see. The idea

was that the white men couldn't stand it, an' would rush out, an' then the Indians'd have 'em where they

"The white men couldn't do a thing. If they rushed out to save the girls, they'd be finished, an' then the

Indians'd rush the train. It meant death to everybody. But what does old Susan do, but get out an old,

longbarreled Kentucky rifle. She rams down about three times the regular load of powder, takes aim at a big

buck that's pretty busy at the torturin', an' bangs away. It knocked her clean over backward, an' her shoulder

was lame all the rest of the way to Oregon, but she dropped the big Indian deado. He never knew what struck

"But that wasn't the yarn I wanted to tell. It seems old Susan liked John Barleycorn. She'd souse herself to the

ears every chance she got. An' her sons an' daughters an' the old man had to be mighty careful not to leave

"On John Barleycorn.Oh, you ain't on to that. It's the old fashioned name for whisky. Well, one day all the

folks was goin' awaythat was over somewhere at a place called Bodega, where they'd settled after comin'

down from Oregon. An' old Susan claimed her rheumatics was hurtin' her an' so she couldn't go. But the

family was on. There was a twogallon demijohn of whisky in the house. They said all right, but before they

left they sent one of the grandsons to climb a big tree in the barnyard, where he tied the demijohn sixty feet

from the ground. Just the same, when they come home that night they found Susan on the kitchen floor dead

"And she'd climbed the tree after all," Saxon hazarded, when Billy had shown no inclination of going on.

"Not on your life," he laughed jubilantly. "All she'd done was to put a washtub on the ground square under

the demijohn. Then she got out her old rifle an' shot the demijohn to smithereens, an' all she had to do was lap

Again Saxon was drowsing, when the rustling sound was heard, this time closer. To her excited apprehension

there was something stealthy about it, and she imagined a beast of prey creeping upon them. "Billy," she

"It can't be. All the varmints was killed off long ago. This is peaceable farmin' country."

A vagrant breeze sighed through the trees and made Saxon shiver. The mysterious cricketnoise ceased with

suspicious abruptness. Then, from the rustling noise, enslled a dull but heavy thump that caused both Saxon

and Billy to sit up in the blankets. There were no further sounds, and they lay down again, though the very

"Huh," Billy muttered with relief. "As though I don't know what it was. It was a rabbit. I've heard tame ones

In vain Saxon tried to win sleep. The sand grew harder with the passage of time. Her flesh and her bones

ached from contact with it. And, though her reason flouted any possibility of wild dangers, her fancy went on

A new sound commenced. It was neither a rustling nor a rattling, and it tokened some large body passing

through the brush. Sometimes twigs crackled and broke, and, once, they heard bushbranches press aside and

"If that other thing was a panther, this is an elephant," was Billy's uncheering opinion. "It's got weight. Listen

There were frequent stoppages, then the sounds would begin again, always louder, always closer. Billy sat up

"I ain't slept a wink," he complained. "There it goes again. I wish I could see."

"It makes a noise big enough for a grizzly," Saxon chattered, partly from nervousness, partly from the chill of

"Oh, I ain't scairt none," he answered. "But, honest to God, this is gettin' on my nerves. If I don't find what

that thing is, it'll give me the willies. I'm just goin' to reconnoiter. I won't go close."

So intensely dark was the night, that the moment Billy crawled beyond the reach of her hand he was lost to

sight. She sat and waited. The sound had ceased, though she could follow Billy's progress by the cracking of

dry twigs and limbs. After a few moments he returned and crawled under the blankets.

"I scared it away, I guess. It's got better ears, an' when it heard me comin' it skinned out most likely. I did my

"There," she warned, in the faintest of whispers. "I can hear it breathing. It almost made a snort."

A dead branch cracked loudly, and so near at hand, that both of them jumped shamelessly.

"I ain't goin' to stand any more of its foolin'," Billy declared wrathfully. "It'll be on top of us if I don't."

The result far exceeded any expectation he could have entertained, and Saxon's heart leaped up in sheer

panic. On the instant the darkness erupted into terrible sound and movement. There were trashings of

underbrush and lunges and plunges of heavy bodies in different directions. Fortunately for their ease of mind,

"Gee! all the fight fans used to say I was scairt of nothin'. Just the same I'm glad they ain't seein' me

He groaned. "I've got all I want of that blamed sand. I'm goin' to get up and start the fire."

This was easy. Under the ashes were live embers which quickly ignited the wood he threw on. A few stars

were peeping out in the misty zenith. He looked up at them, deliberated, and started to move away.

"Oh, I've got an idea," he replied noncommittally, and walked boldly away beyond the circle of the firelight.

Saxon sat with the blankets drawn closely under her chin, and admired his courage. He had not even taken the

hatchet, and he was going in the direction in which the disturbance had died away.

"The sonsofguns, they got my goat all right. I'll be scairt of my own shadow next.What was they? Huh!

You couldn't guess in a thousand years. A bunch of halfgrown calves, an' they was worse scairt than us."

"A hell of a farmer I'll make,', he chafed, "when a lot of little calves can scare the stuffin' outa me. I bet your

father or mine wouldn't abatted an eye. The stock has gone to seed, that's what it has."

"No, it hasn't," Saxon defended. "The stock is all right. We're just as able as our folks ever were, and we're

healthier on top of it. We've been brought up different, that's all. We've lived in cities all our lives. We know

the city sounds and thugs, but we don't know the country ones. Our training has been unnatural, that's the

whole thing in a nutshell. Now we're going in for natural training. Give us a little time, and we'll sleep as

"We won't try. That's one thing, for good and all, we've learned the very first time. And now hush up and go

Their fears had vanished, but the sand, receiving now their undivided attention, multiplied its unyieldingness.

Billy dozed off first, and roosters were crowing somewhere in the distance when Saxon's eyes closed. But

At the first gray of dawn, Billy crawled out and built a roaring fire. Saxon drew up to it shiveringly. They

were holloweyed and weary. Saxon began to laugh. Billy joined sulkily, then brightened up as his eyes

It is forty miles from Oakland to San Jose, and Saxon and Billy accomplished it in three easy days. No more

obliging and angrily garrulous linemen were encountered, and few were the opportunities for conversation

with chance wayfarers. Numbers of tramps, carrying rolls of blankets, were met, traveling both north and

south on the county road; and from talks with them Saxon quickly learned that they knew little or nothing

about farming. They were mostly old men, feeble or besotted, and all they knew was workwhere jobs

might be good, where jobs had been good; but the places they mentioned were always a long way off. One

thing she did glean from them, and that was that the district she and Billy were passing through was

"smallfarmer" country in which labor was rarely hired, and that when it was it generally was Portuguese.

The farmers themselves were unfriendly. They drove by Billy and Saxon, often with empty wagons, but

never invited them to ride. When chance offered and Saxon did ask questions, they looked her over curiously,

"They ain't Americans, damn them," Billy fretted. "Why, in the old days everybody was friendly to

"It's the spirit of the times, Billy. The spirit has changed. Besides, these people are too near. Wait till we get

"Maybe they've a right to be," she laughed. "For all you know, more than one of the scabs you've slugged

"If I could only hope so," Billy said fervently. "But I don't care if I owned ten thousand acres, any man hikin'

with his blankets might be just as good a man as me, an' maybe better, for all I'd know. I'd give 'm the benefit

Billy asked for work, at first, indiscriminately, later, only at the larger farms. The unvarying reply was that

there was no work. A few said there would be plowing after the first rains. Here and there, in a small way,

"No; but I guess it ain't much of a trick to turn. Besides, next man I see plowing I'm goin' to get a lesson

In the midafternoon of the second day his opportunity came. He climbed on top of the fence of a small field

"Aw, shucks, just as easy as easy," Billy commented scornfully. "If an old codger like that can handle one

"Cold feet," she jeered, but with a smiling face. "All you have to do is ask him. All he can do is say no. And

"Aw, but it's different," he demurred, then dropped to the ground inside the fence. "Two to one the old geezer

"No, he won't. Just tell him you want to learn, and ask him if he'll let you drive around a few times. Tell him

From the top of the fence, but too far away to hear, Saxon watched the colloquy. After several minutes, the

lines were transferred to Billy's neck, the handles to his hands. Then the team started, and the old man,

delivering a rapid fire of instructions, walked alongside of Billy. When a few turns had been made, the farmer

"He showed he wasn't all greenhorn, an' he learns pretty quick." Here the farmer chuckled and cut himself a

The unplowed area grew smaller and smaller, but Billy evinced no intention of quitting, and his audience on

the fence was deep in conversation. Saxon's questions flew fast and furious, and she was not long in

concluding that the old man bore a striking resemblance to the description the lineman had given of his

Billy persisted till the field was finished, and the old man invited him and Saxon to stop for the night. There

was a disused outbuilding where they would find a small cook stove, he said, and also he would give them

fresh milk. Further, if Saxon wanted to test HER desire for farming, she could try her hand on the cow.

The milking lesson did not prove as successful as Billy's plowing; but when he had mocked sufficiently,

Saxon challenged him to try, and he failed as grievously as she. Saxon had eyes and questions for everything,

and it did not take her long to realize that she was looking upon the other side of the farming shield. Farm and

farmer were oldfashioned. There was no intensive cultivation. There was too much land too little farmed.

Everything was slipshod. House and barn and outbuildings were fast falling into ruin. The front yard was

weedgrown. There was no vegetable garden. The small orchard was old, sickly, and neglected. The trees

were twisted, spindling, and overgrown with a gray moss. The sons and daughters were away in the cities,

Saxon found out. One daughter had married a doctor, the other was a teacher in the state normal school; one

son was a locomotive engineer, the second was an architect, and the third was a police court reporter in San

"Huh! That's easy. The old geezer's like his orchardcovered with moss. It's plain as the nose on your face,

after San Leandro, that he don't know the first thing. An' them horses. It'd be a charity to him, an' a savin' of

money for him, to take 'em out an' shoot 'em both. You bet you don't see the Porchugeeze with horses like

them. An' it ain't a case of bein' proud, or puttin' on side, to have good horses. It's brass tacks an' business. It

pays. That's the game. Old horses eat more in young ones to keep in condition an' they can't do the same

amount of work. But you bet it costs just as much to shoe them. An' his is scrub on top of it. Every minute he

has them horses he's losin' money. You oughta see the way they work an' figure horses in the city."

"I'd like to give you a couple of days' work," the old man regretted, at parting, "but I can't see it. The ranch

just about keeps me and the old woman, now that the children are gone. An' then it don't always. Seems times

have been bad for a long spell now. Ain't never been the same since Grover Cleveland."

"I'm going right in there and talk," she declared, "unless they set the dogs on me. That's the prettiest place yet,

Billy, who was always visioning hills and spacious ranges for his horses, mumbled unenthusiastic assent.

"And the vegetables! Look at them! And the flowers growing along the borders! That beats tomato plants in

"Don't see the sense of it," Billy objected. "Where's the money come in from flowers that take up the ground

"And that's what I'm going to find out." She pointed to a woman, stooped to the ground and working with a

trowel; in front of the tiny bungalow. "I don't know what she's like, but at the worst she can only be mean.

See! She's looking at us now. Drop your load alongside of mine, and come on in."

Billy slung the blankets from his shoulder to the ground, but elected to wait. As Saxon went up the narrow,

flowerbordered walk, she noted two men at work among the vegetablesone an old Chinese, the other old

and of some darkeyed foreign breed. Here were neatness, efficiency, and intensive cultivation with a

vengeanceeven her untrained eye could see that. The woman stood up and turned from her flowers, and

Saxon saw that she was middleaged, slender, and simply but nicely dressed. She wore glasses, and Saxon's

"I don't want anything today," she said, before Saxon could speak, administering the rebuff with a pleasant

Saxon groaned inwardly over the blackcovered telescope basket. Evidently the woman had seen her put it

This time the woman's smile was even pleasanter, and she waited for Saxon to state her errand.

"We're looking for land. We want to be farmers, you know, and before we get the land we want to find out

what kind of land we want. And seeing your pretty place has just filled me up with questions. You see, we

don't know anything about farming. We've lived in the city all our life, and now we've given it up and are

She paused. The woman's face seemed to grow quizzical, though the pleasantness did not abate.

"I don't know. All I do know is that poor people can't be happy in the city where they have labor troubles all

the time. If they can't be happy in the country, then there's no happiness anywhere, and that doesn't seem fair,

"It is sound reasoning, my dear, as far as it goes. But you must remember that there are many poor people in

"But still, I may be peculiarly qualified to live and succeed in the country. As you say yourself, you've spent

your life in the city. You don't know the first thing about the country. It might even break your heart."

"I know already that the city will break my heart. Maybe the country will, too, but just the same it's my only

chance, don't you see. It's that or nothing. Besides, our folks before us were all of the country. It seems the

more natural way. And better, here I am, which proves that 'way down inside I must want the country, must,

as you call it, be peculiarly qualified for the country, or else I wouldn't be here."

"Is my husband. He was a teamster until the big strike came. My name is Roberts, Saxon Roberts, and my

"And I am Mrs. Mortimer," the other said, with a bow of acknowledgment. "I am a widow. And now, if you

will ask your husband in, I shall try to answer some of your many questions. Tell him to put the bundles

"Oh, all kinds. How does it pay? How did you manage it all? How much did the land cost? Did you build that

beautiful house? How much do you pay the men1 How did you learn all the different kinds of things, and

which grew best and which paid best? What is the best way to sell them? How do you sell them?" Saxon

paused and laughed. "Oh, I haven't begun yet. Why do you have flowers on the borders everywhere? I looked

over the Portuguese farms around San Leandro, but they never mixed flowers and vegetables."

Mrs. Mortimer held up her hand. "Let me answer the last first. It is the key to almost everything."

But Billy arrived, and the explanation was deferred until after his introduction.

"The flowers caught your eyes, didn't they, my dear?" Mrs. Mortimer resumed. "And brought you in through

my gate and right up to me. And that's the very reason they were planted with the vegetablesto catch eyes.

You can't imagine how many eyes they have caught, nor how many owners of eyes they have lured inside my

gate. This is a good road, and is a very popular short country drive for townsfolk. Oh, no; I've never had any

luck with automobiles. They can't see anything for dust. But I began when nearly everybody still used

carriages. The townswomen would drive by. My flowers, and then my place, would catch their eyes. They

would tell their drivers to stop. Andwell, somehow, I managed to be in the front within speaking distance.

Usually I succeeded in invitlng them in to see my flowers... and vegetables, of course. Everything was sweet,

clean, pretty. It all appealed. And" Mrs. Mortimer shrugged her shoulders. "It is well known that the

stomach sees through the eyes. The thought of vegetables growing among flowers pleased their fancy. They

wanted my vegetables. They must have them. And they did, at double the market price, which they were only

too glad to pay. You see, I became the fashion, or a fad, in a small way. Nobody lost. The vegetables were

certainly good, as good as any on the market and often fresher. And, besides, my customers killed two birds

with one stone; for they were pleased with themselves for philanthropic reasons. Not only did they obtain the

finest and freshest possible vegetables, but at the same time they were happy with the knowledge that they

were helping a deserving widowwoman. Yes, and it gave a certain tone to their establishments to be able to

say they bought Mrs. Mortimer's vegetables. But that's too big a side to go into. In short, my little place

became a show placeanywhere to go, for a drive or anything, you know, when time has to be killed. And it

became noised about who I was, and who my husband had been, what I had been. Some of the townsladies I

had known personally in the old days. They actually worked for my success. And then, too, I used to serve

tea. My patrons became my guests for the time being. I still serve it, when they drive out to show me off to

Saxon was glowing with appreciation, but Mrs. Mortimer, glancing at Billy, noted not entire approval. His

To Saxon's surprise, he answered directly, and to her double surprise, his criticism was of a nature which had

"But a paying trick," Mrs. Mortimer interrupted, her eyes dancing and vivacious behind the glasses.

"Yes, and no," Billy said stubbornly, speaking in his slow, deliberate fashion. "If every farmer was to mix

flowers an' vegetables, then every farmer would get double the market price, an' then there wouldn't be any

"You are opposing a theory to a fact," Mrs. Mortimer stated. "The fact is that all the farmers do not do it. The

"Just the same," he muttered, with a slow shake of the head, "I don't get the hang of it. There's something

wrong so far as we're concernedmy wife an' me, I mean. Maybe I'll get hold of it after a while."

"And in the meantime, we'll look around," Mrs. Mortimer invited. "I want to show you everything, and tell

you how I make it go. Afterward, we'll sit down, and I'll tell you about the beginning. You see" she bent

her gaze on Saxon"I want you thoroughly to understand that you can succeed in the country if you go

about it right. I didn't know a thing about it when I began, and I didn't have a fine big man like yours. I was

For the next hour, among vegetables, berrybushes and fruit trees, Saxon stored her brain with a huge mass

of information to be digested at her leisure. Billy, too, was interested, but he left the talking to Saxon, himself

rarely asking a question. At the rear of the bungalow, where everything was as clean and orderly as the front,

they were shown through the chicken yard. Here, in different runs, were kept several hundred small and

"White Leghorns," said Mrs. Mortimer. "You have no idea what they netted me this year. I never keep a hen

"And by the simplest method of hatching them at the right time, which not one farmer in ten thousand ever

dreams of doing, I have them laying in the winter when most hens stop laying and when eggs are highest.

Another thing: I have my special customers. They pay me ten cents a dozen more than the market price,

Here she chanced to glance at Billy, and guessed that he was still wrestling with his problem.

He nodded. "Same old thing. If every farmer delivered dayold eggs, there wouldn't be no ten cents higher 'n

"But the eggs would be oneday eggs, all the eggs would be oneday eggs, you mustn't forget that," Mrs.

"But that don't butter no toast for my wife an' me," he objected. "An' that's what I've been tryin' to get the

hang of, an' now I got it. You talk about theory an' fact. Ten cents higher than top price is a theory to Saxon

an' me. The fact is, we ain't got no eggs, no chickens, an' no land for the chickens to run an' lay eggs on."

"An' there's something else about this outfit of yourn that I don't get the hang of," he pursued. "I can't just put

They were shown over the cattery, the piggery, the milkers, and the kennelry, as Mrs. Mortimer called her

live stock departments. None was large. All were moneymakers, she assured them, and rattled off her profits

glibly. She took their breaths away by the prices given and received for pedigreed Persians, pedigreed Ohio

Improved Chesters, pedigreed Scotch collies, and pedigreed Jerseys. For the milk of the last she also had a

special private market, receiving five cents more a quart than was fetched by the best dairy milk. Billy was

quick to point out the difference between the look of her orchard and the look of the orchard they had

inspected the previous afternoon, and Mrs. Mortimer showed him scores of other differences, many of which

Then she told them of another industry, her homemade jams and jellies, always contracted for in advance,

and at prices dizzyingly beyond the regular market. They sat in comfortable rattan chairs on the veranda,

while she told the story of how she had drummed up the jam and jelly trade, dealing only with the one best

restaurant and one best club in San Jose. To the proprietor and the steward she had gone with her samples, in

long discussions beaten down their opposition, overcome their reluctance, and persuaded the proprietor, in

particular, to make a "special" of her wares, to boom them quietly with his patrons, and, above all, to charge

Throughout the recital Billy's eyes were moody with dissatisfaction. Mrs. Mortimer saw, and waited.

But Mrs. Mortimer refused unless they agreed to stop for supper. Saxon frowned Billy's reluctance away, and

"Well, then," Mrs. Mortimer took up her tale, "in the beginning I was a greenhorn, city born and bred. All I

knew of the country was that it was a place to go to for vacations, and I always went to springs and mountain

and seaside resorts. I had lived among books almost all my life. I was head librarian of the Doncaster Library

for years. Then I married Mr. Mortimer. He was a book man, a professor in San Miguel University. He had a

long sickness, and when he died there was nothing left. Even his life insurance was eaten into before I could

be free of creditors. As for myself, I was worn out, on the verge of nervous prostration, fit for nothing. I had

five thousand dollars left, however, and, without going into the details, I decided to go farming. I found this

place, in a delightful climate, close to San Josethe end of the electric line is only a quarter of a mile

onand I bought it. I paid two thousand cash, and gave a mortgage for two thousand. It cost two hundred an

"Too large, oceans too large. I leased ten acres of it the first thing. And it's still leased after all this time. Even

the ten I'd retained was much too large for a long, long time. It's only now that I'm beginning to feel a tiny

"Listen. I had been a librarian. I knew my way among books. First of all I'd read everything written on the

subject, and subscribed to some of the best farm magazines and papers. And you ask if my ten acres have

supported me and two hired men. Let me tell you. I have four hired men. The ten acres certainly must support

them, as it supports Hannahshe's a Swedish widow who runs the house and who is a perfect Trojan during

the jam and jelly seasonand Hannah's daughter, who goes to school and lends a hand, and my nephew

whom I have taken to raise and educate. Also, the ten acres have come pretty close to paying for the whole

twenty, as well as for this house, and all the outbuildings, and all the pedigreed stock."

"The ten acres didn't do a bit of it," she cried. "It was your head that did it all, and you know it."

"And that's the point, my dear. It shows the right kind of person can succeed in the country. Remember, the

soil is generous. But it must be treated generously, and that is something the old style American farmer can't

get into his head. So it IS head that counts. Even when his starving acres have convinced him of the need for

fertilizing, he can't see the difference between cheap fertilizer and good fertilizer."

"And that's something I want to know about," Saxon exclaimed. And I'll tell you all I know, but, first, you

must be very tired. I noticed you were limping. Let me take you innever mind your bundles; I'll send

To Saxon, with her innate love of beauty and charm in all personal things, the interior of the bungalow was a

revelation. Never before had she been inside a middle class home, and what she saw not only far exceeded

anything she had imagined, but was vastly different from her imaginings. Mrs. Mortimer noted her sparkling

glances which took in everything, and went out of her way to show Saxon around, doing it under the guise of

gleeful boastings, stating the costs of the different materials, explaining how she had done things with her

own hands, such as staining the doors, weathering the bookcases, and putting together the big Mission Morris

chair. Billy stepped gingerly behind, and though it never entered his mind to ape to the manner born, he

succeeded in escaping conspicuous awkwardness, even at the table where he and Saxon had the unique

"If you'd only come along next year," Mrs. Mortimer mourned; "then I should have had the spare room I had

"That's all right," Billy spoke up; "thank you just the same. But we'll catch the electric cars into San Jose an'

Mrs. Mortimer was still disturbed at her inability to put them up for the night, and Saxon changed the

"You remember, I told you I'd paid only two thousand down on the land," Mrs. Mortimer complied. "That left

me three thousand to experiment with. Of course, all my friends and relatives prophesied failure. And, of

course, I made my mistakes, plenty of them, but I was saved from still more by the thorough study I had

made and continued to make." She indicated shelves of farm books and files of farm magazines that lined the

walls. "And I continued to study. I was resolved to be up to date, and I sent for all the experiment station

reports. I went almost entirely on the basis that whatever the old type farmer did was wrong, and, do you

know, in doing that I was not so far wrong myself. It's almost unthinkable, the stupidity of the oldfashioned

farmers. Oh, I consulted with them, talked things over with them, challenged their stereotyped ways,

demanded demonstration of their dogmatic and prejudiced beliefs, and quite succeeded in convincing the last

"Sometimes, even now, I'm amazed that I didn't. But I came of a hardheaded stock which had been away

from the soil long enough to gain a new perspective. When a thing satisfied my judgment, I did it forthwith

and downright, no matter how extravagant it seemed. Take the old orchard. Worthless! Worse than worthless!

Old Calkins nearly died of heart disease when he saw the devastation I had wreaked upon it. And look at it

now. There was an old rattletrap ruin where the bungalow now stands. I put up with it, but I immediately

pulled down the cow barn, the pigsties, the chicken houses, everythingmade a clean sweep. They shook

their heads and groaned when they saw such wanton waste by a widow struggling to make a living. But

worse was to come. They were paralyzed when I told them the price of the three beautiful O.I.C.'spigs, you

know, Chesterswhich I bought, sixty dollars for the three, and only just weaned. Then I hustled the

nondescript chickens to market, replacing them with the White Leghorns. The two scrub cows that came with

the place I sold to the butcher for thirty dollars each, paying two hundred and fifty for two blueblooded

Jersey heifers .. . and coined money on the exchange, while Calkins and the rest went right on with their

"Remember what I told you about horses," he reiterated to Saxon; and, assisted by his hostess, he gave a very

creditable disquisition on horseflesh and its management from a business point of view.

When he went out to smoke Mrs. Mortimer led Saxon into talking about herself and Billy, and betrayed not

the slightest shock when she learned of his prizefighting and scabslugging proclivities.

"He's a splendid young man, and good," she assured Saxon. "His face shows that. And, best of all, he loves

you and is proud of you. You can't imagine how I have enjoyed watching the way he looks at you, especially

when you are talking. He respects your judgment. Why, he must, for here he is with you on this pilgrimage

which is wholly your idea." Mrs. Mortimer sighed. "You are very fortunate, dear child, very fortunate. And

you don't yet know what a man's brain is. Wait till he is quite fired with enthusiasm for your project. You will

be astounded by the way he takes hold. You will have to exert yourself to keep up with him. In the meantime,

you must lead. Remember, he is city bred. It will be a struggle to wean him from the only life he's known."

"But not as you are. Love is not the whole of man, as it is of woman. The city hurt you more than it hurt him.

It was you who lost the dear little babe. His interest, his connection, was no more than casual and incidental

"Pretty close to it," he answered, taking the indicated big Morris chair. "It's this"

"One moment," Mrs. Mortimer checked him. "That is a beautiful, big, strong chair, and so are you, at any rate

big and strong, and your little wife is very wearyno, no; sit down, it's your strength she needs. Yes, I insist.

And to him she led Saxon, and into his arms placed her. "Now, sirand you look delicious, the pair of

"It ain't your way," Billy repudiated quickly. "Your way's all right. It's great. What I'm trying to get at is that

your way don't fit us. We couldn't make a go of it your way. Why you had pullwelltodo acquaintances,

people that knew you'd been a librarian an' your husband a professor. An' you had..." Here he floundered a

moment, seeking definiteness for the idea he still vaguely grasped. "Well, you had a way we couldn't have.

You were educated, an'... an'I don't know, I guess you knew society ways an' business ways we couldn't

"No. You don't quite get me. Let's take it this way. Just suppose it's me, with jam an' jelly, awadin' into that

swell restaurant like you did to talk with the top guy. Why, I'd be outa place the moment I stepped into his

office. Worse'n that, I'd feel outa place. That'd make me have a chip on my shoulder an' lookin' for trouble,

which is a poor way to do business. Then, too, I'd be thinkin' he was thinkin' I was a whole lot of a husky to

be peddlin' jam. What'd happen, I'd be chesty at the drop of the hat. I'd be thinkin' he was thinkin' I was

standin' on my foot, an' I'd beat him to it in tellin' him he was standin' on HIS foot. Don't you see? It's because

"What you say is true, " Mrs. Mortimer took up brightly. "But there is your wife. Just look at her. She'd make

"Right you are. The only trouble is that you, both of you, are fifty years behind the times. You're old

Ameriean. How you ever got here in the thick of modern conditions is a miracle. You're Rip Van Winkles.

Who ever heard, in these degenerate times, of a young man and woman of the city putting their blankets on

their backs and starting out in search of land? Why, it's the old Argonaut spirit. You're as like as peas in a pod

to those who yoked their oxen and held west to the lands beyond the sunset. I'll wager your fathers and

Saxon's eyes were glistening, and Billy's were friendly once more. Both nodded their heads.

"I'm of the old stock myself," Mrs. Mortimer went on proudly. "My grandmother was one of the survivors of

the Donner Party. My grandfather, Jason Whitney, came around the Horn and took part in the raising of the

Bear Flag at Sonoma. He was at Monterey when John Marshall discovered gold in Sutter's millrace. One of

"I know it," Billy put in. "Whitney Street. It's near Russian Hill. Saxon's mother walked across the Plains."

"And Billy's grandfather and grandmother were massacred by the Indians," Saxon contributed. "His father

was a little baby boy, and lived with the Indians, until captured by the whites. He didn't even know his name

"Why, you two dear children, we're almost like relatives," Mrs. Mortimer beamed. "It's a breath of old times,

alas! all forgotten in these flyaway days. I am especially interested, because I've catalogued and read

everything covering those times. You" she indicated Billy, "you are historical, or at least your father is. I

remember about him. The whole thing is in Bancroft's History. It was the Modoc Indians. There were

eighteen wagons. Your father was the only survivor, a mere baby at the time, with no knowledge of what

"That's right," said Billy. "It was the Modocs. His train must have ben bound for Oregon. It was all wiped

out. I wonder if you know anything about Saxon's mother. She used to write poetry in the early days."

'Sweet as the windlute's airy strains Your gentle muse has learned to sing, And California's boundless plains

'I've stolen away from the crowd in the groves, Where the nude statues stand, and the leaves point and

"And it run on like that. I don't understand it all. It was written to my father"

"A love poem!" Mrs. Mortimer broke in. "I remember it. Wait a minute... Dadadah, dadadah,

"'In the spray of a fountain, whose seedamethysts Tremble lightly a moment on bosom and hands, Then drip

"I've never forgotten the drip of the seedamethysts, though I don't remember your mother's name."

Mrs. Mortimer went to the bookshelves and quickly returned with a large, soberlybound volume.

"It's 'The Story of the Files,'" she explained. "Among other things, all the good fugitive verse was gathered

here from the old newspaper files." Her eyes running down the index suddenly stopped. "I was right. Dayelle

Wiley Brown. There it is. Ten of her poems, too: 'The Viking's Quest'; 'Days of Gold'; 'Constancy'; 'The

"We fought off the Indians there," Saxon interrupted in her excitement. "And mother, who was only a little

girl, went out and got water for the wounded. And the Indians wouldn't shoot at her. Everybody said it was a

miracle." She sprang out of Billy's arms, reaching for the book and crying: "Oh, let me see it! Let me see it!

It's all new to me. I don't know these poems. Can I copy them? I'll learn them by heart. Just to think, my

Mrs. Mortimer's glasses required repolishing; and for half an hour she and Billy remained silent while Saxon

devoured her mother's lines. At the end, staring at the book which she had closed on her finger, she could

But during that half hour Mrs. Mortimer's mind had not been idle. A little later, she broached her plan. She

believed in intensive dairying as well as intensive farming, and intended, as soon as the lease expired, to

establish a Jersey dairy on the other ten acres. This, like everything she had done, would be model, and it

meant that she would require more help. Billy and Saxon were just the two. By next summer she could have

them installed in the cottage she intended building. In the meantime she could arrange, one way and another,

to get work for Billy through the winter. She would guarantee this work, and she knew a small house they

could rent just at the end of the carline. Under her supervision Billy could take charge from the very

beginning of the building. In this way they would be earning money, preparing themselves for independent

But her persuasions were in vain. In the end Saxon succinctly epitomized their point of view.

"We can't stop at the first place, even if it is as beautiful and kind as yours and as nice as this valley is. We

don't even know what we want. We've got to go farther, and see all kinds of places and all kinds of ways, in

order to find out. We're not in a hurry to make up our minds. We want to make, oh, so very sure! And

besides..." She hesitated. "Besides, we don't like altogether flat land. Billy wants some hills in his. And so do

When they were ready to leave Mrs. Mortimer offered to present Saxon with "The Story of the Files"; but

"It says it costs two dollars," she said. "Will you buy me one, and keep it till we get settled? Then I'll write,

"Oh, you Americans," Mrs. Mortimer chided, accepting the money. "But you must promise to write from

"You are brave young things," she said at parting. "I only wish I were going with you, my pack upon my

back. You're perfectly glorious, the pair of you. If ever I can do anything for you, just let me know. You're

bound to succeed, and I want a hand in it myself. Let me know how that government land turns out, though I

warn you I haven't much faith in its feasibility. It's sure to be too far away from markets."

"Be brave," she said, with low earnestness, in Saxon's ear. "You'll win. You are starting with the right ideas.

And you were right not to accept my proposition. But remember, it, or better, will always be open to you.

You're young yet, both of you. Don't be in a hurry. Any time you stop anywhere for a while, let me know,

and I'll mail you heaps of agricultural reports and farm publications. Goodbye. Heaps and heaps and heaps

Bill sat motionless on the edge of the bed in their little room in San Jose that night, a musing expression in

"Well," he remarked at last, with a longdrawn breath, "all I've got to say is there's some pretty nice people in

this world after all. Take Mrs. Mortimer. Now she's the real goodsregular old American."

"A fine, educated lady," Saxon agreed, "and not a bit ashamed to work at farming herself. And she made it

"On twenty acresno, ten; and paid for 'em, an' all improvements, an' supported herself, four hired men, a

Swede woman an' daughter, an' her own nephew. It gets me. Ten acres! Why, my father never talked less'n

one hundred an' sixty acres. Even your brother Tom still talks in quarter sections.An' she was only a

"Wasn't it an adventure!" Saxon cried. "That's what comes of traveling. You never know what's going to

happen next. It jumped right out at us, just when we were tired and wondering how much farther to San Jose.

We weren't expecting it at all. And she didn't treat us as if we were tramping. And that houseso clean and

beautiful. You could eat off the floor. I never dreamed of anything so sweet and lovely as the inside of that

"That's the very thing. It's what the women's pages call atmosphere. I didn't know what they meant before.

"And that's the next step after keeping your body sweet and clean and beautiful. It's to have your house sweet

"But it can't be a rented one, Saxon. You've got to own it. Landlords don't build houses like that. Just the

same, one thing stuck out plain: that house was not expensive. It wasn't the cost. It was the way. The wood

was ordinary wood you can buy in any lumber yard. Why, our house on Pine street was made out of the same

kind of wood. But the way it was made was different. I can't explain, but you can see what I'm drivin' at."

