Cactus and Rattlers — Key Ideas to Explore

in a tone of voice intended to reach other ears.

“Marier, we got to improve on Manuela’s cookin’ ’fore next week, when them road-workmen git here. I aint stuck on Mex cookin’ my own self. We’ll be right crowded up with folks workin’ on the highway next week. Mose Pincus tells me today there’s a feller name o’ Rosenblum comin’ in from Meteorite, goin’ to open up a army goods store for this here district; wants him a shack big enough to hold six kids and a missus, and a store front. Speakin’ as the president of the Stovepipe Springs chamber o’ commerce, I’d say this here town is started on her boom. They tell me Sagebrush Beam weighed in a right smart o’ dust today, too. Wouldn’t s’prise me a mite if a rush’d start this way that’d ride Gold Hills a mile! Dang it, I wisht we didn’t have to ship in these here aigs; somehow, they don’t taste like aigs should, as I remember ’em.”

Miss Gilman departed, and thereafter Hassayamp essayed no more information at large. Tompkins, who was decidedly hungry, was the last out of the dining-room. He came through the post office lobby, performed the delayed ceremony of registering, and was then escorted outside to the street by Hassayamp. They found Miss Gilman standing under the sun-shade and looking up at the glorious sunset that flooded all the sky with gold and scarlet. She turned at their approach, and Hassayamp performed the introductions.

“Miss Ethel Gilman, lemme make you acquainted with the Puffesser. You folks want to make yourselves to home in Stovepipe Springs. We don’t put on no airs here, and everybody’s sociable. Miss Gilman, she figgers on startin’ a chicken-ranch and settlin’ in our midst, and I dunno but what we might make her our school-teacher. This time next week we’d ought to have six Rosenblums, and we got four little Garcias right now, and Manuela tells me her brother is liable to come over from Chuckwalla City next month, and he’s got five more. That looks right healthy, don’t it? Then take the old Alcora Dance Hall down the street, it’d make a right smart school, if we fix her up and spill a little paint around and so forth. The Puffesser is likewise int’rested in hen chickens, Miss Gilman. He’s lookin’ up bugs right now, but—what did you say your name was, Perfesser?”

Tompkins cleared his throat and bowed to the young woman.

“Percival Henry J. Tompkins, entirely at your service, madam. May I solicit the pleasure of your company in a short walk, to breathe the inspiring evening air and view the noble aspect of the Creator’s handiwork in the heavens?”

“Gosh!” murmured Hassayamp in awe. Miss Gilman gave Tompkins a curious glance, as though wishing to peer past those tinted goggles; a smile was in her eyes, as she made demure assent.

“Thank you, I’d enjoy showing you the sights. You just arrived today?”

“Only this afternoon, madam,” returned Tompkins. “Mr. Foster, if you apprehend any specimens of _crotalus cerastes_ in the near future, I should be glad if you would confine and preserve them for me.”

“I’d sure like to, Puffesser,” said Hassayamp, blinking, “but we aint got a bug in the house. If you was to go up to Garcia’s, you might have some luck.”

Tompkins waved his hand, and strode off beside Miss Gilman, who seemed rather red in the face.

Neither of them broke the silence. They passed down the street, came to the fast-disappearing rows of ancient buildings, relics of boom days, and presently were walking along the open desert, following the white road that went straight as a die across the horizon. The silence became oppressive, until suddenly Tompkins chuckled and spoke in his natural voice. It was a drawling, rather whimsical voice, and drew a swift glance from the girl.

“Our friend Hassayamp is a human phonograph,” he said.

“You’ll go too far one of these days,” said Miss Gilman. Tompkins stopped short and stared at her.

“Eh? Just what do you mean?”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the girl sharply, yet with a laugh in her eyes. “That red hair and your natural voice and the shape of your head don’t go with your assumed character, Mr. Tompkins. Take off those glasses and let me see what you look like. And stop fidgeting with that pipe in your pocket. Take it out and smoke. I’d like you to.”

Tompkins broke into a laugh, reached up and removed the goggles, and met the curious regard of Miss Gilman.