Chapter XXII: The Loser

"Why doesn't Maud come back?" said Bunny discontentedly. "It's beastly mean of her to stay away over the holidays."

"You can go to her if you like, my son," said Jake, between whiffs at his pipe.

"Oh, I know. But it isn't the same thing. And besides, I'm not going to leave you alone for Christmas, so there! Say, Jake, I wonder you put up with it. Why shouldn't we go--the two of us--and fetch her back?"

"She's better where she is," said Jake. "And as to my going away, it's out of the question. I'm a fixture--so long as there's anything left to do."

Something in the last words caught Bunny's attention. He looked at him with sudden shrewdness. "What do you mean, Jake? What's up?"

Jake was silent. He sat moodily smoking and staring into the fire. His chin was sunk on his chest. He looked older than his years.

Bunny on the other side of the hearth gazed at him for several seconds with close attention. Finally he got up, went to him, slipped down on to the arm of his chair.

"What is it, Jake, old feller? Tell me!"

Jake looked up, met the warm sympathy in the boy's eyes, and in a moment thrust a kindly arm about the slim young figure.

"Don't you worry about me, little pard!" he said. "There ain't anything the matter that I can't face out by myself."

"Oh, but that's rot, Jake." Bunny's cheek went down against the man's bronze head and pressed it hard. "What's the good of bottling it up? 'Sides, you know, Jake, I don't count. I'd die before I'd split."

"Guess I know that," Jake said.

He hugged Bunny to him as if there were comfort in mere contact, but he said no more.

Bunny hugged him in return, and after a brief silence began to probe for the enlightenment he desired. "Why do you say Maud is better where she is, Jake? After all, she is your wife and no one else's, isn't she?"

Jake puffed at his pipe for a few seconds as if considering his reply. At last, "I say it because it is so," he said. "Your Uncle Edward wanted her, and I reckon that's just the silver lining to my cloud. He's a rich man, I gather. He can look after the two of you--if I go under."

"Jake! You aren't going under!" Horrified incredulity sounded in Bunny's voice. He leaned swiftly forward to look into Jake's face.

A queer, dogged smile showed upon it for an instant and was gone. "Don't you worry any, sonny! I shall come up again," said Jake. "I've been under before, practically down and out. But it hasn't killed me. It ain't going to kill me this time. So long as you and Maud are provided for, I can fend for myself."

"But Jake, what's it mean? You haven't lost money?" urged Bunny in bewilderment.

"No. I've got a little money. There are plenty of poor devils worse off than I." Jake leaned his head back against Bunny's wiry arm. There was a fighting gleam in his eyes. "But it ain't enough to keep me going. If it had been, I reckon I shouldn't have waited for notice to quit."

"Is that what you've got? Jake, you aren't in earnest! Charlie wouldn't be such a blackguard!"

Jake uttered an abrupt laugh; his teeth were clenched on his lower lip. "Oh, Charlie's a blackguard all right--blackguard enough for anything. Don't you ever make any mistake about that! But I presume it's up to him to sell the stud if he feels so disposed. There ain't anything specially blackguardly in that. It's just his polite way of telling me to git."

"Sell the stud! Is that what he's going to do? Oh, Jake, old feller! Jake!" Shocked sympathy was in Bunny's voice.

Jake hugged him harder. "I hadn't meant to tell you on your first night. But you're such a shrewd little chap. And you've got to know sooner or later. Don't make an all-fired fuss about it anyway!"

"All right, Jake." Bunny sounded a little breathless, but there was resolution in his voice. "It's you I'm thinking of. When--when's it going to be?"

"The sale? Early in the year I expect. I haven't any definite instructions as to that. I'm expecting 'em every day. All I've been told officially at present is to cancel all engagements. Of course I guessed what was in the wind then. I tackled old Bishop the Agent about it the other day; and he had to confirm it. Ah, well!" Jake heaved an abrupt sigh that seemed to catch him unawares, and became silent.

"P'raps he won't sell 'em all, Jake," said Bunny hesitatingly. "He couldn't--surely--sell The Hundredth Chance!"

Jake's pipe suddenly cracked between his teeth. He sat up sharply, and took it out of his mouth. It fell in twain between his fingers. He sat staring at it, then with a curious reverence he stooped forward and dropped the pieces into the heart of the fire.

"Yes," he said heavily. "I reckon The Hundredth Chance will go with all the rest."

He looked at Bunny, and there was desolation in his eyes; but he gave it no verbal expression. And Bunny also found that the subject demanded silence; it was beyond words.

"Does Maud know?" he asked at length, speaking rather doubtfully, as if not quite sure of his ground.

"No. I didn't want to worry her before I need." Jake's eyes went back to the fire, gazing into it, dumbly troubled. "I fancy there's no doubt that the old man will provide for her--for both of you. That's what I'm counting on anyway."

Bunny made an abrupt movement of impatience. "Oh, damn all that, Jake! What of you?"

For the first time his strong language went unrebuked. Jake's eyes remained fixed upon the fire where burned the remains of his treasure. He spoke slowly, as one reading words but dimly discerned.

"Reckon I shall go back to America. I shall find my feet again there. There's no call for you to be anxious about me. Guess I shan't starve."

