The Storyteller.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2449, 13 March 1909, Page 10 (Supplement)

The Storyteller.

MR. DIVVY-UP AND THE GIRL. (By Randolph Hartley.) After a little unpleasantness arising out of a horse raffle/ which tended to make Air Diyyy-up decidedly . unpopular at the Here’s How Saloon, tie transferred his patronage t-o-the GV.d Angel, a more pretentious institut on that boasted a walnut bar with brass fittings, a. roulette-wheel, and a dar.ee. hall in the rear. The Gold Angel got most of its custom from travellers who stopped over at Granite, to take the Aspen stage, or avlio, coming from Aspen, awaited trains from- Denver or Leadville. Air Divvy-up, accustomed to the more conservative atmosphere of the Here’s How, Avas not altogether Comfortable in the iacav tnvironment. The Avhisky, he discovered, Avas not up to the mark, and be had difficulty in accustoming himseif to the feminine element.

‘‘,\Yomen are all right enough back on th’ old farm; or beiu’ among those present at th’ op’ra-liouse in New York; or, in fact, bein’ almost any.Avheres that yer mother might have been —but they ain’t got no call to bo in a minin’ camp,” declared Air Divvy-up. “Them that git into business are a heap crookeder than th’ men are, an’ if you catch ’em at a liold-U]) game of any kind you can’t go to 'em square an’ honest an’ ask yer share for keepin’ still. No, sir. You just got to let ’em rob an’ SAviudie an’ plunder all they please, simply an’ solely because they’re aaomen !”

Although Air Divvy-up spent most of his time, and practically all of his money, at the Gold Angel, he never danced, nor did he speak to any of the female folk, except the girl Avho ’tended the cigar-stand. She Avas a slender, tired-looking girl, and she was knoAvn to the camp as Alfalfa. She smoked a cigarette AA’han her nerves Avont Avrong, she took a drink Avhan the interests of the establishment demanded, and she swore Avlien occasion required. But she Avas a good girl, according to the standards of the

camp. Some of the other Avomen at the Gold Angel AA-ere unkind enough to say that she had not sufficient beauty to bo otherwise. Air Drrvy-up’s speaking acquaintance Avith Alfalfa began one night Avhcn she, in passing his chair by the stove, dropped her hndkerchief. A long-buried instinct arose in Mr Divvy-up. “Here’s yer rag, lady,” lie sard, handing the soiled bit of cotton to the girl. “Thank you, sir,” said Alfalfa, simply. After that Mr Divvy-up ahvays b da the girl good morning when lie entered the Gold Angel —and the fame salutation Avas usually appropriate Avhen he departed. The daily greeting soon became important to Air Divvy-up. as it constituted his one social responsibility. And the girl soniehoAV came to look forward .to bidding good morning and good night to the disreputable man Avbom the other Avomen called “the bum.”

Alfalfa was by no means without other friends. Who hailed her with rough familiarity and paid her underserved compliments that sometimes stung. Then there were Bill Stevens, who drove for Logan, the Aspen freighter, and Pete Mason, who worked in Jim Dean’s grocery store. These two were close friends, but they always came separately 'to lounge about tho cigar-stand and to chat witn Alfalfa. The girl’s cheeks flushed when either Bill or Pete came in, and her smile hid the pitiful plainness of her face. Air Divvy-up often watched the proceedings, and wondered. Early one afternoon, when the Go d Angel was almost empty, and the barkeeper was deeply immersed in lii.s weekly 7 sporting paper from hack East, the girl came over to Air Divvy-up’s corner and roused him from his re-

verie. “Mr -Divvy-up,’ ’ she said, rather timidly, “if you don’t mind, I want to ask you to lielp mo out. I’m np against somethin’ that worries me awful.” Here was a situation that almost stunned Mr Divvy-up. The various awful things that might worry a woman raced through his brain. If she needed money,- he was safe, because he had none himself. If she wanted advice about any feminine matter, he was equally poor. Fortified, therefore, by the realization of his complete bankruptcy, he bade her speak her mind. ' “It’s like this, Mr Divvy-up,” said Alfalfa. “Bill Stevens an’ Pete Mason have always been good friends, an’ they was reg’lar side-pardners up to a -week er so ago. But they’ve got sore on each other, an’ one of th’ boys give me th’ tip las’ night that there sure’s goin’ to be trouble between them right soon.” “80. I’ve heard myself,” responded Mr Divvy-up, becoming interested. “They’re layin’ for each other all right. But where do you come in?” “Well,” began the girl, awkwardly, “th’ sayin’ is that when there’s trou- —' ble between two men there’s sure a woman at th’ bottom of it.” A little light of joy' came into her eyes, and her listless body straightened. “I’m $’ woman, Mr Divvy-up,” she said.

