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The Wag-Lady
by
“Look here, George, don’t aim to take no advantage of what she done for you when you was hurt, or I’ll tip her off!”
“Aw, rats!” cried Llewellyn, furiously. “What do you take me for?” Then, staring coldly at the Kid, he said, “And it won’t do her any good to have you hanging around, either.”
June’s action toward Llewellyn, and her mode of life, gained the admiration and respect of the Wag-boys, and although they avoided her carefully, they watched over her from a distance. Nor was it long before they found a means of serving her, although she did not hear of it for many months.
The Dummy came home one night to inform his partners that Sammy Sternberg, who owned the Miners’ Rest, was boasting of his conquest of June, whereupon Sammy was notified by Llewellyn, acting as a committee of one, that his lies must cease. Sammy got a little drunk a few nights later and boasted again, with the result that the Scrap Iron Kid, who was playing black-jack, promptly floored him with a clout of his .45, and the Swede who was standing near by kicked the prostrate Sternberg in the most conspicuous part of his green-and-purple waistcoat, thereby loosening a rib.
It was not long before the sporting element of the camp learned to treat June with the highest courtesy, and, since she had been adopted in a measure by the Wag-boys, she became known as the Wag-lady.
Meanwhile June was prospering. The homeless men who patronized her place began to intrust their gold-sacks to her care; so she went to Harry Hope, the P. C. agent, and bought a safe in which to deposit her lodgers’ valuables. Frequently thereafter she sat guard all night over considerable sums of money while the owners snored peacefully in the big back room.
When winter closed down June began to see more and more of Harry Hope. And she began to like him, too; for he was the sort to win women’s hearts, being big and boyish and full of merriment. He had spent several years in the Northland, and its winds had blown from him many of the city-born traits, leaving him unaffected, impulsive, and hearty. While the frontier takes away some evil qualities it also takes some good ones, and Harry Hope was not by any means a saint. As the nights grew longer he gained the habit of dropping in to talk with June on his way up-town. One evening he paused before leaving and asked:
“Can you take care of something for me, June?”
“Of course,” she answered.
He flung a leather wallet into her lap, laughing. “You’re the banker for the community; so lock that up overnight, if you please.”
“Oh-h!” she gasped. “There are thousands of dollars! I’d rather not.”
“Come! you must! I didn’t get it in time to put it in the company’s safe, and if I carry it around somebody will frisk me.”
“Where are you going?”
“Down to Sternberg’s. I’m going to outguess his faro-dealer. This is my lucky night, you know.”
Realizing full well the lawlessness of the camp, June felt a bit nervous as she laid the money away. In the course of the evening, however, she gradually lost her fears.
Some time after midnight, when the big front room of the bunk-house was empty, the outside door opened, admitting a billow of frost out of which emerged two men. They were strangers to June, and when she asked them if they wished beds they said “No.” They backed up to the stove and began staring at their surroundings curiously.
It had never been June’s practice to forbid any man the comfort of her coal-burner, even though he lacked the price for a bed, but, remembering the money in her safe, she sharply ordered these two out.
Neither man stirred. They blinked at her in a manner that sent little spasms of nervousness up her spine.
“I tell you it’s too late–you can’t stay!”