The Blue Goose Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  _The Old Man_

  After leaving the Blue Goose Luna went straight to the superintendent'soffice. He was nettled rather than worried by Pierre's cautions. Worryimplied doubt of his own wisdom, as well as fear of the old man.Superintendents had come to, and departed from, the Rainbow. Defiantfanfares had heralded their coming, confusion had reigned during theirsojourn, their departure had been duly celebrated at the Blue Goose.This had been the invariable sequence. Through all these changes Pierrewas complacently confident, but he never lost his head. The bottles ofthe Blue Goose bar were regularly drained, alike for welcoming and forspeeding the departing incumbent at the Rainbow.

  The roulette whirred cheerfully, gold and silver coins clinked merrily,the underground furnace reddened and dulled at regular periods, and muchlawful money passed back and forth between the Blue Goose and itspatrons. Not that the passing back and forth was equal; Pierre attendedto that. His even teeth gleamed between smiling lips, his swarthy cheeksglowed, and day by day his black hair seemed to grow more sleek andoily, and his hands smoother with much polishing.

  Pierre read printed words with ease. That which was neither printed norspoken was spelled out, sometimes with wrinkling of brows and narrowingof eyes, but with unmistakable correctness in the end. From the facesand actions of men he gathered wisdom, and this wisdom was a lamp to hisfeet, and in dark places gave much light to his eyes. Thus it happenedthat with the coming of Richard Firmstone came also great caution toPierre.

  The present superintendent blew no fanfares on his new trumpet, heexpressed no opinion of his predecessors, and gave no hint of his futurepolicy.

  Mr. Morrison, who oiled his hair and wore large diamonds in amuch-starched, collarless shirt while at the bar of the Blue Goose,donned overalls and jumpers while doing "substitute" at the mill, andbetween times kept alive the spirit of rebellion in the bosoms ofdown-trodden, capitalist-ridden labour. Morrison freely voiced theopinion that the Rainbow crowd had experienced religion, and had sentout a Sunday-school superintendent to reform the workmen and to countthe dollars that dropped from beneath the stamps of the big mill. Inthis opinion Luna, the mill foreman, concurred. He even raised the ante,solemnly averring that the old man opened the mill with prayer, sanghallelujahs at change of shift, and invoked divine blessing beforechewing his grub. Whereat the down-trodden serfs of soullesscorporations cheered long and loud, and called for fresh oblations atthe bar of the Blue Goose.

  All these things Luna pondered in his mind, and his indignation waxedhot at Pierre.

  "The damned old frog-eater's losing his nerve; that's what! I ain'tgoing to be held up by no frog-spawn."

  He opened the office door and clumped up to the railing.

  The superintendent looked up.

  "What is it, Luna?"

  "Long, on number ten battery, is sick and off shift. Shall we hang upten, or put on Morrison?"

  The superintendent smiled.

  "Is it Morrison, or hang up?" he asked.

  The question was disconcerting. The foreman shifted his footing.

  "Morrison is all right," he said, doggedly. "He's a good battery man.Things ain't pushing at the Blue Goose, and he can come as well as not."

  "What's the matter with Morrison?" The superintendent's smile broadened.

  The foreman looked puzzled.

  "I've just been telling you--he's all right."

  "That's so. Only, back east, when a horse jockey gets frothy about thegood points of his horse, we look sharp."

  The foreman grew impatient.

  "You haven't told me whether to hang up ten or not."

  "I'm not going to. You are foreman of the mill. Put on anyone you want;fire anyone you want. It's nothing to me; only," he looked hard, "youknow what we're running this outfit for."

  The foreman appeared defiant. Guilty thoughts were spurring him tounwise defence.

  "If the ore ain't pay I can't get it out."

  "I'll attend to the ore, that's my business. Get out what there is init, that's yours." He leaned forward to his papers.

  The foreman shifted uneasily. His defence was not complete. He was notsure that he had been attacked. He knew Morrison of the Blue Goose. Heknew the workings of the mill. He had thought he knew the old man. Hewas not so sure now. He was not even sure how much or how little he hadlet out. Perhaps Pierre's words had rattled him. He shifted from foot tofoot, twirling his hat on his fingers. He half expected, half hoped, andhalf waited for another opening. None came. Through the muffled roar ofthe stamps he was conscious of the sharp scratch of the superintendent'spen. Then came the boom of the big whistle. It was change of shift. Thejar of the office door closing behind him was not heard. At the mill hefound Morrison.

