The four Corners in California

by Amy Ella Blanchard

JO POKER

"Mary Lee! Mary Lee! Where are you?" came the calls from one and another as the riders arrived at the spot where they had left the little girl.

At the same moment she appeared running along the path which led into the deeper woods. "Here I am all right," she assured them.

"We were so scared when we didn't see anything of you," said Nan. "Were you very lonely, Mary Lee? Did the time seem long?"

"Lonely? I should think not. I have had the loveliest time you can imagine. I have seen a Douglas squirrel and a water ousel and I don't know what all."

"Why, Mary Lee!" Miss Helen and Nan both looked astonished. "You have done more than we," said Miss Helen.

"It's like the old adage that says he who stays at home sees more than he who goes to Rome," said Nan. "We had an awful ride. Such precipices, such narrow, narrow paths! I didn't dare to look down and in some places I felt just as if I couldn't stand it. I wanted to scream but all I could do was to shut my eyes and trust to my burro to get me back all right. I don't want to do it again."

"Do tell us how you came to see the Douglas squirrel and the water ousel," said Miss Helen. "Perhaps we can find them in the same place."

"Well," said Mary Lee, "I heard somebody chopping and I went to see who it was, for I was getting tired of sitting still, and there was a man. He was very kind and took me to see the dearest little waterfall where there was that darling bird. He showed me the squirrel, too, and told me the names of lots of trees and things, he was such a nice man. I wish he had stayed till you all came back, but he wouldn't."

O'Neill, the guide, was listening attentively. "Tall man, was he, with a scar over his left eye, lightish hair, warm-colored, not red exactly, but light colored? I reckon it was Jo Poker."

"Jo Poker? What a funny name," said Nan.

"That isn't his real name and I reckon nobody does know just what that is. He's a kind of shady character. There's several stories about him; some say he cheated at cards and that's why he goes by the name of poker, a sort of jeer at him, you see. Some says he killed a man and that he's an escaped convict. Others says it's only because he's always poking about and looking around at wild critturs and things that makes folks call him Jo Poker. Nobody knows just the right of it. He's a peaceable sort of chap, and is a right good worker when he wants to be. Sometimes he hires out for a while but most of the time he lives in a little hut here in these mountains. He don't seem to care much for humans and always lights out if he sees anybody coming. You must 'a' come on him suddent, sissy." He turned to Mary Lee.

"I did," she told him. "He looked so surprised when he saw me, but he certainly was good and kind."

"You struck him all right," said O'Neill. "There ain't nobody could tell you more about beastes than him, and when he knew you liked 'em, you got on the right side of him at oncet."

"He must be rather an interesting character," said Miss Helen. "How does he make his living?"

"Oh, he cuts a few shingles now and then and sells 'em, and sometimes he'll hire out for a while, but he's particular who he works for. He don't require much and it's easy to get."

"I wish we could see him," said Nan reflectively. "He seems like some sort of hermit. I don't believe he ever killed any one. He wouldn't be so kind to animals if he was wicked."

O'Neill gave a little amused laugh. "Bless you, miss, there's lots of men do things in a fit of rage. That don't prevent 'em from bein' soft-hearted as a woman when things goes easy."

"Could we go to the waterfall?" asked Miss Helen. "Is it too far?"

"It's about half a mile I should judge," said the guide, "but I wouldn't advise your starting now, late as it is, for it's a rough path. I wouldn't wonder if we couldn't see one of them birds on our way back. There's sure to be one 'round a mountain stream, specially if it's falling water. We'll look out for him as we go along. I guess, sissy, you'd better mount now. This here young man wants to swop burros with you and I guess you'd better let him," he turned to Mary Lee.

Carter had already mounted Mary Lee's self-willed little burro, protesting that he wanted the fun of managing him, so Mary Lee, seated on a surer animal, joined the cavalcade which started down the homeward way.

The water ousel was discovered where a dancing stream cascaded down to meet a singing rill, but, disturbed in his feeding ground, he did not stop to gladden his discoverers but flew off down stream to a more sequestered place, though notes of his joyous song came back to the listeners.

"We did see him," said Nan in a satisfied manner, "but I would like to have heard more of his song."

The Douglas squirrel, for some reason, kept out of sight, so that all the glory of meeting him that day was Mary Lee's own.