Saxon, revisioning the little bungalow they had just left, repeated absently: "That's itthe way."

The next morning they were early afoot, seeking through the suburbs of San Jose the road to San Juan and

Monterey. Saxon's limp had increased. Beginning with a burst blister, her heel was skinning rapidly. Billy

remembered his father's talks about care of the feet, and stopped at a butcher shop to buy five cents' worth of

"That's the stuff," he told Saxon. "Clean footgear and the feet well greased. We'll put some on as soon as

we're clear of town. An' we might as well go easy for a couple of days. Now, if I could get a little work so as

you could rest up several days it'd be just the thing. I '11 keep my eye peeled."

Almost on the outskirts of town he left Saxon on the county road and went up a long driveway to what

"It's all hunkydory," he called as he approached. "We'll just go down to that clump of trees by the creek an'

pitch camp. I start work in the mornin', two dollars a day an' board myself. It'd been a dollar an' a half if he

furnished the board. I told 'm I liked the other way best, an' that I had my camp with me. The weather's fine,

an' we can make out a few days till your foot's in shape. Come on. We'll pitch a regular, decent camp."

"How did you get the job," Saxon asked, as they cast about, determining their campsite.

"Wait till we get fixed an' I'll tell you all about it. It was a dream, a cinch."

Not until the bed was spread, the fire built, and a pot of beans boiling did Billy throw down the last armful of

"In the first place, Benson's no oldfashioned geezer. You wouldn't think he was a farmer to look at 'm. He's

up to date, sharp as tacks, talks an' acts like a business man. I could see that, just by lookin' at his place,

"An' just thenyou remember that fourhorse load of machinery that come in after me?just then it drove

"'Right to home. I can drive 'm to a plow, a sewin' machine, or a merrygoround.'

"'Jump up an' take them lines, then,' he says, quick an' sharp, not wastin' seconds. 'See that shed. Go 'round

"An' right here I wanta tell you it was some nifty drivin' he was askin'. I could see by the tracks the wagons'd

all ben goin' around the barn to the left. What he was askin' was too close work for comforta double turn,

like an S, between a corner of a paddock an' around the corner of the barn to the last swing. An', to eat into

the little room there was, there was piles of manure just thrown outa the barn an' not hauled away yet. But I

wasn't lettin' on nothin'. The driver gave me the lines, an' I could see he was grinnin', sure I'd make a mess of

it. I bet he couldn't adone it himself. I never let on, an away we went, me not even knowin' the horsesbut,

say, if you'd seen me throw them leaders clean to the top of the manure till the nigh horse was scrapin' the

side of the barn to make it, an' the off hind hub was cuttin' the corner post of the paddock to miss by six

inches. It was the only way. An' them horses was sure beauts. The leaders slacked back an' darn near sat

down on their singletrees when I threw the back into the wheelers an' slammed on the brake an' stopped on

"'You done that well,' he says. 'An' I'm particular about who handles my horses. The road ain't no place for

you. You must be a good man gone wrong. Just the same you can plow with my horses, startin' in tomorrow

When Saxon had served the beans, and Billy the coffee, she stood still a moment and surveyed the spread

meal on the blanketsthe canister of sugar, the condensed milk tin, the sliced corned beef, the lettuce salad

and sliced tomatoes, the slices of fresh French bread, and the steaming plates of beans and mugs of coffee.

"What a difference from last night!" Saxon exclaimed, clapping her hands. "It's like an adventure out of a

book. Oh, that boy I went fishing with! Think of that beautiful table and that beautiful house last night, and

then look at this. Why, we could have lived a thousand years on end in Oakland and never met a woman like

Mrs. Mortimer nor dreamed a house like hers existed. And, Billy, just to think, we've only just started."

Billy worked for three days, and while insisting that he was doing very well, he freely admitted that there was

more in plowing than he had thought. Saxon experienced quiet satisfaction when she learned he was enjoying

"I never thought I'd like plowin'much," he observed. "But it's fine. It's good for the legmuscles, too. They

don't get exercise enough in teamin'. If ever I trained for another fight, you bet I'd take a whack at plowin'.

An', you know, the ground has a regular good smell to it, aturnin' over an' turnin' over. Gosh, it's good

enough to eat, that smell. An' it just goes on, turnin' up an' over, fresh an' thick an' good, all day long. An' the

horses are Joedandies. They know their business as well as a man. That's one thing, Benson ain't got a scrub

The last day Billy worked, the sky clouded over, the air grew damp, a strong wind began to blow from the

southeast, and all the signs were present of the first winter rain. Billy came back in the evening with a small

roll of old canvas he had borrowed, which he proceeded to arrange over their bed on a framework so as to

shed rain. Several times he complained about the little finger of his left hand. It had been bothering him all

day he told Saxon, for several days slightly, in fact, and it was as tender as a boilmost likely a splinter, but

He went ahead with storm preparations, elevating the bed on old boards which he lugged from a disused barn

falling to decay on the opposite bank of the creek. Upon the boards he heaped dry leaves for a mattress. He

concluded by reinforcing the canvas with additional guys of odd pieces of rope and bailingwire.

When the first splashes of rain arrived Saxon was delighted. Billy betrayed little interest. His finger was

hurting too much, he said. Neither he nor Saxon could make anything of it, and both scoffed at the idea of a

"I don't know. I remember Mrs. Cady had one once, but I was too small. It was the little finger, too. She

poulticed it, I think. And I remember she dressed it with some kind of salve. It got awful bad, and finished by

her losing the nail. After that it got well quick, and a new nail grew out. Suppose I make a hot bread poultice

Billy declined, being of the opinion that it would be better in the morning. Saxon was troubled, and as she

dozed off she knew that he was lying restlessly wide awake. A few minutes afterward, roused by a heavy

blast of wind and rain on the canvas, she heard Billy softly groaning. She raised herself on her elbow and

with her free hand, in the way she knew, manipulating his forehead and the surfaces around his eyes, soothed

Again she slept. And again she was aroused, this time not by the storm, but by Billy. She could not see, but

by feeling she ascertained his strange position. He was outside the blankets and on his knees, his forehead

"She's pulsin' to beat the band," he said, when she spoke. "It's worsen a thousand toothaches. But it ain't

nothin'... if only the canvas don't blow down. Think what our folks had to stand," he gritted out between

groans. "Why, my father was out in the mountains, an' the man with 'm got mauled by a grizzlyclean

clawed to the bones all over. An' they was outa grub an' had to travel. Two times outa three, when my father

put 'm on the horse, he'd faint away. Had to be tied on. An' that lasted five weeks, an' HE pulled through.

Then there was Jack Quigley. He blowed off his whole right hand with the burstin' of his shotgun, an' the

huntin' dog pup he had with 'm ate up three of the fingers. An' he was all alone in the marsh, an'"

But Saxon heard no more of the adventures of Jack Quigley. A terrific blast of wind parted several of the

guys, collapsed the framework, and for a moment buried them under the canvas. The next moment canvas,

framework, and trailing guys were whisked away into the darkness, and Saxon and Billy were deluged with

"Only one thing to do," he yelled in her ear. "Gather up the things an' get into that old barn."

They accomplished this in the drenching darkness, making two trips across the stepping stones of the shallow

creek and soaking themselves to the knees. The old barn leaked like a sieve, but they managed to find a dry

space on which to spread their anything but dry bedding. Billy's pain was heartrending to Saxon. An hour

was required to subdue him to a doze, and only by continuously stroking his forehead could she keep him

asleep. Shivering and miserable, she accepted a night of wakefulness gladly with the knowledge that she kept

At the time when she had decided it must be past midnight, there was an interruption. From the open

doorway came a flash of electric light, like a tiny searchlight, which quested about the barn and came to rest

Billy sat up, his eyes dazzled by the light. The voice behind the light was approaching and reiterating its

The voice was now beside them, scarcely a yard away, yet they eoald see nothing on account of the light,

which was intermittent, frequently going out for an instant as the operator's thumb tired on the switch.

"Come on, get a move on," the voice went on. "Roll up your blankets an' trot along. I want you."

"Maybe you are an' maybe you ain't," said the constable; "but you can tell all that to Judge Neusbaumer in the

"Why you. .. you stinkin', dirty cur, you think you're goin' to pull me," Billy began. "Turn the light on

yourself. I want to see what kind of an ugly mug you got. Pull me, eh? Pull me? For two cents I'd get up there

"She's my wife, an' see you speak of her as such," Billy warned. "Now get out, if you know what's good for

"I've seen your kind before," the constable retorted. "An' I've got my little persuader with me. Take a squint."

The shaft of light shifted, and out of the darkness, illuminated with ghastly brilliance, they saw thrust a hand

holding a revolver. This hand seemed a thing apart, selfexistent, with no corporeal attachment, and it

appeared and disappeared like an apparition as the thumbpressure wavered on the switch. One moment they

were staring at the hand and revolver, the next moment at impenetrable darkness, and the next moment again

But at that moment the light went out. They heard a quick movement on the officer's part and the thud of the

lightstick on the ground. Both Billy and the constable fumbled for it, but Billy found it and flashed it on the

other. They saw a graybearded man clad in streaming oilskins. He was an old man, and reminded Saxon of

He leveled the revolver directly at Billy, whose thumb on the switch did not waver, and they could see the

"Why, you whiskery old skunk, you ain't got the grit to shoot sour apples," was Billy's answer. "I know your

kindbrave as lions when it comes to pullin' miserable, brokenspirited bindle stiffs, but as leery as a

yellow dog when you face a man. Pull that trigger! Why, you pusillanimous piece of dirt, you'd run with your

Suiting action to the word, Billy let out an explosive "BOO!" and Saxon giggled involuntarily at the startle it

"I'll give you a last chance," the latter grated through his teeth. "Turn over that lightstick an' come along

Saxon was frightened for Billy's sake, and yet only half frightened. She had a faith that the man dared not

fire, and she felt the old familiar thrills of admiration for Billy's courage. She could not see his face, but she

knew in all certitude that it was bleak and passionless in the terrifying way she had seen it when he fought the

"You ain't the first man I killed," the constable threatened. "I'm an old soldier, an' I ain't squeamish over

"And you ought to be ashamed of yourself," Saxon broke in, "trying to shame and disgrace peaceable people

"You've done wrong sleepin' here," was his vindication. "This ain't your property. It's agin the law. An' folks

that go agin the law go to jail, as the two of you'll go. I've sent many a tramp up for thirty days for sleepin' in

this very shack. Why, it's a regular trap for 'em. I got a good glimpse of your faces an' could see you was

tough characters." He turned on Billy. "I've fooled enough with you. Are you goin' to give in an' come

"I'm goin' to tell you a couple of things, old boss," Billy answered. "Number one: you ain't goin' to pull us.

"G'wan, Whiskers. You're standin' on your foot. Beat it. Pull your freight. As for your torch you'll find it

Billy shifted the light until it illuminated the doorway, and then threw the stick as he would pitch a baseball.

They were now in total darkness, and they could hear the intruder gritting his teeth in rage.

"Now start your shootin' an' see what'll happen to you," Billy advised menacingly.

Saxon felt for Billy's hand and squeezed it proudly. The constable grumbled some threat.

"What's that?" Billy demanded sharply. "Ain't you gone yet? Now listen to me, Whiskers. I've put up with all

your shenanigan I'm goin' to. Now get out or I'll throw you out. An' if you come monkeyin, around here again

So great was the roar of the storm that they could hear nothing. Billy rolled a cigarette. When he lighted it,

"Say, I was so mad I clean forgot my runaround. It's only just beginnin' to tune up again."

"There is no use moving till morning, " she said. "Then, just as soon as it's light, we'll catch a car into San

Jose, rent a room, get a hot breakfast, and go to a drug store for the proper stuff for poulticing or whatever

"I'll telephone him from town. It will only cost five cents. I saw he had, a wire. And you couldn't plow on

account of the rain, even if your finger was well. Besides, we'll both be mending together. My heel will be all

Early on Monday morning, three days later, Saxon and Billy took an electric car to the end of the line, and

started a second time for San Juan. Puddles were standing in the road, but the sun shone from a blue sky, and

everywhere, on the ground, was a faint hint of budding green. At Benson's Saxon waited while Billy went in

"Kicked like a steer because I was quittin'," he told her when he came back. "He wouldn't listen at first. Said

he'd put me to drivin' in a few days, an' that there wasn't enough good fourhorse men to let one go easily."

"Oh, I just told 'm I had to be movin' along. An' when he tried to argue I told 'm my wife was with me, an' she

"Sure, Pete; but just the same I wasn't as keen as you. Doggone it, I was gettin' to like that plowin'. I'll never

be scairt to ask for a job at it again. I've got to where I savvy the burro, an' you bet I can plow against most of

An hour afterward, with a good three miles to their credit, they edged to the side of the road at the sound of

an automobile behind them. But the machine did not pass. Benson was alone in it, and he came to a stop

"Where are you bound?" he inquired of Billy, with a quick, measuring glance at Saxon.

"I can give you a lift as far as Watsonville. It would take you several days on shank's mare with those loads.

"Go on," he approved. "It's fine in front.This is my wife, Mr. BensonMrs. Roberts."

"Oh, ho, so you're the one that took your husband away from me," Benson accused good humoredly, as he

Saxon shouldered the responsibility and became absorbed in watching him start the car.

"I'd be a mighty poor farmer if I owned no more land than you'd plowed before you came to me," Benson,

"I'd never had my hands on a plow but once before," Billy confessed. "But a fellow has to learn some time."

"If he can get some alfalfa artist to put up for it," Billy met him complacently.

"You're a quick learner," he complimented. "I could see that you and plows weren't on speaking

acquaintance. But you took hold right. There isn't one man in ten I could hire off the county road that could

do as well as you were doing on the third day. But your big asset is that you know horses. It was half a joke

when I told you to take the lines that morning. You're a trained horseman and a born horseman as well."

"But there's more than that to it," Benson took her up. "Your husband's got the WAY with him. It's hard to

explain. But that's what it isthe WAY. It's an instinct almost. Kindness is necessary. But GRIP is more so.

Your husband grips his horses. Take the test I gave him with the fourhorse load. It was too complicated and

severe. Kindness couldn't have done it. It took grip. I could see it the moment he started. There wasn't any

doubt in his mind. There wasn't any doubt in the horses. They got the feel of him. They just knew the thing

was going to be done and that it was up to them to do it. They didn't have any fear, but just the same they

knew the boss was in the seat. When he took hold of those lines, he took hold of the horses. He gripped them,

don't you see. He picked them up and put them where he wanted them, swung them up and down and right

and left, made them pull, and slack, and backand they knew everything was going to come out right. Oh,

horses may be stupid, but they're not altogether fools. They know when the proper horseman has hold of

Benson paused, half vexed at his volubility, and gazed keenly at Saxon to see if she had followed him. What

"Horseflesh is a hobby of mine. Don't think otherwise because I am running a stink engine. I'd rather be

streaking along here behind a pair of faststeppers. But I'd lose time on them, and, worse than that, I'd be too

anxious about them all the time. As for this thing, why, it has no nerves, no delicate joints nor tendons; it's a

The miles flew past and Saxon was soon deep in talk with her host. Here again, she discerned immediately,

was a type of the new farmer. The knowledge she had picked up enabled her to talk to advantage, and when

Benson talked she was amazed that she could understand so much. In response to his direct querying, she told

him her and Billy's plans, sketching the Oakland life vaguely, and dwelling on their future intentions.

Almost as in a dream, when they passed the nurseries at Morgan Hill, she learned they had come twenty

miles, and realized that it was a longer stretch than they had planned to walk that day. And still the machine

"I wondered what so good a man as your husband was doing on the road," Benson told her.

"But you see, I didn't know about YOU. Now I understand. Though I must say it's extraordinary in these days

for a young couple like you to pack your blankets in search of land. And, before I forget it, I want to tell you

one thing." He turned to Billy. "I am just telling your wife that there's an alltheyear job waiting for you on

my ranch. And there's a tight little cottage of three rooms the two of you can housekeep in. Don't forget."

Among other things Saxon discovered that Benson had gone through the College of Agriculture at the

University of Californiaa branch of learning she had not known existed. He gave her small hope in her

"The only government land left," he informed her, "is what is not good enough to take up for one reason or

another. If it's good land down there where you're going, then the market is inaccessible. I know no railroads

"Wait till we strike Pajaro Valley," he said, when they had passed Gilroy and were booming on toward

Sargent's. "I'll show you what can be done with the soiland not by cowcollege graduates but by

uneducated foreigners that the high and mighty American has always sneered at. I'll show you. It's one of the

At Sargent's he left them in the machine a few minutes while he transacted business.

"Whew! It beats hikin'," Billy said. "The day's young yet and when he drops us we'll be fresh for a few miles

on our own. Just the same, when we get settled an' well off, I guess I'll stick by horses. They'll always be

"A machine's only good to get somewhere in a hurry," Saxon agreed. "Of course, if we got very, very rich"

"Say, Saxon," Billy broke in, suddenly struck with an idea. "I've learned one thing. I ain't afraid any more of

not gettin' work in the country. I was at first, but I didn't tell you. Just the same I was dead leery when we

pulled out on the San Leandro pike. An' here, already, is two places openMrs. Mortimer's an' Benson's; an'

"Ah," Saxon amended, with a proud little smile, "you haven't said it right. Any GOOD man can get work in

"And they jump at you. That's because you are a good man. They can see it with half an eye. Why, Billy, take

all the working tramps we've met on the road already. There wasn't one to compare with you. I looked them

over. They're all weakweak in their bodies, weak in their heads, weak both ways."

"It's the wrong time of the year to see Pajaro Valley," Benson said, when he again sat beside Saxon and

Sargent's was a thing of the past. "Just the same, it's worth seeing any time. Think of ittwelve thousand

acres of apples! Do you know what they call Pajaro Valley now? New Dalmatia. We're being squeezed out.

We Yankees thought we were smart. Well, the Dalmatians came along and showed they were smarter. They

were miserable immigrantspoorer than Job's turkey. First, they worked at day's labor in the fruit harvest.

Next they began, in a small way, buying the apples on the trees. The more money they made the bigger

became their deals. Pretty soon they were renting the orchards on long leases. And now, they are beginning to

buy the land. It won't be long before they own the whole valley, and the last American will be gone.

"Oh, our smart Yankees! Why, those first ragged Slavs in their first little deals with us only made something

like two and three thousand per cent. profits. And now they're satisfied to make a hundred per cent. It's a

"It's like San Leandro," Saxon said. "The original owners of the land are about all gone already. It's intensive

cultivation." She liked that phrase. "It isn't a ease of having a lot of acres, but of how much they can get out

"Yes, and more than that," Benson answered, nodding his head emphatically. "Lots of them, like Luke

Scurich, are in it on a large scale. Several of them are worth a quarter of a million already. I know ten of them

who will average one hundred and fifty thousand each. They have a WAY with apples. It's almost a gift.

They KNOW trees in much the same way your husband knows horses. Each tree is just as much an individual

to them as a horse is to me. They know each tree, its whole history, everything that ever happened to it, its

every idiosyncrasy. They have their fingers on its pulse. They can tell if it's feeling as well today as it felt

yesterday. And if it isn't, they know why and proceed to remedy matters for it. They can look at a tree in

bloom and tell how many boxes of apples it will pack, and not only thatthey'll know. what the quality and

grades of those apples are going to be. Why, they know each individual apple, and they pick it tenderly, with

love, never hurting it, and pack it and ship it tenderly and with love, and when it arrives at market, it isn't

"Yes, it's more than intensive. These Adriatic Slavs are longheaded in business. Not only can they grow

apples, but they can sell apples. No market? What does it matter? Make a market. That's their way, while our

kind let the crops rot kneedeep under the trees. Look at Peter Mengol. Every year he goes to England, and

he takes a hundred carloads of yellow Newton pippins with him. Why, those Dalmatians are showing Pajaro

apples on the South African market right now, and coining money out of it hand over fist."

"Then they'll start buying the Americans out of some other valley. And the Americans will spend the money

and by the second generation start rotting in the cities, as you and your husband would have rotted if you

Saxon could not repress a shudder.As Mary had rotted, she thought; as Bert and all the rest had rotted; as

"Oh, it's a great country," Benson was continuing. "But we're not a great people. Kipling is right. We're

crowded out and sitting on the stoop. And the worst of it is there's no reason we shouldn't know better. We're

teaching it in all our agricultural colleges, experiment stations, and demonstration trains. But the people won't

take hold, and the immigrant, who has learned in a hard school, beats them out. Why, after I graduated, and

before my father diedhe was of the old school and laughed at what he called my theoriesI traveled for a

"We'll soon enter the valley. You bet I saw. First thing, in Japan, the terraced hillsides. Take a hill so steep

you couldn't drive a horse up it. No bother to them. They terraced ita stone wall, and good masonry, six

feet high, a level terrace six feet wide; up and up, walls and terraces, the same thing all the way, straight into

the air, walls upon walls, terraces upon terraces, until I've seen tenfoot walls built to make threefoot

terraces, and twentyfoot walls for four or five feet of soil they could grow things on. And that soil, packed

"Same thing everywhere I went, in Greece, in Ireland, in DalmatiaI went there, too. They went around and

gathered every bit of soil they could find, gleaned it and even stole it by the shovelful or handful, and carried

it up the mountains on their backs and built farmsBUILT them, MADE them, on the naked rock. Why, in

France, I've seen hill peasants mining their streambeds for soil as our fathers mined the streams of

California for gold. Only our gold's gone, and the peasants' soil remains, turning over and over, doing

"My God!" Billy muttered in awestricken tones. "Our folks never done that. No wonder they lost out."

"There's the valley now," Benson said. "Look at those trees! Look at those hillsides! That's New Dalmatia.

It was not a large valley that Saxon saw. But everywhere, across the flatlands and up the low rolling hills,

the industry of the Dalmatians was evident. As she looked she listened to Benson.

"Do you know what the old settlers did with this beautiful soil? Planted the flats in grain and pastured cattle

on the hills. And now twelve thousand acres of it are in apples. It's a regular show place for the Eastern guests

at Del Monte, who run out here in their machines to see the trees in bloom or fruit. Take Matteo

Lettunichhe's one of the originals. Entered through Castle Garden and became a dishwasher. When he

laid eyes on this valley he knew it was his Klondike. Today he leases seven hundred acres and owns a

hundred and thirty of his ownthe finest orchard in the valley, and he packs from forty to fifty thousand

boxes of export apples from it every year. And he won't let a soul but a Dalmatian pick a single apple of all

those apples. One day, in a banter, I asked him what he'd sell his hundred and thirty acres for. He answered

seriously. He told me what it had netted him, year by year, and struck an average. He told me to calculate the

principal from that at six per cent. I did. It came to over three thousand dollars an acre."

"What are all the Chinks doin' in the Valley?" Billy asked. "Growin' apples, too?"

"But that's another point where we Americans lose out. There isn't anything wasted in this valley, not a core

nor a paring; and it isn't the Americans who do the saving. There are fiftyseven appleevaporating furnaces,

to say nothing of the apple canneries and cider and vinegar factories. And Mr. John Chinaman owns them.

"It was our folks that made this country," Billy reflected. "Fought for it, opened it up, did everything"

"But develop it," Benson caught him up. "We did our best to destroy it, as we destroyed the soil of New

England." He waved his hand, indicating some place beyond the hills. "Salinas lies over that way. If you went

through there you'd think you were in Japan. And more than one fat little fruit valley in California has been

taken over by the Japanese. Their method is somewhat different from the Dalmatians'. First they drift in fruit

picking at day's wages. They give better satisfaction than the American fruitpickers, too, and the Yankee

grower is glad to get them. Next, as they get stronger, they form in Japanese unions and proceed to run the

American labor out. Still the fruitgrowers are satisfied. The next step is when the Japs won't pick. The

American labor is gone. The fruitgrower is helpless. The crop perishes. Then in step the Jap labor bosses.

They're the masters already. They contract for the crop. The fruitgrowers are at their mercy, you see. Pretty

soon the Japs are running the valley. The fruitgrowers have become absentee landlords and are busy

learning higher standards of living in the cities or making trips to Europe. Remains only one more step. The

Japs buy them out. They've got to sell, for the Japs control the labor market and could bankrupt them at will."

"What is happening. Those of us who haven't anything rot in the cities. Those of us who have land, sell it and

go to the cities. Some become larger capitalists; some go into the professions; the rest spend the money and

start rotting when it's gone, and if it lasts their lifetime their children do the rotting for them."

Their long ride was soon over, and at parting Benson reminded Billy of the steady job that awaited him any

"I guess we'll take a peep at that government land first," Billy answered. "Don't know what we'll settle down

Billy and Saxon, their packs upon the* backs, trudged along a hundred yards. He was the first to break

"An' I tell you another thing, Saxon. We'll never be goin' around smellin' out an' swipin' bits of soil an'

carryin' it up a hill in a basket. The United States is big yet. I don't care what Benson or any of 'em says, the

United States ain't played out. There's millions of acres untouched an' waitin', an' it's up to us to find 'em."

"And I'll tell you one thing," Saxon said. "We're getting an education. Tom was raised on a ranch, yet he

doesn't know right now as much about farming conditions as we do. And I'll tell you another thing. The more

I think of it, the more it seems we are going to be disappointed about that government land."

"Oh, it isn't that. It's what I think. I leave it to you. If this land around here is worth three thousand an acre,

why is it that government land, if it's any good, is waiting there, only a short way off, to be taken for the

Billy pondered this for a quarter of a mile, but could come to no conclusion. At last he cleared his throat and

They had taken the direct county road across the hills from Monterey, instead of the Seventeen Mile Drive

around by the coast, so that Carmel Bay came upon them without any foreglimmerings of its beauty.

Dropping down through the pungent pines, they passed woodsembowered cottages, quaint and rustic, of

artists and writers, and went on across windblown rolling sandhills held to place by sturdy lupine and

nodding with pale California poppies. Saxon screamed in sudden wonder of delight, then caught her breath

and gazed at the amazing peacockblue of a breaker, shot through with golden sunlight, overfalling in a

milelong sweep and thundering into white ruin of foam on a crescent beach of sand scarcely less white.

How long they stood and watched the stately procession of breakers, rising from out the deep and

windcapped sea to froth and thunder at their feet, Saxon did not know. She was recalled to herself when

"You kind of look as though you was goin' to stop a while," he said. "So we might as well get comfortable."

"I never dreamed it, I never dreamed it," she repeated, with passionately clasped hands. "I. .. I thought the

surf at the Cliff House was wonderful, but it gave no idea of this.Oh! Look! LOOK! Did you ever see such

At last she was able to take her eyes from the surf and gaze at the seahorizon of deepest peacockblue and

piled with cloudmasses, at the curve of the beach south to the jagged point of rocks, and at the rugged blue

"Might as well sit down an' take it easy," Billy indulged her. "This is too good to want to run away from all at

"You ain't agoin' to?" Billy asked in surprised delight, then began unlacing his own.

But before they were ready to run barefooted on the perilous fringe of creamwet sand where land and ocean

met, a new and wonderful thing attracted their attention. Down from the dark pines and across the sandhills

ran a man, naked save for narrow trunks. He was smooth and rosyskinned, cherubicfaced, with a thatch of

But she was thinking of the engraving in her mother's scrapbook and of the Vikings on the wet sands of

The runner passed them a dozen feet away, crossed the wet sand, never parsing, till the froth wash was to his

knees while above him, ten feet at least, upreared a was of overtopping water. Huge and powerful as his body

had seemed, it was now white and fragile in the face of that imminent, greathanded buffet of the sea. Saxon

gasped with anxiety, and she stole a look at Billy to note that he was tense with watching.

But the stranger sprang to meet the blow, and, just when it seemed he must be crushed, he dived into the face

of the breaker and disappeared. The mighty mass of water fell in thunder on the beach, but beyond appeared a

yellow head, one arm outreaching, and a portion of a shoulder. Only a few strokes was he able to make are

he was come pelted to dye through another breaker. This was the battleto win seaward against the Creep of

the shoreward hastening sea. Each time he dived and was lost to view Saxon caught her breath and clenched

her hands. Sometimes, after the passage of a breaker, they enfold not find him, and when they did he would

be scores of feet away, flung there like a chip by a smokebearded breaker. Often it seemed he must fail and

be thrown upon the beach, but at the end of half an hour he was beyond the outer edge of the surf and

swimming strong, no longer diving, but topping the waves. Soon he was so far away that only at intervals

could they find the speck of him. That, too, vanished, and Saxon and Billy looked at each other, she with

"Some swimmer, that boy, some swimmer," he praised. "Nothing chickenhearted about him.Say, I only

know tankswimmin', an' bayswimmin', but now I'm goin' to learn oceanswimmin'. If I could do that I'd be

so proud you couldn't come within forty feet of me. Why, Saxon, honest to God, I'd sooner do what he done

than own a thousan' farms. Oh, I can swim, too, I'm tellin' you,like a fishI swum, one Sunday, from the

Narrow Gauge Pier to Sessions' Basin, an' that's milesbut I never seen anything like that guy in the

swimmin' line. An' I'm not goin' to leave this beach until he comes back.All by his lonely out there in a

Saxon and Billy ran barefooted up and down the beach, pursuing each other with brandished snakes of

seaweed and playing like children for an hour. It was not until they were putting on their shoes that they

sighted the yellow head bearing shoreward. Billy was at the edge of the surf to meet him, emerging, not

whiteskinned as he had entered, but red from the pounding he had received at the hands of the sea.

"You're a wonder, and I just got to hand it to you," Billy greeted him in outspoken admiration.

"It don't happen that you are a fighter I never heard of?" Billy queried, striving to get some inkling of the

not guess that he was an excaptain of a 'Varsity Eleven, and incidentally the father of a family and the

author of many books. He looked Billy over with an eye trained in measuring freshmen aspirants for the

"You're some body of a man," he appreciated. "You'd strip with the best of them. Am I right in guessing that

"Oh, ho!Not BIG Bill Roberts? Why, I saw you fight, before the earthquake, in the Mechanic's Pavilion. It

was a preliminary to Eddie Hanlon and some other fellow. You're a twohanded fighter, I remember that,

with an awful wallop, but slow. Yes, I remember, you were slow that night, but you got your man." He put

"An' if you're the football coach that was, a couple of years ago, I've read about you in the papers. Am I

They shook hands heartily, and Saxon was introduced. She felt very small beside the two young giants, and

very proud, withal, that she belonged to the race that gave them birth. She could only listen to them talk.

"I'd like to put on the gloves with you every day for half an hour," Hazard said. "You could teach me a lot.

"No. We're goin' on down the coast, lookin' for land. Just the same, I could teach you a few, and there's one

"I'll swap lessons with you any time," Hazard offered. He turned to Saxon. "Why don't you stop in Carmel for

"It's beautiful," she acknowledged, with a grateful smile, "but" She turned and pointed to their packs on the

"If you're looking down past the Sur for it, it will keep," he laughed. "Well, I've got to run along and get some

clothes on. If you come back this way, look me up. Anybody will tell you where I live. So long."

"Some boy, some boy," he murmured. "Why, Saxon, he's famous. If I've seen his face in the papers once, I've

seen it a thousand times. An' he ain't a bit stuck on himself. Just man to man. Say!I'm beginnin' to have

They turned their backs on the beach and in the tiny main street bought meat, vegetables, and half a dozen

eggs. Billy had to drag Saxon away from the window of a fascinating shop where were iridescent pearls of

"Abalones grow here, all along the coast," Billy assured her; "an' I'll get you all you want. Low tide's the

"My father had a set of cuffbuttons made of abalone shell," she said. "They were set in pure, soft gold. I

They turned south. Everywhere from among the pines peeped the quaint pretty houses of the artist folk, and

they were not prepared, where the road dipped to Carmel River, for the building that met their eyes.

"I know what it is," Saxon almost whispered. "It's an old Spanish Mission. It's the Carmel Mission, of course.

That's the way the Spaniards came up from Mexico, building missions as they came and converting the

"Until we chased them out, Spaniards an' Indians, whole kit an' caboodle," Billy observed with calm

"Just the same, it's wonderful," Saxon mused, gazing at the big, halfruined adobe structure. "There is the

Hidden from the sea by low hillocks, forsaken by human being and human habitation, the church of

sunbaked clay and straw and chalkrock stood hushed and breathless in the midst of the adobe ruins which

once had housed its worshiping thousands. The spirit of the place descended upon Saxon and Billy, and they

walked softly, speaking in whispers, almost afraid to go in through the open ports. There was neither priest

nor worshiper, yet they found all the evidences of use, by a congregation which Billy judged must be small

from the number of the benches. Inter they climbed the earthquake~racked belfry, noting the handhewn

timbers; and in the gallery, discovering the pure quality of their voices, Saxon, trembling at her own temerity,

softly sang the opening bars of "Jesus Lover of My Soul." Delighted with the result, she leaned over the

"Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is

nigh. Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide And receive my

Billy leaned against the ancient wall and loved her with his eyes, and, when she had finished, he murmured,

"That was beautifuljust beautiful. An' you ought to aseen your face when you sang. It was as beautiful as

your voice. Ain't it funny?I never think of religion except when I think of you."