  "You go on ten, in Long's place," he said, gruffly, as he entered themill.

  Morrison stared at the retreating foreman.

  "What in hell," he began; then, putting things together in his mind, heshook his head, and followed the foreman into the mill.

  The superintendent was again interrupted by the rasping of hobnailedshoes on the office floor and the startled creak of the office railingas a large, loose-jointed man leaned heavily against it. His trousers,tucked into a pair of high-laced, large-eyed shoes, were belted at thewaist in a conspicuous roll. A faded gray shirt, rolled up at thesleeves, disclosed a red undershirt and muscular arms. A well-shapedhead with grey streaked hair, and a smooth, imperturbable face wasshaded by a battered sombrero that was thrust back and turned squarelyup in front.

  The superintendent's smile had nothing puzzling now.

  "Hello, Zephyr. Got another Camp Bird?"

  "Flying higher'n a Camp Bird this time."

  "How's that?"

  "Right up to the golden gates this time, sure. It's straight goods. St.Peter ain't going to take no post-prandial siestas from now on. I'mtimbering my shots to keep from breaking the sky. Tell you what, I'mjarring them mansions in heaven wuss'n a New York subway contractor themFifth Avenue palaces." Zephyr paused and glanced languidly at thesuperintendent.

  Firmstone chuckled.

  "Go on," he said.

  "I've gone as far as I can without flying. It's a lead from the goldenstreets of the New Jerusalem. Followed it up to the foot of BinghamPass; caught it above the slide, then it took up the cliff, anddisappeared in the cerulean. Say, Goggles, how are you off for chuck?I've been up against glory, and I'm down hungrier than a she-bear that'sskipped summer and hibernated two winters."

  "Good! Guess Bennie will fix us up something. Can you wait a fewminutes?"

  "I think I can. I've been practising on that for years. No telling whensuch things will come in handy. You don't object to music, Goggles?"

  "Not to music, no," Firmstone answered, with an amused glance at Zephyr.

  Zephyr, unruffled, drew from his shirt a well-worn harmonica.

  "Music hath charms," he remarked, brushing the instrument on the sleeveof his shirt. "Referring to my savage breast, not yours."

  He placed the harmonica to his lips, holding it in hollowed hands. Hisoscillating breath jarred from the metal reeds the doleful strains of_Home, Sweet Home_, muffled by the hollow of his hands into mournfulcadences.

  At last Firmstone closed his desk.

  "If your breast is sufficiently soothed, let's see what Bennie can dofor your stomach."

  As they passed from the office Zephyr carefully replaced the harmonicain his shirt.

  "I'd rather be the author of that touching little song than the owner ofthe Inferno. That's my new claim," he remarked, distantly.

  Firmstone laughed.

  "I thought your claim was nearer heaven."

  "The two are not far apart. 'Death, like a narrow sea, divides.' But myreminiscences were getting historical, which you failed to remark. Iain't no Wolfe and Pierre ain't no Montcalm, nor the Heights of Abrahamain't the Blue Goose. Pierre's a hog. At least, he's a close second. Ahog eats snakes and likewise frogs. Pierre's only got as far as frogs,last I heard. Pierr
e's bad. Morrison's bad. Luna ain't. He thinks he is;but he ain't. I'm not posting you nor nothing. I'm only meditating outloud. That's all."

  They entered the mill boarding-house. Bennie, the cook, greeted Zephyreffusively.

  "Goggles invited me to pay my respects to you," Zephyr remarked. "I'mempty, and I'm thinking you can satisfy my longing as nothing else cando."

  Zephyr addressed himself to Bennie's viands. At last he rose from thetable.

  "To eat and to sleep are the chief ends of man. I have eaten, and now Isee I am tired. With your consent, uttered or unexpressed, I'll wrap thedrapery of my bunk around me and take a snooze. And say, Goggles," headded, "if, the next time you inventory stock, you are shy a sack offlour and a side of bacon, you can remark to the company thatprospectors is thick around here, and that prospectors is prone to evilas the sparks fly upward. That's where the flour and bacon are going. Upto where St. Peter can smell them cooking; leastways he can if he hangshis nose over the wall and the wind's right."