The Treasure of Hidden Valley

“You shouldn’t speak of yourself so harshly,” said Roderick, somewhat interested in the turn the conversation was taking.

“I don’t deserve any kindness at your hands,” Meisch went on. “I sure planned to kill you onct ‘til I found out you weren’t sweet on Barbara Shields. Oh, I’m a low-down cuss, but I’m ambitious. You hain’t the feller I’m after any more. It’s that lawyer Carlisle and I’ll git him, you jist see. He’s got to keep out of my way,” and as Scotty, with a black scowl on his face, said this he looked the part of an avenging demon right enough.

“I know,” he continued, “Barbara is older than I am, but I’m dead gone on her, even if she don’t know it, an’ I’ll do things yet to that feller Carlisle.” Roderick was fairly perplexed by these references to Barbara Shields and the disclosure of the rough cowboy’s feelings toward his employer’s daughter. For a moment he could not find the proper word to say. He just ventured a platitude, kindly spoken as it was kindly intended: “Oh, you must get over these broodings, Scotty.”

“It’s not broodings – it’s business, and I mean it,” he muttered. “Oh, you needn’t look so darned solemn. I’ve no more bad feelin’s agin you. But when you first came to the ranch, you know you couldn’t ride any better than a kid. But you began givin’ yourself airs, an’ then when I thought you were goin’ to cut me out with Barbara I jist got plum crazy. That’s why I sent you fair warnin’.”

A light broke in on Roderick.

“So it was you who slipped that note under Grant Jones’ door, was it?” he asked in great surprise.

“Yas. You can know it now; who cares? But it was only later I saw I was on a blind trail – that it was the other one you’re after – goin’ fishin’ an’ all that sort o’ thing.”

Roderick reddened.

“Oh, that’s all fudge too,” he exclaimed uneasily.

“I’m not so sure ‘bout that,” replied Scotty, with a cunning look in his eyes. “‘Sides, she’s dead gone on you, that’s a cert. She was here all yesterday afternoon, and could speak about nothin’ else – praised yer ridin’ and allowed she was tarnation sorry to have missed seein’ you on Gin Fizz. Which reminds me that I’ve got to comgratulate you on the championship.” He slipped a hand timidly and tentatively from under the bed-spread. “Oh, I can admit myself beat when I’m beat. You’ve grown to be a better’n rider than me. I’m only a little skinny chap at the best, but you showed yourself strong enough to kill that great big steer in the bull-doggin’. You’ve got me skinned, and you hold the championship right enough. Shake.”

And Scotty at last mustered up the moral courage to extend his hand. Roderick took it and shook it warmly. So Gail had been talking about him! – his heart had leaped with joy.

“I’m glad to hear you speak like that, Scotty,” he said with great cordiality. “You and I can come to be mighty good friends.”

“Gee, but I wish I looked like you,” remarked Scotty, lapsing into a half smile. “Shake hands again with me, won’t you?”

Roderick reached over and once more bestowed a good honest squeeze; and he improved the occasion by begging Scotty not to indulge in evil thoughts about killing people or anything of that sort.

“What makes you kind t’ me?” asked the lad as he looked inquiringly at Roderick.

“I don’t know that I have been particularly kind to you,” replied Roderick. “I begin to realize that I should have been here before now to help cheer you up a bit while convalescing.”

Scotty turned from Roderick and looking at the ceiling was silent for a few moments. At last he said: “Expect if I’d stay here a long, long time you’d keep on bein’ kind t’ me. Possibly you would bring Barbara with you on some of your visits. But I know I’m goin’ t’ get well, that’s the pity of it all. I wouldn’t be in bed now if the doctor hadn’t said I got ter stay here for a few days. When I’m well, why, then it’s all off with you an’ Scotty. You won’t pay any more attention to me when I’m once more sound as a nut an’ ridin’ range than you would a low down coyote.”

“Why should I become indifferent to you?” inquired Roderick.

“Oh, no reason why you should, only you will,” replied Scotty. “You are of the high-falutin’ an’ educated kind an’ – well, I never went to school more’n two weeks in my life. I got tired of the educatin’ business – stole a horse and never did go back. An’ they never caught me, nuther.”

He brightened up when he said this and laughed at his cleverness as if it were a most pleasant remembrance.

“Where was your childhood home?” inquired Roderick.

“Now, right there,” replied Scotty, “is where yer presumin’. You’re not talkin’ to me. D’ye suppose I’m goin’ ter tell yer and have this whole business piped off and those fellers come out here an’ pinch me for hoss-stealin’. Not on yer life, so long as Scotty Meisch knows himself.”