She was very thoughtful during the homeward ride, and indeed in the presence of the mighty trees which towered above them, and in the company of the myriad flowers which carpeted the wayside one felt that the solemnity of a sanctuary forbade too much levity.

However their spirits were gay enough when they stopped on the roadside for supper. O'Neill built a rousing fire, produced his stores, made coffee and set forth a very fair meal for which their ride gave them a keen appetite.

"Talk about being hungry as a hunter," remarked Carter; "I am as hungry as two hunters."

"That sounds like the conundrum: What makes more noise than a pig under a gate?" said Nan.

"Are you casting any insinuations?" asked Carter.

"Well, no," laughed Nan.

"I don't like to have pigs mentioned when I am eating my sixth biscuit," said Carter. "Just leave them out of the conversation, will you? till to-morrow."

"I promise," said Nan, "because when you put it that way I have a fellow feeling myself. Oh, but I was hungry."

"I am still," said Carter, reaching for a sandwich. "I believe I was hollow all the way down to my boots. Are you shocked, Miss Helen?"

"Not a bit of it. Don't you suppose I know how young things eat?"

"Young things!" scoffed Carter. "Is thy servant a colt or a calf?"

"I must be a robin," declared Nan, "I forget how many times its own weight a young robin can eat in the course of twenty-four hours."

"Let's just eat and not talk about it," said Mary Lee.

"Good!" cried Carter. "That's the most sensible remark yet. I second the motion. Tell us some more about Jo Poker, Mary Lee."

"I've told you everything, I believe. He doesn't seem to be an ignorant man, for he knows about all sorts of things and tells you of them in such an interesting way."

"No, he ain't no common man," said O'Neill. "I reckon he's got a history, like a good many out this way. I never had much speech with him myself, but they say he'll talk about most anything but his own affairs, when he takes a fancy to any one. I reckon missy here got more outen him than most. Now then if you're all filled up we'll move on. I want to make the Three Brothers before night."

"What is Three Brothers? a town?" asked Nan.

"A little sort of hotel, kep' first by three men name o' Stallings. There ain't but one now, but he keeps the name just the same. It's a decent sort of place for ladies, right quiet and middlin' clean."

"Middling clean will have to suffice, I suppose," said Miss Helen in an aside to Nan. "We shall be tired enough not to care much, I fancy, by the time we get there."

"We shall sleep like tops," replied Nan, "after this mountain ride. I'll not quarrel with the place so long as it gives us beds we can sleep in, and I'll not ask for electric lights nor a private bath either."

The shadows fell around them before they reached their destination a weary, but cheerful party who made no complaints of the lodgings assigned them.

It was that night at the modest hotel which was their stopping place that Mary Lee unfolded to her sister the thoughts which had been hers on the way back. "Do you know, Nan," she said, "I have been thinking that Jo Poker might possibly be Miss Dolores' father."

Nan stared. "You are crazy," she replied. "Her father is dead."

"She doesn't know for certain. They made her think so, I know, but maybe that was because they didn't want him to get hold of her. Don't you see how it might be? He told me that he married a Mexican whose family didn't like him and that he had never seen his little baby. It was a girl, too."

Nan became more interested. "That's so. It might really be, Mary Lee, but who would want her to have such a father?"

"I don't think he is so dreadful."

"He must be or his wife's family wouldn't have objected to him. I am afraid, Mary Lee, he really must have been very bad."

"But that was so long ago. Maybe he isn't now."

"That wouldn't help it any. You wouldn't like the señorita to go up there and live in a little hut on the mountains away off from everybody."

"No, of course not. He said he should never make himself known to his daughter even if he knew where she was."

"Then that proves he isn't a decent somebody, and that he is ashamed of what he is. He knows he wouldn't be any credit to her."

Mary Lee felt the force of this argument and was silent before it for a moment, but she soon returned to battle for her theory. "Well, suppose he wasn't very nice once, maybe he has a nice family who would be glad to take Miss Dolores."

"It seems to me you're mighty eager to get rid of her," said Nan slyly.

"Oh, Nan!" There was indignant protest in Mary Lee's tones. "You know I'm not anxious to do that. It is only for her sake I want to find some real blood kin for her."

