Chapter NINE

The Rio Vista was the famous hostelry of Ysleta. With full appreciation of the truth of the old adage that the path to a man's heart leads through his stomach, the promoters of the Ysleta boom had built a gorgeous edifice and equipped it with a cuisine not equalled west of the Mississippi. It is true that their artistic palates were not so finely educated as were their gastronomic, but the glitter of plate glass windows and the constant warfare of hostile colors, affected not at all the delicate viands which were placed before the guests. Since her connection with the Las Cruces, Helen Lonsdale had made this palace her home.

As she ascended the steps of the Rio Vista, after her return from the Berl ranch, Helen's attention was attracted to an old man who was seated near the head of the broad stone steps that led to the broader verandah. He seemed utterly out of harmony with his surroundings. His clothes were not shabby, but they were evidently worn more with an eye to the useful than to the ornamental. The heavy boots were wrinkled and worn, yet solid, and the blacking suggested a reluctant concession to custom rather than to a sense of propriety. His trousers were baggy and his coat hung in loose folds from a pair of broad, square shoulders. A white shirt was topped by a high old-fashioned collar, held by a flowing tie of navy blue. These incongruities, in sharp contrast to the finished specimens of well-groomed humanity who circled around him, first attracted Helen. It was the face that compelled from her more than a passing notice.

As she looked at the face, more especially the eyes, a sense of relief from oppression, an almost irresistible impulse to laughter came over her. It was not ridicule, but a light-hearted response to the contagious humor radiating from every line and wrinkle. Yet the weathered face, with its closely-cropped fringe of gray beard, resting like a sphere on the sharp lips of the high collar, carried the conviction that the mobile lines could set hard as frozen metal, that the humorous eyes, deep beneath overhanging brows, could pierce like sharpened steel. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the eyes seemed to answer her own and the face to turn as as she passed, in order to prolong the interchange of wordless messages.

Later in the day Helen was seated apart from the crowd in the rotunda. She wanted to get away from herself but there was no desire to seek companionship. Consequently she was annoyed at the sound of footsteps which evidently had her for an object. She was more annoyed when a chair was dragged from its position and thrust beside her own. She did not even turn her head when she heard a slump in the chair which testified that the intruder intended to maintain his position. With no preliminary cough, a rugged voice remarked:

"Pretty considerable goin' on in these parts, if 'tis three thousand miles from nowhere, an' a hard road at that."

Helen's annoyance vanished. She turned brightly to the old man.

"Please excuse me. I didn't know who it was till you spoke."

"If you know now, you've got the advantage 'o me, in one sense. I'm Uncle Sid Harwood, retired sea captain, at present cruisin' for pleasure."

Helen bowed with sedate humor.

"I'm Helen Lonsdale and nothing in particular."

Uncle Sid Harwood surveyed his companion leisurely.

"First time I ever found nothin' in particular worth while. You come from around here?"

"Yes, I'm Californian, born and bred."

"Glad to know it. I've been lyin' at anchor here some days lookin' for a pilot. I reckoned you knew the harbor. Met a young fellow by the name o' Berl?"

"Elijah Berl?" Helen asked in surprise.

"That's him."

"Why yes, of course I have. He's president of the Las Cruces Irrigation Company."

"Praisin' the Lord an' callyhootin' around like a sky rocket with its tail a-fire?" pursued Uncle Sid.

Helen laughed at the apt though rather superficial analogy.

"Yes, but he's not all fire and fizz after all. He is doing things worth while."

"Don't doubt it." Uncle Sid spoke with conviction. "He always carried high steam, an' I guessed he'd do something, if he got hitched to an engine that would stand the pressure."

"Wouldn't you like to see him? He's in the hotel now, I think. I'll send for him."

Uncle Sid made no objections and Helen beckoned a waiter.

"Please see if Mr. Berl is in his room and tell him he's wanted."

"Eunice an' I thought maybe we'd see 'Lige. That's one reason why we came here instead o' somewhere's else. Eunice's my sister," Uncle Sid added.

Before Helen had time to reply, she heard the quick beat of Elijah's feet on the floor.

"That's him," Uncle Sid remarked, as he rose to his feet.

The footsteps halted and Helen saw Elijah standing in mute surprise before the old man. The next instant he had Uncle Sid's outstretched hand in both his own with crushing grasp.

"Well! well! Uncle Sid! You're looking as natural as life."

Uncle Sid winced.

"I'm feelin' as natural's life too, just this very minute. Cast off, 'Lige! I brought my rheumatiz with me."

Elijah turned to Helen.

"How under the sun did you come to know Uncle Sid?"

"She don't know me. We're just gettin' acquainted."

