Читать книгу The Crimson West - Alex Philip - Страница 7

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With much difficulty Donald and his friends forced their way through the cheering throng to the dressing-room. Weak and tired, Donald lay on a cot, while his handlers gently massaged his sore body. Andy moved to the cot and stood looking down on his protégé.

Donald opened his eyes. “Hello, Andy, he smiled weakly.

“Hello, Donnie,” said Andy huskily, as he patted Donald’s dark head.

Donald’s hand stole out to meet the warm clasp of his friend.

“Some little fight,” said Andy, summoning a smile.

“Not bad,” agreed Donald.

Gillis pulled his hat brim down over his eyes to hide his emotion. “I’ve a good mind to go out and give that brute another lickin’,” he growled.

One of the promoters thrust his head through the door. “Come and get your dough!” he shouted.

“Strike me lucky!” returned Andy, “those words ’ave a pleasant sound.” He picked up a small handbag and left the room. In a few moments he returned, his face beaming. He tapped the satchel. “Chuck full,” he said happily.

At the gymnasium they gathered in Andy’s room, and for the first time Donald told them of the attempted “frame-up” proposed by Garrieau’s manager. Douglas strode across the room and gripped Donald’s hand. Not a word was uttered by anyone, but the silence was more eloquent than speech.

They were all in a happy mood after the prolonged strain of the day. Andy was in particularly high spirits. “Gentlemen,” he began grandiloquently, “I ’ave before me on the tyble ’ere a most wonderful little ’andbag. All it ’ad in it this morning was a dirty collar and a shirt stud. Now,” making a dramatic gesture, “it’s the bloomin’ ’orn of plenty!” He turned the satchel upside down and a mass of bills, coins and cheques fell upon the table.

“ ’Ere, Gillis,” cried Andy, as he selected a bill, “will you go out and get some champagne, and when you goes in the bar buy a drink for the ’ouse. Bring ginger ale for Donnie; ’is manager’ll drink ’is share of the wine.”

Andy sorted the money into piles and sat quietly counting for a few minutes. “Fifteen thousand and a few odd dollars,” he announced.

“What!” ejaculated Donald. He was astounded. He had given the size of the purse little thought. “I had no idea it would be so much,” he said in a surprised tone.

“Oh, the boxin’ gyme is a great gyme,” said Andy.

“Yes,” remarked Douglas, “but after seeing that bout to-day I’m going to take up tiddly-winks instead; it’s not so rough.”

When the big man returned with the wine Donald turned to Douglas. “It seems that you and Gillis are old friends.”

“Why, yes, Jack’s been one of Dad’s right-hand men for—how long, Jack?”

“About ten years,” replied Gillis.

“And I’m equally interested to know how you and Jack know each other so well,” said Douglas curiously.

“I met Donald on the train comin’ out,” answered Gillis quickly.

“Come on, boys,” cried Andy, “we’ll drink to the new champ—to Donnie’s health.” Andy held his glass aloft. “Boys, I can’t make much of a speech, as I ’ave only ’ad one drink. Stand up while we drink to our Donnie. I knows that ’e’s goin’ to leave me, and that ’e’s goin’ to give up the boxin’ gyme. I knows that ’e isn’t in the ’abit of mixin’ with the likes o’ me. I knows that I’m lucky to be blackin’ the boots o’ a man like ’im. But when I knows that ’e went into this fight to ’elp a poor little bloke like me out of an ’ole, I’m proud, boys, I’m proud! I’ve seen many a fight, and I’ve seen many a gyme man. But strike me blind if Donnie didn’t this day teach me something about sheer grit. When ’e came stumblin’ to me at the end of that—that third round—I—I——” He stopped. “You know what ’appened,” he continued in a husky voice. “I ask nothin’ better’n to ’ave ’im for me pal. ’Ere’s to the gymest man that ever stepped in shoe-leather! ’Ere’s to ’im!” Andy turned away quickly to light a cigarette. His eyes were moist. The room was silent.

Donald was deeply moved by his little friend’s show of feeling. Douglas broke the silence. “You got back to the Coast just in time, Jack.”

“How’s that?”

“Dad has started on the biggest job that he’s tackled yet.

“What is it?”

“Do you remember the big tract of timber that he bought in the Cheakamus Valley?”

“Yes, he bought on my advice,” answered Gillis.

“Well, he’s going to run a railroad in and build sawmills, and saw the logs right on the spot instead of shipping them to the Coast.”

“Good!” said Gillis heartily. “There’s a wonderful stand of timber in that valley.”

