PAGE 6
The Wag-Lady
by
Llewellyn ended the discussion by stamping out of the cabin, cursing his partners with violence.
Business of the P. C. Company took Harry Hope to Council City in February; so the Wags felt easier–but only for a time. They found that June was grieving for him, and were plunged into deep despair until Scrap Iron came home with the explanation that the lovers had quarreled before parting. It was a signal for a celebration during which Reddy cooked wildly for a week, making puddings and pies and pastries, most of which were smuggled into June’s cabin. Thomasville journeyed out to a certain roadhouse run by a Frenchman, and returned with a case of eggs wrapped up in a woolen comforter. It required the combined perjury of the other Wags to prove an alibi for him, but June had an omelet every morning thereafter.
Then, just as they were weaning her away, as they thought, the blow fell. It came with a crushing force that left them dumb and panic-stricken. June took pneumonia! The Scrap Iron Kid brought the first news of her illness, and he blubbered like a baby, while Dummy, the woman-hater, cursed like a man bereft.
“How d’you know it’s pneumonia?” queried Thomasville.
“The doc says so. Me ‘n’ George dropped in with some beefsteaks we copped from the butcher, and found her in bed, coughing like the devil. She couldn’t get up–pains in her boosum. We run for Doc Whiting and–fellers, it’s true! George is there now.” The Kid swallowed bravely, and two tears rolled down his cheeks.
The Wag-boys broke out of their cabin on the run, then strung out down the snow-banked street toward June’s cabin, where they found Dr. Whiting, very grave, and Llewellyn with his face blanched and his lips tight drawn. They tiptoed in and stood against the wall in a silent, stricken row, twirling their caps and trying to ease the pain in their throats.
The Wag-lady was indeed very ill. Her yellow hair was tumbled over her pillow and she was in great pain, but she smiled at them and made a feeble jest–which broke in her throat, for she was young and all alone and very badly frightened. It was too much for the Scrap Iron Kid, who stumbled out into the freezing night and fought with his misery. He tried to pray, but from long inexperience he fancied he made bad work of it.
An hour later they assembled and laid plans to weather the storm.
“She’s worried about her hotel,” Llewellyn announced. “If that was off her mind she’d have a better chance.”
“Let’s manage it for her,” the Dummy offered. “I’ll watch it to-night.”
“An’ who’ll watch you?” queried the Kid.
“D’you reckon I’d run out on a pal like June?” stormed the Dummy, whereat Scrap Iron assured him he was positive that he would not, for the very good reason that he and Reddy would take care that no opportunity offered.
“You run the joint like you say, an’ we’ll lookout her game for her; then to-morrow night the other three can do it. We’ll take turn an’ turn about, an’ them that’s off shift will nurse her. I’ve been thinkin’ now–if only we knowed something about women folks–“
“I been married once or twice, if that’s any good,” Thomasville ventured to confess; whereupon he was elected head nurse by virtue of his experience, and accordingly they went to work.
Dr. Whiting had promised to secure a woman to care for the sick girl, but women were scarce that winter and he was only partly successful, so the greater portion of the responsibility fell upon the Wags. He also spoke of removing June to the excuse for a hospital, but they would not hear to this. And so the battle for her life began.
It was a battle, too, for she grew rapidly worse and soon was delirious, babbling of strange things which tore at the hearts of the Wag-boys. Day after day, night after night, she lay racked and tortured, fighting the brave fight of youth, and through it all the six thieves tended her. They were ever at her side, coming and going like the wraiths of her distorted fancy, and while three of them divided the day into watches the other three ran the bunk-house, keeping strict account of every penny taken in. They O. K.’d one another’s books, and it would have fared badly indeed with any one of them had he allowed the least discrepancy to appear in his reckoning.