“I'm afraid I'm inclined to be uncharitable at times.”
“Nonsense!” he corrected. “Ain't you been a' nursin' the sick?”
“Yes. Which reminds me that you, also, have been performing one of the works of mercy. You came from the cemetery, did you no?!”
“Yes, I've been buryin' the dead. They had me as witness on the coroner's jury last night, an' after the jury decided that it was justifiable homicide, there was nothin' to do but plant the three o' 'em—before the sun got too high. But let's take up some live topic—”
Again Donna laughed, for while Harley P.'s humor was rather grim, Donna had lived long enough in San Pasqual to appreciate it. The big gambler loved to see her laugh, and the thought that she was courageous enough to enjoy his jest, considering the terrible experience which she had lately undergone, filled him with manly admiration.
“It's another joke,” he began presently, “only this time it's on San Pasqual. I want to put up a job on the town, an' you've got to help me, Miss Donna.”
Donna gave him a graceful travesty of a military salute.
“'Onward, Heart of Bruce, and I will follow thee,'” she quoted. “But before you explain your plans, tell me what has poor little San Pasqual been doing of late to earn your enmity?”
“Nothin' much. The town ain't no worse than any other one-horse camp for wantin' to know everybody's business but its own. They never found out any o' mine, though, you can bank on that; and it always hurt 'em because they never found out any of your poor mother's when she was livin'. An' since your trouble the other night, they're all itchin' to learn the name o' the brave that saved you. Some o' the coroner's jury was for callin' you to testify at the inquest, but considerin' the hard looks o' the deceased an' what you told me—an' what Borax O'Rourke told everybody else before he left town yesterday, I prevailed on Doc Taylor to testify that you weren't in no fit frame o' mind to face the music, so they concluded to bring in a verdict muy pronto, an' let it go at that. They tell me there's been a plague o' hard characters droppin' off here lately, an' anyway, to make a long story short, the boys rendered a verdict on general principles an' there ain't no news for the rest o' the town—particularly the women. The way some o' them women's been dodgin' back and forth between their own homes and the post-office, you'd think it was the finish of a jack-rabbit drive. They're just plumb loco, Miss Donna, to find out the name o' this gallant stranger that saved you. They want to know what he looks like, the color o' his hair an' how he parts it, how he ties his necktie, an' if he votes the Republican ticket straight and believes in damnation for infants.”
“I see,” said Donna, “and you want to let them suffer, do you?”