“I always do,” agreed Caleb with utter simplicity. “That’s why I’m where I am to-day. If I couldn’t size up folk’s plans before they made ’em, I’d still be a brakeman on the C. G. & X. or runnin’ the railroad saloon where I made my first cash. I’m kept in the Club by every vote except Blacarda’s.”
“You listened?” cried Caine in wonder.
“Son,” sighed Caleb, wearily, “You make me tired. Why should I a-listened when I knew already?”
CHAPTER IV.
CALEB CONOVER EXPLAINS
“I suppose,” volunteered Caine, as he and Conover walked back to town together, “I suppose you know you behaved like a wild ass of the desert? That no man with an iota of breeding would ever have said the things you did, to the Committee members? I only mention it in case you don’t realize.”
“Oh, I realize it all right,” Conover answered him. “It ain’t a parlor stunt to sling off your coat an’ grab a lady by the back hair. But if she happens to be drownin’, it’s the c’rrect play to make. It was a case for coat-sheddin’ an’ back-hair-grabbin’, to-day, at the Club. That’s why I did it. It landed ’em. If I’d got up and sprung a flowery speech, they’d a’ yawned and voted me out. If I’d put up a whine, they’d a’ been at my throat like a pack o’ hungry wolf-dogs. Someone had to use a whip. An’ I wanted it should be me, not them, that used it. Which same it was.”
“No one will deny that, I think,” said Caine, drily, “If a poll were taken just now for the best hated man in Arareek, you’d be elected by acclamation. You said some things that ought to have been said. But you said them so vulgarly that you seemed to be spitting diamonds.”
“But I’m still in the Club. An’ they daren’t give me the cold shoulder at any more of their blowouts. They’ll still hate me like poison, maybe. But they’ll be civil; an’ when Desirée Shevlin goes there with Mrs. Hawarden, she won’t see folks treatin’ me like I was the original Invisible Man.”
Caine whistled.
“So?” he mused. “That’s the secret is it? I might have guessed. I’ve been wondering ever since, why you made such a point about being well received at the Club’s functions. For, unless I’m vastly mistaken, you’ve about as much desire for personal social welcome as a hermit thrush. I could see why you wanted to stay in the Arareek, but why you wanted to attend its—”