"Wonder if the professor's there yet?"said Lin,and he went across the railroad tracks.The bartender nodded to him as he passed through into the back room.In that place were many tables,and the flat clicking and rattle of ivory counters sounded pleasantly through the music.Lin did not join the stud-poker game.He stood over a table at which sat a dealer and a player,very silent,opposite each other,and whereon were painted sundry cards,numerals,and the colors red and black in squares.The legend "Jacks pay"was also clearly painted.The player placed chips on whichever insignia of fortune he chose,and the dealer slid cards (quite fairly)from the top of a pack that lay held within a skeleton case made with some clamped bands of tin.Sometimes the player's pile of chips rose high,and sometimes his sumptuous pillar of gold pieces was lessened by one.It was very interesting and pretty to see;Lin had much better have joined the game of stud-poker.Presently the eye of the dealer met the eye of the player.After that slight incident the player's chip pile began to rise,and rose steadily,till the dealer made admiring comments on such a run of luck.Then the player stopped,cashed in,and said good-night,having nearly doubled the number of his gold pieces.
"Five dollars'worth,"said Lin,sitting down in the vacant seat.The chips were counted out to him.He played with unimportant shiftings of fortune until a short while before his train was due,and then,singularly enough,he discovered he was one hundred and fifty dollars behind the game.
"I guess I'll leave the train go without me,"said Lin,buying five dollars"worth more of ivory counters.So that train came and went,removing eastward Mr.McLean's trunk.
During the hour that followed his voice grew dogged and his remarks briefer,as he continually purchased more chips from the now surprised and sympathetic dealer.It was really wonderful how steadily Lin lost--just as steadily as his predecessor had won after that meeting of eyes early in the evening.
When Lin was three hundred dollars out,his voice began to clear of its huskiness and a slight humor revolved and sparkled in his eye.When his seven hundred dollars had gone to safer hands and he had nothing left at all but some silver fractions of a dollar,his robust cheerfulness was all back again.He walked out and stood among the railroad tracks with his hands in his pockets,and laughed at himself in the dark.Then his fingers came on the check for Omaha,and he laughed loudly.The trunk by this hour must be nearing Rawlins;it was going east anyhow.
"I'm following it,you bet,"he declared,kicking the rail."Not yet though.Nor I'll not go to Washakie to have 'em josh me.And yonder lays Boston."He stretched his arm and pointed eastward.Had he seen another man going on in this fashion alone in the dark,among side-tracked freight cars,he would have pitied the poor fool."And I guess Boston'll have to get along without me for a spell,too,"continued Lin."A man don't want to show up plumb broke like that younger son did after eatin' with the hogs the bishop told about.His father was a Jim-dandy,that hog chap's.Hustled around and set 'em up when he come back home.Frank,he'd say to me 'How do you do,brother?'and he'd be wearin'a good suit o' clothes and--no,sir,you bet!"
Lin now watched the great headlight of a freight train bearing slowly down into Green River from the wilderness.Green River is the end of a division,an epoch in every train's journey.Lanterns swung signals,the great dim thing slowed to its standstill by the coal chute,its locomotive moved away for a turn of repose,the successor backed steaming to its place to tackle a night's work.Cars were shifted,heavily bumping and parting.
"Hello,Lin!"A face was looking from the window of the caboose.
"Hello!"responded Mr.McLean,perceiving above his head Honey Wiggin,a good friend of his.They had not met for three years.
"They claimed you got killed somewheres.I was sorry to hear it."Honey offered his condolence quite sincerely.
"Bruck my leg,"corrected Lin,"if that's what they meant.""I expect that's it,"said Honey."You've had no other trouble?""Been boomin',"said Lin.
From the mere undertone in their voices it was plain they were good friends,carefully hiding their pleasure at meeting.
"Wher're yu'bound?"inquired Honey.
"East,"said Lin.
"Better jump in here,then.We're goin'west.""That just suits me,"said Lin.
The busy lanterns wagged among the switches,the steady lights of the saloons shone along the town's wooden facade.From the bluffs that wall Green River the sweet,clean sage-brush wind blew down in currents freshly through the coal-smoke.A wrench passed through the train from locomotive to caboose,each fettered car in turn strained into motion and slowly rolled over the bridge and into silence from the steam and the bells of the railroad yard.Through the open windows of the caboose great dull-red cinders rattled in,and the whistles of distant Union Pacific locomotives sounded over the open plains ominous and long,like ships at sea.
Honey and Lin sat for a while,making few observations and far between,as their way is between whom flows a stream of old-time understanding.
Mutual whiskey and silence can express much friendship,and eloquently.
"What are yu'doing at present?"Lin inquired.
"Prospectin'."
