It was early evening when they got off the car at Seventh and Pine on their way home from Bell's Theater. Billy and Saxon did their little together, then separated at the corner, Saxon to go on to the house and prepare supper, Billy to go and see the boys—the teamsters who had fought on in the strike during his month of .
“Take care of yourself, Billy,” she called, as he started off.
“Sure,” he answered, turning his face to her over his shoulder.
Her heart leaped at the smile. It was his old, unsullied love-smile which she wanted always to see on his face—for which, armed with her own wisdom and the wisdom of Mercedes, she would wage the utmost woman's war to possess. A thought of this flashed brightly through her brain, and it was with a proud little smile that she remembered all her pretty equipment stored at home in the bureau and the chest of drawers.
Three-quarters of an hour later, supper ready, all but the putting on of the lamb chops at the sound of his step, Saxon waited. She heard the gate click, but instead of his step she heard a curious and confused scraping of many steps. She flew to open the door. Billy stood there, but a different Billy from the one she had parted from so short a time before. A small boy, beside him, held his hat. His face had been fresh-washed, or, rather, , for his shirt and shoulders were wet. His pale hair lay damp and plastered against his forehead, and was darkened by blood. Both arms hung limply by his side. But his face was composed, and he even grinned.
“It's all right,” he Saxon. “The joke's on me. Somewhat damaged but still in the ring.” He stepped gingerly across the threshold. “—Come on in, you fellows. We're all mutts together.”
He was followed in by the boy with his hat, by Bud Strothers and another teamster she knew, and by two strangers. The latter were big, hard-featured, sheepish-faced men, who stared at Saxon as if afraid of her.
“It's all right, Saxon,” Billy began, but was interrupted by Bud.
“First thing is to get him on the bed an' cut his clothes off him. Both arms is broke, and here are the ginks that done it.”
He indicated the two strangers, who their feet with and looked more sheepish than ever.
Billy sat down on the bed, and while Saxon held the lamp, Bud and the strangers proceeded to cut coat, shirt, and undershirt from him.
“He wouldn't go to the receivin' hospital,” Bud said to Saxon.
“Not on your life,” Billy . “I had 'em send for Doc Hentley. He'll be here any minute. Them two arms is all I got. They've done pretty well by me, an' I gotta do the same by them.—No medical students a-learnin' their trade on me.”
“But how did it happen?” Saxon demanded, looking from Billy to the two strangers, puzzled by the that so evidently existed among them all.
“Oh, they're all right,” Billy dashed in. “They done it through mistake. They're Frisco teamsters, an' they come over to help us—a lot of 'em.”
The two teamsters seemed to cheer up at this, and nodded their heads.
“Yes, missus,” one of them . “It's all a mistake, an'... well, the joke's on us.”
“The drinks, anyway,” Billy grinned.
Not only was Saxon not excited, but she was scarcely . What had happened was only to be expected.
It was in line with all that Oakland had already done to her and hers, and, besides, Billy was not dangerously hurt. Broken arms and a sore head would heal. She brought chairs and seated everybody.
“Now tell me what happened,” she begged. “I'm all at sea, what of you two burleys breaking my husband's arms, then seeing him home and holding a love-fest with him.”
“An' you got a right,” Bud Strothers assured her. “You see, it happened this way—”
“You shut up, Bud,” Billy broke it. “You didn't see anything of it.”
Saxon looked to the San Francisco teamsters.
“We'd come over to lend a hand, seein' as the Oakland boys was gettin' some the short end of it,” one up, “an' we've sure learned some scabs there's better trades than drivin' team. Well, me an' Jackson here was nosin' around to see what we can see, when your husband comes moseyin' along. When he—”
“Hold on,” Jackson interrupted. “Get it straight as you go along. We reckon we know the boys by sight. But your husband we ain't never seen around, him bein'...”
“As you might say, put away for a while,” the first teamster took up the tale. “So, when we sees what we thinks is a scab dodgin' away from us an' takin' the through the —”
“The alley back of Campbell's grocery,” Billy .
“Yep, back of the grocery,” the first teamster went on; “why, we're sure he's one of them squarehead scabs, hired through Murray an' Ready, makin' a to get into the stables over the back fences.”
“We caught one there, Billy an' me,” Bud interpolated.
“So we don't waste any time,” Jackson said, addressing himself to Saxon. “We've done it before, an' we know how to do 'em up brown an' tie 'em with baby ribbon. So we catch your husband right in the alley.”
“I was lookin' for Bud,” said Billy. “The boys told me I'd find him somewhere around the other end of the alley. An' the first thing I know, Jackson, here, asks me for a match.”
“An' right there's where I get in my fine work,” resumed the first teamster.
“What?” asked Saxon.
“That.” The man to the wound in Billy's scalp. “I laid 'm out. He went down like a , an' got up on his knees dippy, a-gabblin' about somebody standin' on their foot. He didn't know where he was at, you see, clean . An' then we done it.”
The man paused, the tale told.
“Broke both his arms with the crowbar,” Bud supplemented.
“That's when I come to myself, when the bones broke,” Billy . “An' there was the two of 'em givin' me the ha-ha. 'That'll last you some time,' Jackson was sayin'. An' Anson says, 'I'd like to see you drive horses with them arms.' An' then Jackson says, 'let's give 'm something for luck.' An' with that he fetched me a wallop on the jaw—”
“No,” corrected Anson. “That wallop was mine.”
“Well, it sent me into dreamland over again,” Billy sighed. “An' when I come to, here was Bud an' Anson an' Jackson dousin' me at a water trough. An' then we a reporter an' all come home together.”
Bud Strothers held up his fist and indicated freshly skin.
“The reporter-guy just insisted on samplin' it,” he said. Then, to Billy: “That's why I cut around Ninth an' caught up with you down on Sixth.”
A few minutes later Doctor Hentley arrived, and drove the men from the rooms. They waited till he had finished, to assure themselves of Billy's well being, and then departed. In the kitchen Doctor Hentley washed his hands and gave Saxon final instructions. As he dried himself he the air and looked toward the stove where a pot was simmering.
“,” he said. “Where did you buy them?”
“I didn't buy them,” replied Saxon. “I dug them myself.”
“Not in the ?” he asked with quickened interest.
“Yes.”
“Throw them away. Throw them out. They're death and . Typhoid—I've got three cases now, all traced to the clams and the marsh.”
When he had gone, Saxon obeyed. Still another mark against Oakland, she reflected—Oakland, the man-trap, that poisoned those it could not starve.
“If it wouldn't drive a man to drink,” Billy , when Saxon returned to him. “Did you ever dream such luck? Look at all my fights in the ring, an' never a broken bone, an' here, snap, snap, just like that, two arms smashed.”
“Oh, it might be worse,” Saxon smiled cheerfully.
“I'd like to know how.
It might have been your neck.”
“An' a good job. I tell you, Saxon, you gotta show me anything worse.”
“I can,” she said confidently.
“Well?”
“Well, wouldn't it be worse if you intended staying on in Oakland where it might happen again?”
“I can see myself becomin' a farmer an' plowin' with a pair of pipe-stems like these,” he persisted.
“Doctor Hentley says they'll be stronger at the break than ever before. And you know yourself that's true of clean-broken bones. Now you close your eyes and go to sleep. You're all done up, and you need to keep your brain quiet and stop thinking.”
He closed his eyes obediently. She slipped a cool hand under the nape of his neck and let it rest.
“That feels good,” he murmured. “You're so cool, Saxon. Your hand, and you, all of you. Bein' with you is like comin' out into the cool night af............