They camped in the willow bottom, cooked dinner, and spent the afternoon on the point of low rocks north of

the mouth of the river. They had not intended to spend the afternoon, but found themselves too fascinated to

turn away from the breakers bursting upon the rocks and from the many kinds of colorful sea life starfish,

crabs, mussels, sea anemones, and, once, in a rockpool, a small devilfish that chilled their blood when it cast

the hooded net of its body around the small crabs they tossed to it. As the tide grew lower, they gathered a

mess of musselshuge fellows, five and six inches long and bearded like patriarchs. Then, while Billy

wandered in a vain search for abalones, Saxon lay and dabbled in the crystalclear water of a roakpool,

dipping up handfuls of glistening jewelsground bits of shell and pebble of flashing rose and blue and green

and violet. Billy came back and lay beside her, lazying in the seacool sunshine, and together they watched

She reached out her hand to Billy's and sighed with sheer repletion of content. It seemed she had never lived

such a wonderful day. It was as if all old dreams were coming true. Such beauty of the world she had never

"Oh, I don't know, Billy. Perhaps that it was better, one day like this, than ten thousand years in Oakland."

They left Carme1 River and Carmel Valley behind, and with a rising sun went south across the hills between

the mountains and the sea. The road was badly washed and gullied and showed little sign of travel.

"It peters out altogether farther down," Billy said. "From there on it's only horse trails. But I don't see much

signs of timber, an' this soil's none so good. It's only used for pastureno farmin' to speak of."

The hills were bare and grassy. Only the canyons were wooded, while the higher and more distant hills were

furry with chaparral. Once they saw a coyote slide into the brush, and once Billy wished for a gun when a

large wildcat stared at them malignantly and declined to run until routed by a clod of earth that burst about its

Several miles along Saxon complained of thirst. Where the road dipped nearly at sea level to cross a small

gulch Billy looked for water. The bed of the gulch was damp with hilldrip, and he left her to rest while he

"Say," he hailed a few minutes afterward. "Come on down. You just gotta see this. It'll 'most take your breath

Saxon followed the faint path that led steeply down through the thicket. Midway along, where a barbed wire

fence was strung high across the mouth of the gulch and weighted down with big rocks, she caught her first

glimpse of the tiny beach. Only from the sea could one guess its existence, so completely was it tucked away

on three precipitous sides by the land, and screened by the thicket. Furthermore, the beach was the head of a

narrow rock cove, a quarter of a mile long, up which pent way the sea roared and was subdued at the last to a

gentle pulse of surf. Beyond the mouth many detached rocks, meeting the full force of the breakers, spouted

foam and spray high in the air. The knees of these rocks, seen between the surges, were black with mussels.

On their tops sprawled huge sealions tawnywet and roaring in the sun, while overhead, uttering shrill cries,

The last of the descent, from the barbed wire fence, was a sliding fall of a dozen feet, and Saxon arrived on

"Oh, I tell you it's just great," Billy bubbled. "Look at it for a camping spot. In among the trees there is the

prettiest spring you ever saw. An' look at all the good firewood, an'. .." He gazed about and seaward with eyes

that saw what no rush of words could compass. "... An', an' everything. We could live here. Look at the

mussels out there. An' I bet you we could catch fish. What d'ye say we stop a few days?It's vacation

Saxon, keenly appraising his glowing face, realized that he was indeed being won from the city.

"An' there ain't no wind here," he was recommending. "Not a breath. An' look how wild it is. Just as if we

The wind, which had been fresh and raw across the bare hills, gained no entrance to the cove; and the beach

was warm and balmy, the air sweetly pungent with the thicket odors. Here and there, in the midst of the

thicket, severe small oak trees and other small trees of which Saxon did not know the names. Her enthusiasm

"Here's where we can play real Robinson Crusoe, " Billy cried, as they crossed the hard sand from highwater

mark to the edge of the water. "Come on, Robinson. Let's stop over. Of course, I'm your Man Friday, an' what

"But what shall we do with Man Saturday!" She pointed in mock consternation to a fresh footprint in the

"But a savage could get a tennis shoe from a drowned or eaten sailor, couldn't hey" she contended.

"You know too much for Man Friday," she chided; "but, just the same; if you'll fetch the packs we'll make

camp. Besides, it mightn't have been a sailor that was eaten. It might have been a passenger."

By the end of an hour a snug camp was completed. The blankets were spread, a supply of firewood was

chopped from the seasoned driftwood, and over a fire the coffee pot had begun to sing. Saxon called to Billy,

who was improvising a table from a wavewashed plank. She pointed seaward. On the far point of rocks,

naked except for swimming trunks, stood a man. He was gazing toward them, and they could see his long

mop of dark hair blown by the wind. As he started to climb the rocks landward Billy eaUed Saxon's attention

to the fact that the stranger wore tennis shoes. In a few minutes he dropped down from the rock to the beach

"Gosh!" Billy whispered to Saxon. "He's lean enough, but look at his muscles. Everybody down here seems

As the newcomer approached, Saxon glimpsed sufflcient of his face to be reminded of the old pioneers and of

a certain type of face seen frequently among the old soldiers: Young though he wasnot more than thirty,

she decidedthis man had the same long and narrow face, with the high cheekbones, high and slender

forehead, and nose high, lean, and almost beaked. The lips were thin and sensitive; but the eyes were

different from any she had ever seen in pioneer or veteran or any man. They were so dark a gray that they

seemed brown, and there were a farness and alertness of vision in them as of bright questing through

"Hello," he greeted. "You ought to be comfortable here." He threw down a partly filled sack. "Mussels. All I

Saxon heard Billy muffle an ejaculation, and saw painted on his face the extremest astonishment.

"Well, honest to God, it does me proud to meet you," he blurted out. "Shake hands. I always said if I laid eyes

But Billy's feelings mastered him, and, beginning with a choking giggle, he roared into helpless mirth.

The stranger looked at him curiously across their clasped hands, and glanced inquiringly to Saxon.

"You gotta excuse me," Billy gurgled, pumping the other's hand up and down. "But I just gotta laugh. Why,

honest to God, I've woke up nights an' laughed an' gone to sleep again. Don't you recognize 'm, Saxon? He's

the same identical dude say, friend, you're some punkins at a hundred yards dash, ain't you7"

And then, in a sudden rush, Saxon placed him. He it was who had stood with Roy Blanchard alongside the

automobile on the day she had wandered, sick and unwitting, into strange neighborhoods. Nor had that day

"Remember the Bricklayers' Picnic at Weasel Park7" Billy was asking. "An' the foot race? Why, I'd know

that nose of yours anywhere among a million. You was the guy that stuck your cane between Timothy

McManus's legs an' started the grandest roughhouse Weasel Park or any other park ever seen."

The visitor now commenced to laugh. He stood on one leg as he laughed harder, then stood on the other leg.

"And you were there," he managed to gasp to Billy at last. "You saw it. You saw it." He turned to Saxon.

"Say," Billy began again, as their laughter eased down, "what I wants know is what'd you wanta do it for.

"To save my life, I don't know. I have one friend, a most intelligent chap that writes sober, scientific books,

and he's always aching to throw an egg into an electric fan to see what will happen. Perhaps that's the way it

was with me, except that there was no aching. When I saw those legs flying past, I merely stuck my stick in

between. I didn't know I was going to do it. I just did it. Timothy McManus was no more surprised than I

"Do I look as if they did? I was never so scared in my life. Timothy McManus himself couldn't have caught

me that day. But what happened afterward? I heard they had a fearful roughhouse, but I couldn't stop to see."

It was not until a quarter of an hour had passed, during which Billy described the fight, that introductions

took place. Mark Hall was their visitor's name, and he lived in a bungalow among the Carmel pines.

"But how did you ever find your way to Bierce's Cove?" he was curious to know. "Nobody ever dreams of it

"It's the name we gave it. One of our crowd camped here one summer, and we named it after him. I'll take a

cup of that coffee, if you don't mind."This to Saxon. "And then I'll show your husband around. We're

"You didn't get all that muscle from bein' chased by McManus," Billy observed over the coffee.

"I'll show you. Take any muscle you want, tense it, then manipulate it with your fingers, so, and so."

"All that!" the other scorned proudly. "For one muscle you see, there's five tucked away but under command.

Billy grinned triumphantly, then, to his amazement, saw a muscle grow up under his finger. He prodded it,

And anywhere and everywhere Billy touched, muscles large and small rose up, quivered, and sank down, till

"Never saw anything like it," Billy marveled at the end; "an' I've seen some few good men stripped in my

"Massage under tension did it, my friend. The doctors gave me up. My friends called me the sick rat, and the

mangy poet, and all that. Then I quit the city, came down to Carmel, and went in for the open airand

"Certainly not, the lucky skunk; he was born with them. Mine's made. That's the difference. I'm a work of art.

He's a cave bear. Come along. I'll show you around now. You'd better get your clothes off. Keep on only your

"My mother was a poet," Saxon said, while Billy was getting himself ready in the thicket. She had noted

"Dayelle Wiley Brown. She wrote: 'The Viking's Quest'; 'Days of Gold'; 'Constancy'; 'The Caballero'; 'Graves

at Little Meadow'; and a lot more. Ten of them are in 'The Story of the Files.'"

"I've the book at home," he remarked, for the first time showing real interest. "She was a pioneer, of

coursebefore my time. I'll look her up when I get back to the house. My people were pioneers. They came

by Panama, in the Fifties, from Long Island. My father was a doctor, but he went into business in San

Francisco and robbed his fellow men out of enough to keep me and the rest of a large family going ever

When Saxon had told him of their attempt to get away from Oakland and of their quest for land, he

"It's beautiful down beyond the Sur," he told her. "I've been all over those redwood canyons, and the place is

alive with game. The government land is there, too. But you'd be foolish to settle. It's too remote. And it isn't

good farming land, except in patches in the canyons. I know a Mexican there who is wild to sell his five

hundred acres for fifteen hundred dollars. Three dollars an acre! And what does that mean? That it isn't worth

more. That it isn't worth so much; because he can find no takers. Land, you know, is worth what they buy and

Billy, emerging from the thicket, only in shoes and in pants rolled to the knees, put an end to the

conversation; and Saxon watched the two men, physically so dissimilar, climb the rocks and start out the

south side of the cove. At first her eyes followed them lazily, but soon she grew interested and worried. Hall

was leading Billy up what seemed a perpendicular wall in order to gain the backbone of the rock. Billy went

slowly, displaying extreme caution; but twice she saw him slip, the weathereaten stone crumbling away in

his hand and rattling beneath him into the cove. When Hall reached the top, a hundred feet above the sea, she

saw him stand upright and sway easily on the knifeedge which she knew fell away as abruptly on the other

side. Billy, once on top, contented himself with crouching on hands and knees. The leader went on, upright,

walking as easily as on a level floor. Billy abandoned the hands and knees position, but crouched closely and

The knifeedge backbone was deeply serrated, and into one of the notches both men disappeared. Saxon

could not keep down her anxiety, and climbed out on the north side of the cove, which was less rugged and

far less difficult to travel. Even so, the unaccustomed height, the crumbling surface, and the fierce buffets of

the wind tried her nerve. Soon she was opposite the men. They had leaped a narrow chasm and were scaling

another tooth. Already Billy was going more nimbly, but his leader often paused and waited for him. The way

grew severer, and several times the clefts they essayed extended down to the ocean level and spouted spray

from the growling breakers that burst through. At other times, standing erect, they would fall forward across

deep and narrow clefts until their palms met the opposing side; then, clinging with their fingers, their bodies

Near the end, Hall and Billy went out of sight over the south side of the backbone, and when Saxon saw them

again they were rounding the extreme point of rock and coming back on the cove side. Here the way seemed

barred. A wide fissure, with hopelessly vertical sides, yawned skywards from a foamwhite vortex where the

mad waters shot their level a dozen feet upward and dropped it as abruptly to the black depths of battered

Clinging precariously, the men descended their side till the spray was flying about them. Here they paused.

Saxon could see Hall pointing down across the fissure and imagined he was showing some curious thing to

Billy. She was not prepared for what followed. The surflevel sucked and sank away, and across and down

Hall jumped to a narrow foothold where the wash had roared yards deep the moment before. Without pause,

as the returning sea rushed up, he was around the sharp corner and clawing upward hand and foot to escape

being caught. Billy was now left alone. He could not even see Hall, much less be further advised by him, and

so tensely did Saxon watch, that the pain in her fingertips, crushed to the rock by which she held, warned

her to relax. Billy waited his chance, twice made tentative preparations to leap and sank back, then leaped

across and down to the momentarily exposed foothold, doubled the corner, and as he clawed up to join Hall

Saxon did not breathe easily till they rejoined her at the fire. One glance at Billy told her that he was

"You'll do, for a beginner," Hall cried, slapping him jovially on the bare shoulder. "That climb is a stunt of

mine. Many's the brave lad that's started with me and broken down before we were half way out. I've had a

"I ain't ashamed of admittin' I was scairt," Billy growled. "You're a regular goat, an' you sure got my goat half

a dozen times. But I'm mad now. It's mostly trainin', an' I'm goin' to camp right here an' train till I can

"Done," said Hall, putting out his hand in ratification. "And some time, when we get together in San

Francisco, I'll lead you up against Biercethe one this cove is named after. His favorite stunt, when he isn't

collecting rattlesnakes, is to wait for a fortymileanhour breeze, and then get up and walk on the parapet of

a skyscraperon the lee side, mind you, so that if he blows off there's nothing to fetch him up but the street.

"I wouldn't have if I hadn't been on. I'd been practicing it secretly for a week. And I got twenty dollars out of

The tide was now low enough for mussel gathering and Saxon accompanied the men out the north wall. Hall

had several sacks to fill. A rig was coming for him in the afternoon, he explained, to cart the mussels back to

Carmel. When the sacks were full they ventured further among the rock crevices and were rewarded with

three abalones, among the shells of which Saxon found one coveted blisterpearl. Hall initiated them into the

By this time it seemed to Saxon that they had known him a long time. It reminded her of the old times when

Bert had been with them, singing his songs or ranting about the last of the Mohicans.

"Now, listen; I'm going to teach you something," Hall commanded, a large round rock poised in his hand

above the abalone meat. "You must never, never pound abalone without singing this song. Nor must you sing

this song at any other time. It would be the rankest sacrilege. Abalone is the food of the gods. Its preparation

is a religious function. Now listen, and follow, and remember that it is a very solemn occasion."

The stone came down with a thump on the white meat, and thereafter arose and fell in a sort of tomtom

"Oh! some folks boast of quail on toast, Because they think it's tony; But I'm content to owe my rent And live

"Oh! Mission Point's a friendly joint Where every crab's a crony, And true and kind you'll ever find The

"He wanders free beside the sea Where 'er the coast is stony; He flaps his wings and madly sings The

"Some stick to biz, some flirt with Liz Down on the sands of Coney; But we, by hell, stay in Carmel, And

He paused with his mouth open and stone upraised. There was a rattle of wheels and a voice calling from

above where the sacks of mussels had been carried. He brought the stone down with a final thump and stood

"There's a thousand more verses like those," he said. "Sorry I hadn't time to teach you them." He held out his

hand, palm downward. "And now, children, bless you, you are now members of the clan of Abalone Eaters,

and I solemnly enjoin you, never, no matter what the circumstances, pound abalone meat without chanting

"That shall be attended to. Next Sunday the Tribe of Abalone Eaters will descend upon you here in Bierce's

Cove, and you will be able to see the rites, the writers and writeresses, down even to the Iron Man with the

"He will certainly come. Is he not the CaveBear PotWalloper and Gridironer, the most fearsome, and, next

Saxon and Billy could only look at each other till they heard the wheels rattle away.

"Well, I'll be doggoned," Billy let out. "He's some boy, that. Nothing stuck up about him. Just like Jim

Hazard, comes along and makes himself at home, you're as good as he is an' he's as good as you, an' we're all

"He's old stock, too," Saxon said. "He told me while you were undressing. His folks came by Panama before

the railroad was built, and from what he said I guess he's got plenty of money."

"That's right, come to think of it. There's Joaquin Miller, lives out in the hills back of Fruitvale. He's certainly

odd. It's right near his place where I proposed to you. Just the same I thought poets wore whiskers and

eyeglasses, an' never tripped up footracers at Sunday picnics, nor run around with as few clothes on as the

That night, under the blankets, Saxon lay awake, looking at the stars, pleasuring in the balmy thicketscents,

and listening to the dull rumble of the outer surf and the whispering ripples on the sheltered beach a few feet

Every half tide Billy raced out the south wall over the dangerous course he and Hall had traveled, and each

"Wait till Sunday," he said to Saxon. "I'll give that poet a run for his money. Why, they ain't a place that

bothers me now. I've got the head confidence. I run where I went on hands an' knees. I figured it out this way:

Suppose you had a foot to fall on each side, an' it was soft hay. They'd be nothing to stop you. You wouldn't

fall. You'd go like a streak. Then it's just the same if it's a mile down on each side. That ain't your concern.

Your concern is to stay on top and go like a streak. An', d'ye know, Saxon, when I went at it that way it never

bothered me at all. Wait till he comes with his crowd Sunday. I'm ready for him."

"Like him, of course. Birds of a feather flock together. They won't be stuck up, any of them, you'll see."

Hall had sent out fishlines and a swimming suit by a Mexican cowboy bound south to his ranch, and from

the latter they learned much of the government land and how to get it. The week flew by; each day Saxon

sighed a farewell of happiness to the sun; each morning they greeted its return with laughter of joy in that

another happy day had begun. They made no plans, but fished, gathered mussels and abalones, and climbed

among the rocks as the moment moved them. The abalone meat they pounded religiously to a verse of

doggerel improvised by Saxon. Billy prospered. Saxon had never seen him at so keen a pitch of health. As for

herself, she scarcely needed the little handmirror to know that never, since she was a young girl, had there

"It's the first time in my life I ever had real play," Billy said. "An' you an' me never played at all all the time

"No seven o'clock whistle," Saxon exulted. "I'd lie abed in the mornings on purpose, only everything is too

good not to be up. And now you just play at chopping some firewood and catching a nice big perch, Man

Billy got up, hatchet in hand, from where he had been lying prone, digging holes in the sand with his bare

"But it ain't goin' to last," he said, with a deep sigh of regret. "The rains'll come any time now. The good

On Saturday morning, returning from his run out the south wall, he missed Saxon. After helloing for her

without result, he climbed to the road. Half a mile away, he saw her astride an unsaddled, unbridled horse that

"Lucky for you it was an old mare that had been used to ridin'see them saddle marks," he grumbled, when

"Oh, Billy," she sparkled, "I was never on a horse before. It was glorious! I felt so helpless, too, and so

"I'm proud of you, just the same," he said, in more grumbling tones than before. " 'Tain't every married

women'd tackle a strange horse that way, especially if she'd never ben on one. An' I ain't forgot that you're

The Abalone Eaters, in two rigs and on a number of horses, descended in force on Bierce's Cove. There were

half a score of men and almost as many women. All were young, between the ages of twentyfive and forty,

and all seemed good friends. Most of them were married. They arrived in a roar of good spirits, tripping one

another down the slippery trail and engulfing Saxon and Billy in a comradeship as artless and warm as the

sunshine itself. Saxon was appropriated by the girlsshe could not realize them women; and they made

much of her, praising her camping and traveling equipment and insisting on hearing some of her tale. They

were experienced campers themselves, as she quickly discovered when she saw the pots and pans and

In the meantime Billy and the men had undressed and scattered out after mussels and abalones. The girls

lighted on Saxon's ukulele and nothing would do but she must play and sing. Several of them had been to

Honolulu, and knew the instrument, confirming Mercedes' definition of ukulele as "jumping flea." Also, they

knew Hawaiian songs she had learned from Mercedes, and soon, to her accompaniment, all were singing:

"Aloha Oe," "Honolulu Tomboy," and "Sweet Lei Lehua." Saxon was genuinely shocked when some of

When the men returned, burdened with sacks of shellfish, Mark Hall, as high priest, commanded the due and

solemn rite of the tribe. At a wave of his hand, the many poised stones came down in unison on the white

meat, and all voices were uplifted in the Hymn to the Abalone. Old verses all sang, ocasionally some one

sang a fresh verse alone, whereupon it was repeated in chorus. Billy betrayed Saxon by begging her in an

undertone to sing the verse she had made, and her pretty voice was timidly raised in:

"We sit around and gaily pound, And bear no acrimony Because our object is a gob Of sizzling abalone."

"Great!" cried the poet, who had winced at object. "She speaks the language of the tribe! Come on,

And all chanted Saxon's lines. Then Jim Hazard had a new verse, and one of the girls, and the Iron Man with

the basilisk eyes of greenishgray, whom Saxon recognized from Hall's description. To her it seemed he had

"Oh! some like ham and some like lamb And some like macaroni; But bring me in a pail of gin And a tub of

"Oh! some drink rain and some champagne Or brandy by the pony; But I will try a little rye With a dash of

"Some live on hope and some on dope And some on alimony. But our tomcat, he lives on fat And tender

A blackhaired, blackeyed man with the roguish face of a satyr, who, Saxon learned, was an artist who sold

his paintings at five hundred apiece, brought on himself universa1 execration and acclamation by singing:

"The more we take, the more they make In deep sea matrimony; Race suicide cannot betide The fertile

And so it went, verses new and old, verses without end, all in glorification of the succulent shellfish of

Carmel. Saxon's enjoyment was keen, almost ecstatic, and she had diffculty in convincing herself of the

reality of it all. It seemed like some fairy tale or book story come true. Again, it seemed more like a stage,

and these the actors, she and Billy having blundered into the scene in some incomprehensible way. Much of

wit she sensed which she did not understand. Much she did understand. And she was aware that brains were

playing as she had never seen brains play before. The puritan streak in her training was astonished and

shocked by some of the broadness; but she refused to sit in judgment. They SEEMED good, these

lighthearted young people; they certainly were not rough or gross as were many of the crowds she had been

with on Sunday picnics. None of the men got drunk, although there were cocktails in vacuum bottles and red

What impressed Saxon most was their excessive jollity, their childlike joy, and the childlike things they did.

This effect was heightened by the fact that they were novelists and painters, poets and critics, sculptors and

musicians. One man, with a refined and delicate facea dramatic critic on a great San Francisco daily, she

was toldintroduced a feat which all the men tried and failed at most ludicrously. On the beach, at regular

intervals, planks were placed as obstacles. Then the dramatic critic, on all fours, galloped along the sand for

all the world like a horse, and for all the world like a horse taking hurdles he jumped the planks to the end of

Quoits had been brought along, and for a while these were pitched with zest. Then jumping was started, and

game slid into game. Billy took part in everything, but did not win first place as often as he had expected. An

English writer beat him a dozen feet at tossing the caber. Jim Hazard beat him in putting the heavy "rock."

Mark Hall outjumped him standing and running. But at the standing high backjump Billy did come first.

Despite the handicap of his weight, this victory was due to his splendid back and abdominal lifting muscles.

Immediately after this, however, he was brought to grief by Mark Hall's sister, a strapping young amazon in

crosssaddle riding costume, who three times tumbled him ignominiously heels over head in a bout of Indian

"You're easy," jeered the Iron Man, whose name they had learned was Pete Bideaux. "I can put you down

Billy accepted the challenge, and found in all truth that the other was rightly nicknamed. In the training

camps Billy had sparred and clinched with giant champions like Jim Jeffries and Jack Johnson, and met the

weight of their strength, but never had he encountered strength like this of the Iron Man. Do what he could,

Billy was powerless, and twice his shoulders were ground into the sand in defeat.

"You'll get a chance back at him," Hazard whispered to Billy, off at one side. "I've brought the gloves along.

Of course, you had no chance with him at his own game. He's wrestled in the music halls in London with

Hackenschmidt. Now you keep quiet, and we'll lead up to it in a casual sort of way. He doesn't know about

Soon, the Englishman who had tossed the caber was sparring with the dramatic critic, Hazard and Hall boxed

in fantastic burlesque, then, gloves in hand, looked for the next appropriately matched couple. The choice of

"He's liable to get nasty if he's hurt," Hazard warned Billy, as he tied on the gloves for him. "He's old

American French, and he's got a devil of a temper. But just keep your head and tap himwhatever you do,

"Easy sparring now"; "No roughhouse, Bideaux"; "Just light tapping, you know," were admonitions variously

"Hold on a second," he said to Billy, dropping his hands. "When I get rapped I do get a bit hot. But don't

mind me. I can't help it, you know. It's only for the moment, and I don't mean it."

Saxon felt very nervous, visions of Billy's bloody fights and all the scabs he had slugged rising in her brain;

but she had never seen her husband box, and but few seconds were required to put her at ease. The Iron Man

had no chance. Billy was too completely the master, guarding every blow, himself continually and almost at

will tapping the other's face and body. There was no weight in Billy's blows, only a light and snappy tingle;

but their incessant iteration told on the Iron Man's temper. In vain the onlookers warned him to go easy. His

face purpled with anger, and his blows became savage. But Billy went on, tap, tap, tap, calmly, gently,

imperturbably. The Iron Man lost control, and rushed and plunged, delivering great swings and uppercuts of

mankilling quality. Billy ducked, sidestepped, blocked, stalled, and escaped all damage. In the clinches,

which were unavoidable, he locked the Iron Man's arms, and in the clinches the Iron Man invariably laughed

and apologized, only to lose his head with the first tap the instant they separated and be more infuriated than

And when it was over and Billy's identity had been divulged, the Iron Man accepted the joke on himself with

the best of humor. It had been a splendid exhibition on Billy's part. His mastery of the sport, coupled with his

selfcontrol, had most favorably impressed the crowd, and Saxon, very proud of her man boy, could not but

Nor did she prove in any way a social failure. When the tired and sweating players lay down in the dry sand

to cool off, she was persuaded into accompanying their nonsense songs with the ukulele. Nor was it long,

catching their spirit, ere she was singing to them and teaching them quaint songs of early days which she had

herself learned as a little girl from CadyCady, the saloonkeeper, pioneer, and axcavalryman, who had

"Oh! times on Bitter Creek, they never can be beat, Root hog or die is on every wagon sheet; The sand within

your throat, the dust within your eye, Bend your back and stand itroot hog or die."

After the dozen verses of "Root Hog or Die," Mark Hall claimed to be especially infatuated with:

"Obadier, he dreampt a dream, Dreampt he was drivin' a tenmule team, But when he woke he heaved a sigh,

It was Mark Hall who brought up the matter of Billy's challenge to race out the south wall of the cove, though

he referred to the test as lying somewhere in the future. Billy surprised him by saying he was ready at any

time. Forthwith the crowd clamored for the race. Hall offered to bet on himself, but there were no takers. He

offered two to one to Jim Hazard, who shook his head and said he would accept three to one as a sporting

"I'll take you for five dollars," he said to Hall, "but not at those odds. I'll back myself even."

"It isn't your money I want; it's Hazard's," Hall demurred. "Though I'll give either of you three to one."

The path along the knifeedge was so narorw that it was impossible for runners to pass each other, so it was

arranged to time the men, Hall to go first and Billy to follow after an interval of half a minute.

Hall toed the mark and at the word was off with the form of a sprinter. Saxon's heart sank. She knew Billy

had never crossed the stretch of sand at that speed. Billy darted forward thirty seconds later, and reached the

foot of the rock when Hall was half way up. When both were on top and racing from notch to notch, the Iron

"My money still looks good," Hazard remarked, "though I hope neither of them breaks a neck. I wouldn't take

"But you'll take bigger chances swimming in a storm on Carmel Beach," his wife chided.

Billy and Hall had disappeared and were making the circle around the end. Those on the beach were certain

that the poet had gained in the dizzy spurts of flight along the knifeedge. Even Hazard admitted it.

Hall had reappeared, the great jump accomplished, and was running shoreward. But there was no gap. Billy

was on his heels, and on his heels he stayed, in to shore, down the wall, and to the mark on the beach. Billy

"Only by the watch," he panted. "Hall was over half a minute ahead of me out to the end. I'm not slower than

I thought, but he's faster. He's a wooz of a sprinter. He could beat me ten times outa ten, except for accident.

He was hung up at the jump by a big sea. That's where I caught 'm. I jumped right after 'm on the same sea,

"That's all right," said Hall. "You did better than beat me. That's the first time in the history of Bierce's Cove

that two men made that jump on the same sea. And all the risk was yours, coming last."

And at that point Saxon settled the dispute of modesty and raised a general laugh by rippling chords on the

In the afternoon Jim Hazard and Hall dived into the breakers and swam to the outlying rocks, routing the

protesting sealions and taking possession of their surfbattered stronghold. Billy followed the swimmers

with his eyes, yearning after them so undisguisedly that Mrs. Hazard said to him:

"Why don't you stop in Carmel this winter? Jim will teach you all he knows about the surf. And he's wild to

Not until sunset did the merry crowd carry their pots and pans and trove of mussels up to the road and depart.

Saxon and Billy watched them disappear, on horses and behind horses, over the top of the first hill, and then

descended hand in hand through the thicket to the camp. Billy threw himself on the sand and stretched out.

"I don't know when I've been so tired," he yawned. "An' there's one thing sure: I never had such a day. It's

"And, oh, I was so proud of you, Billy," she said. "I never saw you box before. I didn't know it was like that.

The Iron Man was at your mercy all the time, and you kept it from being violent or terrible. Everybody could

"Huh, I want to say you was goin' some yourself. They just took to you. Why, honest to God, Saxon, in the

singin' you was the whole show, along with the ukulele. All the women liked you, too, an' that's what counts."

"Mr. Hall said he'd looked up the 'Story of the Files,'" Saxon recounted. "And he said mother was a true poet.

He said it was astonishing the fine stock that had crossed the Plains. He told me a lot about those times and

the people I didn't know. And he's read all about the fight at Little Meadow. He says he's got it in a book at

"He wants us to come back all right. D'ye know what he said to me, Saxon t He gave me a letter to some guy

that's down on the government landsome poet that's holdin' down a quarter of a sectionso we'll be able

to stop there, which'll come in handy if the big rains catch us. An'Oh! that's what I was drivin' at. He said

he had a little shack he lived in while the house was buildin'. The Iron Man's livin' in it now, but he's goin'

away to some Catholic college to study to be a priest, an' Hall said the shack'd be ours as long as we wanted

to use it. An' he said I could do what the Iron Man was doin' to make a livin'. Hall was kind of bashful when

he was offerin' me work. Said it'd be only odd jobs, but that we'd make out. I could help'm plant potatoes, he

said; an' he got half savage when he said I couldn't chop wood. That was his job, he said; an' you could see he

"And Mrs. Hall said just about the same to me, Billy. Carmel wouldn't be so bad to pass the rainy season in.

"Seems as if we could settle down wherever we've a mind to," Billy assented. "Carmel's the third place now

that's offered. Well, after this, no man need be afraid of makin' a go in the country."

"I guess you're right." Billy thought for a moment. "Just the same a dub, too, has a better chance in the

"Who'd have ever thought that such fine people existed?" Saxon pondered. "It's just wonderful, when you

"It's only what you'd expect from a rich poet that'd trip up a footracer at an Irish picnic," Billy exposited.

"The only crowd such a guy'd run with would be like himself, or he'd make a crowd that was. I wouldn't

wonder that he'd make this crowd. Say, he's got some sister, if anybody'd ride up on a sealion an' ask you.

She's got that Indian wrestlin' down pat, an' she's built for it. An' say, ain't his wife a beaut?"

A little longer they lay in the warm sand. It was Billy who broke the silence, and what he said seemed to

Saxon and Billy were gone weeks on the trip south, but in the end they came back to Carmel. They had

stopped with Hafler, the poets in the Marble House, which he had built with his own hands. This queer

dwelling was all in one room, built almost entirely of white marble. Hailer cooked, as over a campfire, in the

huge marble fireplace, which he used in all ways as a kitchen. There were divers shelves of books, and the

massive furniture he had made from redwood, as he had made the shakes for the roof. A blanket, stretched

across a corner, gave Saxon privacy. The poet was on the verge of departing for San Francisco and New

York, but remained a day over with them to explain the country and run over the government land with Billy.

Saxon had wanted to go along that morning, but Hafler scornfully rejected her, telling her that her legs were

too short. That night, when the men returned, Billy was played out to exhaustion. He frankly acknowledged

that Hafler had walked him into the ground, and that his tongue had been hanging out from the first hour.

"But such miles!" Billy enlarged. "Half the time up or down, an' 'most all the time without trails. An' such a

pace. He was dead right about your short legs, Saxon. You wouldn't alasted the first mile. An' such country!

Hafler left the next day to catch the train at Monterey. He gave them the freedom of the Marble House, and

told them to stay the whole winter if they wanted. Billy elected to loaf around and rest up that day. He was

stiff and sore. Moreover, he was stunned by the exhibition of walking prowess on the part of the poet.

"Everybody can do something topnotch down in this country," he marveled. "Now take that Hafler. He's a

bigger man than me, an' a heavier. An' weight's against walkin', too. But not with him. He's done eighty miles

inside twentyfour hours, he told me, an' once a hundred an' seventy in three days. Why, he made a show

"Remember, Billy," Saxon soothed him, "every man to his own game. And down here you're a topnotcher at

"I guess that's right," he conceded. "But just the same it goes against the grain to be walked off my legs by a

They spent days in going over the government land, and in the end reluctantly decided against taking it up.

The redwood canyons and great cliffs of the Santa Lucia Mountains fascinated Saxon; but she remembered

what Hafler had told her of the summer fogs which hid the sun sometimes for a week or two at a time, and

which lingered for months. Then, too, there was no access to market. It was many miles to where the nearest

wagon road began, at Post's, and from there on, past Point Sur to Carmel, it was a weary and perilous way.