“I understand,” responded Mr Divvy-up, after a long and thoughtful pause. “But now you’ve told me, what I’d like to know is, where do I come in til’ game?” “I want to ast- you to keep warch. of the boys . an’. let mo know what they’re sayin’ outside,” said Alfalfa, eagerly. “An’ if you can, I want you to keep ’em from doin’ each other up.”

“Them boys won't shoot!” declared Mr Divvy-up, reassuringly. “But now supposing they did, which one-of the pair do you partic’larly favor?”

“That’s th’ hell of it,” said the girl, quietly. “I don’t know.” A customer at the cigar-stand demanded Alfalfa’s attention, and the interruption gave Mr Divvv-up an op portunity to adjust his mind to the new province of thought into which it had been so suddenly ushered. Here, was a strange world of human e terest opened out before him—w ill new ideas, new reasons, new hop JR, new joys, and new miseries. He c ntemplated the vision with something like awe; but'presently his practical ■training came to hie rescue, and he reduced the situation to its elemen tal phases. “Miss Alfalfa,” said he, when girl returned to him, “as I hgger it out, both of these young bucks are dead gone on you, an’ you’d be ju t as willin’ to tie up with one as th’ other. Neither of ’em .has the. call in the matter of cash or prospects, an’ it looks as if they’d sure come to a finish fight sooner er later. Is that th’ exact dimensions of the proposi tion?”

“That’s just how it stands,” replied the girl. “What are you reckonin’ to do about it?”

“•I’m considerin’ a plan,” said Mr Divvy-up, “that maybo’ll work an’ maybe won’t. If you’ll just leave it to me I’ll do- my greatest for you an’ th’ boys too.” “Thanks,” said Alfalfa, earnest’y.

Mr Divvy-up called for a taste of whisky at the bar, and poured the glass full when the barkeep turned his back to make change. The drink put him instantly into his normal diplomatic state of mind. He stepped out of the Gold Angel and down the road with the elation of one who embarks upon a great undertaking with certainty of success. At the Granite City grocery Mr. Divvy-up found Pete Mason- stacking up sacks of potatoes in the back room. The muscular development of the young man was superb. ' -“Pete,” said. Mr. Divvy-up, affably, “I understand that you an’ Bill Stevens are lavin’Jor each other.” “Who asked you to set in th’ game?” asked Pete Mason. “They tell me,” pursued Mr. Divvy-up, calmly, “that sooner or later you an’ him’ll come to a show down.”

“Alayho yes, an’ maybe no,” said Pete Ala son. “But whichever way it goes I can’t see that it’s any’ of your business.” -

“Don’t git testy,” remonstrated Mr Divvy-up. “I was on’y thinkim’ just now that p’r’aps you ain’t got all th’ money that you can imagine yerself spendin’; an’ p’r’aps if y r ou ever wanted to go on a. honeymoon excursion, or anythin’ like that, you might-find a hundred dollars or so right handy.” “What th’ hell are you talkin’ about?” demanded Pete Mason.

“I’m just talkin’ sense,” retorted Mr Divvy-up. “To come right down to cases, I’ll tell you that for some time I’ve been considerin’ a prizefight here in this camp, an’ it occurred to me this mornin’ that I might arrange a match between you an’ Bill Stevens. Half th’ gate money’ll go to th’ winner; an’ me an’ th’ loser’ll take th’ other half . for expenses. Bill’s hungry for th’ match, of course, but I can easy explain that you won’t meet him if them’s yer sentiments in th’ matter.” “Who said I won’t meet him?” stormed Pete Mason. “Sure I’ll meet him!. Any tie an’ any place ’ll suit me. an’ tli’ sooner th’ better. I’ll thank.you to tell him so, too, in them very words.” With this ammunition, Mr Divvyup found it easy to interest Bill Stevens in the project. Mr Stevens even went so far as to say that he didn’t care a whoop for the gate receipts so long as he had the privilege of pounding Pete Mason into a pulp. Air Divvy-up, however, remarked that some day (Bill might be setting lip a home of his own, and that the money would be useful to buy furniture with.

