gravely remarked Wade Ruggles one night in the Heavenly Bower. Dawson was absent with a brother miner at the lower end of the settlement, so the gathering felt at liberty to discuss him and his child. Wade of late had fallen into the habit of taking the lead in such discussions, and Landlord Ortigies was quite willing to turn over the honors of the chairmanship to the outspoken fellow.
The remainder of the company were smoking, drinking and talking as the mood took them, and all looked inquiringly at the speaker, seeing which Wade continued with the same earnestness he had shown at first:
“It is this: that little angel that was tossed down here in the blizzard is growing fast; she’s larning something cute every day; she notices things that you don’t think of; fact is she’s the smartest youngster that was ever born. Does any gent feel disposed to dispoot the aforesaid statement?” he abruptly asked, laying his hand on the butt of his revolver and looking severely around in the faces of his friends.
No one questioned the assertion. Had it been left to them to choose the words, they would have made them stronger.
“Wal, the remark I was about to remark is that I hear some coarse observations once in awhile. I may say that I have indulged in a few myself when the ’casion was suitable and called for ’em, but I want to give notice that the thing must stop in the presence of the angel.”
“Your suggestions generally ain’t worth listenin’ to,” observed Ike Hoe, “but there’s solid sense in them words. I have been troubled over the same thing and was goin’ to submit a proposition.”
“You’re a purty one to do it,” commented Vose Adams scornfully; “why it’s only yesterday that I heerd you say ‘darn’ just because I happened to smash the end of your finger, with the hammer I was drivin’ a nail with.”
“Did the little one hear him?” asked Wade Ruggles, while an expression of horror settled on every countenance.
“No, sir!” declared Ike; “afore I indulged in the expression, so proper under the tryin’ circumstances, I looked round to make sartin she wasn’t in hearing distance.”
“You must have looked very quick,” said Vose; “for the horrible words was simultaneous with the flattenin’ of your big forefinger. Howsumever, I gazed round myself and am happy to say she warn’t in sight. If she had been, I’d smashed all your fingers.”
“A very proper Christian spirit,” commended Wade; “I hope all the rest of you will strive to emerlate it.”
Felix Brush was leaning on the end of the bar with a glass of steaming toddy, which he had partly sipped, and was now caressing with his hand.
“Gentlemen,” said he impressively, “permit me a word. Wade has touched a subject which appeals to us all. I have given it much thought for the past few days and feel it my duty to look after the religious instruction of the child.”
Two or three disrespectful snickers followed this declaration. The parson instantly flared up.
“If any reprobate here feels a desire to scoff, he’s only to step outside for a few minutes and see who can get the drop on the other.”
Everybody knew that the parson was always well heeled, and no one questioned his courage. His friends contented themselves with pitying smiles and significant glances at one another. Felix hastily swallowed his toddy, with the evident intention of airing his emphatic views, when Wade Ruggles interposed:
“Pards, you’re gettin’ off the track; we hain’t got to the religious racket yit; that’ll come later. What I want to ’rive at is as to using cuss words and unproper language where the angel hears it. It ain’t ’nough for us to agree that we won’t do it; it must be fixed so we don’t take no chances.”
This was not exactly clear and Wade was asked to be more explicit.
“I mean that there must be a penalty, such as will stop a galoot that has once offended from doing the same thing again.”
This clearly intimated that the punishment which the chairman had in mind was of a frightful nature. The landlord begged Wade to come down to particulars.
“My idee is that whoever offends this little one by unproper language shall be filled full of bullet holes: how does that strike you?”
“It hits me just right!” responded the landlord, with several nods of his head; “but there’s one thing in the way.”
“What’s that?” demanded Wade, showing some temper at this attack upon his scheme.
“It ’lows a man to say the unproper words in the hearin’ of the angel, afore he’s shot; so it won’t prevent her ears from being ’fended. Can’t we fix it some way, so that she shan’t hear ’em at all?”
“There’s no trouble about that,” solemnly remarked Budge Isham from his seat at the further end of the room; “You have only to find out when a fellow has made up his mind to use improper language in the presence of the child, and then shoot him before he can say the words.”
“But how shall we know he’s going to say ’em?” inquired the chairman, who in the earnestness of his feelings felt no suspicion of the honesty of his friend.
“You will have to judge that by the expression of his countenance. I think when a fellow has made up his mind to swear his looks give notice of what is coming. The rest of us must be on the alert and pick him off before the words get out of his mouth. And yet I am sorry to say,” added Budge gravely rising to his feet, “that there is one serious drawback to my proposition.”
“The chairman is anxious to hear it.”
“There might be mistakes made. A man’s expression is not always an index of his thoughts. He might be suffering from some inward pain, and be in the act of uttering some expression, but his face could have so mean a look that if our law was in force, he would be shot on sight. For instance, studying these faces all turned toward me, I should say, speaking on general principles, that all except one or two deserve, not shooting, but hanging, and if looks were to determine a man’s depth of infamy, mighty few of you would live five minutes.”
Budge sank gravely into his seat and resumed smoking, while his friends, understanding his trifling character, contemptuously refused attention to his disrespectful remarks. In the general discussion which followed, several insisted that the only proper punishment for the grave offence was death; but the sentiment crystallized into the feeling that that penalty was somewhat severe for the first breaking of the law. It was proper enough for the second crime, but a man who had been accustomed to picturesque and emphatic words was liable to err once at least while on the road to reformation. The agreement finally reached was that the offender should be heavily fined, compelled to fast several days, or, more frightful than all, be deprived of the privileges of the bar for the same length of time. When the last penalty was fixed there were several suppressed groans and a general setting of lips, with the unshakable resolve to steer clear of that appalling punishment.
Everything was serene for several days, when, as might have been anticipated, the explosion came. Al Bidwell, in coming out of the Heavenly Bower, caught the toe of one of his boots and fell forward on his hands and knees. Two of his friends seeing him naturally laughed, whereupon, as he picked himself up, he demanded in the name of the presiding genius of hades, what they saw to laugh at. By way of answer, one of them pointed to Nellie Dawson, who ran forward to help him to his feet.
“Did you hurt yourself, Mr. Bidwell? I’s so sorry.”
“You