Billy, with his teamster judgment, admitted that for heavy hauling it was anything but a picnic. There was the

quarry of perfect marble on Hafler's quarter section. He had said that it would be worth a fortune if near a

Billy visioned the grassy slopes pastured with his horses and cattle, and found it hard to turn his back; but he

listened with a willing ear to Saxon's argument in favor of a farmhome like the one they had seen in the

moving pictures in Oakland. Yes, he agreed, what they wanted was an allaround farm, and an allaround

"But it must have redwoods on it," Saxon hastened to stipulate. "I've fallen in love with them. And we can get

along without fog. And there must be good wagonroads, and a railroad not more than a thousand miles

Heavy winter rains held them prisoners for two weeks in the Marble House. Saxon browsed among Hafler's

books, though most of them were depressingly beyond her, while Billy hunted with Hafler's guns. But he was

a poor shot and a worse hunter. His only success was with rabbits, which he managed to kill on occasions

when they stood still. With the rifle he got nothing, although he fired at half a dozen different deer, and, once,

at a huge catcreature with a long tail which he was certain was a mountain lion. Despite the way he

grumbled at himself, Saxon could see the keen joy he was taking. This belated arousal of the hunting instinct

seemed to make almost another man of him. He was out early and late, compassing prodigious climbs and

trampsonce reaching as far as the gold mines Tom had spoken of, and being away two days.

"Talk about pluggin' away at a job in the city, an' goin' to movie' pictures and Sunday picnics for

amusement!" he would burst out. "I can't see what was eatin' me that I ever put up with such truck. Here's

He was filled with this new mode of life, and was continually recalling old hunting tales of his father and

"Say, I don't get stiffened any more after an allday tramp," he exulted. "I'm broke in. An' some day, if I meet

"Foolish boy, always wanting to play everybody's game and beat them at it," Saxon laughed delightedly.

"Aw, I guess you're right," he growled. "Hafler can always outwalk me. He's made that way. But some day,

just the same, if I ever see 'm again, I'll invite 'm to put on the gloves.... though I won't be mean enough to

After they left Post's on the way back to Carmel, the condition of the road proved the wisdom of their

rejection of the government land. They passed a rancher's wagon overturned, a second wagon with a broken

axle, and the stage a hundred yards down the mountainside, where it had fallen, passengers, horses, road, and

"I guess they just about quit tryin' to use this road in the winter," Billy said. "It's horsekillin' an' mankillin',

Settling down at Carmel was an easy matter. The Iron Man had already departed to his Catholic college, and

the "shack" turned out to be a threeroomed house comfortably furnished for housekeeping. Hall put Billy to

work on the potato patcha matter of three acres which the poet farmed erratically to the huge delight of his

crowd. He planted at all seasons, and it was accepted by the community that what did not rot in the ground

was evenly divided between the gophers and trespassing cows. A plow was borrowed, a team of horses hired,

and Billy took hold. Also he built a fence around the patch, and after that was set to staining the shingled roof

of the bungalow. Hall climbed to the ridgepole to repeat his warning that Billy must keep away from his

woodpile. One morning Hall came over and watched Billy chopping wood for Saxon. The poet looked on

"It's plain you don't know how to use an axe," he sneered. "Here, let me show you."

He worked away for an hour, all the while delivering an exposition on the art of chopping wood.

"Here," Billy expostulated at last, taking hold of the axe. "I'll have to chop a cord of yours now in order to

"Don't let me catch you around my woodpile, that's all, " he threatened. "My woodpile is my castle, and

From a financial standpoint, Saxon and Billy were putting aside much money. They paid no rent, their simple

living was cheap, and Billy had all the work he cared to accept. The various members of the crowd seemed in

a conspiracy to keep him busy. It was all odd jobs, but he preferred it so, for it enabled him to suit his time to

Jim Hazard's. Each day they boxed and took a long swim through the surf. When Hazard finished his

morning's writing, he would whoop through the pines to Billy, who dropped whatever work he was doing.

After the swim, they would take a fresh shower at Hazard's house, rub each other down in training camp

style, and be ready for the noon meal. In the afternoon Hazard returned to his desk, and Billy to his outdoor

work, although, still later, they often met for a few miles' run over the hills. Training was a matter of habit to

both men. Hazard, when he had finished with seven years of football, knowing the dire death that awaits the

bigmuscled athlete who ceases training abruptly, had been compelled to keep it up. Not only was it a

necessity, but he had grown to like it. Billy also liked it, for he took great delight in the silk of his body.

Often, in the early morning, gun in hand, he was off with Mark Hall, who taught him to shoot and hunt. Hall

had dragged a shotgun around from the days when he wore knee pants, and his keen observing eyes and

knowledge of the habits of wild life were a revelation to Billy. This part of the country was too settled for

large game, but Billy kept Saxon supplied with squirrels and quail, cottontails and jackrabbits, snipe and wild

ducks. And they learned to eat roasted mallard and canvasback in the California style of sixteen minutes in a

hot oven. As he became expert with shotgun and rifle, he began to regret the deer and the mountain lion he

had missed down below the Sur; and to the requirements of the farm he and Saxon sought he added plenty of

But it was not all play in Carmel. That portion of the community which Saxon and Billy came to know, "the

crowd," was hardworking. Some worked regularly, in the morning or late at night. Others worked

spasmodically, like the wild Irish playwright, who would shut himself up for a week at a time, then emerge,

pale and drawn, to play like a madman against the time of his next retirement. The pale and youthful father of

a family, with the face of Shelley, who wrote vaudeville turns for a living and blank verse tragedies and

sonnet cycles for the despair of managers and publishers, hid himself in a concrete cell with threefoot walls,

so piped, that, by turning a lever, the whole structure spouted water upon the impending intruder. But in the

main, they respected each other's worktime. They drifted into one another's houses as the spirit prompted,

but if they found a man at work they went their way. This obtained to all except Mark Hall, who did not have

to work for a living; and he climbed trees to get away from popularity and compose in peace.

The crowd was unique in its democracy and solidarity. It had little intercourse with the sober and

conventional part of Carmel. This section constituted the aristocracy of art and letters, and was sneered at as

bourgeois. In return, it looked askance at the crowd with its rampant bohemianism. The taboo extended to

Billy and Saxon. Billy took up the attitude of the clan and sought no work from the other camp. Nor was

Hall kept open house. The big living room, with its huge fireplace, divans, shelves and tables of books and

magazines, was the center of things. Here, Billy and Saxon were expected to be, and in truth found

themselves to be, as much at home as anybody. Here, when wordy discussions on all subjects under the sun

were not being waged, Billy played at cutthroat Pedro, horrible fives, bridge, and pinochle. Saxon, a favorite

of the young women, sewed with them, teaching them pretties and being taught in fair measure in return.

"Say, you can't guess how I'm missin' all your nice things. What's the matter with writin' Tom to express 'm

Saxon wrote the letter, and all that day her heart was singing. Her man was still her lover. And there were in

his eyes all the old lights which had been blotted out during the nightmare period of the strike.

"Some pretty nifty skirts around here, but you've got 'em all beat, or I'm no judge," he told her. And again:

"Oh, I love you to death anyway. But if them things ain't shipped down there'll be a funeral."

Hall and his wife owned a pair of saddle horses which were kept at the livery stable, and here Billy naturally

gravitated. The stable operated the stage and carried the mails between Carmel and Monterey. Also, it rented

out carriages and mountain wagons that seated nine persons. With carriages and wagons a driver was

furnished The stable often found itself short a driver, and Billy was quickly called upon. He became an extra

man at the stable. He received three dollars a day at such times, and drove many parties around the Seventeen

Mile Drive, up Carmel Valley, and down the coast to the various points and beaches.

"But they're a pretty uppish sort, most of 'em," he said to Saxon, referring to the persons he drove. "A1ways

MISTER Roberts this, an' MISTER Roberts thatall kinds of ceremony so as to make me not forget they

consider themselves better 'n me. You see, I ain't exactly a servant, an' yet I ain't good enough for them. I'm

the driversomething half way between a hired man and a chauffeur. Huh! When they eat they give me my

lunch off to one side, or afterward. No family party like with Hall an' HIS kind. An' that crowd today, why,

they just naturally didn't have no lunch for me at all. After this, always, you make me up my own lunch. I

won't be be holdin' to 'em for nothin', the damned geezers. An' you'd adied to seen one of 'em try to give me

a tip. I didn't say nothin'. I just looked at 'm like I didn't see 'm, an' turned away casuallike after a moment,

Nevertheless, Billy enjoyed the driving, never more so than when he held the reins, not of four plodding

workhorses, but of four fast driving animals, his foot on the powerful brake, and swung around curves and

along dizzy cliffrims to a frightened chorus of women passengers. And when it came to horse judgment and

treatment of sick and injured horses even the owner of the stable yielded place to Billy.

"I could get a regular job there any time," he boasted quietly to Saxon. "Why, the country's just sproutin' with

jobs for any soso sort of a fellow. I bet anything, right now, if I said to the boss that I'd take sixty dollars an'

work regular, he'd jump for me. He's hinted as much.And, say! Are you onta the fact that yours truly has

learnt a new trade, Well he has. He could take a job stagedrivin' anywheres. They drive six on some of the

stages up in Lake County. If we ever get there, I'll get thick with some driver, just to get the reins of six in my

Billy took little interest in the many discussions waged in Hall's big living room. "Windchewin'," was his

term for it. To him it was so much good time wasted that might be employed at a game of Pedro, or going

swimming, or wrestling in the sand. Saxon, on the contrary, delighted in the logomachy, though little enough

she understood of it, following mainly by feeling, and once in a while catching a high light.

But what she could never comprehend was the pessimism that so often cropped up. The wild Irish playwright

had terrible spells of depression. Shelley, who wrote vaudeville turns in the concrete cell, was a chronic

pessimist. St. John, a young magazine writer, was an anarchic disciple of Nietzsche. Masson, a painter, held

to a doctrine of eternal recurrence that was petrifying. And Hall, usually so merry, could outfoot them all

when he once got started on the cosmic pathos of religion and the gibbering anthropomorphisms of those who

loved not to die. At such times Saxon was oppressed by these sad children of art. It was inconceivable that

One night Hall turned suddenly upon Billy, who had been following dimly and who only comprehended that

"Here, you pagan, you, you stolid and fleshfettered ox, you monstrosity of overweening and perennial

"Oh, I've had my troubles," Billy answered, speaking in his wonted slow way. "I've had my hard times, an'

fought a losin' strike, an' soaked my watch, an' ben unable to pay my rent or buy grub, an' slugged scabs, an'

ben slugged, and ben thrown into jail for makin' a fool of myself. If I get you, I'd be a whole lot better to be a

swell hog fattenin' for market an' nothin' worryin', than to be a guy sick to his stomach from not savvyin' how

"That's good, that prize hog," the poet laughed. "Least irritation, least efforta compromise of Nirvana and

life. Least irritation, least effort, the ideal existence: a jellyfish floating in a tideless, tepid, twilight sea."

Billy was silent a moment. To him life seemed a large and generous thing. He felt as if his arms ached from

inability to compass it all, and he began, haltingly at first, to put his feeling into speech.

"If you'd ever stood up in the ring an' outgamed an' outfought a man as good as yourself for twenty rounds,

you'd get what I'm drivin' at. Jim Hazard an' I get it when we swim out through the surf an' laugh in the teeth

of the biggest breakers that ever pounded the beach, an' when we come out from the shower, rubbed down

and dressed, our skin an' muscles like silk, our bodies an' brains all atinglin' like silk...."

He paused and gave up from sheer inability to express ideas that were nebulous at best and that in reality

"Silk of the body, can you beat it?" he concluded lamely, feeling that he had failed to make his point,

"We know all that," Hall retorted. "The lies of the flesh. Afterward come rheumatism and diabetes. The wine

"They's plenty more of the good things," Billy took up with a sudden rush of words. "Good things all the way

up from juicy porterhouse and the kind of coffee Mrs. Hall makes to..." He hesitated at what he was about to

say, then took it at a plunge. "To a woman you can love an' that loves you. Just take a look at Saxon there

with the ukulele in her lap. There's where I got the jellyfish in the dishwater an' the prize hog skinned to

A shout of applause and great handclapping went up from the girls, and Billy looked painfully

"But suppose the silk goes out of your body till you creak like a rusty wheelbarrow?" Hall pursued. "Suppose,

"Then it'd be me for the dishwater an' the jellyfish, I guess." He straightened up in his chair and threw back

his shoulders unconsciously as he ran a hand over his biceps and swelled it. Then he took another look at

Saxon. "But thank the Lord I still got a wallop in both my arms an' a wife to fill 'em with love."

"That no woman could be happier," she stammered, "and no queen as proud. And that"

"Oh, I don't know," Billy disclaimed modestly. "You've read so much I guess you know more about

"Just the same I'd sooner be myself than have book indigestion. An' as for Saxon, why, one kiss of her lips is

"There be hills and valleys, and rich land, and streams of clear water, good wagon roads and a railroad not

too far away, plenty of sunshine, and cold enough at night to need blankets, and not only pines but plenty of

other kinds of trees, with open spaces to pasture Billy's horses and cattle, and deer and rabbits for him to

shoot, and lots and lots of redwood trees, and . . . and . . . well, and no fog," Saxon concluded the description

"And nightingales roosting in all the trees," he cried; "flowers that neither fail nor fade, bees without stings,

honey dew every morning, showers of manna betweenwhiles, fountains of youth and quarries of

She waited while he pored over roadmaps of the state. Failing in them, he got out a big atlas, and, though.

That evening he led her out on the veranda to the telescope, and she found herself looking through it at the

"I've been showing her a valley in the moon where she expects to go farming," he laughed.

"We started out prepared to go any distance," Saxon said. "And if it's to the moon, I expect we can make it."

"But my dear child, you can't expect to find such a paradise on the earth," Hall continued. "For instance, you

can't have redwoods without fog. They go together. The redwoods grow only in the fog belt."

"Well, we could put up with a little fog," she conceded, " almost anything to have redwoods. I don't know

what a quarry of philosopher's stones is like, but if it's anything like Mr. Hafier's marble quarry, and there's a

railroad handy, I guess we could manage to worry along. And you don't have to go to the moon for honey

dew. They scrape it off of the leaves of the bushes up in Nevada County. I know that for a fact, because my

A little later in the evening, the subject of farming having remained uppermost, Hall swept off into a diatribe

"When you think of the glorious chance," he said. "A new country, bounded by the oceans, situated just right

in latitude, with the richest land and vastest natural resources of any country in the world, settled by

immigrants who had thrown off all the leading strings of the Old World and were in the humor for

democracy. There was only one thing to stop them from perfecting the democracy they started, and that thing

"They started gobbling everything in sight like a lot of swine, and while they gobbled democracy went to

smash. Gobbling became gambling. It was a nation of tin horns. Whenever a man lost his stake, all he had to

do was to chase the frontier west a few miles and get another stake. They moved over the face of the land like

so many locusts. They destroyed everythingthe Indians, the soil, the forests, just as they destroyed the

buffalo and the passenger pigeon. Their morality in business and politics was gambler morality. Their laws

were gambling lawshow to play the game. Everybody played. Therefore, hurrah for the game. Nobody

objected, because nobody was unable to play. As I said, the losers chased the frontier for fresh stakes. The

winner of today, broke tomorrow, on the day following might be riding his luck to royal flushes on

"So they gobbled and gambled from the Atlantic to the Pacific, until they'd swined a whole continent. When

they'd finished with the lands and forests and mines, they turned back, gambling for any little stakes they'd

overlooked, gambling for franchises and monopolies, using politics to protect their crooked deals and brace

"And then was the funniest time of all. The losers couldn't get any more stakes, while the winners went on

gambling among themselves. The losers could only stand around with their hands in their pockets and look

on. When they got hungry, they went, hat in hand, and begged the successful gamblers for a job. The losers

went to work for the winners, and they've been working for them ever since, and democracy sidetracked up

Salt Creek. You, Billy Roberts, have never had a hand in the game in your life. That's because your people

"A flea, a woodtick, anything that gets something for nothing. I batten on the mangy hides of the

workingmen. I don't have to gamble. I don't have to work. My father left me enough of his winnings.Oh,

don't preen yourself, my boy. Your folks were just as bad as mine. But yours lost, and mine won, and so you

"I don't see it," Billy contended stoutly. "A man with gumption can win out today"

"Surelyhe can win a job from some other fellow? A young husky with a good head like yours can win jobs

anywhere. But think of the handicaps on the fellows who lose. How many tramps have you met along the

road who could get a job driving four horses for the Carmel Livery Stabler And some of them were as husky

as you when they were young. And on top of it all you've got no shout coming. It's a mighty big comedown

"Oh, you've got it in your blood," Hall cut him off cavalierly. "And why not? Everybody in this country has

been gambling for generations. It was in the air when you were born. You've breathed it all your life. You,

who 've never had a white chip in the game, still go on shouting for it and capping for it."

"Do what your forefathers didn't do," he amplified. "Go ahead and perfect democracy."

She remembered a remark of Mercedes. "A friend of mine says that democracy is an enchantment."

"It isin a gambling joint. There are a million boys in our public schools right now swallowing the gump of

canal boy to President, and millions of worthy citizens who sleep sound every night in the belief that they

"You talk like my brother Tom," Saxon said, failing to comprehend. "If we all get into politics and work hard

for something better maybe we'll get it after a thousand years or so. But I want it now." She clenched her

"But that is just what I've been telling you, my dear girl. That's what's the trouble with all the losers. They

can't wait. They want it nowa stack of chips and a fling at the game. Well, they won't get it now. That's

what's the matter with you, chasing a valley in the moon. That's what's the matter with Billy, aching right

now for a chance to win ten cents from me at Pedro cussing windchewing under his breath."

"And I'd be a soapboxer if I didn't have the spending of my father's illgotten gains. It's none of my affair.

Islet them rot. They'd be just as bad if they were on top. It's all a messblind bats, hungry swine, and filthy

"No I won't," he denied. "I'm going to get ten cents from Billy at a game of Pedro. He won't have a look in."

Saxon and Billy flourished in the genial human atmosphere of Carmel. They appreciated in their own

estimation. Saxon felt that she was something more than a laundry girl and the wife of a union teamster. She

was no longer pent in the narrow working class environment of a Pine street neighborhood. Life had grown

opulent. They fared better physically, materially, and spiritually; and all this was reflected in their features, in

the carriage of their bodies. She knew Billy had never been handsomer nor in more splendid bodily condition.

He swore he had a harem, and that she was his second wife twice as beautiful as the first one he had

married. And she demurely confessed to him that Mrs. Hall and several others of the matrons had

enthusiastically admired her form one day when in for a cold dip in Carmel river. They had got around her,

Billy understood the Venus reference; for a marble one, with broken arms, stood in Hall's living room, and

"I always said you had Annette Kellerman beat a mile," Billy said; and so proud was his air of possession that

The men in the crowd were open in their admiration of Saxon, in an aboveboard manner. But she made no

mistake. She did not lose her head. There was no chance of that, for her love for Billy beat more strongly than

ever. Nor was she guilty of overappraisal. She knew him for what he was, and loved him with open eyes. He

had no book learning, no art, like the other men. His grammar was bad; she knew that, just as she knew that

he would never mend it. Yet she would not have exchanged him for any of the others, not even for Mark Hall

with the princely heart whom she loved much in the same way that she loved his wife.

For that matter, she found in Billy a certain health and rightness, a certain essential integrity, which she

prized more highly than all book learning and bank accounts. It was by virtue of this health, and rightness,

and integrity, that he had beaten Hall in argument the night the poet was on the pessimistic rampage. Billy

had beaten him, not with the weapons of learning, but just by being himself and by speaking out the truth that

was in him. Best of all, he had not even known that he had beaten, and had taken the applause as

goodnatured banter. But Saxon knew, though she could scarcely tell why; and she would always remember

how the wife of Shelley had whispered to her afterward with shining eyes: "Oh, Saxon, you must be so

Were Saxon driven to speech to attempt to express what Billy meant to her, she would have done it with the

simple word "man." Always he was that to her. Always in glowing splendor, that was his

connotationMAN. Sometimes, by herself, she would all but weep with joy at recollection of his way of

informing some truculent male that he was standing on his foot. "Get off your foot. You're standin' on it." It

was Billy! It was magnificently Billy. And it was this Billy who loved her. She knew it. She knew it by the

pulse that only a woman knows how to gauge. He loved her less wildly, it was true; but more fondly, more

maturely. It was the love that lastedif only they did not go back to the city where the beautiful things of the

In the early spring, Mark Hall and his wife went to New York, the two Japanese servants of the bungalow

were dismissed, and Saxon and Billy were installed as caretakers. Jim Hazard, too, departed on his yearly

visit to Paris; and though Billy missed him, he continued his long swims out through the breakers. Hall's two

saddle horses had been left in his charge, and Saxon made herself a pretty crosssaddle riding costume of

tawnybrown corduroy that matched the glints in her hair. Billy no longer worked at odd jobs. As extra

driver at the stable he earned more than they spent, and, in preference to cash, he taught Saxon to ride, and

was out and away with her over the country on allday trips. A favorite ride was around by the coast to

Monterey, where he taught her to swim in the big Del Monte tank. They would come home in the evening

across the hills. Also, she took to following him on his early morning hunts, and life seemed one long

"I'll tell you one thing," he said to Saxon, one day, as they drew their horses to a halt and gazed down into

Carmel Valley. "I ain't never going to work steady for another man for wages as long as I live."

"I should guess not. Why, look here, Saxon, what'd it mean if I worked teamin' in Oakland for a million

dollars a day for a million years and just had to go on stayin' there an' livin' the way we used to? It'd mean

work all day, three squares, an' movie' pictures for recreation. Movin' pictures! Huh! We're livin' movie'

pictures these days. I'd sooner have one year like what we're havin' here in Carmel and then die, than a

Saxon had warned the Halls by letter that she and Billy intended starting on their search for the valley in the

moon as soon as the first of summer arrived. Fortunately, the poet was put to no inconvenience, for Bideaux,

the Iron Man with the basilisk eyes, had abandoned his dreams of priesthood and decided to become an actor.

He arrived at Carmel from the Catholic college in time to take charge of the bungalow.

Much to Saxon's gratification, the crowd was loth to see them depart. The owner of the Carmel stable offered

to put Billy in charge at ninety dollars a month. Also, he received a similar offer from the stable in Pacific

"Whither away," the wild Irish playwright hailed them on the station platform at Monterey. He was just

"By George!" he cried. "I'll do it! By George! Let me come along." Then his face fell. "And I've signed the

contract," he groaned. "Three acts! Say, you're lucky. And this time of year, too."

"We hiked into Monterey last winter, but we're ridin' out now, b 'gosh!" Billy said as the train pulled out and

They had decided against retracing their steps over the ground already traveled, and took the train to San

Francisco. They had been warned by Mark Hall of the enervation of the south, and were bound north for their

blanket climate. Their intention was to cross the Bay to Sausalito and wander up through the coast counties

Here, Hall had told them, they would find the true home of the redwood. But Billy, in the smoking car for a

cigarette, seated himself beside a man who was destined to deflect them from their course. He was a

keenfaced, darkeyed man, undoubtedly a Jew; and Billy, remembering Saxon's admonition always to ask

questions, watched his opportunity and started a conversation. It took but a little while to learn that Gunston

was a commission merchant, and to realize that the content of his talk was too valuable for Saxon to lose.

Promptly, when he saw that the other's cigar was finished, Billy invited him into the next car to meet Saxon.

Billy would have been incapable of such an act prior to his sojourn in Carmel. That much at least he had

"He's just teen tellin' me about the potato kings, and I wanted him to tell you," Billy explained to Saxon after

the introduction. "Go on and tell her, Mr. Gunston, about that fan tan sucker that made nineteen thousan' last

"I was just telling your husband about the way the Chinese make things go up the San Joaquin river. It would

be worth your while to go up there and look around. It's the good season nowtoo early for mosquitoes. You

can get off the train at Black Diamond or Antioch and travel around among the big farming islands on the

steamers and launches. The fares are cheap, and you'll find some of those big gasoline boats, like the Duchess

"Chow Lam, several years ago, was a brokendown fan tan player. He hadn't a cent, and his health was going

back on him. He had worn out his back with twenty years' work in the gold mines, washing over the tailings

of the early miners. And whatever he'd made he'd lost at gambling. Also, he was in debt three hundred dollars

to the Six Companiesyou know, they're Chinese affairs. And, remember, this was only seven years

agohealth breaking down, three hundred in debt, and no trade. Chow Lam blew into Stockton and got a job

on the peat lands at day's wages. It was a Chinese company, down on Middle River, that farmed celery and

asparagus. This was when he got onto himself and took stock of himself. A quarter of a century in the United

States, back not so strong as it used to was, and not a penny laid by for his return to China. He saw how the

"He saved his wages for two years, and bought one share in a thirtyshare company. That was only five years

ago. They leased three hundred acres of peat land from a white man who preferred traveling in Europe. Out

of the profits of that one share in the first year, he bought two shares in another company. And in a year more,

out of the three shares, he organized a company of his own. One year of this, with bad luck, and he just broke

even. That brings it up to three years ago. The following year, bumper crops, he netted four thousand. The

next year it wan five thousand. And last year he cleaned up nineteen thousand dollars. Pretty good, eh, for old

"Look at Sing Keethe Potato King of Stockton. I know him well. I've had more large deals with him and

made less money than with any man I know. He was only a coolie, and he smuggled himself into the United

States twenty years ago. Started at day's wages, then peddled vegetables in a couple of baskets slung on a

stick, and after that opened up a store in Chinatown in San Francisco. But he had a head on him, and he was

soon onto the curves of the Chinese farmers that dealt at his store. The store couldn't make money fast

enough to suit him. He headed up the San Joaquin. Didn't do much for a couple of years except keep his eyes

peeled. Then he jumped in and leased twelve hundred acres at seven dollars an acre "

"My God!" Billy said in an awestruck voice. "Eight thousan', four hundred dollars just for rent the first year.

"That seven dollars was only for the land. Possibly you know what it costs to plow twelve hundred acres?"

"And he got a hundred and sixty sacks to the acre that year," Gunston continued. "Potatoes were selling at

fifty cents. My father was at the head of our concern at the time, so I know for a fact. And Sing Kee could

have sold at fifty cents and made money. But did he? Trust a Chinaman to know the market. They can skin

the commission merchants at it. Sing Kee held on. When 'most everybody else had sold, potatoes began to

climb. He laughed at our buyers when we offered him sixty cents, seventy cents, a dollar. Do you want to

know what he finally did sell for? One dollar and sixtyfive a sack. Suppose they actually cost him forty

cents. A hundred and sixty times twelve hundred . . . let me see . . . twelve times nought is nought and twelve

times sixteen is a hundred and ninetytwo . . . a hundred and ninetytwo thousand sacks at a dollar and a

quarter net...four into a hundred and ninetytwo is fortyeight, plus, is two hundred and fortythere you

"An' him a Chink," Billy mourned disconsolately. He turned to Saxon. "They ought to be some new country

for us white folks to go to. Gosh!we're settin' on the stoop all right, all right."

"But, of course, that was unusual," Glunston hastened to qualify. "There was a failure of potatoes in other

districts, and a corner, and in some strange way Sing Kee was dead on. He never made profits like that again.

But he goes ahead steadily. Last year he had four thousand acres in potatoes, a thousand in asparagus, five

hundred in celery and five hundred in beans. And he's running six hundred acres in seeds. No matter what

"I've seen twelve thousand acres of apple trees," Saxon said. "And I'd like to see four thousand acres in

"And we will," Billy rejoined with great positiveness. "It's us for the San Joaquin. We don't know what's in

"You'll find lots of kings up there," Gunston related. "Yep Hong Leethey call him 'Big Jim,' and Ah Pock,

and Ah Whang, andthen there's Shima, the Japanese potato king. He's worth several millions. Lives like a

"Because they won't, I guess. There's nothing to stop them except themselves. I'll tell you one thing,

though give me the Chinese to deal with. He's honest. His word is as good as his bond. If he says he'll do a

thing, he'll do it. And, anyway, the white man doesn't know how to farm. :EIven the uptodate white farmer

is content with one crop at a time and rotation of crops. Mr. John Chinaman goes him one better, and grows

two crops at one time on the same soil. I've seen itradishes and carrots, two crops, sown at one time."

"Which don't stand to reason," Billy objected. "They'd be only a half crop of each."

"Another guess coming," Gunston jeered. "Carrots have to be thinned when they're so far along. So do

radishes. But carrots grow slow. Radishes grow fast. The slowgoing carrots serve the purpose of thinning

the radishes. And when the radishes are pulled, ready for market, that thins the carrots, which come along

"That sounds all right," Gunston replied. "The only objection is that the white man doesn't. The Chink is busy

all the time, and he keeps the ground just as busy. He has organization, system. Who ever heard of white

farmers keeping books? The Chink does. No guess work with him. He knows just where he stands, to a cent,

on any crop at any moment. And he knows the market. He plays both ends. How he does it is beyond me, but

"Then, again, he's patient but not stubborn. Suppose he does make a mistake, and gets in a crop, and then

finds the market is wrong. In such a situation the white man gets stubborn and hangs on like a bulldog. But

not the Chink. He's going to minimize the losses of that mistake. That land has got to work, and make money.

Without a quiver or a regret, the moment he's learned his error, he puts his plows into that crop, turns it

under, and plants something else. He has the savve. He can look at a sprout, just poked up out of the ground,

and tell how it's going to turn outwhether it will head up or won't head up; or if it's going to head up good,

medium, or bad. That's one end. Take the other end. He controls his crop. He forces it or holds it back. with

an eye on the market. And when the market is just right, there's his crop, ready to deliver, timed to the

The conversation with Gunston lasted hours, and the more he talked of the Chinese and their farming ways

the more Saxon became aware of a growing dissatisfaction. She did not question the facts. The trouble was

that they were not alluring. Somehow, she could not find place for them in her valley of the moon. It was not

until the genial Jew left the train that Billy gave definite statement to what was vaguely bothering her.

"Huh! We ain't Chinks. We're white folks. Does a Chink ever want to ride a horse, hellbent for election an'

havin' a good time of it? Did you ever see a Chink go swimmin' out through the breakers at Carmel?or

boxin', wrestlin', runnin' an' jumpin'for the sport of it? Did you ever see a Chink take a shotgun on his arm,

tramp six miles, an' come back happy with one measly rabbit? What does a Chink do? Work his damned head

off. That's all he's good for. To hell with work, if that's the whole of the gamean' I've done my share of

work, an' I can work alongside of any of 'em. But what's the good? If they's one thing I've learned solid since

you an' me hit the road, Saxon, it is that work's the least part of life. God!if it was all of life I couldn't cut

my throat quick enough to get away from it. I want shotguns an' rifles, an' a horse between my legs. I don't

want to be so tired all the time I can't love my wife. Who wants to be rich an' clear two hundred an' forty

thousand on a potato deal! Look at Rockefeller. Has to live on milk. I want porterhouse and a stomach that

can bite soleleather. An' I want you, an' plenty of time along with you, an' fun for both of us. What's the

"Oh, Billy!" Saxon cried. "It's just what I've been trying to get straightened out in my head. It's been worrying

me for ever so long. I was afraid there was something wrong with me that I wasn't made for the country

after all. All the time I didn't envy the San Leandro Portuguese. I didn't want to be one, nor a Pajaro Valley

Dalmatian, nor even a Mrs. Mortimer. And you didn't either. What we want is a valley of the moon, with not

too much work, and all the fun we want. And we'll just keep on looking until we find it. And if we don't find

it, we'll go on having the fun just as we have ever since we left Oakland. And, Billy . . . we're never, never

They walked into Black Diamond with their packs on their backs. It was a scattered village of shabby little

cottages, with a main street that was a wallow of black mud from the last late spring rain. The sidewalks

bumped up and down in uneven steps and landings. Everything seemed unAmerican. The names on the

strange dingy shops were unspeakably foreign. The one dingy hotel was run by a Greek. Greeks were

everywhereswarthy men in seaboots and tamo'shanters, hatless women in bright colors, hordes of

sturdy children, and all speaking in outlandish voices, crying shrilly and vivaciously with the volubility of the

"Huh!this ain't the United States," Billy muttered. Down on the water front they found a fish cannery and

an asparagus cannery in the height of the busy season, where they looked in vain among the toilers for

familiar American faces. Billy picked out the bookkeepers and foremen for Americans. All the rest were

At the steamboat wharf, they watched the brightpainted Greek boats arriving, discharging their loads of

glorious salmon, and departing. New York CutOff, as the slough was called, curved to the west and north

and flowed into a vast body of water which was the united Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers.

Beyond the steamboat wharf, the fishing wharves dwindled to stages for the drying of nets; and here, away

from the noise and clatter of the alien town, Saxon and Billy took off their packs and rested. The tall, rustling

tules grew out of the deep water close to the dilapidated boatlanding where they sat. Opposite the town lay a

Billy pointed out the mouth of the slough and across the broad reach of water to a cluster of tiny white

buildings, behind which, like a glimmering mirage, rolled the low Montezuma Hills.

"Those houses is Collinsville," he informed her. "The Sacramento river comes in there, and you go up it to

Rio Vista an' Isleton, and Walnut Grove, and all those places Mr. Gunston was tellin' us about. It's all islands

"Isn't the sun good," Saxon yawned. "And how quiet it is here, so short a distance away from those strange

foreigners. And to think! in the cities, right now, men are beating and killing each other for jobs."

Now and again an overland passenger train rushed by in the distance, echoing along the background of

foothills of Mt. Diablo, which bulked, twinpeaked, greencrinkled, against the sky. Then the slumbrous quiet

would fall, to be broken by the far call of a foreign tongue or by a gasoline fishing boat chugging in through

Not a hundred feet away, anchored close in the tules, lay a beautiful white yacht. Despite its tininess, it

looked broad and comfortable. Smoke was rising for'ard from its stovepipe. On its stern, in gold letters, they

read Roamer. On top of the cabin, basking in the sunshine, lay a man and woman, the latter with a pink scarf

around her head. The man was reading aloud from a book, while she sewed. Beside them sprawled a fox

A Japanese came on deck from the cabin, sat down for'ard, and began picking a chicken. The feathers floated

"Oh! Look!" Saxon pointed in her excitement. "He's fishing! And the line is fast to his toe!"

