Part 30

Scarcely a day passed that June did not receive something from the Wags, but of course she never dreamed that her gifts had been stolen. As for her admirers, it was the highest mark of their esteem thus to lay at her feet the choicest fruits of their precarious labors, and, although they were common thieves--nay, worse than that--they stole rather from love of excitement than for hope of gain, and the more fantastic the adventure the more it tickled their distorted fancies.

They were most amusing, and June grew to like them immensely. She began to mother them in the way that pleases all women. She ruled them like a family of wayward children, she settled their disputes, and they submitted with subdued, though extravagant, joy. She asked Llewellyn once about that wound in his arm, but he lied fluently, and she believed him, for she was not the kind to credit evil of her friends.

Once they had received encouragement, they fairly monopolized her. She was never safe from interruption, for the Wag-boys never slept. They came to her cabin singly and collectively at all hours of day or night, during her absence or during her presence, and they never failed to leave something behind them.

Reddy was a good cook, but he loathed a stove as he loathed a policeman, yet he donned an apron, and at the cost of much profanity and sweat produced a chocolate cake that would have done credit to a New England housewife. Furthermore, it bore June's name in a beautiful scroll surrounded by a chocolate wreath, and she found it on her bed when she came home one morning.

Chancing to express a liking for oysters in the hearing of the Scrap Iron Kid, she mysteriously received a whole case of them when she knew very well that there were none in camp. Of course she did not dream that in securing them the Kid had put his person in deadly peril.

On returning from her duties at another time she found that during the night the interior walls of her cabin had been painted, and, although she did not want them painted and although the smell gave her a violent headache, she pretended to be overcome with delight. In order to beautify her little nest Reddy had burgled a store and stolen all the paint there was of the particular shade that pleased his eye.

Now, the Wag-boys pretended to be care-free and happy as time went on. In reality they were gnawed by a secret trouble--it was June's growing fondness for Harry Hope. After careful observation they decided that the P. C. agent would not do at all; he was too wild. He had undeniably lost his head and was gambling heavily, tempted perhaps by the lax morality of the camp and the license of good times.

It was the Dummy who finally proposed a means of safeguarding June's wandering affections.

"Somebody's got to split her away from this Hope," he declared. "It's up to us, and Llewellyn's the only one in her class."

The Scrap Iron Kid's face assumed an ugly yellow cast as he inquired, quietly, "D'you mean George is to marry her?"

"Hardly!" exploded the Dummy. "Just toll her away."

"Why shouldn't I marry her?" Llewellyn demanded.

"I can think of five reasons," the Kid retorted. He tapped his chest with his finger. "Here's one, and there's the other four." He pointed to the other Wag-boys. "D'you think we'd let you marry her? Huh! I'd sooner marry her myself."

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.