“We may have to hang around a long time, or maybe come again before he gets limbered up,” David remarked.
“But he’ll talk after he knows you—that is—if he decides he likes you,” Goliath urged, and this time Heald smiled at the partner’s solicitude.
“Perhaps you’d better leave most of it to me,” he said. “All you need to do is to introduce me as a friend of yours.”
The partners agreed. They had no time for further comment, for the keen ears of the patriarch had made him aware of their coming, and he appeared in the doorway, blinked at them, and then called heartily, “Well, well, well! Ef it ain’t David and Goliath again! And——”
He stopped and stared at Heald as if apprehensive lest the advent of a stranger meant bad news, but was reassured in the warmth of their introduction.
“Anybody who’s a friend of these boys,” he said gravely, “is sure ter be a real man and a friend of mine. So, mister, you’re welcome. Come on in and I’ll hack off some more ham, and hot up some more beans. Baked a new batch of bread ter-day, but she ain’t as good as I could have made her if I’d a-knowed I was goin’ ter have company.”
“Do you feed everybody that comes this way?” inquired Heald.
The old man turned from cutting the ham to stare at him with something like indignation that such a question should be asked.
“All my life,” he declared, not without dignity, “there ain’t never been a man, woman nor child, white or red, tan or yaller, come through my cabin door and gone away hungry. I’ve tried ter be hospiterble ter some I didn’t like. An’ I’ve whacked up my last ounce of grub with a friend, and never felt sorry because my own guts cried for food and there didn’t seem ter be any more on earth.” He stopped with his knife in midair, studied Heald’s face for a moment and abruptly asked, “Young man, I call you that though you might be fifty year old, which is young for me—young man, do you believe in the goodness and kindness of the Lord Almighty? Well, if you do, you’ll know that I ain’t never come ter want. Somehow, when things looked mighty black and hopeless, He always came along and helped me out! Just as if He’d said, ‘Hello. Had so many folks ter look after and think about I’ve had ter overlook old Bill Harmon and it seems he’s havin’ tough luck. Must help him out a little now.’ And, mister, He always did.” He stopped abruptly, made a frantic lunge for the dutch oven, and as he jerked the lid off with his knife and released a cloud of steam said, “Damn it! In a minute more them beans’d been all burned ter hell and gone!”
As if his spasm of loquacity had exhausted itself he relapsed into a silence that was maintained throughout the meal that followed, despite Heald’s palpable attempts to draw him out. Heald himself appeared to have given up, and the partners fidgeted restlessly, because he had made no reference to the land dispute, or old Harmless’ side of the controversy. They were surprised when, as they were leaving, Heald turned to the patriarch and said, “Wonder if you’d mind if I came up and bunked with you a night or two, Harmon? It looks to me as if there might be some trout in this stream of yours that runs down the center of your gulch.”