"Jake!" Bunny's arm went round his shoulders, gripping them hard. He spoke into Jake's ear, a rapid, nervous whisper. "Jake, if you're going to America, I reckon I'm coming too. There's no one worth speaking to after you. I just won't be left behind. I'll work, Jake. I'll work like a nigger. I won't be a drag on you. But I can't stay behind--not after all you've been to me. Jake, Jake, old feller, say you'll have me! I'm as strong as a horse. And I'd sooner starve along with you than be left without you. I--I--Jake, old feller, please!" He suddenly bowed his head upon Jake's shoulder with a hard sob.

"Little pard!" Jake said, and pulled him down beside him. "Don't act the fool now! That ain't like you!"

Bunny clung to him almost fiercely. "You shan't lose everything, Jake. First Maud, and then the animals, and then the home,--and--and--me too. You like me a bit, don't you, Jake?"

"Just a bit," said Jake, ruffling the black head.

"Then let me come with you, Jake! I'll do whatever you tell me. I--I'll black your boots for you every day. I'll do anything under the sun. Only don't leave me behind! I miss you badly enough at school. But I can't stick it--without you--altogether."

"Shucks! Shucks!" said Jake very softly.

He was holding Bunny in his arms in the old brotherly way. They were too close to one another for any boyish dignity to come between. The bond that linked them had been forged in the fires of adversity, and adversity served but to strengthen it.

"I can't!" Bunny reiterated. "You don't know what you are to me, Jake. You've just made me. And I--I feel as if I'll all come undone again if you go right away."

"I haven't gone yet," Jake said, in a drawl that was slightly unsteady. "But if it is to be, Bunny lad,--and God knows it's more than likely--you can do a bigger thing for me by staying back here--along with Maud--than if you came along and roughed it with me. You'll be the link between us, boy, when--all the other links are gone."

He became silent, gently smoothing the hair that he had ruffled.

Bunny was silent also for a space. It was as if something sacred had come into their communion. At last with his head still pillowed on Jake's shoulder he spoke.

"Say, Jake!"

Jake's arm tightened almost as if he would silence him, but he said nothing.

And Bunny persisted. "Jake, old chap, it doesn't take a prophet to see that things aren't as they should be between you two. I'm beastly sorry. I know jolly well it's not your fault."

"It ain't hers," Jake said, almost under his breath.

"No. I guess it's that blackguard Charlie. I wish I were a man. I'd shoot him!" said Bunny vindictively.

"I guess you wouldn't," Jake said, faint humour in his voice. "Besides, there's nothing to shoot him for now. He's as much a loser as I am."

"What! They've quarrelled?" questioned Bunny. "Where is he? At the Castle?"

"No. Heaven knows where he is. He's been gone for the last six weeks and more."

"It's twice that since Maud went away," observed Bunny uneasily. "Why on earth doesn't she come back, Jake? She's not--not--afraid of you?"

"She has been back once in that time," Jake said quietly. "She stayed one night with your mother at 'The Anchor.' The place is shut up now, and your mother has gone back to London. I thought possibly that she would have settled down here a bit with Maud. But she didn't quite see it. And it was as well, for the old uncle wrote asking Maud to go back to him, and she went."

"Without consulting you?" asked Bunny quickly.

"She didn't consult me certainly, but she knew I was willing for her to go." Jake spoke with a touch of restraint.

Bunny raised his head and looked at him with sudden shrewdness. "Who did she want to get away from? You? Or Charlie?"

A flicker that was scarcely humorous crossed Jake's face. "Maybe both," he said.

"And you--you quarrelled with Charlie?"

"No. Seeing he was a loser, I let him go in peace. It was the only thing to do."

"And he has got his knife into you on that account?" questioned Bunny.

"Maybe," Jake admitted.

"Then he's a low hound, and I'd love to tell him so."

"Where's the use? Reckon he knows it all right," said Jake dryly.

"I hope Maud knows it too!"

"She does," said Jake.

Bunny looked slightly mollified. "That's something anyway. Say, Jake?"

"What is it, my son?" Jake's red-brown eyes looked at him with a tenderness that only Bunny was ever allowed to see.

Bunny's head went back to its resting-place against his shoulder swiftly, endearingly. "Jake, Jake, old man, why don't you go back to her? Maybe she's wanting you--and hasn't the pluck to say so. Women are like that, you know."

Jake was silent.

"Give her the chance, Jake!" Bunny urged. "You don't know her like I do. She always was shy. Lots of people thought her proud, but it was mostly shyness. Give her the chance, Jake, old fellow! Just this one chance! It may make all the difference."

"Think so?" said Jake.

"Course I do. I know Maud. She'd sooner die than show you her feelings. But she's got 'em all the same. Maybe she's wanting you--quite a lot, Jake. You can't tell."

"And maybe she's not," said Jake.

"Oh don't--don't be an ass, Jake! Come along and find out anyway! It's--it's up to you, Jake. And there's no one else in the running."

A whimsical smile touched Jake's grim mouth. "Guess that's just what makes it so difficult," he said. "Is anyone at all in the running? I'd sooner draw a loser than a blank."

Bunny lifted a hot, earnest face. "Don't be an ass, Jake!" he urged again. "Go in, man! Go in and win! You love her, don't you?"

It was a straight shot, and it found its mark. Something fiery, something wholly untamed, leaped into Jake's eyes. They shone like a flame upon which spirit has been poured. Bunny pulled himself free with a sound that was almost a whoop of triumph. "You silly coon! Go and tell her so!" he said. "I'll bet you never have yet!"

And Jake uttered a laugh that was curiously broken. "You're getting too damn' clever, my son," he said.