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； I'll tell a pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart or two； and put on a show right！〃
Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure； even to Bud。 He got up； shut his eyes very tight and then opened them wide to clear his vision； shook himself into his clothes and went over to the stove。 Cash had not left the coffeepot on the stove but had； with malicious intentor so Bud believedput it away on the shelf so that what coffee remained was stone cold。 Bud muttered and threw out the coffee； grounds and alla bit of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive him to and made fresh coffee； and made it strong。 He did not want it。 He drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for him。
He lay down afterwards； and this time he dropped into a more nearly normal sleep； which lasted until Cash returned at dusk After that he lay with his face hidden； awake and thinking。 Thinking； for the most part； of how dull and purposeless life was； and wondering why the world was made； or the people in it since nobody was happy； and few even pretended to be。 Did God really make the world； and man； just to play withfor a pastime？ Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything one did that was contrary to God's laws？
Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them unbrokenlike Cash； for instance。 Just because Cash never drank or played cards； what right had he to charge the whole atmosphere of the cabin with his contempt and his disapproval of Bud； who chose to do both？
On the other hand； why did he choose a spree as a relief from his particular bunch of ghosts？ Trading one misery for another was all you could call it。 Doing exactly the things that Marie's mother had predicted he would do； committing the very sins that Marie was always a little afraid he would committhere must be some sort of twisted revenge in that； he thought； but for the life of him he could not quite see any real； permanent satisfaction in itespecially since Marie and her mother would never get to hear of it。
For that matter； he was not so sure that they would not get to hear。 He remembered meeting； just on the first edge of his spree； one Joe De Barr； a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose。 Joe knew Mariein fact； Joe had paid her a little attention before Bud came into her life。 Joe had been in Alpine between trains； taking orders for goods from the two saloons and the hotel。 He had seen Bud drinking。 Bud knew perfectly well how much Joe had seen him drinking； and he knew perfectly well that Joe was surprised to the point of amazementand； Bud suspected； secretly gratified as well。 Wherefore Bud had deliberately done what he could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and the gratification。 Why is it that most human beings feel a sneaking satisfaction in the downfall of another？ Especially another who is； or has been at sometime； a rival in love or in business？
Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr。 If Joe should happen to meet Marie； he would manage somehow to let her know that Bud was going to the dogson the toboggandown and outwhatever it suited Joe to declare him。 It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar； smiling and twisting the ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such a consummate fool of himself。 At the time； though； Bud had taken a perverse delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken； more boisterous and reckless than he really was。
Oh； well； what was the odds？ Marie couldn't think any worse of him than she already thought。 And whatever she thought； their trails had parted； and they would never cross againnot if Bud could help it。 Probably Marie would say amen to that。 He would like to know how she was getting alongand the baby； too。 Though the baby had never seemed quite real to Bud； or as if it were a permanent member of the household。 It was a leather… lunged； red…faced； squirming little mite； and in his heart of hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all。 He had never rocked it； for instance； or carried it in his arms。 He had been afraid he might drop it； or squeeze it too hard； or break it somehow with his man's strength。 When he thought of Marie he did not necessarily think of the baby； though sometimes he did； wondering vaguely how much it had grown； and if it still hollered for its bottle； all hours of the day and night。
Coming back to Marie and Joeit was not at all certain that they would meet； or that Joe would mention him； even if they did。 A wrecked home is always a touchy subject； so touchy that Joe had never intimated in his few remarks to Bud that there had ever been a Marie； and Bud； drunk as he had been； was still not too drunk to held back the question that clamored to be spoken。
Whether he admitted it to himself or not； the sober Bud Moore who lay on his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the world was ashamed of the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his drunkenness before the man who knew Marie。 He did not want Marie to hear what Joe might tell There was no use； he told himself miserably； in making Marie despise him as well as hate him。 There was a difference。 She might think him a brute； and she might accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband； but she could not； unless Joe told of his spree； say that she had ever heard of his carousing around。 That it would be his own fault if she did hear； served only to embitter his mood。
He rolled over and glared at Cash； who had cooked his supper and was sitting down to eat it alone。 Cash was looking particularly misanthropic as he bent his head to meet the upward journey of his coffee cup； and his eyes； when they lifted involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement。 had still that hard look of bottled…up rancor that had impressed itself upon Bud earlier in the day。
Neither man spoke； or made any sign of friendly recognition。 Bud would not have talked to any one in his present state of self…disgust； but for all that Cash's silence rankled。 A moment their eyes met and held； then with shifted glances the souls of them drew apartfarther apart than they had ever been； even when they quarreled over Pete； down in Arizona。
When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe； Bud got up and reheated the coffee； and fried more bacon and potatoes； Cash having cooked just enough for himself。 Cash smoked and gave no heed； and Bud retorted by eating in silence and in straightway washing his own cup； plate； knife； and fork and wiping clean the side of the table where he always sat。 He did not look at Cash； but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him with that hateful sneer hidden under his beard。 He knew that it was silly to keep that stony silence； but he kept telling himself that if Cash wanted to talk； he had a tongue； and it was not tied。 Besides； Cash had registered pretty plainly his intentions and his wishes when he excluded Bud from his supper。
It was a foolish quarrel； but it was that kind of foolish quarrel which is very apt to harden into a lasting one。
CHAPTER TWELVE。 MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE
Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation； but Joe De Barr was not excessively polite； and he had； moreover； a very likely hope that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she had shown in the past。 He did not chance to see her at once； but as soon as his work would permit he made it a point to meet her。 He went about it with beautiful directness。 He made bold to call her up on 〃long distance〃 from San Francisco； told her that he would be in San Jose that night； and invited her to a show。
Marie accepted without enthusiasmand her listlessness was not lost over forty miles of telephone wire。 Enough of it seeped to Joe's ears to make him twist his mustache quite furiously when he came out of the telephone booth。 If she was still stuck on that fellow Bud； and couldn't see anybody else； it was high time she was told a few things about him。 It was queer how a nice girl like Marie would hang on to some cheap guy like Bud Moore。 Regular fellows didn't stand any showunless they played what cards happened to fall their way。 Joe； warned by her indifference； set himself very seriously to the problem of playing his cards to the best advantage。
He went into a flower storedisdaining the banked loveliness upon the cornersand bought Marie a dozen great； heavy…headed chrysanthemums； whose color he could not name to save his life； so called them pink and let it go at that。 They were not pink； and they were not sweetJoe held the bunch well away from his protesting olfactory nerves which were not educated to tantalizing odorsbut they were more expensive than roses； and he knew that women raved over them。 He expected Marie to rave over them； whether she liked them or not。
Fortified by these； groomed and perfumed and as prosperous looking as a tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may be； he went to San Jose on an early evening train that carried a parlor car in which Joe made himself comfortable。 He fooled even the sophisticated porter into thinking him a millionaire； wherefore he arrived in a glow of self…esteem； which bred much optimism。
Marie