The man had dropped the book facedownward on the cabin and reached for the line, while the woman

looked up from her sewing, and the terrier began to bark. In came the line, hand under hand, and at the end a

big catfish. When this was removed, and the line rebaited and dropped overboard, the man took a turn around

A Japanese came down on the landingstage beside Saxon and Billy, and hailed the yacht. He carried parcels

of meat and vegetables; one coat pocket bulged with letters, the other with morning papers. In response to his

hail, the Japanese on the yacht stood up with the part plucked chicken. The man said something to him, put

aside the book, got into the white skiff lying astern, and rowed to the landing. As he came alongside the

"You are Jack Hastings, I 'm sure of it. I used to see your photograph in the papers all the time you were war

correspondent in the JapaneseRussian War. You've written lots of books, though I've never read them."

Saxon introduced herself and Billy, and, when she noted the writer's observant eye on their packs, she

sketched the pilgrimage they were on. The farm in the valley of the moon evidently caught his fancy, and,

though the Japanese and his parcels were safely in the skiff, Hastings still lingered. When Saxon spoke of

Carmel, he seemed to know everybody in Hall's crowd, and when he heard they were intending to go to Rio

"Why, we're going that way ourselves, inside an hour, as soon as slack water comes," he exclaimed. "It's just

the thing. Come on on board. We'll be there by four this afternoon if there's any wind at all. Come on. My

wife's on board, and Mrs. Hall is one of her best chums. We've been away to South Americajust got back;

It was the second time in her life that Saxon had been in a small boat, and the Roamer was the first yacht she

had ever been on board. The writer's wife, whom he called Clara, welcomed them heartily, and Saxon lost no

time in falling in love with her and in being fallen in love with in return. So strikingly did they resemble each

other, that Hastings was not many minutes in calling attention to it. He made them stand side by side, studied

their eyes and mouths and ears, compared their hands, their hair, their ankles, and swore that his fondest

On Clara's suggestion that it might have been pretty much the same mold, they compared histories. Both were

of the pioneer stock. Clara's mother, like Saxon's, had crossed the Plains with oxteams, and, like Saxon's,

had wintered in Salt Intake Cityin fact, had, with her sisters, opened the first Gentile school in that

Mormon stronghold. And, if Saxon's father had helped raise the Bear Flag rebellion at Sonoma, it was at

Sonoma that Clara's father had mustered in for the War of the Rebellion and ridden as far east with his troop

as Salt Lake City, of which place he had been provost marshal when the Mormon trouble flared up. To

complete it all, Clara fetched from the cabin an ukulele of boa wood that was the twin to Saxon's, and

Hastings decided to eat dinnerhe called the midday meal by its oldfashioned namebefore sailing; and

down below Saxon was surprised and delighted by the measure of comfort in so tiny a cabin. There was just

room for Billy to stand upright. A centerboardcase divided the room in half longitudinally, and to this was

attached the hinged table from which they ate. Low bunks that ran the full cabin length, upholstered in

cheerful green, served as seats. A curtain, easily attached by hooks between the centerboardcase and the

roof, at night screened Mrs. Hastings' sleeping quarters. On the opposite side the two Japanese bunked, while

for'ard, under the deck, was the galley. So small was it that there was just room beside it for the cook, who

was compelled by the low deck to squat on his hands. The other Japanese, who had brought the parcels on

"They are looking for a ranch in the valley of the moon," Hastings concluded his explanation of the

"Hush," he said peremptorily, then turned to their guests. "Listen. There's something in that valley of the

moon idea, but I won't tell you what. It is a secret. Now we've a ranch in Sonoma Valley about eight miles

from the very town of Sonoma where you two girls' fathers took up soldiering; and if you ever come to our

ranch you'll learn the secret. Oh, believe me, it's connected with your valley of the moon.Isn't it, Mate?"

But Hastings shook his head at her to check further speech. She turned to the fox terrier and made it speak for

"Her name's Peggy," she told Saxon. "We had two Irish terriers down in the South Seas, brother and sister,

but they died. We called them Peggy and Possum. So she's named after the original Peggy."

Billy was impressed by the ease with which the Roamer was operated. While they lingered at table, at a word

from Hastings the two Japanese had gone on deck. Billy could hear them throwing down the halyards, casting

off gaskets, and heaving the anchor short on the tiny winch. In several minutes one called down that

everything was ready, and all went on deck. Hoisting mainsail and jigger was a matter of minutes. Then the

cook and cabinboy broke out anchor, and, while one hove it up, the other hoisted the jib. Eastings, at the

wheel, trimmed the sheet. The Roamer paid off, filled her sails, slightly heeling, and slid across the smooth

water and out the mouth of New York Slough. The Japanese coiled the halyards and went below for their

"The flood is just beginning to make," said Hastings, pointing to a striped sparbuoy that was slightly tipping

The tiny white houses of Collinsville, which they were nearing, disappeared behind a low island, though the

Montezuma Hills, with their long, low, restful lines, slumbered on the horizon apparently as far away as ever.

As the Roamer passed the mouth of Montezuma Slough and entered the Sacramento, they came upon

"It's like a lot of toy houses," she said, "cut out of cardboard. And those hilly fields are just painted up

They passed many arks and houseboats of fishermen moored among the tules, and the women and children,

like the men in the boats, were darkskinned, blackeyed, foreign. As they proceeded up the river, they

began to encounter dredges at work, biting out mouthfuls of the sandy river bottom and heaping it on top of

the huge levees. Great mats of willow brush, hundreds of yards in length, were laid on top of the riverslope

of the levees and held in place by steel cables and thousands of cubes of cement. The willows soon sprouted,

Hastings told them, and by the time the mats were rotted away the sand was held in place by the roots of the

"But the land is worth it," Hastings explained. "This island land is the most productive in the world. This

section of California is like Holland. You wouldn't think it, but this water we're sailing on is higher than the

surface of the islands. They're like leaky boatscalking, patching, pumping, night and day and all the time.

Except for the dredgers, the freshpiled sand, the dense willow thickets, and always Mt. Diablo to the south,

nothing was to be seen. Occasionally a river steamboat passed, and blue herons flew into the trees.

Hastings laughed and told her she would change her mind later. Much he related to them of the river lands,

and after a while he got on the subject of tenant farming. Saxon had started him by speaking of the

"Landhogs," he snapped. "That's our record in this country. As one old Reuben told a professor of an

agricultural experiment station: 'They ain't no sense in tryin' to teach me farmin'. I know all about it. Ain't I

worked out three farms?' It was his kind that destroyed New England. Back there great sections are relapsing

to wilderness. In one state, at least, the deer have increased until they are a nuisance. There are abandoned

farms by the tens of thousands. I've gone over the lists of themfarms in New York, New Jersey,

Massachusetts, Connecticut. Offered for sale on easy pay nent. The prices asked wouldn't pay for the

"And the same thing is going on, in one way or another, the same landrobbing and hogging, over the rest of

the countrydown in Texas, in Missouri, and Kansas, out here in California. Take tenant farming. I know a

ranch in my county where the land was worth a hundred and twentyfive an acre. And it gave its return at

that valuation. When the old man died, the son leased it to a Portuguese and went to live in the city. In five

years the Portuguese skimmed the cream and dried up the udder. The second lease, with another Portuguese

for three years, gave onequarter the former return. No third Portuguese appeared to offer to lease it. There

wasn't anything left. That ranch was worth fifty thousand when the old man died. In the end the son got

eleven thousand for it. Why, I've seen land that paid twelve per cent., that, after the skimming of a fiveyears'

"It's the same in our valley," Mrs. Hastings supplemented. "All the old farms are dropping into ruin. Take the

Ebell Place, Mate." Her husband nodded emphatic indorsement. "When we used to know it, it was a perfect

paradise of a farm. There were dams and lakes, beautiful meadows, lush hayfields, red hills of grapelands,

hundreds of acres of good pasture, heavenly groves of pines and oaks, a stone winery, stone barns,

groundsoh, I couldn't describe it in hours. When Mrs. Bell died, the family scattered, and the leasing

began. It's a ruin today. The trees have been cut and sold for firewood. There's only a little bit of the

vineyard that isn't abandoned just enough to make wine for the present Italian lessees, who are running a

povertystricken milk ranch on the leavings of the soil. I rode over it last year, and cried. The beautiful

orchard is a horror. The grounds have gone back to the wild. Just because they didn't keep the gutters cleaned

out, the rain trickled down and dryrotted the timbers, and the big stone barn is caved in. The same with part

of the winerythe other part is used for stabling the cows. And the house!words can't describe!"

"It's become a profession," Hastings went on. "The 'movers.' They lease, clean out and gut a place in several

years, and then move on. They're not like the foreigners, the Chinese, and Japanese, and the rest. In the main

they're a lazy, vagabond, poorwhite sort, who do nothing else but skin the soil and move, skin the soil and

move. Now take the Portuguese and Italians in our country. They are different. They arrive in the country

without a penny and work for others of their countrymen until they've learned the language and their way

about. Now they're not movers. What they are after is land of their own, which they will love and care for and

conserve. But, in the meantime, how to get it? Saving wages is slow. There is a quicker way. They lease. In

three years they can gut enough out of somebody else's land to set themselves up for life. It is sacrilege, a

"Look here, Roberts. You and your wife are looking for your bit of land. You want it bad. Now take my

advice. It's cold, hard advice. Become a tenant farmer. Lease some place, where the old folks have died and

the country isn't good enough for the sons and daughters. Then gut it. Wring the last dollar out of the soil,

repair nothing, and in three years you'll have your own place paid for. Then turn over a new leaf, and love

your soil. Nourish it. Every dollar you feed it will return you two. lend have nothing scrub about the place. If

it's a horse, a cow, a pig, a chicken, or a blackberry vine, see that it's thoroughbred."

"We live in a wicked age," Hastings countered, smiling grimly. "This wholesale landskinning is the national

crime of the United States today. Nor would I give your husband such advice if I weren't absolutely certain

that the land he skins would be skinned by some Portuguese or Italian if he refused. As fast as they arrive and

settle down, they send for their sisters and their cousins and their aunts. If you were thirsty, if a warehouse

were burning and beautiful Rhine wine were running to waste, would you stay your hand from scooping a

drink?Well, the national warehouse is afire in many places, and no end of the good things are running to

"Oh, you don't know him," Mrs. Hastings hurried to explain. "He spends all his time on the ranch in

conserving the soil. There are over a thousand acres of woods alone, and, though he thins and forests like a

surgeon, he won't let a tree be chopped without his permission. He's even planted a hundred thousand trees.

He's always draining and ditching to stop erosion, and experimenting with pasture grasses. And every little

"Wherefore I know what I 'm talking about," Hastings broke in. "And my advice holds. I love the soil, yet

tomorrow, things being as they are and if I were poor, I'd gut five hundred acres in order to buy twentyfive

for myself. When you get into Sonoma Valley, look me up, and I'll put you onto the whole game, and both

ends of it. I'll show you construction as well as destruction. When you find a farm doomed to be gutted

"Yes, and he mortgaged himself to the eyes," laughed Mrs. Hastings, "to keep five hundred acres of woods

Ahead, on the left bank of the Sacramento, just at the fading end of the Montezuma Hills, Rio Vista appeared.

The Roamer slipped through the smooth water, past steamboat wharves, landing stages, and warehouses. The

two Japanese went for'ard on deck. At command of Hastings, the jib ran down, and he shot the Roomer into

the wind, losing way, until he called, "Let go the hook!" The anchor went down, and the yacht swung to it, so

"Farther up the river we tie to the bank," Mrs. Hastings said, "so that when you wake in the morning you find

"Ooh!" Saxon murmured, pointing to a lump on her wrist. "Look at that. A mosquito."

"Pretty early for them," Hastings said. "But later on they're terrible. I've seen them so thick I couldn't back the

Saxon was not nautical enough to appreciate his hyperbole, though Billy grinned.

"No, never," said Mrs. Hastings, whose husband began immediately to regret the smallness of the cabin

An automobile bumped along on top of the levee, and the young boys and girls in it cried, "Oh, you kid!" to

Saxon and Billy, and Hastings, who was rowing them ashore in the skiff. Hastings called, "Oh, you kid!"

back to them; and Saxon, pleasuring in the boyishness of his sunburned face, was reminded of the boyishness

Crossing the Sacramento on an oldfashioned ferry a short distance above Rio Vista, Saxon and Billy entered

the river country. From the top of the levee she got her revelation. Beneath, lower than the river, stretched

broad, flat land, far as the eye could see. Roads ran in every direction, and she saw countless farmhouses of

which she had never dreamed when sailing on the lonely river a few feet the other side of the willowy fringe.

Three weeks they spent among the rich farm islands, which heaped up levees and pumped day and night to

keep afloat. It was a monotonous land, with an unvarying richness of soil and with only one landmarkMt.

Diablo, ever to be seen, sleeping in the midday azure, limping its crinkled mass against the sunset sky, or

forming like a dream out of the silver dawn. Sometimes on foot, often by launch, they criescrossed and

threaded the river region as far as the peat lands of the Middle River, down the San Joaquin to Antioch, and

up Georgiana Slough to Walnut Grove on the Sacramento. And it proved a foreign land. The workers of the

soil teemed by thousands, yet Saxon and Billy knew what it was to go a whole day without finding any one

who spoke English. They encountered sometimes in whole villagesChinese, Japanese, Italians,

Portuguese, Swiss, Hindus, Koreans, Norwegians, Danes, French, Armenians, Slavs, almost every nationality

save American. One American they found on the lower reaches of Georgiana who eked an illicit existence by

fishing with traps. Another American, who spouted blood and destruction on all political subjects, was an

itinerant beefarmer. At Walnut Grove, bustling with life, the few Americane consisted of the storekeeper,

the saloonkeeper, the butcher, the keeper of the drawbridge, and the ferryman. Yet two thriving towns were in

Walnut Grove, one Chinese, one Japanese. Most of the land was owned by Americans, who lived away from

A riot, or a merrymakingthey could not tell which was taking place in the Japanese town, as Saxon

"We're settin' on the stoop," Billy railed. "Pretty soon they'll crowd us off of that."

"An' they ain't one of them damn foreigners that can handle four horses like me.

And Saxon, looking at his moody face, was suddenly reminded of a lithograph she had seen in her childhood

It was of a Plains Indian, in paint and feathers, astride his horse and gazing with wondering eye at a railroad

train rushing along a freshmade track. The Indian had passed, she remembered, before the tide of new life

that brought the railroad. And were Billy and his kind doomed to pass, she pondered, before this new tide of

At Sacramento they stopped two weeks, where Billy drove team and earned the money to put them along on

their travels. Also, life in Oakland and Carmel, close to the salt edge of the coast, had spoiled them for the

interior. Too warm, was their verdict of Sacramento and they followed the railroad west, through a region of

swampland, to Davisville. Here they were lured aside and to the north to pretty Woodland, where Billy

drove team for a fruit farm, and where Saxon wrung from him a reluctant consent for her to work a few days

in the fruit harvest. She made an important and mystifying secret of what she intended doing with her

earnings, and Billy teased her about it until the matter passed from his mind. Nor did she tell him of a money

They began to suffer from the heat. Billy declared they had strayed out of the blanket climate.

"There are no redwoods here," Saxon said. "We must go west toward the coast. It is there we'll find the valley

From Woodland they swung west and south along the county roads to the fruit paradise of Vacaville. Here

Billy picked fruit, then drove team; and here Saxon received a letter and a tiny express package from Bud

Strothers. When Billy came into camp from the day's work, she bade him stand still and shut his eyes. For a

few seconds she fumbled and did something to the breast of his cotton workshirt. Once, he felt a slight

prick, as of a pin point, and grunted, while she laughed and bullied him to continue keeping his eyes shut.

"Close your eyes and give me a kiss," she sang, "and then I'll show you what iss."

She kissed him and when he looked down he saw, pinned to his shirt, the gold medals he had pawned the day

they had gone to the moving picture show and received their inspiration to return to the land.

"You darned kid!" he exclaimed, as he caught her to him. "So that's what you blew your fruit money in on?

And thereupon she suffered the pleasant mastery of his brawn, and was hugged and wrestled with until the

"I kinda always been a mite proud of 'em," he confessed, as he rolled his aftersupper cigarette. "They take

me back to my kid days when I amateured it to beat the band. I was some kid in them days, believe

muh.But say, d'ye know, they'd clean slipped my recollection. Oakland's a thousan' years away from you

"Then this will bring you back to it," Saxon said, opening Bud's letter and reading it aloud.

Bud had taken it for granted that Billy knew the windup of the strike; so he devoted himself to the details as

to which men had got back their jobs, and which had been blacklisted. To his own amazement he had been

taken back, and was now driving Billy's horses. Still more amazing was the further information he had to

impart. The old foreman of the West Oakland stables had died, and since then two other foremen had done

nothing but make messes of everything. The point of all which was that the Boss had spoken that day to Bud,

"Don't make no mistake," Bud wrote. "The Boss is onto all your curves. I bet he knows every scab you

slugged. Just the same he says to meStrothers, if you ain't at liberty to give me his address, just write

yourself and tell him for me to come a running. I'll give him a hundred and twentyfive a month to take hold

Saxon waited with wellconcealed anxiety when the letter was finished. Billy, stretched out, leaning on one

elbow, blew a meditative ring of smoke. His cheap workshirt, incongruously brilliant with the gold of the

medals that flashed in the firelight, was open in front, showing the smooth skin and splendid swell of chest.

He glanced aroundat the blankets bowered in a green screen and waiting, at the campfire and the

blackened, battered coffee pot, at the wellworn hatchet, half buried in a tree trunk, and lastly at Saxon. His

eyes embraced her; then into them came a slow expression of inquiry. But she offered no help.

"Well," he uttered finally, "all you gotta do is write Bud Strothers, an' tell 'm not on the Boss's ugly tintype.

An' while you're about it, I'll send 'm the money to get my watch out. You work out the interest. The

But they did not prosper in the interior heat. They lost weight. The resilience went out of their minds and

bodies. As Billy expressed it, their silk was frazzled. So they shouldered their packs and headed west across

the wild mountains. In the Berryessa Valley, the shimmering heat waves made their eyes ache, and their

heads; so that they traveled on in the early morning and late afternoon. Still west they headed, over more

mountains, to beautiful Napa Valley. The next valley beyond was Sonoma, where Hastings had invited them

to his ranch. And here they would have gone, had not Billy chanced upon a newspaper item which told of the

writer's departure to cover some revolution that was breaking out somewhere in Mexico.

"We'll see 'm later on," Billy said, as they turned northwest, through the vineyards and orchards of Napa

Valley. "We're like that millionaire Bert used to sing about, except it's time that we've got to burn. Any

Three times in the Napa Valley Billy refused work. Past St. Helena, Saxon hailed with joy the unmistakable

redwoods they could see growing up the small canyons that penetrated the western wall of the valley. At

Calistoga, at the end of the railroad, they saw the sixhorse stages leaving for Middletown and Lower Lake.

They debated their route. That way led to Lake County and not toward the coast, so Saxon and Billy swung

west through the mountains to the valley of the Russian River, coming out at Healdsburg. They lingered in

the hopfields on the rich bottoms, where Billy scorned to pick hops alongside of Indians, Japanese, and

"I couldn't work alongside of 'em an hour before I'd be knockin' their blocks off," he explained. "Besides, this

So they idled their way north up the broad, fertile valley, so happy that they forgot that work was ever

necessary, while the valley of the moon was a golden dream, remote, but sure, some day of realization. At

Cloverdale, Billy fell into luck. A combination of sickness and mischance found the stage stables short a

driver. Each day the train disgorged passengers for the Geysers, and Billy, as if accustomed to it all his life,

took the reins of six horses and drove a full load over the mountains in stage time. The second trip he had

Saxon beside him on the high boxseat. By the end of two weeks the regular driver was back. Billy declined a

Saxon had adopted a fox terrier puppy and named him Possum, after the dog Mrs. Hastings had told them

about. So young was he that he quickly became footsore, and she carried him until Billy perched him on top

They passed through the painted vineyards of Asti at the end of the grapepicking, and entered Ukiah

"Say," Billy said, "you remember the way the Roamer just skated along. Well, this summer's done the same

thinggone by on wheels. An' now it's up to us to find some place to winter. This Ukiah looks like a pretty

good burg. We'll get a room tonight an' dry out. An' tomorrow I'll hustle around to the stables, an' if I

locate anything we can rent a shack an' have all winter to think about where we'll go next year."

The winter proved much less exciting than the one spent in Carmel, and keenly as Saxon had appreciated the

Carmel folk, she now appreciated them more keenly than ever. In Ukiah she formed nothing more than

superficial acquaintances. Here people were more like those of the working class she had known in Oakland,

or else they were merely wealthy and herded together in automobiles. There was no democratic artistcolony

Yet it was a more enjoyable winter than any she had spent in Oakland. Billy had failed to get regular

employment; so she saw much of him, and they lived a prosperous and happy handtomouth existence in

the tiny cottage they rented. As extra man at the biggest livery stable, Billy's spare time was so great that he

drifted into horsetrading. It was hazardous, and more than once he was broke, but the table never wanted for

"Them blamed farmersI gotta pass it to 'em," Billy grinned one day, when he had been particularly bested

in a horse deal. "They won't tear under the wings, the sons of guns. In the summer they take in boarders, an'

in the winter they make a good livin' coin' each other up at tradin' horses. An' I just want to tell YOU, Saxon,

they've sure shown me a few. An' I 'm gettin' tough under the wings myself. I'll never tear again so as you can

notice it. Which means one more trade learned for yours truly. I can make a livin' anywhere now tradin'

Often Billy had Saxon out on spare saddle horses from the stable, and his horse deals took them on many

trips into the surrounding country. Likewise she was with him when he was driving horses to sell on

commission; and in both their minds, independently, arose a new idea concerning their pilgrimage. Billy was

"I run into an outfit the other day, that's stored in town," he said, "an' it's kept me thinkin' ever since. Ain't no

use tryin' to get you to guess it, because you can't. I'll tell youthe swellest wagoncampin' outfit; anybody

ever heard of. First of all, the wagon's a peacherino. Strong as they make 'em. It was made to order, upon

Puget Sound, an' it was tested out all the way down here. No load an' no road can strain it. The guy had

consumption that had it built. A doctor an' a cook traveled with 'm till he passed in his checks here in Ukiah

two years ago. But sayif you could see it. Every kind of a contrivancea place for everythinga regular

home on wheels. Now, if we could get that, an' a couple of plugs, we could travel like kings, an' laugh at the

"Oh! Billy! it's just what I've been dreamin' all winter. It would be ideal. And . . . well, sometimes on the road

I 'm sure you can't help forgetting what a nice little wife you've got . . . and with a wagon I could have all

"And you can carry a rifle and shotgun and fishing poles and everything," she rushed along. "And a good big

axe, mansize, instead of that hatchet you're always complaining about. And Possum can lift up his legs and

"One hundred an' fifty big bucks," he answered. "But dirt cheap at that. It's givin' it away. I tell you that rig

wasn't built for a cent less than four hundred, an' I know wagonwork in the dark. Now, if I can put through

that dicker with Caswell's six horsessay, I just got onto that horsebuyer today. If he buys 'em, who d'ye

think he'll ship 'em to? To the Boss, right to the West Oakland stables. I 'm goin' to get you to write to him.

Travelin', as we're goin' to, I can pick up bargains. An' if the Boss'll talk, I can make the regular

horsebuyer's commissions. He'll have to trust me with a lot of money, though, which most likely he won't,

"If he could trust you to run his stable, I guess he isn't afraid to let you handle his money," Saxon said.

"Well, anyway, as I was sayin' if I can sell Caswell's six horses, why, we can stand off this month's bills an'

"They'll come laterif I have to take a regular job for two or three months. The only trouble with that 'd be

that it'd run us pretty well along into summer before we could pull out. But come on down town an' I'll show

Saxon saw the wagon and was so infatuated with it that she lost a night's sleep from sheer insomnia of

anticipation. Then Caswell's six horses were sold, the month's bills held over, and the wagon became theirs.

One rainy morning, two weeks later, Billy had scarcely left the house, to be gone on an allday trip into the

"Come on!" he called to Saxon from the street. "Get your things on an' come along. I want to show you

He drove down town to a board stable, and took her through to a large, roofed inclosure in the rear. There he

led to her a span of sturdy dappled chestnuts, with creamcolored manes and tails.

"Oh, the beauties! the beauties!" Saxon cried, resting her cheek against the velvet muzzle of one, while the

"Ain't they, though?" Billy reveled, leading them up and down before her admiring gaze. "Thirteen hundred

an' fifty each, an' they don't look the weight, they're that slick put together. I couldn't believe it myself, till I

put 'em on the scales. Twentyseven hundred an' seven pounds, the two of 'em. An' I tried 'em outthat was

two days ago. Good dispositions, no faults, an' truepullers, automobile broke an' all the rest. I'd back 'em to

outpull any team of their weight I ever seen.Say, how'd they look hooked up to that wagon of ourn?"

"Three hundred spot cash buys 'em," Billy went on. "An' that's bedrock. The owner wants the money so bad

he's droolin' for it. Just gotta sell, an' sell quick. An' Saxon, honest to God, that pair'd fetch five hundred at

auction down in the city. Both mares, full sisters, five an' six years old, registered Belgian sire, out of a heavy

standardbred mare that I know. Three hundred takes 'em, an' I got the refusal for three days."

"Oh, why did you show them to me? We haven't any three hundred, and you know it. All I've got in the house

"Maybe you think that's all I brought you down town for," he replied enigmatically. "Well, it ain't."

He paused, licked his lips, and shifted his weight uneasily from one leg to the other.

"Well, it's this way," he began haltingly. "They's a youngster come up from Frisco, Young Sandow they call

'm, an' the Pride of Telegraph Hill. He's the real goods of a heavyweight, an' he was to fight Montana Red

Saturday night, only Montana Red, just in a little trainin' bout, snapped his forearm yesterday. The managers

has kept it quiet. Now here's the proposition. Lots of tickets sold, an' they'll be a big crowd Saturday night. At

the last moment, so as not to disappoint 'em, they'll spring me to take Montana's place. I 'm the dark horse.

Nobody knows menot even Young Sandow. He's come up since my time. I'll be a rube fighter. I can fight

"Now, wait a minute. The winner'll pull down three hundred big round iron dollars. Wait, I 'm tellin' you! It's

a leadpipe cinch. It's like robbin' a corpse. Sandow's got all the heart in the worldregular

knock~downan'dragoutan'hangon fighter. I've followed 'm in the papers. But he ain't clever. I 'm

slow, all right, all right, but I 'm clever, an' I got a haymaker in each arm. I got Sandow's number an' I know

"Now, you got the sayso in this. If you say yes, the nags is ourn. If you say no, then it's all bets off, an'

everything all right, an' I'll take to harnesswashin' at the stable so as to buy a couple of plugs. Remember,

they'll only be plugs, though. But don't look at me while you're makin' up your mind. Keep your lamps on the

"Their names is Hazel an' Hattie," Billy put in a sly wedge. "If we get 'em we could call it the 'Double H'

But Saxon forgot the team and could only see Billy's frightfully bruised body the night he fought the Chicago

Terror. She was about to speak, when Billy, who had been hanging on her lips, broke in:

"Just hitch 'em up to our wagon in your mind an' look at the outfit. You got to go some to beat it."

"But you're not in training, Billy," she said suddenly and without having intended to say it.

"Huh!" he snorted. "I've been in half trainin' for the last year. My legs is like iron. They'll hold me up as long

as I've got a punch left in my arms, and I always have that. Besides, I won't let 'm make a long fight. He's a

maneater, an' maneaters is my meat. I eat 'm alive. It's the clever boys with the stamina an' endurance that I

can't put away. But this young Sandow's my meat. I'll get 'm maybe in the third or fourth roundyou know,

time 'm in a rush an' hand it to 'm just as easy. It's a leadpipe cinch, I tell you. Honest to God, Saxon, it's a

"But I hate to think of you all battered up," she temporized. "If I didn't love you so, it might be different. And

"You won't know I've been in a fight, except that we'll own Hazel an' Hattie there. An' besides, Saxon, I just

gotta stick my fist in somebody's face once in a while. You know I can go for months peaceable an' gentle as

a lamb, an' then my knuckles actually begin to itch to land on something. Now, it's a whole lot sensibler to

land on Young Sandow an' get three hundred for it, than to land on some hayseed an' get hauled up an' fined

before some justice of the peace. Now take another squint at Hazel an' Hattie. They're regular farm furniture,

good to breed from when we get to that valley of the moon. An' they're heavy enough to turn right into the

The evening of the fight at quarter past eight, Saxon parted from Billy. At quarter past nine, with hot water,

ice, and everything ready in anticipation, she heard the gate click and Billy's step come up the porch. She had

agreed to the fight much against her better judgment, and had regretted her consent every minute of the hour

she had just waited; so that, as she opened the front door, she was expectant of any sort of a terrible

husbandwreck. But the Billy she saw was precisely the Billy she had parted from.

"Well, I've got YOU," she laughed, leading him in, though secretly she sighed farewell to Hazel and Hattie.

"I stopped by the way to get something for you that you've been wantin' some time," Billy said casually.

"Shut your eyes an' open your hand; an' when you open your eyes you'll find it grand," he chanted.

Into her hand something was laid that was very heavy and very cold, and when her eyes opened she saw it

"I told you it was like takin' money from a corpse," he exulted, as he emerged grinning from the whirlwind of

punches, whacks, and hugs in which she had enveloped him. "They wasn't no fight at all. D 'ye want to know

how long it lasted? Just twentyseven secondsless 'n half a minute. An' how many blows struck? One. An'

it was me that done it. Here, I'll show you. It was just like thisa regular scream."

Billy had taken his place in the middle of the room, slightly crouching, chin tucked against the sheltering left

shoulder, fists closed, elbows in so as to guard left side and abdomen, and forearms close to the body.

"It's the first round," he pictured. "Gong's sounded, an' we've shook hands. Of course, seein' as it's a long fight

an' we've never seen each other in action, we ain't in no rush. We're just feelin' each other out an' fiddlin'

around. Seventeen seconds like that. Not a blow struck. Nothin'. An' then it's all off with the big Swede. It

takes some time to tell it, but it happened in a jiffy, in fess In a tenth of a second. I wasn't expectin' it myself.

We're awful close together. His left glove ain't a foot from my jaw, an' my left glove ain't a foot from hisn. He

feints with his right, an' I know it's a feint, an' just hunch up my left shoulder a bit an' feint with my right.

That draws his guard over just about an inch, an' I see my openin'. My left ain't got a foot to travel. I don't

draw it back none. I start it from where it is, corkscrewin' around his right guard an' pivotin' at the waist to

put the weight of my shoulder into the punch. An' it connects! Square on the point of the chin, sideways.

He drops deado. I walk back to my corner, an', honest to God, Saxon, I can't help gigglin' a little, it was that

easy. The referee stands over 'm an' counts 'm out. He never quivers. The audience don't know what to make

of it an' sits paralyzed. His seconds carry 'm to his corner an' set 'm on the stool. But they gotta hold 'm up.

Five minutes afterward he opens his eyesbut he ain't seein' nothing. They're glassy. Five minutes more, an'

he stands up. They got to help hold 'm, his legs givin' under 'm like they was sausages. An' the seconds has to

help 'm through the ropes, an' they go down the aisle to his dressin' room ahelpin' 'm. An' the crowd

beginning to yell fake an' want its money back. Twentyseven secondsone punch n' a spankin' pair of

All of Saxon's old physical worship of her husband revived and doubled on itself many times. He was in all

truth a hero, worthy to be of that winghelmeted company leaping from the beaked boats upon the bloody

English sands. The next morning he was awakened by her lips pressed on his left hand.

"Kissing Hazel and Hattie good morning," she answered demurely. "And now I 'm going to kiss you good

Billy complied, touching the point of her chin with his knuckles. With both her hands on his arm, she shored

it back and tried to draw it forward sharply in similitude of a punch. But Billy withstrained her.

"Wait," he said. "You don't want to knock your jaw off. I'll show you. A quarter of an inch will do."

And at a distance of a quarter of an inch from her chin he administered the slightest flick of a tap.

On the instant Saxon's brain snapped with a white flash of light, while her whole body relaxed, numb and

weak, volitionless, sad her vision reeled and blurred. The next instant she was herself again, in her eyes terror

"Yes, and with the weight of my shoulders behind it," Billy laughed. "Oh, that's nothing.Here, let me show

He searched out her solar plexus, and did no more than snap his middle finger against it. This time she

experienced a simple paralysis, accompanied by a stoppage of breath, but with a brain and vision that

remained perfectly clear. In a moment, however, all the unwonted sensations were gone.

"Solar Plexus," Billy elucidated. "Imagine what it's like when the other fellow lifts a wallop to it all the way

from his knees. That's the punch that won the championship of the world for Bob Fitzsimmons."

Saxon shuddered, then resigned herself to Billy's playful demonstration of the weak points in the human

anatomy. He pressed the tip of a finger into the middle of her forearm, and she knew excruciating agony. On

either side of her neck, at the base, he dented gently with his thumbs, and she felt herself quickly growing

"That's one of the death touches of the Japs," he told her, and went on, accompanying grips and holds with a

running exposition. "Here's the toehold that Notch defeated Hackenschmidt with. I learned it from Farmer

Burns.An' here's a halfNelson.An' here's you makin' roughhouse at a dance, an' I 'm the floor manager,

One hand grasped her wrist, the other hand passed around and under her forearm and grasped his own wrist.

