Gossip and scandal is like supposin’ the wolf had only wounded the calf a little, and a posse would gather and tie the two of ’em together, the wolf and the wounded calf; and take ’em into the center square of a town and keep ’em tied there for all to see until they had starved to death; and then to keep on stirrin’ up the carrion day after day as long as a shred of it remained.
The Friar was allus a great one to be talkin’ about the power of habits. He said that if folks would just get into the habit of lookin’ for sunshiny days, an’ smilin’ faces an’ noble deeds, and such like, that first thing they knew they’d think the whole world had changed for the better; but instead o’ this they got into the habit of lookin’ for evil, and as that was what they were on the watch for, o’ course they found it. He said it was like a cat watchin’ for a mouse. The cat would plant herself in front of the mouse hole and not do anything else but just watch for the mouse. While she would be on guard, a king might be assassinated, a city might fall in an earthquake, and a ship-load o’ people go down at sea; but if the mouse came out and the cat got it, she would amuse herself with it a while, eat it and then curl up before the fire and purr about what a fine day it had been, all because she had got what she had been lookin’ for; and the’s a lot in this.
Now, when I came to think it over, I hadn’t heard the Friar express himself very free on women. I had heard him say to allus treat ’em kind an’ square, the good ones and the bad; but when ya come to ponder over this, it wasn’t no-wise definite. Still I couldn’t believe ill of him; so I took a vacation an’ started to hunt him up.
The feller who had told me didn’t know much about it, but the feller who had told him knew it all. When I found this feller, he was in the same fix; and he sent me along to the one who had told him. They were all a lot alike in not knowin’ it all; but I finally found out who the girl was.
She was a girl named Kit Murray, and she allus had been a lively young thing with a purty face, an’ could ride an’ shoot like a man. She had took part in a couple o’ frontier-day exhibitions, and it had turned her head, and she had gone out with a show. When she had come back, she had put on more airs ’n ever, and naturally the boys were some wild about her—though I hadn’t seen her myself.
News o’ this kind travels fast, and I heard buzzin’ about it everywhere; but it was just like all other scandal. Most people, when they gossip, believe an’ tell the story which comes closest to what they’d ’a’ done if they’d had the same chance; and what I figured out to be true was, that Olaf the Swede and another Cross-brander by the name o’ Bud Fisher had scrapped about the girl, Olaf near killin’ the kid and the girl runnin’ off to the Friar. Now, all the good deeds ’at the Friar had done hadn’t caused much talk; but this news spread like wild-fire; and a lot o’ those he had helped the most turned again’ him and said they wished they could find out where he was hidin’.
I took it just the other way; I knew the Friar purty well, and what I feared most was, that he wasn’t hidin’ at all, and that Olaf would find him before I could give him warnin’. It was two weeks before I found the Friar; but once I came upon Olaf, face to face, and we eyed each other purty close. This was the first time I ever noticed his eyes. They were the queerest eyes I ever saw, a sort of blue; but a deeper blue, a bluer blue ’n anything I had ever seen outside a flower. The’s a flower on the benches in June just the color of his eyes, a soft, velvety flower; but Olaf’s eyes weren’t soft and velvety the day we met, and they gave me a queer, creepy feelin’. I hope I didn’t show it any; but I did feel relieved after I’d passed him.
Finally I found the Friar, just as I might have expected—by the sound of his voice. I had got clear over into the Basin and was crossin’ through Carter Pass when I heard his voice above me, singin’ one of his marchin’ songs. I was mightily rejoiced to find him; but I had that all out of my face by the time I had wound around up to him. He was totin’ a log on his shoulder, and struttin’ along as jaunty as though the whole earth was simply his backyard.
“Here,” I growls to him, indignant, “what do you mean by makin’ such a noise? Haven’t you got a grain o’ gumption!”
He looked up at me with the surprise stickin’ out from under his grin. “Well, well, well!” sez he. “Who are you—the special officer for the prevention of noise?”