It was promptly on my tongue, of course, to put him aside as gently as possible. But I knew that he had been wondering why I had not let him in on the thing before, for truly he had been my best friend in that town. I had no good excuse to give him. I needed his friendship and his loyal good word even more then than in the past, for suspicion was darkly brooding in Levant. I hated to leave behind with him the impression that I would do everything for Zebulon Kingsley, who had been my foe, and would not turn even a little leak of prosperity into an old friend’s porringer.
While I was struggling with my thoughts—feeling like a scoundrel reaching for his brother’s wallet—a strange notion came to me. It fitted in with that comfortable craziness of mine. If I accepted his money, would I not be pledging my very soul to do and to dare? My devotion to Celene Kingsley I had set at one side as my true and sacred motive. I was mighty sure that I was not at all enthusiastic in regard to her father. However, if I took Dodovah Vose’s hard-earned money from his hands—and taking it meant a pledge that he was to benefit from a sure thing—had I not another sacred and even more compelling motive? Truly I had, for my man’s honor was concerned as well as my love for a girl!
“What have you handy?” I asked.
“Five hundred,” he said. “I ask no questions. I want no promises. I know you’ll do your best for me, son. I hate to bother you—but profits come slow in a country tavern, and I’d like to do a little extra repairing this spring.”
He was on his way to his rusty old safe while he talked.
So I took his money and went away from him with the warmth of his palm on mine.
The grinding of the wagon-wheels on the grit in front of Judge Kingsley’s house brought Celene to the door, and when I did not climb down from the wagon she called to me.
“Will you not come into the house?” she pleaded. I had not intended to do so. In spite of my longing to see her and to have her parting smile go along with me on that amazing journey I was undertaking, I had made up my mind to duck judiciously a meeting-up with the women folks of my traveling partner. But I had no will to disobey when she called to me. I found the judge with his overcoat on and his bag in his hand. Evidently he had thought the matter over! But he did not look like a bridegroom starting on a honeymoon trip, and he scowled at me with as much ferocity as if we were two tom-cats tied by the tails over a clothes-line.
His wife was hanging to his arm and she was white, even to her lips.
“Mr. Sidney, I must know what this mysterious business is.”