Chapter XXII

Blizzard had upon his desk a specimen of the straw hats which the young ladies of his establishment were kept so busy plaiting. At exactly three o'clock he thrust it to one side, and at exactly the same moment the bell of his street door clanged, and Wilmot Allen came in out of the sunlight.

"On time," said Blizzard, "thank you. Are you a judge of hats? Try that one."

Obediently Wilmot removed his own heavy yellowish straw, and substituted the soft and pliant article indicated. It fitted him to perfection, and the legless man smiled.

"It's yours," he said; "fold it up, and put it in your pocket."

"It'll break it."

"Here. Let me show you." And Blizzard folded the hat as if it had been a linen handkerchief. "Very handy thing," he said, "and only to be obtained as a gift. Sit down," Wilmot thrust the hat into his inside pocket and sat down on the beggar's left, facing the light. The faint hum of girls talking at their work came from the back of the establishment. A whirling fan buzzed and bumped. The weather had turned very hot.

"Young man," the beggar began abruptly, "if I had your legs I'd engage in something more active and adventurous than the manufacture of straw hats. Have you ever had the wish to be a soldier of fortune? To go about the world redressing wrong, fighting upon the side of the oppressed?"

"Of course," said Wilmot simply.

"You are heavily in debt?"

"Very."

"Whatever I may say to you will go no further?"

"No further."

The legless man stroked his chin strongly with his thick fingers. "I am engineering a little revolution," he said. "My own morals are negligible. Any revolution that offered a profit would look good to me. But in this case the revolutionary party _is_ oppressed, down-trodden, robbed, starved, and murdered by conditions created by the party in power. I am not yet at liberty to name you the part of the world in which this state of affairs exists, that will be for later. Meanwhile, if my proposition interests you, will you take my word for the place and for the abuse of power? Indeed, the latter smells to heaven."

"South America," said Wilmot, "is full of just such rottenness as you describe. I suppose you're speaking of some South American republic?"

"Maybe I am," said Blizzard, "and maybe I'm not. That will be for later--for January 15th. On that date my soldiers of fortune will be gathered in New York and told their destiny. I am hoping that you will be one of the leaders."

"I know nothing of soldiering."

"Your record proves that you are a great hand with a rifle. It stands to reason that you can teach the trick to others."

"Possibly," said Wilmot, "to a certain extent."

"I have," said Blizzard, "a number of scattered mining interests in Utah. I wish you to travel among them teaching the men in relays to shoot accurately and fast. This can be done without greatly interfering with the working of the mines. You would be nominally under the command of a man named O'Hagan, to whom I have written a letter introducing you, on the chance that you might care to use it."

"Where," said Wilmot smiling, "does the business end of the affair begin? I'm rotten with debts."

"For teaching my men to shoot," said Blizzard, "I will pay you the money that you owe me. That's one debt written off."

"And how shall I live in the meanwhile?"

"I have empowered O'Hagan to pay you five hundred dollars a month."

"And the rest of my debts? How about them?"

"You will fight for down-trodden people," said Blizzard gravely. "If you win, you will find them grateful--possibly beyond the dreams of avarice. In the republic of which we are speaking there is wealth enough for all. It is one of the richest little corners of God's footstool--gold, diamonds, silver. If you succeed you will be on Easy Street. If you fail, you will very likely get a bullet through your head."

Wilmot's face brightened. "If I got killed trying to pay 'em," said he, "my creditors couldn't feel very nasty toward me, could they?"

A look of strong admiration came into Blizzard's hard eyes. "I like the way your mind works," said he. "If you get killed in my service, I'll pay your debts myself."

"I owe nearly a hundred thousand," said Wilmot.

"I've been worse stung," said Blizzard.

"Where the devil do you get all your money, Blizzard?"

"I've lived for money and power. I've been lucky, clever--and unscrupulous."

"I like your frankness. But you are not letting me in for anything rotten?"

"Your Revolutionary ancestors fought against just such forces as you are to fight against--unjust taxation, abuse of power, and corruption in high places. Are you going to serve?"

"I'm going it pretty blind, but I think so. I like the idea of fighting. I like the idea of paying my debts. And at times I think a bullet in the head would be a matter for self-congratulation."

"That," said Blizzard, "is the feeling of two classes of young men--those who are tangled up with women and those who aren't."

Wilmot laughed, though the legless man's words brought the ache into his heart.

"You will return to New York," Blizzard went on, "during the first half of January."

"I had rather promised myself to keep out of New York for a year."

"It will be for only a few days. If you don't wish your presence in the city known, I'll put you up in my house. Parts of it are as secret as the grave."

"All right. But supposing the revolution falls through before it ever gets started?"

"I'll make you a bet," said Blizzard, smiling. "Please reach me that black check-book." He wrote a check, blotted it, and showed it to Wilmot. "This," he said, "against a penny! It will pay your debts. It's payable at the City Bank on January 16th. Put it in your pocket."

"When do I start for Utah?"

"Wednesday afternoon."

"I hoped to come to your concert that night."

Blizzard shook his head. "You will hear better music," he said, "in the West--rifles on the ranges. And by the way, don't lose that hat I gave you. It must be where you can get it on the 15th of January."

To Wilmot a straw hat suggested the palm-groves of a South American republic rather than the streets of New York in midwinter, and he said so; but the legless man only smiled.