Roderick smiled as he said: “Surely, Scotty, you are a very suspicious person. I had no thought of doing what you suggest.”

“Waal,” drawled Scotty, “if you’d have been as near goin’ to the penitentiary as often as I have, you’d learn to keep yer mouth shut when people begin to inquire into your past hist’ry an’ not unbosom yerself. Fact is, my hist’ry won’t stand investigatin’. It’s fuller of thin places an’ holes than an old-fashioned tin corn grater. You know what a grater is, don’t you? It’s a tin bent over into a half moon an’ nailed to a board with holes punched from inside out to make it rough. Where I come from we used to husk new corn just as soon as it was out of the milk an’ grate it into meal. About the only thing we had to live on was cornmeal mush an’ milk. Wish I had some now. I’m hungrier than hell for it.”

The primitiveness of it all rather appealed to Roderick, and he called the nurse and asked if she wouldn’t serve the patient with some cornmeal mush with milk for dinner that evening.

“Certainly,” she replied, “if Dr. Burke does not object,” and went away to make inquiries. In a little while she returned and said: “The doctor says a nice bowl of cornmeal mush and milk would be just the thing for Mr. Meisch.” And it was so arranged.

When the nurse had gone Roderick noticed a tear trickling down the cheek of Scotty and in order not to embarrass the boy he turned away and stood looking out of the window. Presently Scotty said: “I wish ter hell I was decent, that’s what I wish.”

Without turning from the window Roderick inquired: “How old are you, Scotty?”

“Guess I’m about nineteen. I don’t know fer sure. They never did tell me when my birthday was.”

“How would you like to go to school, Scotty? Brace up and be an educated chap like other fellows.”

“Me learn to read an’ write?” exclaimed Scotty. “Look here, Mr. Warfield, are you chaffin’ me? That’s what some Englishmen called it when they meant teasin’ and so I say chaffin’. Might as well use all the big words a feller picks up on the way.” Roderick laughed aloud at Scotty’s odd expressions and turned to him and said: “Scotty, you aren’t a bad fellow. You have a good heart in you.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Scotty, shaking his head. “One time there was a feller told me that tough cusses like me don’t have hearts – just gizzards.”

“Well,” said Roderick, laughing, “my time has come to go now but I want to tell you I like you, Scotty. You seem to me to be the making of a very decent sort of chap, and if you will be a real good fellow and are sincere about wanting to go to school and make something of yourself, I believe I can arrange for you to do so.”

“Honest, Mr. Warfield, honest? Are you tellin’ me the truth or is this a sick bed jolly?”

“Certainly I am telling you the truth,” replied Roderick. “You think it all over until I come and see you again.”

“When’ll you come? Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” replied Roderick, “I’ll come tomorrow.”

“All right,” said Scotty, “I’ll sure look for yer.” The next day when Roderick called, Major Buell Hampton and Grant Jones accompanied him. They had a long talk with Scotty whose rapid recovery showed improvement even from the previous day. After the subject had been introduced by Roderick, who told Scotty that he had informed his friends of the lad’s desire to go to school, Major Buell Hampton observed: “A printing office, Mr. Meisch, is a liberal education within itself. I have been talking this matter over with Mr. Jones, the Editor of the Dillon Doublejack, and with Mr. Warfield, and we have mutually agreed that if you are in earnest about leaving the range for a while and will learn to read books and generally improve your mind, we shall give you the opportunity. As soon as you are able to leave the hospital, how would you like to go over to the little town of Dillon with Mr. Grant Jones, this gentleman at my right, and go into his printing office?”

“You would be my devil to start in with,” said Grant, good-naturedly.

“Guess that’d about fit me,” responded Scotty with a grin. “I’m a sort of a devil anyway, ain’t I?” and he looked toward Roderick.

“Mr. Jones means a different kind of a devil, Scotty,” laughed Roderick. “What Major Buell Hampton suggests to you is most excellent advice, and I think you had better accept the offer. This job will give you a home, and you will work in the printing office. You will soon learn to read books, and also you will become a typesetter which, as Major Hampton told you, is a practical education within itself and will lead to better things and greater things along educational lines. Of course, it may be some time before that knock on your head gets all right.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my old bean,” said Scotty with a smile, as he touched the bandage that encircled his cranium.

Finally Scotty said he believed he would like to try the new job. “You know, I’ve been knocked ‘round over the world an’ kicked an’ thumped an’ had my ears cuffed an’ my shins barked so much that I don’t hardly know what to make uv you fellers. If I was sure you wasn’t stringin’ me an’ really meant it all as a kindness, why, I’ll be goshdamed if I wouldn’t git up out o’ bed this minute an’ start for Dillon. That’s what I’d do. I ain’t no piker.”