“Miss Alfalfa,” said Mr Divvy-up to the girl that evening. “I’ve got the cards dealt for th’ game. Then; boys were sure to fight, anyhow, an’ I’ve fixed it so they’ll pull th’ thing off decent an’ orderly at Logan’s barn to-morrow night. Th’ boys’ll all bo there at two dollars a head, to witness th’ event —hut on-’y me an’ you -an’ Bill an’ Pete ’ll- know what th’ prize is that tliey’ro fightin’ for.” “You didn’t tell ’em—you didn’t let on to.Bill an’ Pete what I told you this mornin’P” demanded the girl. “No,” said Mr Divvy-up. “I just »uade ’em u straight business proposition—th’ winner to git half th’ money. I reckon, from what you said,

that you’ll be willin’ to marry whichever one comes out best, won’t you?

“Yes,” said Alfalfa, and again the joylight leaped to her eyes. Men cared enough to fight for her. .Mr Divvy-up experienced no difficulty in disposing of tho tickets. The barkeep of the Gold Angel, being the possessor of a complete guide to pugilism, was appointed referoo, and he spent a good part of tho day in- laying out a square of the proper dimensions, and putting up the ropes. The deputy-marshal consented to he timekeeper, inasmuch as he was obliged to bo present, in any event, to preserve order.

Early in the evening Alfalfa deserted her post at tho Golden Angel, and cautiously made her way to the barn. While tho men were still at supper sho slipped in and climbed to the hayloft, where she found a place of security that commanded a. view of the battleground . Before long tho boys began to come in, delivering their tickets or paying cash to Mr Divvy-up at the door. Mr Divvy-up kept strict account of the tickets, in_case theie should bo any dispute when the time came for settling with the contestants.

When the barn was filled to the uttermost foot of standing-room, and men were roosted like chickens on the poles between the stalls, the referee entered the enclosure, with the guide to pugilism in his hand, and announced the -rules of the contest. Then appeared Bill Stevens and Pete Mason, dressed in their undershirts and overalls. They removed their shoes, -and encased their hands in heavy buckskin driving gloves —which, the referee explained, were the nearest things to regulation six-ounce gloves to be found in tho camp. When the word was given, Bill and Pete lost no time in fancy sparring. There was far more muscular strength than science displayed. The blows fell rapidly 'and heavily. The conventional smile of the prize-fighter was not visible on either face. The lips were set grimly and the eyes burned bright with anger. “These boxin’ gloves are great mstitootions,” whispered Mr Divvy-up to his neighbor, “because they malco it too unhandy for th’ fellers to draw their guns.” Presently, in the midst of a. terrific rush and clinch, the deputymarshal called time. The fighters paid no heed whatever. The referee waved his guide-book excitedly and commaned a cessation of hostilities. Bill an Pete only hammered the harder, cursing huskily as every blow was delivered. Neither the referee nor the time-keeper cared to separate the two by force, and Mr Divvy-up considered the matter beyond his jurisdiction. ’While the deputy-marshal yelled something about “the name of the law,” and the referee screamed extracts from tho rules, the spectators cheered tho contestants and shouted to the officials to “let ’em fight it 00.. J Bruised, bleeding, and staggering, the men fought on, their blows becoming slower and weaker, until in a final clinch they sank to the ground together. “Gents,” said the referee importantly, “I hereby declare this fight to be a draw!” “It can’t be no draw!” shouted Mr Divvy-up, excitedly, squirming fits way into the inclosure. “Liston to me, you fellers. This hero contest wasn’t just for any championship, or any money. It was for somethin’ bigger an’ .more important, an’ it’s got to be decided one way or th’ otherThese two gents here was figlitin’ for th’ heart an’ hand of a lady, an’ th winner was to git her 1 . t “What th’ hell’s that fool talkui about?” demanded Bill Stevens, raising himself on his elbow. “Do you mean to say,” exclaimed Mr Divvy-up, “that th’ quarrel an’ bad blood between you two boys wasn’t on account of a woman?” “What, no!” said Pete Mason; “it was poker.” “That’s -right,” said Bill Stevens. Mr Divvy-up thought he heard a low sob in the hayloft above his head, but it was quickly drowned m tho whoops of laughter from the spectators, as they swarmed out of the barn toward the Gold Angel and the Here’s How. After the last man of the crowd bad gone, and tho combatants had been assisted to their beds, Alfalfa crept down from the loft, and tried to slip past Mr Divvy-up. Ho saw her, however, and caught her firmly by the arm.

“Miss Alfalfa,” said he, “I sure played wrong with this here enterprise of mine.”

“It’s all right,” said the girl, with a tired smile. “I’m mufih obliged to you.” “No, it ain’t all right,” said Air Diwy-up. “If it’s a fair question, Miss Alfalfa, have you got any folks anywheres?” “Yes,” replied the girl, wondering, “my mother lives in Wichita.”

“I think,” said Air Diwy-up, putting the extra cash gate receipts into Alfalfa’s hand, “that she might kinder like to have you go home.”