The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile "Sapper". Sapper
speechless; he could only babble strange oaths in an almost inarticulate voice.
"Knocked out—Cornish knocked out," he kept on saying over and over again. "And he's my pard, you sons of a gun—don't you forget it!"
But Jim with a faint smile on his battered face pushed through the crowd to where his clothes lay.
"Tell 'em, Dick," he muttered to me, "to come to our shanty. They can't stop here."
With that he was gone, and I crossed the room to Lord Sussex and his wife. He was conscious again, but it was the girl I was looking at. And I had to deliver my message three times before she took it in. She was rubbing her hands gently together, and the expression on her face would have caused a positive sensation in a drawing-room. But then in a drawing-room, I am told, one rarely sees two heavy-weights light to a finish without gloves.
* * * * *
We found Jim, clothed and comparatively presentable, trying to cut the wire of a champagne bottle. And the Marchioness of Sussex walked straight up to him and kissed him.
"I hardly know you, Jim," she said, a little tremulously, "without your eyeglass."
Jim grinned. "I'm afraid we shall have to dispense with that for a day or two."
"Good Heavens!" shouted John James Hildebrand, "it's Jim Maitland!"
"Bright boy," said his wife, and it struck me she wasn't quite at her ease.
"I only came to when you were fighting," he went on, "and I never recognised you."
And then he too dried up a little awkwardly.
"By Gad, old man," he said steadily, after a moment, "I feel it horribly, that I couldn't fight my own battles for myself. It was fine of you to take that swine on—fine!"
Jim poured out the champagne.
"I don't profess that I'd have done it five years ago or even tonight if Ruth hadn't been there," he remarked quietly.
And then he smiled suddenly.
"Yes—I would. Your going for him as you did was a darned sight better than my show. We can't all be made big, old chap."
He held out his sound hand.
"John," he said, "shake. I haven't loved you much for the past seven years. In fact I haven't loved you at all. I thought—well, I thought lots of things at the time. But the years have healed, and—" He turned to the girl. "Is it well, Ruth, with you?"
"Yes, Jim, very well," she answered gently. "My dear, I'm sorry. But it was because you thought, and let me see you thought, that it was owing to John being a duke one day, that I was annoyed."
Jim nodded thoughtfully.
"I was a fool," he said quietly. "Still," he added whimsically, "perhaps it was as well. I've had seven good years in the edge of beyond."
"You're very rude," laughed the girl. "We'll have to find you a wife now, Jim."
"You preferred your blessed old John James," Jim said, "and she thinks I'm a cur. She told me so."
"Then she must be mad," said Ruth indignantly. "Where is she, Jim?"
"In England somewhere."
"Then come home and stop with us and look for her."
Jim laughed. "I don't know about that, but if I come back I'll spend a few days at the ancestral seat if you'll have me."
"If you don't," cried John James, "you'll have to fight me, my boy. And in the meantime, Ruth, kiss him again."
"I was just going to," said his wife.
And she did.
"You'll come, Jim," she repeated. "And Mr. Leyton too."
"Shall we go back to England, Dick?" he said with a little laugh.
"The one sure thing," I remarked, "is that if we decide to, we shan't."
"You see our habits, Ruth," he said. "We're dreadful people to have about the house. Anyway I don't know what you think, Dick, but we might take the first step on the journey in the near future. My unalterable conviction is that gold mining at a hundred and ten in the shade is an overrated amusement."
And at that we left it.
VI. — PETE CORNISH'S REVENGE
IT was the first time that the curtain had been lifted on the years before I met him. Even to me he had never talked. Jim wasn't made that way. But as he wished Lady Sussex a merry Christmas next morning I couldn't help wondering what would have happened if she had become Mrs. Maitland. And I think it must have been a close thing on her side as well as on his, though I've got no earthly right to say so. But as she said good-bye, it struck me that...
Anyway—that's enough. This is no account of the love affairs of early youth.
We saw them off from the hotel, and stood in the road watching till the dust from their buggy had died away in the distance. And then we started to stroll back to our shanty.
"What I said last night, Dick," he said with a faint smile, "was perfectly right. If she hadn't married John James Hildebrand, she'd have married me. And I should have hunted and shot and fished in England; probably done a nice tour round the world chaperoned by Mr. Thomas Cook, and missed seven years of life."
He grinned ill-advisedly.
"Whew!" he cried, hurriedly composing his face, "don't let me laugh again. It hurts. Mr. Pete Cornish has got what you might describe as a fairly useful punch behind him."
"Once or twice last night, Jim, I thought he'd got you." Jim nodded briefly.
"So did I. Especially in that first minute. I don't mind telling you, Dick, that if that first smack he got me on the jaw had been half an inch lower, it would have been a knockout. It was his poor condition that did the trick."
We paused at the door of our shanty, as One-eyed Mike came down the steps to meet us. Judging from the torchlight appearance of that one eye, our friend and partner had celebrated Christmas Eve in his own fashion, but a broad smile adorned his face.
"A merry Christmas, boys!" he cried. And then he went into a fit of ecstatic chuckling. "To think of it: Pete Cornish knocked out with bare fists inside ten minutes. Why, man—I wouldn't have believed it possible. I just wouldn't have believed it possible! I guess I'd give every penny I possess in the world to see you do it again."
"You don't seem particularly fond of him, Mike," said Jim, as he went indoors.
"Fond of him," snarled the other. "Fond of that—swine. Eight years ago he swindled me out of the best claim I ever had, and when I taxed him with it, he and two of his pals waylaid me. That's where I lost this eye."
"A cheerful sort of customer," said Jim thoughtfully. "Well, you got a little bit of your own back last night anyway. And now that you're here, Mike, we might go into business. Dick and I are quitting: we're going back to England—perhaps..."
"Quitting?" There was genuine regret in One-eyed Mike's voice. "Boys, that's too bad. I guess you've got a real good claim up there."
"It's yours, Mike," said Jim. "We're handing it over to you, and the very best of luck, old man."
Speechless surprise showed in the one eye, and Mike's voice was a little husky as he answered.
"I guess I don't know what to say, sir," he remarked at length. "Sure Cornish didn't tap you on the head or anything last night?"
Jim laughed. "No, we're quite sane, Mike. But we're going back to England, to look for somebody."
"I hope you find her," said Mike, and then he strolled to the window and stood staring out down the dusty street. "I hope you find her," he