This speech was very amusing to Grant Jones; and he assured the injured boy that he himself was not going over to Dillon for perhaps a week, by which time if he were attentive to the instructions of the doctor he probably would be able to accompany him.

“I’ll take you over,” said Grant, “and we’ll batch it together so far as a place to sleep is concerned in the printing office. There is a good boarding house just across the street where you can get your meals.”

“Who’s goin’ ter pay for them?” asked Scotty. “I ain’t got any money.”

“That,” said Roderick, “is what Major Buell Hampton is going to do for you. Not only will he pay your board for one year until your work is worth wages in the printing office, but he will also get you some new clothes and a new pair of shoes and rig you out in good shape, old man.”

“Gee, but you’re good to me, Major Hampton, and Warfield too. Yer ought ter cuff my ears instead uv bein’ so all-fired kind.”

With this the loveless boy turned towards the wall and covered his face. Both Major Hampton and Grant, as well as Roderick, were noticeably affected, and the three walked over toward the window while Scotty was collecting himself.

“I say,” said Grant, sotto voce, “in the language of Jim Rankin, the worst that poor little devil will get – if he goes with me – will be the best of it.”

Then the visitors turned round to say good-by. The invalid had had about enough excitement for one day.

Just as they were departing, Scotty beckoned Roderick to his side.

“Stop a minute or two with me – alone,” he whispered. “I wants ter tell you somethin’.”

Roderick excused himself to the others; he would join them on the porch presently.

Scotty’s face wore a keen eager look.

“Say, if I helps you,” he began, “I’ll be doin’ a good turn, won’t I, to the girl that saved my life by hurryin’ me along to this ‘orspital here?”

“I believe she will count it as a favor,” replied Roderick. “How can you help me, Scotty?”

“An’ I’ll be doin’ you a favor,” continued the lad, without answering the direct question, “if I do a good turn to your friend with the name that reminds me of Bull Durham terbaccer?”

“Buell Hampton,” laughed Roderick.

“The Major you also call him. Wal, I can drop him a word o’ warnin’ too.”

“Oh, he has never a thought about love affairs,” replied Roderick, smiling.

“But this is a warnin’ of another kind. Listen.” And Scotty drew himself up to a sitting posture on the bed. “Come nearer.”

Roderick complied; his ear was close to Scotty’s lips. The cowboy spoke in a whisper.

“The Major’s got a pile o’ rich ore stored in his house. There’s a bunch o’ fellers agoin’ to get it, an’ they’ll shoot to kill as sure as God made hell.”

Roderick mastered his emotion of surprise.

“When is this to take place, Scotty?” he asked quietly.

“Any night after tonight. Tonight they’ve fixed to square accounts with some sheep herders over Jack Creek way. Then they’re goin’ for the Major.”

Roderick gripped the other’s hand.

“Scotty, you have done me the biggest service in the world,” he said earnestly. “But one thing more – who are these men?”

“I dassn’t tell. They’d plug me full o’ holes the moment I got out o’ here.”

Roderick felt perplexed. He did not like to press for information that might seem to threaten danger for Scotty himself.

The latter was watching his face furtively.

“I know you’re straight – you’ll never give a feller like me away if I tell you one name.”

“Never. You may stake your life on that.”

“Wal, I don’t care what happens to him anyway. He’s a bad egg – a rotten bad egg clean through. And I’m done with him from now right on. I’m goin’ to take that printin’ devil’s job and act on the square.”

“That’s right, Scotty. And we’ll all help you to get clear of bad companions and bad influences. So it’s all right for you to give me that name.”

“An’ she’ll be pleased too, won’t she, that Holden young lady?”

“She’ll be always grateful to you for saving Buell Hampton.”

“That’s ‘nuff for me. The leader o’ that gang is – ”

Scotty paused a moment; Roderick waited, silent and still.

“Bud Bledsoe,” whispered the lad. “Now I’ve stopped hatin’ you, I’ve sort o’ turned to hatin’ him and all his kind. But you’ll not give me away, Warfield? I wants ter hold down that printin’ job – that editor feller will make a man of me, that’s just how I feel.”

“And just as we all feel,” said Roderick. “Now, Scotty, you must lie down. Let me fix your pillow for you. You’ve got some fever yet, I can see. You must rest, old fellow. You look tired.”

“Yes; I’m doggoned tired,” murmured the lad wearily, as he sank back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

“He is sleeping now, I think,” said Roderick to the nurse as he passed quietly out of the ward.