When Tom Rogers arose after a disturbed night in which he awoke at least a dozen times, alarmed by the fear that he had heard some one stealthily trying to enter the room and rob him of more money than had ever before been in his possession, it was late. His head felt “stuffy,” due to having slept with his window closed and bolted. He threw up the shade, and, when the sun struck him full in the face, berated himself angrily for having overslept. He made a hasty toilet and went out into the hallway to discover that the prospector's door stood open and the room vacant.
“Mr. Price had his breakfast and left nearly an hour ago,” the clerk informed him. “He said to tell you that he didn't know when he would be back, but for you to amuse yourself seeing the sights and to be here for dinner.”
“He didn't say where he was going, did he?” asked Tom.
The clerk grinned and said: “Yes. Told me he was going out to buy sticks of barber-pole candy because he had always had a fondness for it and proposed to eat a bellyful now that he had a chance.”
Somewhat disgruntled because he was still possessed of the prospector's money belt, Tom went to the dining room for his breakfast; but in the meantime Mr. Joshua Price was merely walking backward and forward the length of the street, sometimes peregrinating absently into a side street, and earning the reputation, as Miss Elfrida Violet Jones, the village dressmaker, said, of being “a nasty old woman chaser;” for, wherever he saw a woman near at hand or in the far distance, he promptly pursued her, and stared at her feet. Sometimes, as if not thoroughly satisfied, he almost ran in front of them, and stared fixedly for a second time. Occasionally he followed his victims doggedly until they became annoyed and cut across the road to escape him. On these occasions he stopped in front of the first plain imprint in the dust and made mental measurements. Once he went to the trouble of pulling from his pocket a new carpenter's rule, purchased that morning, and making measurements.
“You think you're funny, don't you?” expostulated one certain young lady distinguished by an inordinate mass of peroxide hair and flashy clothing; but Josh continued to ply his rule and did not even look up to grin, thus convincing her that he was not trying to be humorous, but was merely insane.
By eleven o'clock the sun shone so hotly that none but the most hardy women ventured out. Josh was still persevering and as patient as a burro hanging around a camp trying to steal food. For the moment he was resting indolently against a tree trunk, but with an observant eye that roved up and down all streets visible in the hope of sighting some other person appareled in a skirt. He had been there now for a full fifteen minutes, as some of those who lived in the near-by cottages could attest; but he was placidly blind to all inspection from the corners of the blinds, through lace curtains, or more openly.
“The female population of a big city like this,” he ruminated, “is certainly goin' to take a long time to run down. Never knew there was so many women on earth with different-sized hoofs. That blond dame was the closest, but she had a bunion, or somethin' like that, so she's out of the runnin'.”
And then he suddenly straightened and scowled. The blond lady was coming down the street again, attired in another outfit of flashy clothing, consisting of a plaid walking skirt and a pair of mountain shoes. She carried a stick and swung away from the camp with a good stride, as if bent on taking a stroll to reduce weight. Mindful of her previous excoriation, and being quite in awe of a woman with a sharp tongue, Josh ducked hastily behind the corner of the nearest cabin and remained in seclusion until she had passed. He stretched his neck around the corner to note the direction she took, and the woman who lived in the nearest house remarked crabbedly: “Ah, ha! That's the kind he is! Just an old ruffian! And I'll bet anything on earth that he follows that dreadful woman down the street! Humph! Claire de Montague, she calls herself! He needn't have taken the pains to hide hisself, because she likes to have men walk right up and wink at her.”
And, sure enough, the prediction was fulfilled when Josh, still scowling, decided it safe to satisfy his suspicions by taking a new measurement of the new shoes. He lounged off up the street with hangdog air, after a sufficient time had elapsed, and followed the road that the blond one had taken, but took the utmost precautions to assure himself that she was not aware of his espionage. He could see her far ahead, walking sturdily up the road, and glanced to either hand to see where it would be possible to stalk her.