At last as the sun sank low, throwing its fiery glare in his eyes, he saw the familiar figure against the sky––Creede, broad and bulky and topped by his enormous hat, and old Bat Wings, as raw-boned and ornery as ever. Never until that moment had Hardy realized how much his life was dependent upon this big, warm-hearted barbarian who clung to his native range as instinctively as a beef and yet possessed human attributes that would win him friends anywhere in the world. Often in that long two weeks he had reproached himself for abandoning Jeff in his love-making. What could be said for a love which made a man so pitiless? Was it worthy of any return? Was it, after all, a thing to be held so jealously to his heart, gnawing out his vitals and robbing him of his humanity? These and many other questions Hardy had had time to ask himself in his fortnight of introspection and as he stood by the doorway waiting he resolved to make amends. From a petty creature wrapped up in his own problems and prepossessions he would make himself over into a man worthy of the name of friend. Yet the consciousness of his fault lay heavy upon him and as Creede rode in he stood 370 silent, waiting for him to speak. But Jeff for his part came on grimly, and there was a sombre glow in his eyes which told more than words.
“Hello, sport,” he said, smiling wantonly, “could you take a pore feller in over night?”
“Sure thing, I can,” responded Hardy gayly. “Where’ve you been all the time?”
And Creede chanted:
|
“Down to Bender, On a bender, Oh, I’m a spender, You bet yer life! |
“And I’m broke, too,” he added, sotto voce, dropping off his horse and sinking into a chair.
“Well, you don’t need to let that worry you,” said Hardy. “I’ve got plenty. Here!” He went down into his pocket and tossed a gold piece to him, but Creede dodged it listlessly.
“Nope,” he said, “money’s nothin’ to me.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Hardy anxiously. “Are you sick?”
“Yes,” answered Creede, nodding his head wearily, “sick and tired of it all.” He paused and regarded his partner solemnly. “I’m a miserable failure, Rufe,” he said. “I ain’t got nothin’ and I ain’t worth nothin’. I never done nothin’––and I ain’t got a friend in the world.”