And at the first hint of pressure she felt that her arm was a pipestem about to break.

"That's called the 'come along.'An' here's the strong arm. A boy can down a man with it. An' if you ever

get into a scrap an' the other fellow gets your nose between his teethyou don't want to lose your nose, do

Involuntarily she closed her eyes as Billy's thumbends pressed into them. She could feel the forerunning

"If he don't let go, you just press real hard, an' out pop his eyes, an' he's blind as a bat for the rest of his life.

"How d'ye feel?" he asked. "Those ain't boxin' tricks, but they're all in the game of a roughhouse."

When she exerted the pressure she cried out with pain, for she had succeeded only in hurting herself. Billy

grinned at her futility. She dug her thumbs into his neck in imitation of the Japanese death touch, then gazed

ruefully at the bent ends of her nails. She punched him smartly on the point of the chin, and again cried out,

"Well, this can't hurt me," she gritted through her teeth, as she assailed his solar plexus with her doubled fists.

By this time he was in a roar of laughter. Under the sheaths of muscles that were as armor, the fatal nerve

"Go on, do it some more," he urged, when she had given up, breathing heavily. "It feels fine, like you was

"All right, Mister Man," she threatened balefully. "You can talk about your grips and death touches and all

the rest, but that's all man's game. I know something that will beat them all, that will make a strong man as

helpless as a baby. Wait a minute till I get it. There. Shut your eyes. Ready? I won't be a second."

He waited with closed eyes, and then, softly as rose petals fluttering down, he felt her lips on his mouth.

In the morning Billy went down town to pay for Hazel and Hattie. It was due to Saxon's impatient desire to

see them, that he seemed to take a remarkably long time about so simple a transaction. But she forgave him

"Had to borrow the harness," he said. "Pass Possum up and climb in, an' I'll show you the Double H Outfit,

Saxon's delight was unbounded and almost speechless as they drove out into the country behind the dappled

chestnuts with the creamcolored tails and manes. The seat was upholstered, highbacked, and comfortable;

and Billy raved about the wonders of the efficient brake. He trotted the team along the hard county road to

show the standardgoing in them, and put them up a steep earthroad, almost hubdeep with mud, to prove

When Saxon at last lapsed into complete silence, he studied her anxiously, with quick sidelong glances. She

"Maybe in two weeks . . . or, maybe in two or three months. " He sighed with solemn deliberation. "We're

like the Irishman with the trunk an' nothin' to put in it. Here's the wagon, here's the horses, an' nothin' to pull.

I know a peach of a shotgun I can get, secondhand, eighteen dollars; but look at the bills we owe. Then

there's a new '22 Automatic rifle I want for you. An' a 3030 I've had my eye on for deer. An' you want a

good jointed pole as well as me. An' tackle costs like Sam Hill. An' harness like I want will cost fifty bucks

cold. An' the wagon ought to be painted. Then there's pasture ropes, an' nosebags, an' a harness punch, an'

all such things. An' Hazel an' Hattie eatin' their heads off all the time we're waitin'. An' I 'm just itchin' to be

"Now, Billy, what have you got up your sleeve?I can see it in your eyes," Saxon demanded and indicted in

"Well, Saxon, you see, it's like this. Sandow ain't satisfied. He's madder 'n a hatter. Never got one punch at

me. Never had a chance to make a showin', an' he wants a return match. He's blattin' around town that he can

lick me with one hand tied behind 'm, an' all that kind of hot air. Which ain't the point. The point is, the

fightfans is wild to see a returnmatch. They didn't get a run for their money last time. They'll fill the house.

The managers has seen me already. That was why I was so long. They's three hundred more waitin' on the

tree for me to pick two weeks from last night if you'll say the word. It's just the same as I told you before.

"But, Billy, you told me long ago that fighting took the silk out of you. That was why you'd quit it and stayed

"Not this kind of fightin'," he answered. "I got this one all doped out. I'll let 'm last till about the seventh. Not

that it'll be necessary, but just to give the audience a run for its money. Of course, I'll get a lump or two, an'

lose some skin. Then I'll time 'm to that glass jaw of his an' drop 'm for the count. An' we'll be all packed up,

Saturday night, two weeks later, Saxon ran to the door when the gate clicked. Billy looked tired. His hair was

wet, his nose swollen, one cheek was puffed, there was skin missing from his ears, and both eyes were

"I 'm darned if that boy didn't fool me," he said, as he placed the roll of gold pieces in her hand and sat down

with her on his knees. "He's some boy when he gets extended. Instead of stoppin' 'm at the seventh, he kept

me hustlin' till the fourteenth. Then I got 'm the way I said. It's too bad he's got a glass jaw. He's quicker'n I

thought, an' he's got a wallop that made me mighty respectful from the second roundan' the prettiest little

chop an' comeagain I ever saw. But that glass jaw! He kept it in cotton wool till the fourteenth an' then I

"An', say. I 'm mighty glad it did last fourteen rounds. I still got all my silk. I could see that easy. I wasn't

breathin' much, an' every round was fast. An' my legs was like iron. I could afought forty rounds. You see, I

never said nothin', but I've been suspicious all the time after that beatin' the Chicago Terror gave me."

"Nonsense!you would have known it long before now," Saxon cried. "Look at all your boxing, and

"Nope." Billy shok his head with the conviction of utter knowledge. "That's different. It don't take it outa you.

You gotta be up against the real thing, fightin' for life, round after round, with a husky you know ain't lost a

thread of his silk yetthen, if you don't blow up, if your legs is steady, an' your heart ain't burstin', an' you

ain't wobbly at all, an' no signs of queer street in your headwhy, then you know you still got all your silk.

An' I got it, I got all mine, d'ye hear me, an' I ain't goin' to risk it on no more fights. That's straight. Easy

money's hardest in the end. From now on it's horsebuyin' on commish, an' you an' me on the road till we find

Next morning, early, they drove out of Ukiah. Possum sat on the seat between them, his rosy mouth agape

with excitement. They had originally planned to cross over to the coast from Ukiah, but it was too early in the

season for the soft earthroads to be in shape after the winter rains; so they turned east, for Lake County,

their route to extend north through the upper Sacramento Valley and across the mountains into Oregon. Then

they would circle west to the coast, where the roads by that time would be in condition, and come down its

All the land was green and flowersprinkled, and each tiny valley, as they entered the hills, was a garden.

"Huh!" Billy remarked scornfully to the general landscape. "They say a rollin' stone gathers no moss. Just the

same this looks like some outfit we've gathered. Never had so much actual property in my life at one

timean' them was the days when I wasn't rollin'. Helleven the furniture wasn't ourn. Only the clothes we

Saxon reached out and touched his hand, and he knew that it was a hand that loved his hand.

"I've only one regret," she said. "You've earned it all yourself. I've had nothing to do with it."

"Huh!you've had everything to do with it. You're like my second in a fight. You keep me happy an' in

condition. A man can't fight without a good second to take care of him. Hell, I wouldn't aben here if it

wasn't for you. You made me pull up stakes an' head out. Why, if it hadn't been for you I'd adrunk myself

dead an' rotten by this time, or had my neck stretched at San Quentin over hittin' some scab too hard or

something or other. An' look at me now. Look at that roll of greenbacks" he tapped his breast"to buy the

Boss some horses. Why, we're takin' an unendin' vacation, an' makin' a good livin' at the same time. An' one

more trade I gothorsebuyin' for Oakland. If I show I've got the savve, an' I have, all the Frisco firms'll be

after me to buy for them. An' it's all your fault. You're my Tonic Kid all right, all right, an' if Possum wasn't

The way grew hard and rocky as they began to climb, but the divide was an easy one, and they soon dropped

down the canyon of the Blue Lakes among lush fields of golden poppies. In the bottom of the canyon lay a

wandering sheet of water of intensest blue. Ahead, the folds of hills interlaced the distance, with a remote

They asked questions of a handsome, blackeyed man with curly gray hair, who talked to them in a German

accent, while a cheeryfaced woman smiled down at them out of a trellised high window of the Swiss cottage

perched on the bank. Billy watered the horses at a pretty hotel farther on, where the proprietor came out and

talked and told him he had built it himself, according to the plans of the blackeyed man with the curly gray

"Goin' up, goin' up," Billy chortled, as they drove on through the winding hills past another lake of intensest

blue. "D'ye notice the difference in our treatment already between ridin' an' walkin' with packs on our backs?

With Hazel an' Hattie an' Saxon an' Possum, an' yours truly, an' this hightoned wagon, folks most likely take

The way widened. Broad, oakstudded pastures with grazing livestock lay on either hand. Then Clear Lake

opened before them like an inland sea, flecked with little squalls and flaws of wind from the high mountains

"I've heard Mrs. Hazard rave about Lake Geneva," Saxon recalled; "but I wonder if it is more beautiful than

"That architect fellow called this the California Alps, you remember," Billy confirmed. "An' if I don't

mistake, that's Lakeport showin' up ahead. An' all wild country, an' no railroads."

"And no moon valleys here," Saxon criticized. "But it is beautiful, oh, so beautiful."

"Hotter'n hell in the dead of summer, I'll bet," was Billy's opinion. "Nope, the country we're lookin' for lies

nearer the coast. Just the same it is beautiful . . . like a picture on the wall. What d'ye say we stop off an' go

Ten days later they drove into Williams, in Colusa County, and for the first time again encountered a railroad.

Billy was looking for it, for the reason that at the rear of the wagon walked two magnificent workhorses

"Too hot," was Saxon's verdict, as she gazed across the shimmering level of the vast Sacramento Valley. "No

"An' like the river islands," Billy interpolated. "Richer in hell, but looks too much like hard work. It'll do for

those that's stuck on hard workGod knows, they's nothin' here to induce a fellow to knock off ever for a bit

of play. No fishin', no huntin', nothin' but work. I'd work myself, if I had to live here."

North they drove, through days of heat and dust, across the California plains, and everywhere was manifest

the "new" farminggreat irrigation ditches, dug and being dug, the land threaded by powerlines from the

mountains, and many new farmhouses on small holdings newly fenced. The bonanza farms were being

broken up. However, many of the great estates remained, five to ten thousand acres in extent, running from

the Sacramento bank to the horizon dancing in the heat waves, and studded with great valley oaks.

They had driven off the road a hundred feet to his tiny barn in order to water Hazel and Hattie. A sturdy

young orchard covered most of his ten acres, though a goodly portion was devoted to whitewashed henhouses

and wired runways wherein hundreds of chickens were to be seen. He had just begun work on a small frame

"I took a vacation when I bought," he explained, "and planted the trees. Then I went back to work an' stayed

with it till the place was cleared. Now I 'm here for keeps, an' soon as the house is finished I'll send for the

wife. She's not very well, and it will do her good. We've been planning and working for years to get away

"Hold on," the man said. "Don't let them drink that. I'll give it to them cool."

Stepping into a small shed, he turned an electric switch, and a motor the size of a fruit box hummed into

action. A fiveinch stream of sparkling water splashed into the shallow main ditch of his irrigation system

"Isn' tit beautiful, eh?beautiful! beautiful!" the man chanted in an ecstasy. "It's bud and fruit. It's blood and

life. Look at it! It makes a gold mine laughable, and a saloon a nightmare. I know. I . . . I used to be a

barkeeper. In fact, I've been a barkeeper most of my life. That's how I paid for this place. And I've hated the

business all the time. I was a farm boy, and all my life I've been wanting to get back to it. And here I am at

He wiped his glasses the better to behold his beloved water, then seized a hoe and strode down the main ditch

"He's the funniest barkeeper I ever seen," Billy commented. "I took him for a business man of some sort.

He came back, polishing his glasses, his face beaming, watching the water as if fascinated by it. It required no

more exertion on Saxon's part to start him than had been required on his part to start the motor.

"The pioneers settled all this in the early fifties," he said. "The Mexicans never got this far, so it was

government land. Everybody got a hundred and sixty acres. And such acres! The stories they tell about how

much wheat they got to the acre are almost unbelievable. Then several things happened. The sharpest and

steadiest of the pioneers held what they had and added to it from the other fellows. It takes a great many

quarter sections to make a bonanza farm. It wasn't long before it was 'most all bonanza farms."

"They were the successful gamblers," Saxon put in, remembering Mark Hall's words.

"The old folks schemed and gathered and added the land into the big holdings, and built the great barns and

mansions, and planted the house orchards and flower gardens. The young folks were spoiled by so much

wealth and went away to the cities to spend it. And old folks and young united in one thing: in impoverishing

the soil. Year after year they scratched it and took out bonanza crops. They put nothing back. All they left

was plowsole and exhausted land. Why, there's big sections they exhausted and left almost desert.

"The bonanza farmers are all gone now, thank the Lord, and here's where we small farmers come into our

own. It won't be many years before the whole valley will be farmed in patches like mine. Look at what we're

doing! Workedout land that had ceased to grow wheat, and we turn the water on, treat the soil decently, and

"We've got the waterfrom the mountains, and from under the ground. I was reading an account the other

day. All life depends on food. All food depends on water. It takes a thousand pounds of water to produce one

pound of food; ten thousand pounds to produce one pound of meat. How much water do you drink in a year?

About a ton. But you eat about two hundred pounds of vegetables and two hundred pounds of meat a

yearwhich means you consume one hundred tons of water in the vegetables and one thousand tons in the

meatwhich means that it takes eleven hundred and one tons of water each year to keep a small woman like

"You see how population depends upon water," the axbarkeeper went on. "Well, we've got the water,

immense subterranean supplies, and in not many years this valley will be populated as thick as Belgium."

Fascinated by the fiveinch stream, sluiced out of the earth and back to the earth by the droning motor, he

forgot his discourse and stood and gazed, rapt and unheeding, while his visitors drove on.

"An' him a drinkslinger!" Billy marveled. "He can sure sling the temperance dope if anybody should ask

"It's lovely to think aboutall that water, and all the happy people that will come here to live"

"No," she responded. "They don't have to irrigate in the valley of the moon, unless for alfalfa and such crops.

What we want is the water bubbling naturally from the ground, and crossing the farm in little brooks, and on

"With trout in it!" Billy took her up. "An' willows and trees of all kinds growing along the edges, and here a

riffle where you can flip out trout, and there a deep pool where you can swim and highdive. An' kingfishers,

"And meadowlarks in the pasture," Saxon added. "And mourning doves in the trees. We must have mourning

"Gee!that valley of the moon's goin' to be some valley," Billy meditated, flicking a fly away with his whip

"Just as the Jews found the promised land, and the Mormons Utah, and the Pioneers California. You

remember the last advice we got when we left Oakland' ''Tis them that looks that finds.'"

Ever north, through a fat and flourishing rejuvenated land, stopping at the towns of Willows, Red Bluff and

Redding, crossing the counties of Colusa, Glenn, Tehama, and Shasta, went the spruce wagon drawn by the

dappled chestnuts with creamcolored manes and tails. Billy picked up only three horses for shipment,

although he visited many farms; and Saxon talked with the women while he looked over the stock with the

men. And Saxon grew the more convinced that the valley she sought lay not there.

At Redding they crossed the Sacramento on a cable ferry, and made a day's scorching traverse through

rol}ing foothills and flat tablelands. The heat grew more insupportable, and the trees and shrubs were

blasted and dead. Then they came again to the Sacramento, where the great smelters of Kennett explained the

They climbed out of the smelting town, where eyrie houses perched insecurely on a precipitous landscape. It

was a broad, wellengineered road that took them up a grade miles long and plunged down into the Canyon

of the Sacramento. The road, rocksurfaced and easygraded, hewn out of the canyon wall, grew so narrow

that Billy worried for fear of meeting oppositebound teams. Far below, the river frothed and flowed over

pebbly shallows, or broke tumultuously over boulders and cascades, in its race for the great valley they had

Sometimes, on the wider stretches of road, Saxon drove and Billy walked to lighten the load. She insisted on

taking her turns at walking, and when he breathed the panting mares on the steep, and Saxon stood by their

heads caressing them and cheering them, Billy's joy was too deep for any turn of speech as he gazed at his

beautiful horses and his glowing girl, trim and colorful in her golden brown corduroy, the brown corduroy

calves swelling sweetly under the abbreviated slim skirt. And when her answering look of happiness came to

hima sudden dimness in her straight gray eyeshe was overmastered by the knowledge that he must say

They camped one night in a deep dent in the canyon, where was snuggled a boxfactory village, and where a

toothless ancient, gazing with faded eyes at their traveling outfit, asked: "Be you showin'?"

They passed Castle Crags, mightybastioned and glowing red against the palpitating blue sky. They caught

their first glimpse of Mt. Shasta, a rosetinted snowpeak rising, a sunset dream, between and beyond green

interlacing walls of canyona landmark destined to be with them for many days. At unexpected turns, after

mounting some steep grade, Shasta would appear again, still distant, now showing two peaks and glacial

fields of shimmering white. Miles and miles and days and days they climbed, with Shasta ever developing

They encountered a plague of butterflies, and for days drove through untold millions of the fluttering beauties

that covered the road with uniform velvetbrown. And ever the road seemed to rise under the noses of the

snorting mares, filling the air with noiseless flight, drifting down the breeze in clouds of brown and yellow

softflaked as snow, and piling in mounds against the fences, ever driven to float helplessly on the irrigation

ditches along the roadside. Hazel and Hattie soon grew used to them though Possum never ceased being

"Huh!who ever heard of butterflybroke horses?" Billy chaffed. "That's worth fifty bucks more on their

"Wait till you get across the Oregon line into the Rogue River Valley," they were told. "There's God's

Paradise climate, scenery, and fruitfarming; fruit ranches that yield two hundred per cent. on a valuation

"Gee!" Billy said, when he had driven on out of hearing; "that's too rich for our digestion."

And Saxon said, "I don't know about apples in the valley of the moon, but I do know that the yield is ten

thousand per cent. of happiness on a valuation of one Billy, one Saxon, a Hazel, a Hattie, and a Possum."

Through Siskiyou County and across high mountains, they came to Ashland and Medford and camped beside

"This is wonderful and glorious," pronounced Saxon; "but it is not the valley of the moon."

"Nope, it ain't the valley of the moon," agreed Billy, and he said it on the evening of the day he hooked a

monster steelhead, standing to his neck in the icecold water of the Rogue and fighting for forty minutes,

with screaming reel, ere he drew his finny prize to the bank and with the scalpyell of a Comanche jumped

"'Them that looks finds,'" predicted Saxon, as they drew north out of Grant's Pass, and held north across the

One day, in camp by the Umpqua River, Billy bent over to begin skinning the first deer he had ever shot. He

In the evening, replete with deer meat, resting on his elbow and smoking his aftersupper cigarette, he said:

"Maybe they ain't no valley of the moon. An' if they ain't, what of it? We could keep on this way forever. I

"There is a valley of the moon," Saxon answered BOberly. "And we are going to find it. We've got to. Why

Billy, it would never do, never to settle down. There would be no little Hazels and little Hatties, nor little . . .

"Nor little Possums," she hurried on, nodding her head and reaching out a caressing hand to where the fox

terrier was ecstatically gnawing a deerrib. A vicious snarl and a wicked snap that barely missed her fingers

"Don't, " Billy warned. "He can't help it, and he's likely to get you next time."

Even more compelling was the menacing threat that Possum growled, his jaws closeguarding the bone, eyes

"It's a good dog that sticks up for its bone," Billy championed. "I wouldn't care to own one that didn't."

"But it's my Possum," Saxon protested. "And he loves me. Besides, he must love me more than an old bone.

And he must mind me.Here, you, Possum, give me that bone! Give me that bone, sir!"

Her hand went out gingerly, and the growl rose in volume and key till it culminated in a snap.

"I tell you it's instinct," Billy repeated. "He does love you, but he just can't help doin' it. "

"He's got a right to defend his bones from strangers but not from his mother," Saxon argued. "I shall make

But she was obstinately set in her purpose. She picked up a short stick of firewood.

She threatened with the stick, and the dog's growling became ferocious. Again he snapped, then crouched

back over his bone. Saxon raised the stick as if to strike him, and he suddenly abandoned the bone, rolled

over on his back at her feet, four legs in the air, his ears lying meekly back, his eyes swimming and eloquent

"My God!" Billy breathed in solemn awe. "Look at it!presenting his solar plexus to you, his vitals an' his

life, all defense down, as much as sayin': 'Here I am" Stamp on me. Kick the life outa me. I love you, I am

your slave, but I just can't help defendin' my bone. My instinct's stronger'n me. Kill me, but I can't help it."

Saxon was melted. Tears were in her eyes as she stooped and gathered the mite of an animal in her arms.

Possum was in a frenzy of agitation, whining, trembling, writhing, twisting, licking her face, all for

"Heart of gold with a rose in his mouth," Saxon crooned, burying her face in the soft and quivering bundle of

sensibilities. "Mother is sorry. She'll never bother you again that way. There, there, little love. See? There's

She put him down, but he hesitated between her and the bone, patently looking to her for surety of

permission, yet continuing to tremble in the terrible struggle between duty and desire that seemed tearing him

asunder. Not until she repeated that it was all right and nodded her head consentingly did he go to the bone.

And once, a minute later, he raised his head with a sudden startle and gazed inquiringly at her. She nodded

and smiled, and Possum, with a happy sigh of satisfaction, dropped his head down to the precious deerrib.

"That Mercedes was right when she said men fought over jobs like dogs over bones," Billy enunciated

slowly. "It's instinct. Why, I couldn't no more help reaching my fist to the point of a scab's jaw than could

Possum from snappin' at you. They's no explainin' it. What a man has to he has to. The fact that he does a

thing shows he had to do it whether he can explain it or not. You remember Hall couldn't explain why he

stuck that stick between Timothy McManus's legs in the foot race. What a man has to, he has to. That's all I

know about it. I never had no earthly reason to beat up that lodger we had, Jimmy Harmon. He was a good

guy, square an' all right. But I just had to, with the strike goin' to smash, an' everything so bitter inside me

that I could taste it. I never told you, but I saw 'm once after I got outwhen my arms was mendin'. I went

down to the roundhouse an' waited for 'm to come in off a run, an' apologized to 'm. Now why did I

And so Billy expounded the why of like in terms of realism, in the camp by the Umpqua River, while Possum

With Possum on the seat beside her, Saxon drove into the town of Roseburg. She drove at a walk. At the back

of the wagon were tied two heavy young workhorses. Behind, half a dozen more marched free, and the rear

was brought up by Billy, astride a ninth horse. All these he shipped from Roseburg to the West Oakland

It was in the Umpqua Valley that they heard the parable of the white sparrow. The farmer who told it was

elderly and flourishing. His farm was a model of orderliness and system. Afterwards, Billy heard neighbors

"You've heard the story of the farmer and the white sparrow'" he asked Billy, at dinner.

"I must say they're pretty rare," the farmer owned. "But here's the story: Once there was a farmer who wasn't

making much of a success. Things just didn't seem to go right, till at last, one day, he heard about the

wonderful white sparrow. It seems that the white sparrow comes out only just at daybreak with the first light

of dawn, and that it brings all kinds of good luck to the farmer that is fortunate enough to catch it. Next

morning our farmer was up at daybreak, and before, looking for it. And, do you know, he sought for it

continually, for months and months, and never caught even a glimpse of it." Their host shook his head. "No;

he never found it, but he found so many things about the farm needing attention, and which he attended to

before breakfast, that before he knew it the farm was prospering, and it wasn't long before the mortgage was

"Oh, I got the point all right," he said finally. "An' yet I ain't satisfied. Of course, they wasn't a white sparrow,

but by getting up early an' attendin' to things he'd been slack about beforeoh, I got it all right. An' yet,

Saxon, if that's what a farmer's life means, I don't want to find no moon valley. Life ain't hard work. Daylight

to dark, hard at itmight just as well be in the city. What's the difference? A1' the time you've got to

yourself is for sleepin', an' when you're sleepin' you're not enjoyin' yourself. An' what's it matter where you

sleep, you're deado. Might as well be dead an' done with it as work your head off that way. I'd sooner stick to

the road, an' shoot a deer an' catch a trout once in a while, an' lie on my back in the shade, an' laugh with you

an' have fun with you, an' . . . an' go swimmin'. An' I 'm a willin' worker, too. But they's all the difference in

Saxon was in full accord. She looked back on her years of toil and contrasted them with the joyous life she

"We don't want to be rich," she said. "Let them hunt their white sparrows in the Sacramento islands and the

irrigation valleys. When we get up early in the valley of the moon, it will be to hear the birds sing and sing

with them. And if we work hard at times, it will be only so that we'll have more time to play. And when you

go swimming I 'm going with you. And we'll play so hard that we'll be glad to work for relaxation."

"I 'm gettin' plumb dried out," Billy announced, mopping the sweat from his sunburned forehead. "What d'ye

West they turned, dropping down wild mountain gorges from the height of land of the interior valleys. So

fearful was the road, that, on one stretch of seven miles, they passed ten brokendown automobiles. Billy

would not force the mares and promptly camped beside a brawling stream from which he whipped two trout

at a time. Here, Saxon caught her first big trout. She had been accustomed to landing them up to nine and ten

inches, and the screech of the reel when the big one was hooked caused her to cry out in startled surprise.

Billy came up the riffle to her and gave counsel. Several minutes later, cheeks flushed and eyes dancing with

excitement, Saxon dragged the big fellow carefully from the water's edge into the dry sand. Here it threw the

hook out and flopped tremendously until she fell upon it and captured it in her hands.

"Sixteen inches," Billy said, as she held it up proudly for inspection. "Hey!what are you goin' to do?"

"Better put it in the basket," he advised, then closed his mouth and grimly watched.

She stooped by the side of the stream and dipped in the splendid fish. It flopped, there was a convulsive

"Oh, I 'm not denyin' you're a peach at fishin'," he drawled. "You caught me, didn't you?"

"I don't know about that," she retorted. "Maybe it was like the man who was arrested for catching trout out of

The sky was overcast, and, as they drove along the bank of the Coquille River, the fog suddenly enveloped

"Whoof!" Billy exhaled joyfully. "Ain't it great! I can feel myself moppin' it up like a dry sponge. I never

Saxon held out her arms to receive it, making motions as if she were bathing in the gray mist.

"I never thought I'd grow tired of the sun," she said; "but we've had more than our share the last few weeks."

"Ever since we hit the Sacramento Valley," Billy affirmed. "Too much sun ain't good. I've worked that out.

Sunshine is like liquor. Did you ever notice how good you felt when the sun come out after a week of cloudy

weather, Well, that sunshine was just like a jolt of whiskey. Had the same effect. Made you feel good all

over. Now, when you're swimmin', an' come out an' lay in the sun, how good you feel. That's because you're

lappin' up a suncocktail. But suppose you lay there in the sand a couple of hours. You don't feel so good.

You're so slowmovin' it takes you a long time to dress. You go home draggin' your legs an' feelin' rotten,

with all the life sapped outa you. What's that? It's the katzenjammer. You've been soused to the ears in

sunshine, like so much whiskey, an' now you're payin' for it. That's straight. That's why fog in the climate is

"Then we've been drunk for months, " Saxon said. "And now we're going to sober up."

"You bet. Why, Saxon, I can do two days' work in one in this climate.Look at the mares. Blame me if they

Vainly Saxon's eye roved the pine forest in search of her beloved redwoods. They would find them down in

"Then we're too far north," said Saxon. "We must go south to find our valley of the moon."

And south they went, along roads that steadily grew worse, through the dairy country of Langlois and through

thick pine forests to Port Orford, where Saxon picked jeweled agates on the beach while Billy caught

enormous rockcod. No railroads had yet penetrated this wild region, and the way south grew wilder and

wilder. At Gold Beach they encountered their old friend, the Rogue River, which they ferried across where it

entered the Pacific. Still wilder became the country, still more terrible the road, still farther apart the isolated

And here were neither Asiatics nor Europeans. The scant population consisted of the original settlers and

their descendants. More than one old man or woman Saxon talked with, who could remember the trip across

the Plains with the plodding oxen. West they had fared until the Pacific itself had stopped them, and here they

had made their clearings, built their rude houses, and settled. In them Farthest West had been reached. Old

customs had changed little. There were no railways. No automobile as yet had ventured their perilous roads.

Eastward, between them and the populous interior valleys, lay the wilderness of the Coast Rangea game

paradise, Billy heard; though he declared that the very road he traveled was game paradise enough for him.

Had he not halted the horses, turned the reins over to Saxon, and shot an eightpronged buck from the

South of Gold Beach, climbing a narrow road through the virgin forest, they heard from far above the jingle

of bells. A hundred yards farther on Billy found a place wide enough to turn out. Here he waited, while the

merry bells, descending the mountain, rapidly came near. They heard the grind of brakes, the soft thud of

"Some driver, some driver," Billy muttered. "I take my hat off to 'm whoever he is, hittin' a pace like that on a

road like this.Listen to that! He's got powerful brakes. Zocie! That WAS a chuckhole! Some springs,

Where the road zigzagged above, they glimpsed through the trees four sorrel horses trotting swiftly, and the

At the bend of the road the leaders appeared again, swinging wide on the curve, the wheelers flashed into

view, and the light twoseated rig; then the whole affair straightened out and thundered down upon them

across a narrow plankbridge. In the front seat were a man and woman; in the rear seat a Japanese was

squeezed in among suit cases, rods, guns, saddles, and a typewriter case, while above him and all about him,

"Whoa!" Hastings yelled, putting on the brake and gathering his horses in to a stop alongside. Greetings flew

back and forth, in which the Japanese, whom they had last seen on the Roamer at Rio Vista, gave and

"Different from the Sacramento islands, eh?" Hastings said to Saxon. "Nothing but old American stock in

these mountains. And they haven't changed any. As John Fox, Jr., said, they're our contemporary ancestors.

Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, between them, told of their long drive. They were out two months then, and intended

"But the way you drive you oughta be a whole lot further along than this," Billy criticized.

"We went in to the Hoopa Reservation," said Mr. Elastings, " and canoed down the Trinity and Klamath

Rivers to the ocean. And just now we've come out from two weeks in the real wilds of Curry County."

"You must go in," Hastings advised. "You'll get to Mountain Ranch tonight. And you can turn in from there.

No roads, though. You'll have to pack your horses. But it's full of game. I shot five mountain lions and two

bear, to say nothing of deer. And there are small herds of elk, too.No; I didn't shoot any. They're protected.

"Found your valley of the moon yet?" the writer's wife asked, as they were saying goodby.

"You will find it if you go far enough; and be sure you go as far as Sonoma Valley and our ranch. Then, if

Three weeks later, with a bigger record of mountain lions and bear than Hastings' to his credit, Billy emerged

from Curry County and drove across the line into California. At once Saxon found herself among the

redwoods. But they were redwoods unbelievable. Billy stopped the wagon, got out, and paced around one.

"Fortyfive feet," he announced. "That's fifteen in diameter. And they're all like it only bigger. No; there's a

"I ain't goin' to let you die before I do," he assured her. "An' then we'll leave it in our wills for us both to be

South they held along the coast, hunting, fishing, swimming, and horsebuying. Billy shipped his purchases

on the coasting steamers. Through Del Norte and Humboldt counties they went, and through Mendocino into

Sonoma counties larger than Eastern statesthreading the giant woods, whipping innumerable

troutstreams, and crossing countless rich valleys. Ever Saxon sought the valley of the moon. Sometimes,

when all seemed fair, the lack was a railroad, sometimes madrono and manzanita trees, and, usually, there

"Yep," was his answer. "Too much fog might make us soggy. What we're after is betwixt an' between, an'

This was in the fall of the year, and they turned their backs on the Pacific at old Fort Ross and entered the

Russian River Valley, far below Ukiah, by way of Cazadero and Guerneville. At Santa Rosa Billy was

delayed with the shipping of several horses, so that it was not until afternoon that he drove south and east for

"I guess we'll no more than make Sonoma Valley when it'll be time to camp," he said, measuring the sun with

his eye. "This is called Bennett Valley. You cross a divide from it and come out at Glen Ellen. Now this is a

mighty pretty valley, if anybody should ask you. An' that's some nifty mountain over there."

"The mountain is all right," Saxon adjudged. "But all the rest of the hills are too bare. And I don't see any big

"Oh, I ain't sayin' it's the valley of the moon by a long ways. All the same, Saxon, that's some mountain. Look

"D'ye know, I've just been thinkin' the same thing. Let's winter at Carmel. Mark Hall's back, an' so is Jim

"Nope. We can make trips in good weather horsebuyin'," Billy confirmed, his face beaming with

selfsatisfaction. "An' if that walkin' poet of the Marble House is around, I'll sure get the gloves on with 'm

Around a bend in the road came a man in a sulky, driving a heavy stallion. The animal was a bright

chestnutsorrel, with creamcolored mane and tail. The tail almost swept the ground, while the mane was so

thick that it crested out of the neck and flowed down, long and wavy. He scented the mares and stopped short,

head flung up and armfuls of creamy mane tossing in the breeze. He bent his head until flaring nostrils

brushed impatient knees, and between the finepointed ears could be seen a mighty and incredible curve of

neck. Again he tossed his head, fretting against the bit as the driver turned widely aside for safety in passing.

They could see the blue glaze like a sheen on the surface of the horse's bright, wild eyes, and Billy closed a

wary thumb on his reins and himself turned widely. He held up his hand in signal, and the driver of the

stallion stopped when well past, and over his shoulder talked draughthorses with Billy.