"They might turn out to be people she would loathe," said Nan.

"Oh, but we wouldn't tell her unless they were very nice."

"You couldn't help her knowing if they knew first. I don't think I'd like to have Jo Poker for my father, no matter what his family happened to be. Did he talk like a gentleman, Mary Lee?"

Mary Lee was obliged to confess that he did not, though she insisted that he spoke much better than O'Neill. "He may have been a gentleman once," she said, "for he was very polite and helped me over the hard places. He has lived so long among rough people perhaps he has forgotten how to speak correctly."

"Well," returned Nan, "I don't see what we can do about it anyway. We can't go off alone and search him out and put the question to him point blank."

"All we can do is to tell Mr. St. Nick."

"Yes, we can do that, and he will advise us. Come, do let's get in bed. I am tired all over. Our mountain rides at home are nothing to the one we have had to-day." And though Mary Lee tried to resume the subject after they were in bed Nan was sound asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, and was dreaming of a water ousel which insisted upon talking about the señorita's father.

Yet, while she pretended to laugh at Mary Lee's idea of claiming Jo Poker's possible relationship for the señorita she was not at all sure that he might not prove to be that undesirable parent, and it worried her not a little, so that she was anxious to take the matter to Mr. Pinckney as soon as they should reach home.

Therefore they had scarcely unburdened themselves of their first enthusiasm over the trip before they left Miss Helen to tell their mother the details and were off to Mrs. Roberts'. They found Mr. Pinckney in his favorite chair on the veranda. "Don't get up," they cried as he attempted to rise. "We came over to tell you about our trip. It was perfectly glorious. We saw acres and acres of flowers, such great thistles you never saw. Carter measured one that was two feet around and an alder bush was a real tree. We saw a water ousel, too."

"And a Douglas squirrel," Mary Lee put in, "at least I did."

"And the mountains are wonderful, the cañons so dark and deep sometimes, but I was afraid I would fall when we came down those narrow, narrow mountain paths," Nan was the speaker.

"And once," Mary Lee added, "I got off and waited for the rest, because my burro behaved so badly I was afraid he would do something dreadful. Carter rode him home and I took his, which was not near so mean."

"Oh, there was lots to see," Nan went on, "so much besides the mountains and the towns and the orange groves. There are ever so many springs up that way, all kinds; some one told us there were a thousand hot springs in that part of California. We went to one of them. Aunt Helen would like to have gone to the Pala Mission where there are so many Indians but she thought she'd make another trip there in a less roundabout way. I hope she'll take us."

"Well, it was a great experience, wasn't it?" said Mr. Pinckney. "But I'm glad to see your cheerful countenances again, although the twinnies have kept us from being too lonely. Bless me! what shall we do when you are gone altogether? It isn't so hard to do without a thing when you haven't had it, you see."

The girls looked at each other. "We would like so much to get a granddaughter for you," said Nan, "and if we were not all so fond of one another you could have one of us, but we would be wicked to leave mother."

"I don't see anything but to keep you out here," replied Mr. Pinckney. "If the climate helps your mother why shouldn't you stay?"

"Oh, we'd like it," said Nan, "but I don't believe mother and Aunt Helen would want to stay forever."

"It's hard to suit everybody, isn't it?" said Mr. Pinckney. "I suppose the day will come when I shall want to go East again myself. Well, we won't bother about it yet awhile."

"We could keep the señorita if we stayed here," said Mary Lee thoughtfully. "She would rather not go East if she can get a good position out here."

"So there's a heavy balance on that side," said Mr. Pinckney. "I know which way you would vote."

"Speaking of the señorita, we want to tell you something," said Nan. "Mary Lee met a queer man up in the mountains and we think he may possibly be the señorita's father."

"Why, I thought her father was not living."

"So did we, but I'll tell you why we think maybe he is alive." And Nan disclosed the theory which she and Mary Lee had worked up, Mr. Pinckney an interested listener. "Now what do you think of it?" asked Nan in conclusion.

"It is possible, of course, but we must be sure first that her father is really dead. I've been meaning to take a trip to Mexico, but you all are so fascinating that I can't make up my mind to leave such charming society. When I do go I shall see Mr. Garcia and get what information I can. In the meantime, however, I can make some inquiries about this Jo Poker, as you call him, and we'll see if there is any use in following out that clue."

