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Page 46
"Well," he said (his invariably preliminary jocosity fit every call I
made), "I suppose you are out here making kodak pictures of the
mountains. It's the wrong time of the year to buy any hardware, of
course."
I told Bell about the bargain in Mountain City. If he wanted to take
advantage of it, I would rather have missed a sale than have him
overstocked in Saltillo.
"It sounds good," he said, with enthusiasm. "I'd like to branch out and
do a bigger business, and I'm obliged to you for mentioning it.
But--well, you come and stay at my house to-night and I'll think about
it."
It was then after sundown and time for the larger stores in Saltillo to
close. The clerks in Bell's put away their books, whirled the
combination of the safe, put on their coats and hats and left for their
homes. Bell padlocked the big, double wooden front doors, and we stood,
for a moment, breathing the keen, fresh mountain air coming across the
foothills.
A big man walked down the street and stopped in front of the high porch
of the store. His long, black moustache, black eyebrows, and curly black
hair contrasted queerly with his light, pink complexion, which belonged,
by rights, to a blonde. He was about forty, and wore a white vest, a
white hat, a watch chain made of five-dollar gold pieces linked
together, and a rather well-fitting two-piece gray suit of the cut that
college boys of eighteen are wont to affect. He glanced at me
distrustfully, and then at Bell with coldness and, I thought, something
of enmity in his expression.
"Well," asked Bell, as if he were addressing a stranger, "did you fix up
that matter?"
"Did I!" the man answered, in a resentful tone. "What do you suppose
I've been here two weeks for? The business is to be settled to-night.
Does that suit you, or have you got something to kick about?"
"It's all right," said Bell. "I knew you'd do it."
"Of course, you did," said the magnificent stranger. "Haven't I done it
before?"
"You have," admitted Bell. "And so have I. How do you find it at the
hotel?"
"Rocky grub. But I ain't kicking. Say--can you give me any pointers
about managing that--affair? It's my first deal in that line of
business, you know."
"No, I can't," answered Bell, after some thought. "I've tried all kinds
of ways. You'll have to try some of your own."
"Tried soft soap?"
"Barrels of it."
"Tried a saddle girth with a buckle on the end of it?"
"Never none. Started to once; and here's what I got."
Bill held out his right hand. Even in the deepening twilight, I could
see on the back of it a long, white scar that might have been made by a
claw or a knife or some sharp-edged tool.
"Oh, well," said the florid man, carelessly, "I'll know what to do later
on."
He walked away without another word. When he had gone ten steps he
turned and called to Bell:
"You keep well out of the way when the goods are delivered, so there
won't be any hitch in the business."
"All right," answered Bell, "I'll attend to my end of the line."
This talk was scarcely clear in its meaning to me; but as it did not
concern me, I did not let it weigh upon my mind. But the singularity of
the other man's appearance lingered with me for a while; and as we
walked toward Bell's house I remarked to him:
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