"'Most everybody takes to Joe," said the landlord, by way of accounting for Bowles's statement. "For when he gits off that larf o' hisn, I'll be blowed ef it don't kinder draw folks towards him. But yer can't take no liberties with him, once he fixes them gray eyes on yer."
"He's too soft and sneaky for me," returned Bowles, testily. Then observing the deprecatory glances of the others, he added: "Ef I hadn't er seen him oncet when the Injins got arter him, the way he blazed away at the skinflints and then druv his team straight ahead 'thout even so much as losin' his color, I'd call him an out-an'-out milksop."
Knowing glances were exchanged by some of the men, amongst whom it was no secret that Dick was decidedly jealous of Mary Jane's preference for Joe. Dick had reason to believe that if this formidable rival were removed the girl would treat him better. For, cruel though she was at times, she accepted his attentions with unconcealed satisfaction when Joe was out of the way; it aggravated him, therefore, beyond measure to see her sweetest smiles bestowed upon his rival.
"Guess you ain't feelin' O K," said Mary Jane one evening as she placed a dish of smoking-hot bacon and eggs in front of Joe. "Wot's up? bad noos from the States?" she added, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. This was banter, for nobody knew better than she that the young man never received a communication of any sort through the mail.
Mrs. Parkenson had remarked upon this many a time, and in no complimentary terms. "It must be a black sheep, and no mistake, that home folks wouldn't send a letter to in all these years," she had said.
Joe looked into Mary Jane's face, while a pained expression flitted across his own; this was instantly followed by his peculiar laugh, though it lacked the genuine ring and sounded forced and jerky. But it attracted the attention of two strangers who sat at the end of the long table. They had arrived by one of the stages, and had registered in Parkenson's big book as "John Carter, M.D., and Edward Fulton, Minneapolis, Minn." Their business had been to examine a mine in the interest of an Eastern company, and they were now on their return-trip. Both seemed young, though the doctor's hair was sprinkled with gray at the temples, and there were dark lines beneath his eyes which told of sorrow.
The doctor started perceptibly at the sound of Joe's voice, and dropping his knife and fork, leaned forward with an attempt to obtain a view of his features. This was frustrated by our hero, who had turned away, and in a low tone was answering his interlocutrice. The doctor looked puzzled, and continued his meal.
Presently Joe left the table and passed into the bar-room. In silence he examined the last leaf of the register. His face flushed, his hand trembled; he was thankful that his agitation escaped observation. He longed to get to his little room over the stable; but the only exit was through the apartment he had just left, and he hesitated. At the sound of approaching footsteps he moved towards the curtain, raised it, and met Doctor Carter face to face. They exchanged glances; neither spoke, but the doctor looked troubled, and with a deep frown riveted his gaze on Joe's retreating form.
"Who is that youth?" he asked, pointing toward the door through which Joe had disappeared.
"That's Marshall." answered the landlord. "Everybody in these parts knows him."