“But here’s the best part of it,” Douglas went on eagerly; “Dad’s going to send you in to cruise the timber around Summit Lake, and I’m to go with you. It’s a wonderful country. I was up there last summer.” He turned to Donald. “Will you go with us?”

“I’ll be glad to,” assented Donald.

“Good!” cried Douglas. “It will be fine camping with you and Jack.”

Little Andy sat patiently listening to this lively conversation, in which he had been completely ignored. He could contain himself no longer.

“I s’y,” he blurted, “am I such a blinkin’ dwarf that you’ve forgotten that I’m in this ’ere crowd? Isn’t me ’ead above the tyble? Where the ’ell do I get off on this ’ere bloomin’ picnic, I asks you?”

One look into the Australian’s seriously comic face with its heavy blond eyebrows wagging up and down set Douglas into paroxysms of laughter. “Andy,” he declared, “I’m going to take you along, even if we have to mark you ‘excess baggage.’ Can you cook?”

“Can I cook?” repeated Andy. “ ’E asks me can I cook! That’s me first name; that’s me profession. I’ve cooked on sailing ships, steamboats, in camps, in the Army, an’ I did thirty days in Sydney jail, and blime me if they didn’t make me ’ead cook. I was so good they wanted me to sty.”

“You’re hired, Andy,” said Douglas decidedly. “But isn’t it going to be pretty tough to quit the boxing game for cooking?”

“Seein’ as you ’ave asked me I’ll say that it’s a blinkin’ sight better than quittin’ it for tiddledy-winks!”

Douglas came to his feet. “I want you to meet Dad, Donald, and we’ll find out when we are to start.”

Andy patted his stomach contemplatively. “Well, with this ’ere champagne under me belt, I think I’ll start in ’ere and ’ave a drink and a fight in every bar from ’ere to Cordova Street. About meetin’ you, Donnie,” he added scratching his head reflectively, “the way I feel right now I think by to-morrow morning you’ll find me in the bridal-chamber of the Vancouver Hotel.” Saying which with straightened shoulders, his head set at a characteristic angle, he swaggered down the street and with a wave of his hand disappeared within the swinging doors of the first saloon. In his present mood Andy envied no millionaire.

“You’ll like Dad,” said Douglas, as they ran up the steps of the big office building. “He’s rather severe looking and pretty straight-laced, but the face he wears in the office isn’t the face he wears at home.” He finished with a laugh.

Robert Rennie was the sole owner of the Rennie Construction and Logging Company, one of the largest organizations of its kind on the Coast. He now rose from his chair and came around the desk, all the while studying Donald’s face, which bore unmistakable traces of the afternoon’s fight.

“Dad, this is Donald McLean, whom I told you about last night. I don’t want to take up much of your time; just wanted you to meet Donald and find out when we can start on the trip to the mountains.”

“Now that Gillis is here to go with you, you can go any time; the sooner the better, as we expect to have the railroad to the summit in a few weeks,” responded his father, his eyes still on Donald.

“Thanks, Dad,” said Douglas. “We can be ready to-morrow and leave the next day.”

“Douglas, will you please go to Bowser’s office and get some papers he promised to have ready to-day?” asked Robert Rennie.

Donald moved toward the door with Douglas.

“Sit down, Mr. McLean, and wait until Douglas comes back,” invited Robert Rennie politely, as he pushed a chair toward Donald. He then closed the door of the outer office, where a girl sat pounding a typewriter.

When the older man turned his face was set in a broad smile and he crossed the room to seize the hand of his astonished visitor in a hearty grip. “Man! man!” he exclaimed, as he pumped Donald’s hand vigorously, “that was a great fight to-day! When you got Garrieau with your left in the second round and that d—— gong rang, I—I—heavens, but I was excited!” He was gazing at Donald with admiration glowing in his eyes.

“You—you were there!” gasped Donald.

Robert Rennie chuckled. “Top row—nigger heaven! When that brute fouled you I think I could have shot him!”

“Mr. Rennie, I’m not a professional fighter, I—I——”

“Tut! tut!” interrupted the enthusiastic fan, “I can see that. By gad! that last round was a whirlwind. That right you landed on his jaw—I got so excited that I fell down between the seats and skinned my shins.” He rubbed his leg ruefully. “I never saw such speed as you showed in that last....”

Here footsteps sounded outside, Robert Rennie moved quickly to his chair, adjusted his glasses and assumed a serious expression. “Not a word to Doug,” he whispered.

“Bowser says that he told you he’d have the papers to-morrow,” informed Douglas.

“Very well,” answered his father.

Donald turned as he was leaving the room and saw Robert Rennie close one eye in a wise wink.