A Cool Million by Nathanael West Page B

continued to talk.
    “You see,” he said with a friendly
smile. “I was brought up on fightin ’. When I was a
boy I could whip every boy in the school.”
    “That’s why they call you a rip-tail roarer ,” said Mr. Whipple jokingly.
    “You’re right, pardner ,”
said the Pike man complacently. “What did you do when the teacher gave you a
licking?” asked Mr. Whipple.
    “What did I do?” yelled the
Missourian with a demoniac laugh.
    “Yes, what?” asked Mr. Whipple.
    “Why, I shot him dead,” said the
Pike man briefly. “My,” said Mr. Whipple with a smile. “How many teachers did you shoot when you were a boy?”
    “Only one. The rest heard of it and never dared touch me.”
    After this last statement, the
desperado lay down under a tree to finish in comfort the cigar he tad snatched
from Mr. Whipple.
    Seeing that he did not intend to
move just yet, the others proceeded to go about their business. Lem and Jake Raven went to the mine, which was about a mile
from the cabin. Shagpoke saddled his horse for the
ride into town after a fresh stock of provisions. Betty occupied herself over
the washtub.
    Some time had elapsed, when Lem and Jake Raven decided that they would need dynamite to
continue their operations. Lem was down at the bottom
of the shaft, so the Indian was the one to go to camp for the explosives.
    When Jake did not return after
several hours, Lem began to worry about him. He
remembered what the Pike man had said about his Indian policy and was afraid
that that ruffian might have done Jake an injury.
    Our hero decided to go back and see
if everything was all right. When he entered the clearing in which the cabin
stood, he was surprised to find the place deserted.
    “Hi, Jake!” Lem shouted bewilderedly. “Hi, Jake
Raven!”
    There was no answer. Only the woods
sent his words back to him in an echo almost as loud as his shout.
    Suddenly, a scream rent the silence. Lem recognized the voice of the screamer as Betty’s,
and ran quickly toward the cabin.

 
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    The door was locked. Lem hammered on it, but no one answered. He went to the
woodpile to get an ax and there found Jake Raven lying on the ground. He had
been shot through the chest. Hastily snatching up the ax Lem ran to the cabin. A few hearty blows and the door tumbled in.
    In the half gloom of the cabin, Lem was horrified to see the Pike man busily tearing off
Betty’s sole remaining piece of underwear. She was struggling as best she
could, but the ruffian from Missouri was too strong for her.
    Lem raised
the ax high over his head and started forward to interfere. He did not get very
far because the ruffian had prepared for just such a contingency by setting an
enormous bear trap inside the door.
    Our hero stepped on the pan of the
trap and its saw-toothed jaws closed with great force on the calf of his leg,
cutting through his trousers, skin, flesh and halfway
into the bone besides. He dropped in a heap, as though he had been shot through
the brain.
    At the sight of poor Lem weltering in his own blood, Betty fainted. In no way
disturbed, the Missourian went coolly about his nefarious business and soon
accomplished his purpose.
    With the hapless girl in his arms he
then left the cabin. Throwing her behind his saddle, he pressed his cruel spurs
into his horse’s sides and galloped off in the general direction of Mexico.
    Once more the deep hush of the
primeval forest descended on the little clearing, making peaceful what had been
a scene of wild torment and savage villainy. A squirrel began to chatter
hysterically in a treetop and from somewhere along the brook came the plash of
a rising trout Birds sang.
    Suddenly the birds were still. The
squirrel fled from the tree in which he had been gathering pine cones.
Something was moving behind the woodpile. Jake Raven was not dead after all.
    With all the stoical disregard of
pain for which his race is famous, the sorely wounded Indian crawled along on
his hands and knees. His