"Uncle Sid is worth knowing, Helen, I can vouch for that." Elijah surveyed Uncle Sid with a beaming face. "Where's your sister, Mrs. MacGregor; why didn't you bring her with you?"

"I did. She'll be down in a minute. Sit down. How do you make it out here, 'Lige? You used to be great on temperance back East, but I haven't seen any water worth drinkin' out here."

"There's plenty of water, all right, and good water too. We'll show him, won't we, Helen?"

"I'll believe that when I see it. Lucky thing the Lord didn't start in makin' man in this section," growled Uncle Sid, "he wouldn't have had water enough to have pasted him together with. He'd a had dust enough, goodness knows. I want a handbellus, to blow off some o' this dust. Just as sure as I touch water I shan't be nothin' but a mud puddle."

"You can afford to even up, Uncle Sid. You've had more than your share of water all your life. A little soil won't hurt you now."

"Huh!" Uncle Sid grunted. "I was on top of the water then, an' I kept there. This dirt gets on top o' me an' inside me an' everywhere it ain't no business to be. Here's Eunice now. Look here, Eunice, here's an old friend o' yours, and here's Miss Lonsdale, a new friend o' mine, and I won't swap either."

A tall woman, deliberate in all her motions, advanced upon the little party. Her eyes rested for a moment upon Elijah as he rose with extended hand, then, acknowledging the introduction to Helen, they slipped from Elijah and glanced slowly over Helen from her boots to the coils of dark hair that crowned her head. Helen experienced a creeping sensation. The touch of the deliberate eyes reminded her of the inquisitive fingers of a jockey feeling for blemishes on the smooth limbs of a horse.

Mrs. MacGregor seated herself with studied elegance.

"It occurs to me, Sidney, that Miss Lonsdale may object to your rather broad claims to her friendship upon so short an acquaintance."

"I guess she's able to let me know her own mind. We took to each other like ducks to a patch o' wild rice. I'm too old to be dangerous an' young enough to know what's good for me."

Mrs. MacGregor ignored her brother's remark. She turned to Elijah.

"How does the change from sedate New England to this new life affect you, Elijah?"

"Not at all, personally, Mrs. MacGregor. I'm just the same 'Lige you used to know."

Uncle Sid broke in.

"Perhaps not your innards, but your outards ain't the same. You ain't goin' around here barefoot, with two kinds o' cloth in your pants."

Mrs. MacGregor's eyes were wandering from Helen to Elijah. She was comparing the evidences of sight gathered from personal inspection, with those of hearsay, the result of her indirect inquiries among the hotel guests, as to Elijah's standing in Ysleta. At length she arose, holding out her hand to Elijah.

"I shall hope to renew our old acquaintance. It is a great pleasure to find one's estimates of an old friend more than exceeded."

Elijah took Mrs. MacGregor's hand. In spite of his bewilderment over their implied intimacy in the past, he felt a glow of pride that she felt it worth her while to expand the mustard seed of their former acquaintance into a luxuriant growth. He gave the limp hand a warm pressure.

"Let me do anything I can for your pleasure, Mrs. MacGregor. I am always at your service."

Mrs. MacGregor bowed formally to Helen.

"We shall meet again, I hope. You are stopping here?"

"Yes." Helen could hardly bring herself to this curt response. She felt more like slapping.

It did not escape Mrs. MacGregor, who was following Uncle Sid from the room, that Helen had begun to move as well, and that she was checked by an almost imperceptible gesture from Elijah.

"What about tomorrow, Helen?" he asked.

"You mean the Pacific bank?"

"Yes. It's not our secret now. Every one knows that the run will begin when the bank opens."

"There's only one thing to be done. You must be the first in line."

Elijah took a few quick turns then came to a sudden halt before Helen.

"That's impossible. The line's a mile long now." He laughed uneasily over the exaggeration.

"Then we are out of it, after all."

Elijah hesitated.

"Not necessarily."

Helen leaped to the point of Elijah's meaning.

"You can't do that. You mustn't!"

"Why not? It's our money."

"You know why not." Helen spoke sharply.

"Mellin has fixed it all up." Elijah insisted.

"You know what that means, as well as I do." Helen's voice was sharper and more decided.

Elijah was again striding up and down. He looked at his watch, then snapped it shut and thrust it into his pocket.

"Well, goodnight, Helen, I'll think it over."

"Don't do it. It's dangerous to think about some things."

Helen was alone, walking thoughtfully to her room. Her old mood had returned with even darker shadows. Why couldn't she act on her own keen suggestion and stop thinking about dangerous things? This question occurred to her. Another point suggested itself. Mellin was reading clearly in Elijah that about which she had only vague presentiments.