Among other things, Billy learned that the stallion's name was Barbarossa, that the driver was the owner, and

"There are two ways to Sonoma Valley from here," the man directed. "When you come to the crossroads the

Rising from rolling stubble fields, Bennett Peak towered hot in the sun, a row of bastion hills leaning against

its base. But hills and mountains on that side showed bare and heated, though beautiful with the sunburnt

"The turn to the right will take you to Glen Ellen, too, only it's longer and steeper grades. But your mares

"Oh, the right hand road, by all means," said the man. "That's Sonoma Mountain there, and the road skirts it

Billy did not start immediately after they had said goodby, and he and Saxon, heads over shoulders, watched

"What if it is longer?" she said. "Look how beautiful it isall covered with green woods; and I just know

those are redwoods in the canyons. You never can tell. The valley of the moon might be right up there

somewhere. And it would never do to miss it just in order to save half an hour."

They took the turn to the right and began crossing a series of steep foothills. As they approached the

mountain there were signs of a greater abundance of water. They drove beside a running stream, and, though

the vineyards on the hills were summerdry, the farmhouses in the hollows and on the levels were grouped

"Maybe it sounds funny," Saxon observed; "but I 'm beginning to love that mountain already. It almost seems

Crossing a bridge and rounding a sharp turn, they were suddenly enveloped in a mysterious coolness and

gloom. All about them arose stately trunks of redwood. The forest floor was a rosy carpet of autumn fronds.

Occasional shafts of sunlight, penetrating the deep shade, warmed the somberness of the grove. Alluring

paths led off among the trees and into cozy nooks made by circles of red columns growing around the dust of

vanished ancestorswitnessing the titantic dimensions of those ancestors by the girth of the circles in which

Out of the grove they pulled to the steep divide, which was no more than a buttress of Sonoma Mountain. The

way led on through rolling uplands and across small dips and canyons, all well wooded and adrip with

"The mountain's a sponge," said Billy. "Here it is, the tailend of dry summer, an' the ground's just leakin'

"I know I've never been here before," Saxon communed aloud. "But it's all so familiar! So I must have

dreamed it. And there's madronos!a whole grove! And manzanita! Why, I feel just as if I was coming

"No; I don't mean that. I mean on the way to our valley. Because the wayall waysto our valley must be

"It's great," he said sympathetically. "I wouldn't trade a square mile of this kind of country for the whole

Sacramento Valley, with the river islands thrown in and Middle River for good measure. If they ain't deer up

there, I miss my guess. An' where they's springs they's streams, an' streams means trout."

They passed a large and comfortable farmhouse, surrounded by wandering barns and cowsheds, went on

under forest arches, and emerged beside a field with which Saxon was instantly enchanted. It flowed in a

gentle concave from the road up the mountain, its farther boundary an unbroken line of timber. The field

glowed like rough gold in the approaching sunset, and near the middle of it stood a solitary great redwood,

with blasted top suggesting a nesting eyrie for eagles. The timber beyond clothed the mountain in solid green

to what they took to be the top. But, as they drove on, Saxon, looking back upon what she called her field,

saw the real summit of Sonoma towering beyond, the mountain behind her field a mere spur upon the side of

Ahead and toward the right, across sheer ridges of the mountains, separated by deep green canyons and

broadening lower down into rolling orchards and vineyards, they caught their first sight of Sonoma Valley

and the wild mountains that rimmed its eastern side. To the left they gazed across a golden land of small hills

and valleys. Beyond, to the north, they glimpsed another portion of the valley, and, still beyond, the opposing

wall of the valley a range of mountains, the highest of which reared its red and battered ancient crater

against a rosy and mellowing sky. From north to southeast, the mountain rim curved in the brightness of the

sun, while Saxon and Billy were already in the shadow of evening. He looked at Saxon, noted the ravished

ecstasy of her face, and stopped the horses. All the eastern sky was blushing to rose, which descended upon

the mountains, touching them with wine and ruby. Sonoma Valley began to fill with a purple flood, laying

the mountain bases, rising, inundating, drowning them in its purple. Saxon pointed in silence, indicating that

the purple flood was the sunset shadow of Sonoma Mountain. Billy nodded, then chirruped to the mares, and

On the elevated sections of the road they felt the cool, delicious breeze from the Pacific forty miles away;

while from each little dip and hollow came warm breaths of autumn earth, spicy with sunburnt grass and

They came to the rim of a deep canyon that seemed to penetrate to the heart of Sonoma Mountain. Again,

with no word spoken, merely from watching Saxon, Billy stopped the wagon. The canyon was wildly

beautiful. Tall redwoods lined its entire length. On its farther rim stood three rugged knolls covered with

dense woods of spruce and oak. From between the knolls, a feeder to the main canyon and likewise fringed

with redwoods, emerged a smaller canyon. Billy pointed to a stubble field that lay at the feet of the knolls.

They dropped down into the canyon, the road following a stream that sang under maples and alders. The

sunset fires, refracted from the clouddriftage of the autumn sky, bathed the canyon with crimson, in which

ruddylimbed mandronos and winewooded manzanitas burned and smoldered. The air was aromatic with

laurel. Wild grape vines bridged the stream from tree to tree. Oaks of many sorts were veiled in lacy Spanish

moss. Ferns and brakes grew lush beside the stream. From somewhere came the plaint of a mourning dove.

Fifty feet above the ground, almost over their heads, a Douglas squirrel crossed the roada flash of gray

between two trees; and they marked the continuance of its aerial passage by the bending of the boughs.

He nodded, but checked speech at sight of a small boy driving a cow up the road, a preposterously big

shotgun in one hand, in the other as preposterously big a jackrabbit. "How far to Glen Ellen?" Billy asked.

"It's all right, sonny," Billy laughed, as he drove on. "I ain't the game warden. I 'm buyin' horses."

More leaping tree squirrels, more ruddy madronos and majestic oaks, more fairy circles of redwoods, and,

still beside the singing stream, they passed a gate by the roadside. Before it stood a rural mail box, on which

was lettered "Edmund Hale." Standing under the rustic arch, leaning upon the gate, a man and woman

composed a pieture so arresting and beautiful that Saxon caught her breath. They were side by side, the

delicate hand of the woman curled in the hand of the man, which looked as if made to confer benedictions.

His face bore out this impressiona beautifulbrowed countenance, with large, benevolent gray eyes under

a wealth of white hair that shone like spun glass. He was fair and large; the little woman beside him was

daintily wrought. She was saffronbrown, as a woman of the white race can well be, with smiling eyes of

bluest blue. In quaint sagegreen draperies, she seemed a flower, with her small vivid face irresistibly

Perhaps the picture made by Saxon and Billy was equally arresting and beautiful, as they drove down through

the golden end of day. The two couples had eyes only for each other. The little woman beamed joyously. The

man's face glowed into the benediction that had trembled there. To Saxon, like the field up the mountain, like

the mountain itself, it seemed that she had always known this adorable pair. She knew that she loved them.

"You blessed children," said the man. "I wonder if you know how dear you look sitting there."

That was all. The wagon had passed by, rustling down the road, which was carpeted with fallen leaves of

"Oh, what a place for a home," Saxon cried, pointing across Wild Water. "See, Billy, on that bench there

"It's a rich bottom, Saxon; and so is the bench rich. Look at the big trees on it. An' they's sure to be springs."

Forsaking the main road, they crossed Wild Water on a narrow bridge and continued along an ancient, rutted

road that ran beside an equally ancient wormfence of split redwood rails. They came to a gate, open and off

Billy pointed to the father of all madronos, six feet in diameter at its base, sturdy and sound, which stood

They spoke in low tones as they passed around the house under great oak trees and came to a stop before a

small barn. They did not wait to unharness. Tying the horses, they started to explore. The pitch from the

bench to the meadow was steep yet thickly wooded with oaks and manzanita. As they crashed through the

Billy grinned, and fell to examining a spring which bubbled a clear stream into the meadow. Here the ground

Disappointment leaped into Saxon's face, but Billy, crumbling a clod between his fingers, had not made up

"It's rich," he pronounced; "the cream of the soil that's been washin' down from the hills for ten thousan'

He broke off, stared all about, studying the configuration of the meadow, crossed it to the redwood trees

"It's no good as it is," he said. "But it's the best ever if it's handled right. All it needs is a little common sense

an' a lot of drainage. This meadow's a natural basin not yet filled level. They's a sharp slope through the

They went through the redwoods and came out on Sonoma Creek. At this spot was no singing. The stream

poured into a quiet pool. The willows on their side brushed the water. The opposite side was a steep bank.

Billy measured the height of the bank with his eye, the depth of the water with a driftwood pole.

"Fifteen feet," he announced. "That allows all kinds of highdivin' from the bank. An' it's a hundred yards of

They followed down the pool. It emptied in a riffle, across exposed bedrock, into another pool. As they

looked, a trout flashed into the air and back, leaving a widening ripple on the quiet surface.

"I guess we won't winter in Carmel," Billy said. "This place was specially manufactured for us. In the

Half an hour later, feeding the horses, he called Saxon's attention to a locomotive whistle.

"You've got your railroad," he said. "That's a train pulling into Glen Ellen, an' it's only a mile from here."

"There isn't the slightest doubt," Saxon answered with unruffled certainty. "This is our place. I know it."

They were awakened by Possum, who was indignantly reproaching a tree squirrel for not coming down to be

killed. The squirrel chattered garrulous remarks that drove Possum into a mad attempt to climb the tree. Billy

"If this is goin' to be our place, they'll be no shootin' of tree squirrels," Billy said.

Saxon pressed his hand and sat up. From beneath the bench came the cry of a meadow lark.

After a hasty breakfast, they started to explore, running the irregular boundaries of the place and repeatedly

crossing it from rail fence to creek and back again. Seven springs they found along the foot of the bench on

"There's your water supply," Billy said. "Drain the meadow, work the soil up, and with fertilizer and all that

water you can grow crops the year round. There must be five acres of it, an' I wouldn't trade it for Mrs.

They were standing in the old orchard, on the bench where they had counted twentyseven trees, neglected

"And on top the bench, back of the house, we can grow berries." Saxon paused, considering a new thought "If

"Sure she would. It ain't more 'n four hours' run from San Jose. But first we'll get our hooks into the place.

Sonoma Creek gave the long boundary to the little farm, two sides were worm fenced, and the fourth side was

"Why, we'll have that beautiful man and woman for neighbors," Saxon recollected. "Wild Water will be the

"It ain't ours yet," Billy commented. "Let's go and call on 'em. They'll be able to tell us all about it."

"It's just as good as," she replied. "The big thing has been the finding. And whoever owns it doesn't care

much for it. It hasn't been lived in for a long time. And Oh, Billyare you satisfied!"

"With every bit of it," he answered frankly, "as far as it goes. But the trouble is, it don't go far enough."

The disappointment in her face spurred him to renunciation of his particular dream.

"We'll buy itthat's settled," he said. "But outside the meadow, they's so much woods that they's little

pasturenot more 'n enough for a couple of horses an' a cow. But I don't care. We can't have everything, an'

"Let us call it a starter," she consoled. "Later on we can add to itmaybe the land alongside that runs up the

"Where I seen my horses pasturin'," he remembered, with a flash of eye. "Why not? So much has come true

They passed through the rustic gate and along a path that wound through wild woods. There was no sign of

the house until they came abruptly upon it, bowered among the trees. It was eightsided, and so justly

proportioned that its two stories made no show of height. The house belonged there. It might have sprung

from the soil just as the trees had. There were no formal grounds. The wild grew to the doors. The low porch

of the main entrance was raised only a step from the ground. "Trillium Covert," they read, in quaint carved

"Come right upstairs, you dears," a voice called from above, in response to Saxon's knock.

Stepping back and looking up, she beheld the little lady smiling down from a sleepingporch. Clad in a

Saxon led, with Billy at her heels. They came into a room bright with windows, where a big log smoldered in

a roughstone fireplace. On the stone slab above stood a huge Mexican jar, filled with autumn branches and

trailing fluffy smokevine. The walls were finished in warm natural woods, stained but without polish. The

air was aromatic with clean wood odors. A walnut organ loomed in a shallow corner of the room. All corners

were shallow in this octagonal dwelling. In another corner were many rows of books. Through the windows,

across a low couch indubitably made for use, could be seen a restful picture of autumn trees and yellow

grasses, threaded by wellworn paths that ran here and there over the tiny estate. A delightful little stairway

wound past more windows to the upper story. Here the little lady greeted them and led them into what Saxon

knew at once was her room. The two octagonal sides of the house which showed in this wide room were

given wholly to windows. Under the long sill, to the floor, were shelves of books. Books lay here and there,

in the disorder of use, on work table, couch and desk. On a sill by an open window, a jar of autumn leaves

breathed the charm of the sweet brown wife, who seated herself in a tiny rattan chair, enameled a cheery red,

"A queer house," Mrs. Hale laughed girlishly and contentedly. "But we love it. Edmund made it with his own

hands even to the plumbing, though he did have a terrible time with that before he succeeded."

"All, all," she replied proudly. "And half the furniture. That cedar desk there, the tablewith his own hands."

"They are gentle, the gentlest hands I have ever known, " she said softly. "And you are a dear to have noticed

Her gaze slipped past Mrs. Hale, attracted by the wall beyond, which was done in a bewitching honeycomb

pattern dotted with golden bees. The walls were hung with a few, a very few, framed pictures.

"They are all of people," Saxon said, remembering the beautiful paintings in Mark Hall's bungalow.

"My windows frame my landscape paintings," Mrs. Hale answered, pointing out of doors. "Inside I want only

the faces of my dear ones whom I cannot have with me always. Some of them are dreadful rovers."

"Oh!" Saxon was on her feet and looking at a photograph. "You know Clara Hastings!"

"I ought to. I did everything but nurse her at my breast. She came to me when she was a little baby. Her

mother was my sister. Do you know how greatly you resemble her? I remarked it to Edmund yesterday. He

had already seen it. It wasn't a bit strange that his heart leaped out to you two as you came drilling down

So Mrs. Hale was Clara's auntold stock that had crossed the Plains. Saxon knew now why she had

The talk whipped quite away from Billy, who could only admire the detailed work of the cedar desk while he

listened. Saxon told of meeting Clara and Jack Hastings on their yacht and on their driving trip in Oregon.

They were off again, Mrs. Eale said, having shipped their horses home from Vancouver and taken the

Canadian Pacific on their way to England. Mrs. Hale knew Saxon's mother or, rather, her poems; and

produced, not only "The Story of the Files," but a ponderous scrapbook which contained many of her

mother's poems which Saxon had never seen. A sweet singer, Mrs. Hale said; but so many had sung in the

days of gold and been forgotten. There had been no army of magazines then, and the poems had perished in

Jack Hastings had fallen in love with Clara, the talk ran on; then, visiting at Trillium Covert, he had fallen in

love with Sonoma Valley and bought a magnificent home ranch, though little enough he saw of it, being

away over the world so much of the time. Mrs. Hale talked of her own Journey across the Plains, a little girl,

in the late Fifties, and, like Mrs. Mortimer, knew all about the fight at Little Meadow, and the tale of the

massacre of the emigrant train of which Billy's father had been the sole survivor.

"And so," Saxon concluded, an hour later, "we've been three years searching for our valley of the moon, and

"Valley of the Moon?" Mrs. Hale queried. "Then you knew about it all the time. What kept you so long?"

"No; we didn't know. We just started on a blind search for it. Mark Hall called it a pilgrimage, and was

always teasing us to carry long staffs. He said when we found the spot we'd know, because then the staffs

would burst into blossom. He laughed at all the good things we wanted in our valley, and one night he took

me out and showed me the moon through a telescope. He said that was the only place we could find such a

wonderful valley. He meant it was moonshine, but we adopted the name and went on looking for it."

"What a coincidence!" Mrs. Hale exclaimed. "For this is the Valley of the Moon."

"But you don't understand, my dear. This is the Valley of the Moon. This is Sonoma Valley. Sonoma is an

Indian word, and means the Valley of the Moon. That was what the Indians called it for untold ages before

And then Saxon recalled the mysterious references Jack Hastings and his wife had made to it, and the talk

tripped along until Billy grew restless. He cleared his throat significantly and interrupted.

"We want to find out about that ranch acrost the creekwho owns it, if they'll sell, where we'll find 'em, an'

"We'll go and see Edmund," she said, catching Saxon by the hand and leading the way.

"My!" Billy ejaculated, towering above her. "I used to think Saxon was small. But she'd make two of you."

"And you're pretty big," the little woman smiled; "but Edmund is taller than you, and broadershouldered."

They crossed a bright hall, and found the big beautiful husband lying back reading in a huge Mission rocker.

Beside it was another tiny child's chair of redenameled rattan. Along the length of his thigh, the head on his

knee and directed toward a smoldering log in a fireplace, clung an incredibly large striped cat. Like its

master, it turned its head to greet the newcomers. Again Saxon felt the loving benediction that abided in his

face, his eyes, his handstoward which she involuntarily dropped her eyes. Again she was impressed by the

gentleness of them. They were hands of love. They were the hands of a type of man she had never dreamed

existed. No one in that merry crowd of Carmel had prefigured him. They were artists. This was the scholar,

the philosopher. In place of the passion of youth and all youth's mad revolt, was the benignance of wisdom.

Those gentle hands had passed all the bitter by and plucked only the sweet of life. Dearly as she loved them,

she shuddered to think what some of those Carmelites would be like when they were as old as heespecially

"Here are the dear children, Edmund," Mrs. Hale said. "What do you think! They want to buy the Madrono

Ranch. They've been three years searching for itI forgot to tell them we had searched ten years for Trillium

Covert. Tell them all about it. Surely Mr. Naismith is still of a mind to sell!"

They seated themselves in simple massive chairs, and Mrs. Hale took the tiny rattan beside the big Mission

rocker, her slender hand curled like a tendril in Edmund's. And while Saxon listened to the talk, her eyes took

in the grave rooms lined with books. She began to realize how a mere structure of wood and stone may

express the spirit of him who conceives and makes it. Those gentle hands had made all thisthe very

furniture, she guessed as her eyes roved from desk to chair, from work table to reading stand beside the bed

in the other room, where stood a greenshaded lamp and orderly piles of magazines and books.

As for the matter of Madrono Ranch, it was easy enough he was saying. Naismith would sell. Had desired to

sell for the past five years, ever since he had engaged in the enterprise of bottling mineral water at the springs

lower down the valley. It was fortunate that he was the owner, for about all the rest of the surrounding land

was owned by a Erenchmanan early settler. He would not part with a foot of it. He was a peasant, with all

the peasant's love of the soil, which, in him, had become an obsession, a disease. He was a landmiser. With

no business capacity, old and opinionated, he was land poor, and it was an open question which would arrive

As for Madrono Ranch, Naismith owned it and had set the price at fifty dollars an acre. That would be one

thousand dollars, for there were twenty acres. As a farming investment, using oldfashioned methods, it was

not worth it. As a business investment, yes; for the virtues of the valley were on the eve of being discovered

by the outside world, and no better location for a summer home could be found. As a happiness investment in

joy of beauty and climate, it was worth a thousand times the price asked. And he knew Naismith would allow

time on most of the amount. Edmund's suggestion was that they take a two years' lease, with option to buy,

the rent to apply to the purchase if they took it up. Naismith had done that once with a Swiss, who had paid a

monthly rental of ten dollars. But the man's wife had died, and he had gone away.

Edmund soon divined Billy's renunciation, though not the nature of it; and several questions brought it

forth the old pioneer dream of land spaciousness; of cattle on a hundred hills; one hundred and sixty acres

"But you don't need all that land, dear lad," Edmund said softly. "I see you understand intensive farming.

Billy's jaw dropped at the smashing newness of the idea. He considered it, but could see no similarity in the

"Let us see. In the first place, you don't need those twenty acres except for beauty. There are five acres in the

meadow. You don't need more than two of them to make your living at selling vegetables. In fact, you and

your wife, working from daylight to dark, cannot properly farm those two acres. Remains three acres. You

have plenty of water for it from the springs. Don't be satisfied with one crop a year, like the rest of the

oldfashioned farmers in this valley. Farm it like your vegetable plot, intensively, all the year, in crops that

make horsefeed, irrigating, fertilizing, rotating your crops. Those three acres will feed as many horses as

heaven knows how huge an area of unseeded, uncared for, wasted pasture would feed. Think it over. I'll lend

you books on the subject. I don't know how large your crops will be, nor do I know how much a horse eats;

that's your business. But I am certain, with a hired man to take your place helping your wife on her two acres

of vegetables, that by the time you own the horses your three acres will feed, you will have all you can attend

to. Then it will be time to get more land, for more horses, for more riches, if that way happiness lie."

"Why, the dear, he never farms. He has never farmed. But he knows." She waved her hand about the

book1ined walls. "He is a student of good. He studies all good things done by good men under the sun. His

"Yes, and Dulcie." Annette laughed. "Dulcie is our cow. It is a great question with Jack Hastings whether

Edmund dotes more on Dulcie, or Dulcie dotes more on Edmund. When he goes to San Francisco Dulcie is

miserable. So is Edmund, until he hastens back. Oh, Dulcie has given me no few jealous pangs. But I have to

"That is the one practical subject I know by experience," Edmund confirmed. "I am an authority on Jersey

He stood up and went toward his bookshelves; and they saw how magnificently large a man he was. He

paused a book in his hand, to answer a question from Saxon. No; there were no mosquitoes, although, one

summer when the south wind blew for ten daysan unprecedented thinga few mosquitoes had been

carried up from San Pablo Bay. As for fog, it was the making of the valley. And where they were situated,

sheltered behind Sonoma Mountain, the fogs were almost invariably high fogs. Sweeping in from the ocean

forty miles away, they were deflected by Sonoma Mountain and shunted high into the air. Another thing,

Trillium Covert and Madrono Ranch were happily situated in a narrow thermal belt, so that in the frosty

mornings of winter the temperature was always several degrees higher than in the rest of the valley. In fact,

frost was very rare in the thermal belt, as was proved by the successful cultivation of certain orange and

Edmund continued reading titles and selecting books until he had drawn out quite a number. He opened the

top one, Bolton Hall's "Three Acres and Liberty," and read to them of a man who walked six hundred and

fifty miles a year in cultivating, by oldfashioned methods, twenty acres, from which he harvested three

thousand bushels of poor potatoes; and of another man, a "new" farmer, who cultivated only five acres,

walked two hundred miles, and produced three thousand bushels of potatoes, early and choice, which he sold

Saxon receded the books from Edmund, and, as she heaped them in Billy's arms, read the titles. They were:

Wickson's "California Fruits," Wickson's "California Vegetables," Brooks' "Fertilizers," Watson's "Farm

Poultry," King's "Irrigation and Drainage," Kropotkin's "Fields, Factories and Workshops," and Farmer's

"Come for more any time you want them," Edmund invited. "I have hundreds of volumes on farming, and all

the Agricultural Bulletins.... And you must come and get acquainted with Dulcie your first spare time," he

Mrs. Mortimer arrived with seed catalogs and farm books, to find Saxon immersed in the farm books

borrowed from Edmund. Saxon showed her around, and she was delighted with everything, including the

"And now," she said. "What is to be done? Sit down, both of you. This is a council of war, and I am the one

person in the world to tell you what to do. I ought to be. Anybody who has reorganized and recatalogued a

great city library should be able to start you young people on in short order. Now, where shall we begin?"

"First, Madrono Ranch is a bargain. I know soil, I know beauty, I know climate. Madrono Ranch is a gold

mine. There is a fortune in that meadow. TilthI'll tell you about that later. First, here's the land. Second,

what are you going to do with it? Make a living? Yes. Vegetables? Of course. What are you going to do with

them after you have grown them? Sell. Where?Now listen. You must do as I did. Cut out the middle man.

Sell directly to the consumer. Drum up your own market. Do you know what I saw from the car windows

coming up the valley, only several miles from here? Hotels, springs, summer resorts, winter

resortspopulation, mouths, market. How is that market supplied? I looked in vain for truck

gardens.Billy, harness up your horses and be ready directly after dinner to take Saxon and me driving.

Never mind everything else. Let things stand. What's the use of starting for a place of which you haven't the

address. We'll look for the address this afternoon. Then we'll know where we areat." The last syllable a

But Saxon did not accompany them. There was too much to be done in cleaning the longabandoned house

and in preparing an arrangement for Mrs. Mortimer to sleep. And it was long after supper time when Mrs.

"You lucky, lucky children," she began immediately. "This valley is just waking up. Here's your market.

There isn't a competitor in the valley. I thought those resorts looked newCaliente, Boyes Hot Springs, E1

Verano, and all along the line. Then there are three little hotels in Glen Ellen, right next door. Oh, I've talked

"She's a wooz," Billy admired. "She'd brace up to God on a business proposition. You oughta seen her."

"And where do all the vegetables come from? Wagons drive down twelve to fifteen miles from Santa Rosa,

and up from Sonoma. Those are the nearest truck farms, and when they fail, as they often do, I am told, to

supply the increasing needs, the managers have to express vegetables all the way from San Francisco. I've

introduced Billy. They've agreed to patronize home industry. Besides, it is better for them. You'll deliver just

as good vegetables just as cheap; you will make it a point to deliver better, fresher vegetables; and don't

"No dayold egg stunt here. No jams nor jellies. But you've got lots of space up on the bench here on which

you can't grow vegetables. Tomorrow morning I'll help you lay out the chicken runs and houses. Besides,

there is the matter of capons for the San Francisco market. You'll start small. It will be a side line at first. I'll

tell you all about that, too, and send you the literature. You must use your head. Let others do the work. You

must understand that thoroughly. The wages of superintendence are always larger than the wages of the

laborers. You must keep books. You must know where you stand. You must know what pays and what

doesn't and what pays best. Your books will tell that. I'll show you all in good time. "

"Two acres your granny," she said with asperity. "Five acres. And then you won't be able to supply your

market. And you, my boy, as soon as the first rains come will have your hands full and your horses weary

draining that meadow. We'll work those plans out tomorrow Also, there is the matter of berries on the bench

hereand trellised table grapes, the choicest. They bring the fancy prices. There will be

blackberriesBurbank's, he lives at Santa RosaLoganberries, Mammoth berries. But don't fool with

strawberries. That's a whole occupation in itself. They're not vines, you know. I've examined the orchard. It's

"But Billy wanted three acres of the meadow," Saxon explained at the first chance.

"Buy it out of a portion of the profits from those three acres," Mrs. Mortimer decided on the instant.

"All right," he said, with a brave show of cheerfulness. "Let her go. Us for the greens."

During the several days of Mrs. Mortimer's visit, Billy let the two women settle things for themselves.

Oakland had entered upon a boom, and from the West Oakland stables had come an urgent letter for more

horses. So Billy was out, early and late, scouring the surrounding country for young work animals. In this

way, at the start, he learned his valley thoroughly. There was also a clearing out at the West Oakland stables

of mares whose feet had been knocked out on the hard city pave meets, and he was offered first choice at

bargain prices. They were good animals. He knew what they were because he knew them of old time. The

soft earth of the country, with a preliminary rest in pasture with their shoes pulled off, would put them in

shape. They would never do again on hardpaved streets, but there were years of farm work in them. And

then there was the breeding. But he could not undertake to buy them. He fought out the battle in secret and

At night, he would sit in the kitchen and smoke, listening to all that the two women had done and planned in

the day. The right kind of horses was hard to buy, and, as he put it, it was like pulling a tooth to get a farmer

to part with one, despite the fact that he had been authorized to increase the buying sum by as much as fifty

dollars. Despite the coming of the automobile, the price of heavy draught animals continued to rise. From as

early as Billy could remember, the price of the big work horses had increased steadily. After the great

"Billy, you make more money as a horsebuyer than a common laborer, don't you?" Mrs. Mortimer asked.

"Very well, then. You won't have to drain the meadow, or plow it, or anything. You keep right on buying

horses. Work with your head. But out of what you make you will please pay the wages of one laborer for

"Sure," he agreed. "That's all anybody hires any body forto make money outa 'm. But how Saxon an' one

man are goin' to work them five acres, when Mr. Hale says two of us couldn't do what's needed on two acres,

"Did you see me working at San Jose? Saxon is going to use her head. It's about time you woke up to that. A

dollar and a half a day is what is earned by persons who don't use their heads. And she isn't going to be

satisfied with a dollar and a half a day. Now listen. I had a long talk with Mr. Hale this afternoon. He says

"I know that," Billy interjected. "All the good men go to the cities. It's only the leavin's that's left. The good

"Which is perfectly true, every word. Now listen, children. I knew about it, and I spoke to Mr. Hale. He is

prepared to make the arrangements for you. He knows all about it himself, and is in touch with the Warden.

In short, you will parole two goodconduct prisoners from San Quentin; and they will be gardeners. There

are plenty of Chinese and Italians there, and they are the best truckfarmers. You kill two birds with one

"You know John," Mrs. Mortimer went on, "Mr. Hale's man about the place? How do you like him?"

"Oh, I was wishing only today that we could find somebody like him," Saxon said eagerly. "He's such a

"There's one thing she didn't tell you," smiled Mrs. Mortimer. "John is a paroled convict. Twentyeight years

ago, in hot blood, he killed a man in a quarrel over sixtyfive cents. He's been out of prison with the Hales

three years now. You remember Louis, the old Frenchman, on my place? He's another. So that's settled.

When your two comeof course you will pay them fair wagesand we'll make sure they're the same

nationality, either Chinese or Italianswell, when they come, John, with their help, and under Mr. Hale's

guidance, will knock together a small cabin for them to live in. We'll select the spot. Even so, when your farm

is in full swing you'll have to have more outside help. So keep your eyes open, Billy, while you're

The next night Billy failed to return, and at nine o'clock a Glen Ellen boy on horseback delivered a telegram.

Not until the third night did he arrive home, tired to exhaustion, but with an ill concealed air of pride.

"Usin' my head," he boasted quietly. "Killin' two birds with one stone; an', take it from me, I killed a whole

flock. Huh! I got word of it at Lawndale, an' I wanta tell you Hazel an' Hattie was some tired when I stabled

'm at Calistoga an' pulled out on the stage over St. Helena. I was Johnnyonthespot, an' I nailed 'm eight

whoppersthe whole outfit of a mountain teamster. Young animals, sound as adollar, and the lightest of

'em over fifteen hundred. I shipped 'm last night from Calistoga. An', well, that ain't all.

"Before that, first day, at Lawndale, I seen the fellow with the teamin' contract for the pavin'stone quarry.

Sell horses! He wanted to buy 'em. He wanted to buy 'em bad. He'd even rent 'em, he said."

"Guess again. I bought them eight with Oakland money, an' they was shipped to Oakland. But I got the

Lawndale contractor on long distance, and he agreed to pay me half a dollar a day rent for every work horse

up to half a dozen. Then I telegraphed the Boss, tellin' him to ship me six sorefooted mares, Bud Strothers to

make the choice, an' to charge to my commission. Bud knows what I 'm after. Soon as they come, off go their

shoes. Two weeks in pasture, an' then they go to Lawndale. They can do the work. It's a downhill haul to the

railroad on a dirt road. Half a dollar rent eachthat's three dollars a day they'll bring me six days a week. I

don't feed 'em, shoe 'm, or nothin', an' I keep an eye on 'm to see they're treated right. Three bucks a day, eh!

Well, I guess that'll keep a couple of dollaran 'ahalf men goin' for Saxon, unless she works 'em Sundays.

Huh! The Valley of the Moon! Why, we'll be wearin' diamonds before long. Gosh! A fellow could live in the

"I 'm goin' out to water Hazel an' Hattie, feed 'm, an' bed 'm down. I'll eat soon as I come back."

The two women were regarding each other with shining eyes, each on the verge of speech when Billy

"They's one thing maybe you ain't got," he said. "I pull down them three dollars every day; but the six mares

"I'm not done with you children," had been Mrs. Mortimer's parting words; and several times that winter she

ran up to advise, and to teach Saxon how to calculate her crops for the small immediate market, for the

increasing spring market, and for the height of summer, at which time she would be able to sell all she could

possibly grow and then not supply the demand. In the meantime, Hazel and Hattie were used every odd

moment in hauling manure from Glen Ellen, whose barnyards had never known such a thorough cleaning.

Also there were loads of commercial fertilizer from the railroad station, bought under Mrs. Mortimer's

The convicts paroled were Chinese. Both had served long in prison, and were old men; but the day's work

they were habitually capable of won Mrs. Mortimer's approval. Gow Yum, twenty years before, had had

charge of the vegetable garden of one of the great Menlo Park estates. His disaster had come in the form of a

fight over a game of fan tan in the Chinese quarter at Redwood City. His companion, Chan Chi, had been a

hatchetman of note, in the old fighting days of the San Franciseo tongs. But a quarter of century of

discipline in the prison vegetable gardens had cooled his blood and turned his hand from hatchet to hoe.