"I knew it was just the right thing to tell you at once," said Nan. "You always know just what to do."

"Better than two youngsters like you, I should hope. However, you are a big help in unwinding the snarl. Now, run in and hear what Mrs. Roberts has to tell you. I know young folks like the kind of frolic she is planning."

Thus advised, the girls ran indoors to hunt up their friend. "Where are you, Mrs. Bobs?" they called.

"Up here," came the answer.

"She's in the morning room," said Mary Lee. "I'm glad of that. I always like to go in there." No wonder she did, for it was the prettiest room in the house, all rose-embowered and bright where the sun shone in at the broad windows.

"So my girlies are back," said Mrs. Roberts as she greeted them. "It made a big hole in our circle when you all went. Did you have a good time?"

"The finest sort of time; wild and woodsy," returned Nan. "I'm glad you missed us, Mrs. Bobs. What is it you have to tell us? We are crazy to hear it. Mr. St. Nick said you were planning something."

"So I am. I want your mother and aunt to meet some of my friends, and so I am going to give a tea. I want my four little lasses to help in the dining-room if they will, and I hope I can persuade the señorita to pour the tea."

"Oh, lovely!" Nan clasped her hands. "To think, Mary Lee, that we are going to a real grown-up tea, and be one of it, too. I never did go to one, even a little one. Some of the schoolgirls have little afternoon somethings, but they are not really dress-up affairs. Won't the twinnies be delighted? I hope Jack will keep her hair ribbon tied and that she won't spill anything. Don't give her anything wet to pass around, Mrs. Bobs, she'll be sure to waste it on some one's best gown."

Mrs. Roberts laughed. "I will tell her she is to take charge of the salted nuts only; they can't hurt anything if they happen to be overturned. I am glad you like my plan."

"And when is it to be?" asked Mary Lee.

"Not for a couple of weeks."

"Oh, then there will be plenty of time," remarked Mary Lee.

"Time for what?" asked Nan.

"Oh," Mary Lee looked confused. "I was just thinking of frocks."

Nan gave her an inquiring look. "We shall not need new ones," she said. "We have those lovely embroidered ones grandmother gave us for Betty Wise's party. We haven't outgrown them, and there are our white China silks we had for Christmas, too."

"Yes, I know," said Mary Lee weakly.

"Then I don't know what you are talking about," said Nan. "Mrs. Bobs, you are a dear to want us to have such good times, and to put us into those you have for the grown folks. I just wish we could always have you this near to us. But dear me, Mary Lee, we must go. We told mother we wouldn't stay long, and it is most dinner time. No, Mrs. Bobs, we really can't stay this time, thank you. Does mother know about the tea?"

"Yes, but I asked her to let me have the pleasure of telling you about it. You accept my invitation, don't you?"

Nan laughed gleefully. "Accept! I should think so. We'll be the faithfullest waitresses you ever saw."

"I don't want you to be too energetic, for I want you to have a good time as well as the rest of us. Must you go? Well, good-bye for a while."

"What did you mean about the frocks, Mary Lee?" asked Nan, as soon as the two were out the gate.

"I didn't mean ours; I was thinking of the señorita. I don't believe she has a blessed thing to wear."

"She must have had some nice things before her aunt died and they lost all their money," said Nan. "I wonder if everything is worn out."

"I am afraid so, all except some laces. Her aunt dressed very plainly, she told me, and she herself never had real frisky clothes, because she was at a convent school and wore plain things."

"Well, she's got to go," said Nan decidedly. "We'll have to do something about it, at least mother and Aunt Helen will have to. We'll talk to them when we get a chance. Aren't you excited at being asked to a real grown-up thing like that? Won't it be lovely to see mother dressed up, too? You know she would never go to anything dressy because she couldn't afford it. I hope she'll have that gray crêpe made up; she promised that she would some day. We've never seen her in anything but black and white, and I know she'll look too sweet for words in gray."

"There's been so much else to think about out here that I've hardly thought of clothes, but it is rather fun to put our minds on them when we can have nice ones," said Mary Lee.

Nan agreed with this, and with their thoughts on pleasure bent they returned home.