ispleasure. Not until a friend stopped them for a word or two was the
distracted parent enabled to escape from that spidery embrace; then,
indeed, he slipped it as a filibustering schooner slips its moorings,
and made off as rapidly and as unobtrusively as possible.
Judge Halloran stared after the retreating figure, then he showed his
decayed teeth in a smile. "'Bob' is coming home to-day and the old
Mountain Lion is on edge," he explained. "I must warn the boys to stay
away from the station and give him his hour. Poor Tom! He has held his
breath for four years."
Tom Parker had heard of children spoiled by schooling, of daughters
educated away from their commonplace parents and rendered disdainful of
them, but never for one instant did he fear that his girl was that
sort. He just knew better. He could no more have doubted "Bob's" love
for him than his for her, or-God's love for both of them. Such love is
perfect, absolute. He took no thought, therefore, of the changes time
and poverty had wrought in his appearance: "Bob" wouldn't notice. He
bet she wouldn't care if he was plumb ragged. They were one and
indivisible; she was _his_, just like his right arm; she was his boy
and his girl; his son-daughter. The old gunman choked and his tonsils
ached abominably. He hoped he wasn't in for another attack of quinsy
sore throat. But--why lie to himself? The truth was, he wanted to cry
and he wanted to laugh at the same time, and the impulses were crossed
in his windpipe. He shook his watch like a child's rattle, to be sure
it was still running.
Barbara did not disappoint her father. On the contrary, she was perhaps
more deeply moved than he at their meeting. At sight of him she uttered
a strangled little cry, then she ran into his arms and clung there,
tightly, her cheek pressed against his breast. It was only upon
occasions like this that "Bob" kissed her father, for she had been
reared as a boy and taught to shun emotional display. Boys kiss their
mothers. She snuggled close, and Tom could feel her whole body shaking;
but she kept her head averted to conceal a distressingly unmasculine
weakness. It was a useless precaution, however, for Tom was blind, his
eyes were as wet as hers, and tears were trickling down the seams in
his wrinkled face.
"Oh, daddy, it has been a long time!" Those were the first words either
of them had spoken.
Tom opened his lips, then he closed them. He patted Barbara clumsily,
and finally cle
|