The Tenderfoots by Francis Lynde

BROMLEY'S efforts to trace Philip's movements on the Monday night of cataclysms were quite fruitless, as they were likely to be, lacking help from the chapter of accidents; and they so continued until a certain morning when he went to the Union Depot to see the Follansbees and Stephen Drew off for a trip to Manitou. Walking back across the platforms after the Rio Grande train had pulled out, he saw Jim Garth, flannel-shirted, booted, and with a rifle under his arm and a blanket roll over his shoulder, making for the waiting South Park day train.

"Hello, Jim! " he called, turning to overtake the big man. "What ho! Does this" -- touching the blanket roll -- "mean that you've had enough of the bright lights for a while?"

"You're mighty whistlin'," laughed the giant. "I been a no-account bum on you two boys good-and-plenty long enough, I reckon. I'm hittin' for the big hills and the tall timber where I can't get a drink o' red-eye, no matter how bad I'm a-hankerin' for it -- that's me."

"But see here, old-timer; how about your grub-stake? " queried Bromley, catching step and walking with Garth to the waiting train. "You're not going to tell me that you saved enough for it out of the check I slipped you a week ago?"

The big man grinned foolishly.

"You're whistlin' ag'in, Harry. That there fish-eyed faro-dealer in Clem Bull's place raked in the last dollar o' that hand-out afore I'd had time to say ‘Howdy' to it. I'd 'a' gone hungry a heap o' times since then if it hadn't been for Phil."

"Phil? " said Bromley, recalling Philip's stubborn refusals to join in any of the check-slippings.

"Yep, you heard me," Garth nodded, putting a foot on the step of the car to be ready to swing up when the starting signal should be given; "li'l' old Phil. Yuh recollect how he kind-a soured on me 'long to-wards the last up at the ‘Jean,' and after you and him come here to Denver, he'd pass me in the street without ever seein' me -- head up and eyes straight out in front, like this" -- illustrating in solemn burlesque. "But he's a whole lot different now; wouldn't know him for the same Phil a-tall."

"How, different?"

Garth pushed his wide-brimmed hat back and scratched his head with a reflective finger.

"Why, I dunno, eggzackly; more like folks, I reckon you'd say. Met up with him yiste'day in Tom and Jerry's place, and he was leanin' up ag'inst the bar, a-pourin' hisself a drink o' red likker like a man. Wouldn't buy me a drink, though -- no, sir-ree! -- not on your sweet life! What he done was to drag me off into a corner and ask me if I didn't want to go prospectin'; allowed he'd stake me good if I'd premise not to blow it; said he knowed if I'd promise, I'd stick."

"Well? " queried Bromley.

"I shuck hands on it. He done it, and done it right. After we'd been to the bank, and down to Wolfe Londoner's place to git Wolfe to ship me a bunch o' grub to Buena Vista, Phil, he kind-a hung on and says, says he, ‘Damn it, Jim, I'm half a mind to go along with you. When I git to thinkin' about the clean old hills. ' ‘Come on,' says I, ‘and we'll hunt us up another li'l' bonanza. ' But he says, ‘No, I ain't a coward, Jim; and that's what I'd be if I took to the hills now. ' What you reckon he meant by that?"

"Perhaps Phil is the only one who knows the answer to that question, Jim; and if he is, he won't tell."

"Speakin' o' Phil," Garth went on, with a glance over his shoulder to see if the train conductor was in sight and ready to give the starting signal; "what-all d'yuh reckon he's got to do with that frozen-eyed faro-dealer in Clem Bull's?"

"I don't know; tell me," said Bromley, suddenly anxious to have the train starting further delayed.

"It was three-four weeks ago, one night after you'd staked me," Garth explained. "I'd gone into Bull's place, aimin' to buck the tiger one more li'l' whirl to see if I couldn't git some o' my good money back ag'in, and I happen' to look over my shoulder and see Phil a-follerin' me. Reckoned he was aimin' to knock me down and drag me out for a cussed fool, so I dodged him in the crowd and watched to see what he'd do. He was lookin' for me, all right; I could see that; but when he come to the faro layout, he stopped dead, like he'd been shot -- jus' stood there a-starin' at that dealer with his eyes a-buggin' out."

"And then? " Bromley prompted, hurriedly, because the conductor was now coming down the platform, clearance order in hand.

"Then he kind-a groped his way 'round the table and touched old Fish-eye on the shoulder. Fish-eye, he looks up and says somethin', quiet-like, and then calls in his mate to take the deal box, and goes off up-stairs with Phil. That's all I seen, but it got me guessin'."

The train conductor had shouted his "All aboard! " and the wheels were beginning to roll. Garth swung up to the step, and there was time only for a hasty, "So long! See you later! " and the big miner was gone. Bromley walked up-town, soberly thoughtful; and that evening, after dinner, drifted into the Bull "palace" and slipped into the ring of onlookers at the faro game. One appraisive look at the hard-faced man running the cards from the dealer's box was all that was needed, and the play-boy saw to whom Philip owed his cool gray eyes, thin-lipped mouth, and even the curious brow cow-lick in his hair.