These two assistants had arrived in Glen Ellen like precious goods in bond and been receipted for by the local

deputy sheriff, who, in addition, reported on them to the prison authorities each month. Saxon, too, made out

As for the danger of their cutting her throat, she quickly got over the idea of it. The mailed hand of the State

hovered over them. The taking of a single drink of liquor would provoke that hand to close down and jerk

them back to prisoncells. Nor had they freedom of movement. When old Gow Yum needed to go to San

Francisco to sign certain papers before the Chinese Consul, permission had first to be obtained from San

Quentin. Then, too, neither man was nasty tempered. Saxon had been apprehensive of the task of bossing two

desperate convicts; but when they came she found it a pleasure to work with them. She could tell them what

to do, but it was they who knew how do. Prom them she learned all the ten thousand tricks and quirks of

artful gardening, and she was not long in realizing how helpless she would have been had she depended on

Still further, she had no fear, because she was not alone. She had been using her head. It was quickly apparent

to her that she could not adequately oversee the outside work and at the same time do the house work. She

wrote to Ukiah to the energetic widow who had lived in the adjoining house and taken in washing. She had

promptly closed with Saxon's offer. Mrs. Paul was forty, short in stature, and weighed two hundred pounds,

but never wearied on her feet. Also she was devoid of fear, and, according to Billy, could settle the hash of

both Chinese with one of her mighty arms. Mrs. Paul arrived with her son, a country lad of sixteen who knew

horses and could milk Hilda, the pretty Jersey which had successfully passed Edmund's expert eye. Though

Mrs. Paul ably handled the house, there was one thing Saxon insisted on doingnamely, washing her own

"When I 'm no longer able to do that," she told Billy, "you can take a spade to that clump of redwoods beside

It was early in the days of Madrono Ranch, at the time of Mrs. Mortimer's second visit, that Billy drove in

with a load of pipe; and house, chicken yards, and barn were piped from the secondhand tank he installed

"Huh ! I guess I can use my head," he said. "I watched a woman over on the other side of the valley, packin'

water two hundred feet from the spring to the house; an' I did some figurin'. I put it at three trips a day and on

wash days a whole lot more; an' you can't guess what I made out she traveled a year packin' water. One

hundred an' twentytwo miles. D'ye get that? One hundred and twentytwo miles! I asked her how long she'd

been there. Thirtyone years. Multiply it for yourself. Three thousan', seven hundred an' eightytwo

"Oh, I ain't done yet. They's a bathtub an' stationary tubs acomin' soon as I can see my way. An', say,

Saxon, you know that little clear flat just where Wild Water runs into Sonoma. They's all of an acre of it. An'

it's mine! Got that? An' no walkin' on the grass for you. It'll be my grass. I 'm goin' up stream a ways an' put

in a ram. I got a big secondhand one staked out that I can get for ten dollars, an' it'll pump more water'n I

need. An' you'll see alfalfa growin' that'll make your mouth water. I gotta have another horse to travel around

on. You're usin' Hazel an' Hattie too much to give me a chance; an' I'll never see 'm as soon as you start

deliverin' vegetables. I guess that alfalfa'll help some to keep another horse goin'."

But Billy was destined for a time to forget his alfalfa in the excitement of bigger ventures. First, came

trouble. The several hundred dollars he had arrived with in Sonoma Valley, and all his own commissions

since earned, had gone into improvements and living. The eighteen dollars a week rental for his six horses at

Lawndale went to pay wages. And he was unable to buy the needed saddlehorse for his horsebuying

expeditions. This, however, he had got around by again using his head and killing two birds with one stone.

He began breaking colts to drive, and in the driving drove them wherever he sought horses.

So far all was well. But a new administration in San Francisco, pledged to economy, had stopped all street

work. This meant the shutting down of the Lawndale quarry, which was one of the sources of supply for

paving blocks. The six horses would not only be back on his hands, but he would have to feed them. How

That night he was late in coming home, but brought with him a radiant face. Saxon was no less radiant.

"It's all right," she greeted him, coming out to the barn where he was unhitching a tired but fractious colt.

"I've talked with all three. They see the situation, and are perfectly willing to let their wages stand a while. By

another week I start Hazel and Hattie delivering vegetables. Then the money will pour in from the hotels and

my books won't look so lopsided. Andoh, Billyyou'd never guess. Old Gow Yum has a bank account.

He came to me afterwardI guess he was thinking it over and offered to lend me four hundred dollars.

"That I ain't goin' to be too proud to borrow it off 'm, if he IS a Chink. He's a white one, an' maybe I'll need it.

Because, you seewell, you can't guess what I've been up to since I seen you this mornin'. I've been so busy

"You can call it that," he joined in her laughter. "I've been spendin' money like water."

"I've got credit in this valley, I'll let you know," he replied. " An' I sure strained it some this afternoon. Now

He roared with laughter, startling the colt, which tried to bolt and lifted him half off the ground by his grip on

"Oh, I mean real guessin'," he urged, when the animal had dropped back to earth and stood regarding him

"Aw, you ain't got imagination. I'll tell you. You know Thiercroft. I bought his big wagon from 'm for sixty

dollars. I bought a wagon from the Kenwood blacksmith soso, but it'll dofor fortyfive dollars. An' I

bought Ping's wagona peachfor sixtyfive dollars. I could agot it for fifty if he hadn't seen I wanted it

"Didn't I tell you I had credit? Well, I have. I stood 'm off for them wagons. I ain't spent a cent of cash money

today except for a couple of longdistance switches. Then I bought three sets of workharnessthey're

chain harness an' secondhandfor twenty dollars a set. I bought 'm from the fellow that's doin' the haulin'

for the quarry. He don't need 'm any more. An' I rented four wagons from 'm, an' four span of horses, too, at

half a dollar a day for each horse, an' half a dollar a day for each wagonthat's six dollars a day rent I gotta

pay 'm. The three sets of spare harness is for my six horses. Then . . .lemme see . . . yep, I rented two barns in

Glen Ellen, an' I ordered fifty tons of hay an' a carload of bran an' barley from the store in Glenwood you

"Oh, sure Pete, I've went some. I hired seven men to go drivin' for me at two dollars a day, an'ouch!

"No," Saxon said gravely, having pinched him, "you're not dreaming." She felt his pulse and forehead. "Not a

sign of fever." She sniffed his breath. "And you've not been drinking. Go on, tell me the rest of

"All right. But I just want you to know, first, that the boss I used to work for in Oakland ain't got nothin' on

me. I 'm some man of affairs, if anybody should ride up on a vegetable wagon an' ask you. Now, I 'm goin' to

tell you, though I can't see why the Glen Ellen folks didn't beat me to it. I guess they was asleep. Nobody'd

aoverlooked a thing like it in the city. You see, it was like this: you know that fancy brickyard they're gettin'

ready to start for makin' extra special fire brick for inside walls? Well, here was I worryin' about the six

horses comin' back on my hands, earnin' me nothin' an' eatin' me into the poorhouse. I had to get 'm work

somehow, an' I remembered the brickyard. I drove the colt down an' talked with that Jap chemist who's been

doin' the experimentin'. Gee! They was foremen lookin' over the ground an' everything gettin' ready to hum. I

looked over the lay an' studied it. Then I drove up to where they're openin' the clay pityou know, that fine,

white chalky stuff we saw 'em borin' out just outside the hundred an' forty acres with the three knolls. It's a

downhill haul, a mile, an' two horses can do it easy. In fact, their hardest job'll be haulin' the empty wagons

"The Jap professor'd told me the manager an' the other big guns of the company was comin' up on the mornin'

train. I wasn't shoutin' things out to anybody, but I just made myself into a committee of welcome; an', when

the train pulled in, there I was, extendin' the glad hand of the burglikewise the glad hand of a guy you used

to know in Oakland once, a thirdrate dub prizefighter by the name oflemme seeyep, I got it rightBig

Bill Roberts was the name he used to sport, but now he's known as William Roberts, E. S. Q.

"Well, as I was sayin', I gave 'm the glad hand, an' trailed along with 'em to the brickyard, an' from the talk I

could see things was doin'. Then I watched my chance an' sprung my proposition. I was scared stiff all the

time for maybe the teamin' was already arranged. But I knew it wasn't when they asked for my figures. I had

"'We're goin' into this big, an' at once,' he says, lookin' at me sharp. 'What kind of an outfit you got, Mr.

"'I can slap fourteen horses an' seven wagons onto the job at the jump,' says I. 'An' if you want more, I'll get

"'Sure,' says I, important as all hellahemme!'but a couple of other things first. I want a two year

"An' I did. I showed 'm where I'd lose out if they stuck to their plan, on account of the dip down an' pull up to

the dump. 'All you gotta do,' I says, 'is to build the bunkers fifty feet over, throw the road around the rim of

"Say, Saxon, that kind of talk got 'em. It was straight. Only they'd been thinkin' about bricks, while I was only

"I guess they was all of half an hour considerin', an' I was almost as miserable waitin' as when I waited for

you to say yes after I asked you. I went over the figures, calculatin' what I could throw off if I had to. You

see, I'd given it to 'em stiffregular city prices; an' I was prepared to trim down. Then they come back.

"'Nope,' I says. 'This is a winegrape valley. It don't raise enough hay an' feed for its own animals. It has to

be shipped in from the San Joaquin Valley. Why, I can buy hay an' feed cheaper in San Francisco, laid down,

"An' that struck 'm hard. It was true, an' they knew it. Butsay! If they'd asked about wages for drivers, an'

about horseshoein' prices, I'd ahad to come down; because, you see, they ain't no teamsters' union in the

country, an' no horseshoers' union, an' rent is low, an' them two items come a whole lot cheaper. Huh! This

afternoon I got a word bargain with the blacksmith across from the post office; an' he takes my whole bunch

an' throws off twentyfive cents on each shoein', though it's on the Q. T. But they didn't think to ask, bein' too

Billy felt in his breast pocket, drew out a legallooking document, and handed it to Saxon.

"There it is," he said, "the contract, full of all the agreements, prices, an' penalties. I saw Mr. Hale down town

an' showed it to 'm. He says it's O.K. An' say, then I lit out. All over town, Kenwood, I`awndale, everywhere,

everybody, everything. The quarry teamin' finishes Friday of this week. An' I take the whole outfit an' start

Wednesday of next week haulin' lumber for the buildin's, an' bricks for the kilns, an' all the rest. An' when

"But I ain't told you the best yet. I couldn't get the switch right away from Kenwood to Lawndale, and while I

waited I went over my figures again. You couldn't guess it in a million years. I'd made a mistake in addition

somewhere, an' soaked 'm ten per cent. more'n I'd expected. Talk about findin' money! Any time you want

them couple of extra men to help out with the vegetables, say the word. Though we're goin' to have to pinch

the next couple of months. An' go ahead an' borrow that four hundred from Gow Yum. An' tell him you'll pay

eight per cent. interest, an' that we won't want it more 'n three or four months."

When Billy got away from Saxon's arms, he started leading the colt up and down to cool it off. He stopped so

sbruptly that his back collided with the colt's nose, and there was a lively minute of rearing and plunging.

It was on a bright June morning that Billy told Saxon to put on her riding clothes to try out a saddlehorse.

"Not until after ten o'clock," she said "By that time I'll have the wagon off on a second trip."

Despite the extent of the business she had developed, her executive ability and system gave her much spare

time. She could call on the Hales, which was ever a delight, especially now that the Hastings were back and

that Clara was often at her aunt's. In this congenial atmosphere Saxon Burgeoned. She had begun to read

to read with understanding; and she had time for her books, for work on her pretties, and for Billy, whom

Billy was even busier than she, his work being more scattered and diverse. And, as well, he kept his eye on

the home barn and horses which Saxon used. In truth he had become a man of affairs, though Mrs. Mortimer

had gone over his accounts, with an eagle eye on the expense column, discovering several minor leaks, and

finally, aided by Saxon, bullied him into keeping books. Each night, after supper, he and Saxon posted their

books. Afterward, in the big morris chair he had insisted on buying early in the days of his brickyard contract,

Saxon would creep into his arms and strum on the ukelele; or they would talk long about what they were

"I'm mixin' up in politics, Saxon. It pays. You bet it pays. If by next spring I ain't got a half a dozen teams

workin' on the roads an' pullin' down the county money, it's me back to Oakland an' askin' the Boss for a job."

Or, Saxon: "They're really starting that new hotel between Caliente and Eldridge. And there's some talk of a

Or, it would be: "Billy, now that you've piped that acre, you've just got to let me have it for my vegetables. I'll

rent it from you. I'll take your own estimate for all the alfalfa you can raise on it, and pay you full market

"It's all right, take it." Billy suppressed a sigh. "Besides, I 'm too busy to fool with it now. "

Which prevarication was barefaced, by virtue of his having just installed the ram and piped the land.

"It will be the wisest, Billy," she soothed, for she knew his dream of landspaciousness was stronger than

ever. "You don't want to fool with an acre. There's that hundred and forty. We'll buy it yet if old Chavon ever

dies. Besides, it really belongs to Madrono Ranch. The two together were the original quarter section."

"I don't wish no man's death," Billy grumbled. "But he ain't gettin' no good out of it, overpasturin' it with a

lot of scrub animals. I've sized it up every inch of it. They's at least forty acres in the three cleared fields, with

water in the hills behind to beat the band. The horse feed I could raise on it'd take your breath away. Then

they's at least fifty acres I could run my brood mares on, pasture mixed up with trees and steep places and

such. The other fifty's just thick woods, an' pretty places, an' wild game. An' that old adobe barn's all right.

With a new roof it'd shelter any amount of animals in bad weather. Cook at me now, rentin' that measly

pasture back of Ping's just to run my restin' animals. They could run in the hundred an' forty if I only had it. I

Or, less ambitious, Billy would say: "I gotta skin over to Petaluma tomorrow, Saxon. They's an auction on

"Ain't I got two teams haulin' lumber for the new winery? An' Barney's got a bad shouldersprain. He'll have

to lay off a long time if he's to get it in shape. An' Bridget ain't ever goin' to do a tap of work again. I can see

that stickin' out. I've doctored her an' doctored her. She's fooled the vet, too. An' some of the other horses has

gotta take a rest. That span of grays is showin' the hard work. An' the big roan's goin' loco. Everybody

thought it was his teeth, but it ain't. It's straight loco. It's money in pocket to take care of your animals, an'

horses is the delicatest things on four legs. Some time, if I can ever see my way to it, I 'm goin' to ship a

carload of mules from Colusa Countybig, heavy ones, you know. They'd sell like hot cakes in the valley

Or, in lighter vein, Billy: "By the way, Saxon, talkin' of accounts, what d'you think Hazel an' Hattie is

"Hum." Billy considered deeply. "They're worth a whole lot more, but let it go at that. An' now, gettin' back

"You can't show me. Why, Saxon, when I let you have grain an' hay from my carloads, don't you give me a

check for it? An' you know how you're stuck on keepin' your accounts down to the penny," he teased. "If

you're any kind of a business woman you just gotta charge your business with them two horses. I ain't had the

"But the colts will be yours," she argued. "Besides, I can't afford brood mares in my business. In almost no

time, now, Hazel and Hattie will have to be taken off from the wagonthey're too good for it anyway. And

you keep your eyes open for a pair to take their place. I'll give you a check for THAT pair, but no

"All right," Billy conceded. "Hazel an' Hattie come back to me; but you can pay me rent for the time you did

"An' if you charge me board, I'll charge you interest for the money I've stuck into this shebang."

"Straight on the solar plexus," he said, "an' me down for the count. But say, them's sweet words, ain't they.

community property." He rolled them over and off his tongue with keen relish. "An' when we got married the

top of our ambition was a steady job an' some rags an' sticks of furniture all paid up an' halfworn out. We

"What nonsense! What could I have done by myself? You know very well that you earned all the money that

started us here. You paid the wages of Gow Yum and Chan Chi, and old Hughie, and Mrs. Paul, andwhy,

She drew her two hands caressingly across his shoulders and down along his great biceps muscles.

"Aw hell! It's your head that done it. What was my muscles good for with no head to run 'em,sluggin'

scabs, beatin' up lodgers, an' crookin' the elbow over a bar. The only sensible thing my head ever done was

"Aw hell, Billy," she mimicked in the way that delighted him, "where would I have been if you hadn't taken

me out of the laundry? I couldn't take myself out. I was just a helpless girl. I'd have been there yet if it hadn't

"A woman ain't got the chance to help herself that a man has," he generalized. "I'll tell you what: It took the

two of us. It's been teamwork. We've run in span. If we'd arun single, you might still be in the laundry; an',

if I was lucky, I'd be still drivin' team by the day an' sportin' around to cheap dances."

Saxon stood under the father of all madronos, watching Hazel and Hattie go out the gate, the full vegetable

wagon behind them, when she saw Billy ride in, leading a sorrel mare from whose silken coat the sun flashed

"Fouryearold, highlife, a handful, but no vicious tricks," Billy chanted, as he stopped beside Saxon. "Skin

like tissue paper, mouth like silk, but kill the toughest broncho ever foaledlook at them lungs an' nostrils.

They call her Ramonasome Spanish name: sired by Morellita outa genuine Morgan stock."

"And they will sell her?" Saxon gasped, standing with hands clasped in inarticulate delight.

"But how much must they want for her?" was Saxon's next question, so impossible did it seem that such an

"That ain't your business," Billy answered brusquely. "The brickyard's payin' for her, not the vegetable ranch.

Saxon tightly gripped reins and mane, stepped with spurred foot on Billy's hand, and was lifted lightly into

"She's used to spurs," Billy called after. "Spanish broke, so don't check her quick. Come in gentle. An' talk to

Saxon nodded, dashed out the gate and down the road, waved a hand to Clara Hastings as she passed the gate

When she came back, Ramona in a pleasant lather, Saxon rode to the rear of the house, past the chicken

houses and the flourishing berryrows, to join Billy on the rim of the bench, where he sat on his horse in the

shade, smoking a cigarette. Together they looked down through an opening among the trees to the meadow

which was a meadow no longer. With mathematical accuracy it was divided into squares, oblongs, and

narrow strips, which displayed sharply the thousand hues of green of a truck garden. Gow Yum and Chan

Chi, under enormous Chinese grass hats, were planting green onions. Old Hughie, hoe in hand, plodded along

the main artery of running water, opening certain laterals, closing others. From the workshed beyond the

barn the strokes of a hammer told Saxon that Carlsen was wirebinding vegetable boxes. Mrs. Paul's cheery

soprano, lifted in a hymn, doated through the trees, accompanied by the whirr of an eggbeater. A sharp

barking told where Possum still waged hysterical and baffled war on the Douglass squirrels. Billy took a long

draw from his cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and continued to look down at the meadow. Saxon divined

trouble in his manner. His reinhand was on the pommel, and her free hand went out and softly rested on his.

Billy turned his slow gaze upon her mare's lather, seeming not to note it, and continued on to Saxon's face.

"Huh!" he equivocated, as if waking up. "Them San Leandro Porchugeeze ain't got nothin' on us when it

comes to intensive farmin'. Look at that water runnin'. You know, it seems so good to me that sometimes I

"An' don't be scared of it ever goin' back on you. If the rains fooled you, there's Sonoma Creek alongside. All

"But we'll never have to, Billy. I was talking with 'Redwood' Thompson. He's lived in the valley since

Fiftythree, and he says there's never been a failure of crops on account of drought. We always get our rain."

"Nothin'," he grunted. "Yes, there is, too. What's the difference? You'd know it sooner or later. You ought to

see old Chavon. His face is that long he can't walk without bumpin' his knee on his chin. His goldmine's

"His clay pit. It's the same thing. He's gettin' twenty cents a yard for it from the brickyard."

"And that means the end of your teaming contract." Saxon saw the disaster in all its hugeness. "What about

"Worried to death, though they've kept secret about it. They've had men out punchin' holes all over the hills

for a week, an' that Jap chemist settin' up nights analyzin' the rubbish they've brought in. It's peculiar stuff,

that clay, for what they want it for, an' you don't find it everywhere. Them experts that reported on Chavon's

pit made one hell of a mistake. Maybe they was lazy with their borin's. Anyway, they slipped up on the

amount of clay they was in it. Now don't get to botherin'. It'd come out somehow. You can't do nothin'."

"You ain't got a thing to do with that," he answered. "I 'm buyin' her, an' her price don't cut any figure

alongside the big game I 'm playin'. Of course, I can always sell my horses. But that puts a stop to their

"But if you get some of them in on the road work for the county?" she suggested.

"Oh, I got that in mind. An' I 'm keepin' my eyes open. They's a chance the quarry will start again, an' the

fellow that did that teamin' has gone to Puget Sound. An' what if I have to sell out most of the horses? Here's

you and the vegetable business. That's solid. We just don't go ahead so fast for a time, that's all. I ain't scared

of the country any more. I sized things up as we went along. They ain't a jerk burg we hit all the time on the

road that I couldn't jump into an' make a go. An' now where d'you want to ride?"

They cantered out the gate, thundered across the bridge, and passed Trillium Covert before they pulled in on

the grade of Wild Water Canyon. Saxon had chosen her field on the big spur of Sonoma Mountains as the

"Say, I bumped into something big this mornin' when I was goin' to fetch Ramona," Billy said, the clay pit

trouble banished for the time. "You know the hundred an' forty. I passed young Chavon along the road,

an'I don't know whyjust for ducks, I guessI up an' asked 'm if he thought the old man would lease the

hundred an' forty to me. An' what d 'you think! He said the old man didn't own it. Was just leasin' it himself.

That's how we was always seein' his cattle on it. It's a gouge into his land, for he owns everything on three

"Next I met Ping. He said Hilyard owned it an' was willin' to sell, only Chavon didn't have the price. Then,

comin' back, I looked in on Payne. He's quit blacksmithin'his back's hurtin' 'm from a kickan' just startin'

in for real estate. Sure, he said, Hilyard would sell, an' had already listed the land with 'm. Chavon's

When they had climbed out of Wild Water Canyon they turned their horses about and halted on the rim where

they could look across at the three densely wooded knolls in the midst of the desired hundred and forty.

"Sure we will," Billy agreed with careless certitude. "I've ben lookin' over the big adobe barn again. Just the

thing for a raft of horses, an' a new roof'll be cheaper 'n I thought. Though neither Chavon or me'll be in the

When they reached Saxon's field, which they had learned was the property of Redwood Thompson, they tied

the horses and entered it on foot. The hay, just cut, was being raked by Thompson, who hallo'd a greeting to

them. It was a cloudless, windless day, and they sought refuge from the sun in the woods beyond. They

"It's a cow trail," Billy declared. "I bet they's a teeny pasture tucked away somewhere in them trees. Let's

A quarter of an hour later, several hundred feet up the side of the spur, they emerged on an open, grassy space

of bare hillside. Most of the hundred and forty, two miles away, lay beneath them, while they were level with

the tops of the three knolls. Billy paused to gaze upon the muchdesired land, and Saxon joined him.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing toward the knolls. "Up the little canyon, to the left of it, there on the

"It's one on me," he said, studying the scar. "I thought I knew every inch of that land, but I never seen that

before. Why, I was right in there at the head of the canyon the first part of the winter. It's awful wild. Walls of

"Must bebrought down by the heavy rains. If I don't miss my guess" Billy broke off, forgetting in the

"Hilyard'll sell for thirty an acre," he began again, disconnectedly. "Good land, bad land, an' all, just as it

runs, thirty an acre. That's fortytwo hundred. Payne's new at real estate, an' I'll make 'm split his commission

an' get the easiest terms ever. We can reborrow that four hundred from Gow Yum, an' I can borrow money

She scarcely touched the edge of his thought. He looked at her, as if he had heard, then forgot her the next

He started back down the cow trail, recollected Saxon, and called over his shoulder:

So rapidly did he go down the trail and across the field, that Saxon had no time for questions. She was almost

They galloped on the levels, trotted down the gentler slopes of road, and not until on the steep descent of

Wild Water canyon did they rein to a walk. Billy's preoccupation was gone, and Saxon took advantage to

"Clara Hastings told me the other day that they're going to have a house party. The Hazards are to be there,

She looked at Billy anxiously. At the mention of Blanchard his head had tossed up as to a bugle call. Slowly

"It's a long time since you told any man he was standing on his foot," she ventured slyly

"Aw, that's all right," he said in mocklordly fashion. "Roy Blanchard can come. I'll let 'm. All that was a

He urged his horse on at a faster walk, and as soon as the slope lessened broke into a trot. At Trillium Covert

"You'll have to stop for dinner first," Saxon said, as they neared the gate of Madrono Ranch.

Half a mile farther on, they left the highway, passed through a patent gate which Billy had installed, and

crossed the fields on a road which was coated thick with chalky dust. This was the road that led to Chavon's

clay pit. The hundred and forty lay to the west. Two wagons, in a cloud of dust, came into sight.

"Your teams, Billy," cried Saxon. "Think of it! Just by the use of the head, earning your money while you're

"Makes me ashamed to think how much cash money each one of them teams is bringin' me in every day," he

They were turning off from the road toward the bars which gave entrance to the one hundred and forty, when

the driver of the foremost wagon hallo'd and waved his hand. They drew in their horses and waited.

"The big roan's broke loose," the dryer said, as he stopped beside them. "Clean crazy locobitin', squealin',

strikin', kickin'. Kicked clean out of the harness like it was paper. Bit a chunk out of Baldy the size of a

saucer, an' wound up by breakin' his own hind leg. Liveliest fifteen minutes I ever seen."

"Well, after you unload, drive around by the other barn and get Ben. He's in the corral. Tell Matthews to be

easy with 'm. An' get a gun. Sammy's got one. You'll have to see to the briig roan. I ain't got time

"Oh, he's just stickin'around waitin'," the driver answered. "He reckoned I could get Ben."

"That's the way of it," Billy growled to Saxon as they rode on. "No savve. No head. One man settin' down an'

holdin his hands while another team drives outa its way doin what he oughta done. That's the trouble with

"With twodollaraday heads," Saxon said quickly."What kind of heads do you expect for two dollars?"

"That's right, too," Billy acknowledged the hit. "If they had better heads they'd be in the cities like all the rest

of the better men. An' the better men are a lot of dummies, too. They don't know the big chances in the

Billy dismounted, took the three bars down, led his horse through, then put up the bars.

"When I get this place, there'll be a gate here," he announced. "Pay for itself in no time. It's the thousan' an'

one little things like this that count up big when you put 'm together." He sighed contentedly. "I never used to

think about such things, but when we shook Oakland I began to wise up. It was them San Leandro

They skirted the lower of the three fields where the ripe hay stood uncut. Billy pointed with eloquent disgust

to a break in the fence, slovenly repaired, and on to the standing grain muchtrampled by cattle.

"Them's the things," he criticized. "Old style. An' look how thin that crop is, an' the shallow plowin'. Scrub

cattle, scrub seed, scrub farmin'. Chavon's worked it for eight years now, an' never rested it once, never put

anything in for what he took out, except the cattle into the stubble the minute the hay was on."

"Look at that bull, Saxon. Scrub's no name for it. They oughta be a state law against lettin' such animals exist.

No wonder Chavon's that land poor he's had to sink all his claypit earnin's into taxes an' interest. He can't

make his land pay. Take this hundred an forty. Anybody with the savve can just rake silver dollars offen it.

"A few dollars at the right time would asaved hundreds on that roof," Billy commented. "Well, anyway, I

won't be payin' for any improvements when I buy. An I'll tell you another thing. This ranch is full of water,

and if Glen Ellen ever grows they'll have to come to see me for their water supply."

Billy knew the ranch thoroughly, and took shortcuts through the woods by way of cattle paths. Once, he

reined in abruptly, and both stopped. Confronting them, a dozen paces away, was a halfgrown red fox. For

half a minute, with beady eyes, the wild thing studied them, with twitching sensitive nose reading the

messages of the air. Then, velvetfooted, it leapt aside and was gone among the trees.

As they approached Wild Water; they rode out into a long narrow meadow. In the middle was a pond.

"Natural reservoir, when Glen Ellen begins to buy water," Billy said. "See, down at the lower end

there?wouldn't cost anything hardly to throw a dam across. An' I can pipe in all kinds of hilldrip. An'

water's goin' to be money in this valley not a thousan' years from now.An' all the ginks, an' boobs, an'

dubs, an' gazabos poundin' their ear deado an' not seein' it comin.An' surveyors workin' up the valley for

They came to the rim of Wild Water canyon. Leaning far back in their saddles, they slid the horses down a

steep declivity, through big spruce woods, to an ancient and all but obliterated trail.

"They cut this trail 'way back in the Fifties," Billy explained. "I only found it by accident. Then I asked Poppe

yesterday. He was born in the valley. He said it was a fake minin' rush across from Petaluma. The gamblers

got it up, an' they must adrawn a thousan' suckers. You see that flat there, an' the old stumps. That's where

the camp was. They set the tables up under the trees. The flat used to be bigger, but the creek's eaten into it.

Lying low against their horses' necks, they scrambled up a steep cattle trail out of the canyon, and began to

"Say, Saxon, you're always lookin' for something pretty. I'll show you what'll make your hair stand up . . .

Never, in all their travels, had Saxon seen so lovely a vista as the one that greeted them when they emerged.

The dim trail lay like a rambling red shadow cast on the soft forest floor by the great redwoods and

overarching oaks. It seemed as if all local varieties of trees and vines had conspired to weave the leafy

roofmaples, big madronos and laurels, and lofty tanbark oaks, scaled and wrapped and interwound with

wild grape and flaming poison oak. Saxon drew Billy's eyes to a mossy bank of fivefinger ferns. All slopes

seemed to meet to form this basin and colossal forest bower. Underfoot the floor was spongy with water. An

invisible streamlet whispered under broadfronded brakes. On every hand opened tiny vistas of enchantment,

where young redwoods grouped still and stately about fallen giants, shoulderhigh to the horses,

At last, after another quarter of an hour, they tied their horses on the rim of the narrow canyon that penetrated

the wilderness of the knolls. Through a rift in the trees Billy pointed to the top of the leaning spruce.

"It's right under that," he said. "We'll have to follow up the bed of the creek. They ain't no trail, though you'll

Saxon laughed her joy and held on close to his heels, splashing through pools, crawling hand and foot up the

slippery faces of waterworn rocks, and worming under trunks of old fallen trees.

"They ain't no real bedrock in the whole mountain," Billy elucidated, "so the stream cuts deeper'n deeper,

an' that keeps the sides cavin' in. They're as steep as they can be without fallin' down. A little farther up, the

canyon ain't much more'n a crack in the groundbut a mighty deep one if anybody should ask you. You can

The climbing grew more difficult, and they were finally halted, in a narrow cleft, by a driftjam.

"You wait here," Billy directed, and, lying flat, squirmed on through crashing brush.

Saxon waited till all sound had died away. She waited ten minutes longer, then followed by the way Billy had

broken. Where the bed of the canyon became impossible, she came upon what she was sure was a deer path

that skirted the steep side and was a tunnel through the close greenery. She caught a glimpse of the

overhanging spruce, almost above her head on the opposite side, and emerged on a pool of clear water in a

claylike basin. This basin was of recent origin, having been formed by a slide of earth and trees. Across the

pool arose an almost sheer wall of white. She recognized it for what it was, and looked about for Billy. She

heard him whistle, and looked up. Two hundred feet above, at the perilous top of the white wall, he was

"I can see the little pasture back of your field," he called down. "No wonder nobody ever piped this off. The

only place they could see it from is that speck of pasture. An' you saw it first. Wait till I come down and tell

It required no shrewdness to guess the truth. Saxon knew this was the precious clay required by the brickyard.

Billy circled wide of the slide and came down the canyonwall, from tree to tree, as descending a ladder.

"Ain't it a peach?" he exulted, as he dropped beside her. "Just look at ithidden away under four feet of soil

where nobody could see it, an' just waitin' for us to hit the Valley of the Moon. Then it up an' slides a piece of

"You bet your sweet life. I've handled too much of it not to know it in the dark. Just rub a piece between your

fingers.Like that. Why, I could tell by the taste of it. I've eaten enough of the dust of the teams. Here's

where our fun begins. Why, you know we've been workin' our heads off since we hit this valley. Now we're

"Well, you won't be a hundred years old before I do. Straight from here I hike to Payne an' bind the bargain

an option, you know, while title's searchin' an' I 'm raisin' money. We'll borrow that four hundred back

again from Gow Yum, an' I'll borrow all I can get on my horses an' wagons, an' Hazel and Hattie, an'

everything that's worth a cent. An' then I get the deed with a mortgage on it to Hilyard for the balance. An'

thenit's takin' candy from a babyI'll contract with the brickyard for twenty cents a yardmaybe more.

They'll be crazy with joy when they see it. Don't need any borin's. They's nearly two hundred feet of it

"But you'll spoil all the beautiful canyon hauling out the clay," Saxon cried with alarm.

"Nope; only the knoll. The road'll come in from the other side. It'll be only half a mile to Chavon's pit. I'll

build the road an' charge steeper teamin', or the brickyard can build it an' I'll team for the same rate as before.

An' twenty cents a yard pourin' in, all profit, from the jump. I'll sure have to buy more horses to do the work."

"Say, Saxon," Billy said, after a pause had fallen, "sing 'Harvest Days,' won't you?"

And, when she had complied: "The first time you sung that song for me was comin' home from the picnic on

"The very first day we met each other," she broke in. "What did you think about me that day?"

"Why, what I've thought ever sincethat you was made for me.I thought that right at the jump, in the first

"Oh, I wondered, and before the first waltz, too, when we were introduced and shook handsI wondered if

you were the man. Those were the very words that flashed into my mind.IS HE THE MAN?"

"An' I kinda looked a little some good to you?" he queried. "_I_thought so, and my eyesight has always been

"Say!" Billy went off at a tangent. "By next winter, with everything hummin' an' shipshape, what's the matter

with us makin' a visit to Carmel? It'll be slack time for you with the vegetables, an' I'll be able to afford a

"I asked him to ship up the old chest of drawersmy mother's, you rememberthat we stored with him."

"Huh! I don't see anything outa the way about that," Billy said with relief. "We need the chest, don't we? An'

"You are a dear stupid man, that's what you are. Don't you know what is in the chest?"

"It's what I wanted, Saxon, more'n anything else in the world. I've been thinkin' a whole lot about it lately,

ever since we hit the valley," he went on, brokenly, and for the first time she saw tears unmistakable in his

eyes. "But after all I'd done, an' the hell I'd raised, an' everything, I . . . I never urged you, or said a word

about it. But I wanted it . . . oh, I wanted it like . . . like I want you now."

His open arms received her, and the pool in the heart of the canyon knew a tender silence.

Saxon felt Billy's finger laid warningly on her lips. Guided by his hand, she turned her head back, and

together they gazed far up the side of the knoll where a doe and a spotted fawn looked down upon them from