The Claim Jumpers

Now that it was all explained, it seemed to Bennington de Laney to be

ridiculously simple. He wondered how he could have been so blind. For

the moment, however, all other emotions were swallowed up in intense

mortification over the density he had displayed, and the ridiculous

light in which he must have appeared to all the actors in the comedy.

His companion perceived this, and kindly hastened to relieve it.

"You're wondering how it all happened," said he, "but you don't want to

ask about it. I'm going to tell you the story of your life. You see,

Bert and I knew the Fays very well in Boston, and we knew also that

they were out here in the Hills. That's what tickled us so when you

said you were coming out to this very place. You know yourself, Ben,

that you were pretty green when you were in New York--you must know it,

because you have got over it so nicely since--and it struck us, after

you talked so much about the 'Wild West,' that it would be a shame if

you didn't get some of it. So we wrote Jim that you were coming, and to

see to it that you had a time."

Jim chuckled a little. "From his letters, I guess you had it. He wrote

about that horse he sprung on you, and the time they lynched you, and

all the rest of it, and we thought we had done pretty well, especially

since Jim wrote he thought you weren't half bad, and had come through

in good shape. He wrote, too, that you had run against Bill, and that

Bill was fooling you up in some way--way unspecified. He seemed to be a

little afraid that Bill was trifling with your young affections--how is

it Ben, anyway?--but he said that Bill was very haughty on the subject,

and as he'd never been able to do anything with her before, he didn't

believe he'd have much success if he should try now. I suggested that

Bill might get in a little deep herself," went on James, watching his

listener's face keenly, "but Bert seemed inclined to the opinion that

any one as experienced as Bill was perfectly able to take care of

herself anywhere. She's a mighty fine girl, Ben, old man," suddenly

concluded this startling youth, holding out his hand, "and I wish you

every success in the world in getting her!"

"Thank you, Jeems," replied Bennington simply, without attempting to

deny the state of affairs. "I'm sure I'm glad of your good wishes, but

I'm afraid I haven't any show now." He sighed deeply.

"I'll give an opinion on that after I see Bill again," observed the

artist sagely.

"It always struck me as being queer that two of the most refined people

about here should happen to be living in the same house," commented

Bennington, only just aware that it had so struck him.