CHAPTER V. HIBBARD SHOWS HIS TEETH.

It was hard for Clancy to understand Rockwell. At first, he had no place open for Clancy at all; after he saw the thousand-dollar note, he suddenly discovered that he could put him on the pay roll, providing he could do his work and keep his own counsel; and finally, when Clancy declined the position if he must turn his back an his principles, Rockwell “took him on,” anyway.

It did not occur to Clancy that Rockwell might have a design in these shifty tactics, and that the design underwent changes as Clancy developed his aims and intentions.

As the judge walked off, leaving Clancy poorer by twenty-five dollars a month because of his promise to Rockwell, Fortune saw a chance and took quick advantage of it.

“Hold your bronks a minute, judge,” he called, hurrying after Pembroke. “I’m big for my size and old for my age, and I reckon I could pull down that seventy-five allee same Clancy. What do you say?”

The judge paused and cast a reflective eye over Jimmie.

“Can you drive a car?” he inquired.

“Me? Gee-wollops! Say, I invented cars. If the diaphragm gets crossways of the razmataz so that the needle valve back fires, I can fix it in ten seconds with my eyes done up in a cloth.”

“Bosh!” interfered Rockwell. “You don’t want a thing to do with that good-for-nothing, judge. I happen to know him. He can’t tell a radiator from a bale of hay.”

“I don’t think you’ll do,” said the judge to Fortune, and walked off down the street.

“You’re a fine uncle for a wanderin’ boy that’s tryin’ to get a foothold!” cried Fortune, turning on the garage owner. “Out with a hammer and knockin’ the rest o’ the fambly as per usual. If I had a disposition like yourn, blamed if I wouldn’t go down where the boats come in, and jump off!”

“You get out o’ here!” shouted Rockwell.

“When I get good and ready. I ain’t in your old chug-wagon corral, but out in front. You don’t own the street, I reckon. If you don’t like my comp’ny, start your feet and change locations. Whoosh! Say, if I was as mean, and back bitin’, and as full o’ low-down schemes as you, I’d be glad to bob up in straight and honest sassiety oncet in a while jest to ketch a breath o’ good air. I’d----”

Rockwell, red with rage and muttering to himself, did not pause to hear any more, but dived through the front door of the garage. He looked out again to call to his new employee:

“I’ll expect you to sleep here nights, Clancy. If you go away, get back by eight o’clock.”

“All right, sir,” Clancy answered.

Rockwell disappeared, and Fortune dropped down on the bench and drew Clancy down beside him.

“You locoed, pard?” Fortune demanded.

“I hope not,” was the reply. “Why?”

“What’s Old Rocks payin’ you?”

“Fifty a month.”

“Why didn’t you jump at the judge’s seventy-five?”

“Because I had already agreed to work for Rockwell.”

“Why didn’t you turn Rocks down?”

“When I give a promise I try to stand by it.”

“Who’s goin’ to pin a rose on you for that? Old Rocks? Fergit it! He’s workin’ a scheme, and already you’re beginnin’ to get the worst of it. What did he say about that note?”

“Said he’d pay me the money in a week or two.”

“He never will, and all he’s doin’ is playin’ for time. You and me can’t trot in double harness if you stay here, Red. I was sort o’ bankin’ on takin’ your little hand in mine and goin’ out for a look at the universe. And here you’ve cut yourself off from Jimmie and Jonah first clatter out o’ the box.”

“We’ll keep track of each other,” laughed Clancy, “and maybe I’ll be able to help you to a job before long. How are you fixed for money, Jimmie?”

“Money?” gasped Fortune. “What’s that? I ain’t on speakin’ terms with a soo markee.”

Clancy took two silver dollars from his pocket and pressed them into his friend’s hand.

“That’s not much, Jimmie,” said he, “but it’s the best I can do for the present. That ought to keep you going for a short time. I don’t think I’m going to like it at this garage,” he went on, dropping his voice, “but I’ve got to stay here till I collect the money on that note. Drop around occasionally and let me know where you are.”

Fortune looked at the two pieces of silver reflectively.

“You are the clear quill, Red,” he finally observed. “This here’s a grubstake, and that means you got a half interest in any vein o’ pay rock I’m able to unkiver. Maybe I ain’t named Fortune for nothin’, after all, and we go snooks on whatever grows up from these two plunks after I’ve planted ’em. Hoop-a-la!”

The queer chap got up from the bench with a wide smile, jingling the money in his trousers pocket. Just as he started away, Dirk Hibbard darted around the corner of the garage and rushed up to Clancy. The fellow’s manner was distinctly hostile, and, in a flash, Clancy was on his feet.

“I reckon you’re plumb satisfied now!” exclaimed Hibbard, bitterly resentful.

Fortune, on his way toward Washington Street, halted and faced around.

“Well, yes,” drawled Clancy, looking the discharged chauffeur squarely in the eyes, “I’ve got a job and I suppose I ought to be satisfied!”

“You laid your plans to get old Pembroke to fire me!”

“It’s nothing to me whether the judge keeps you or fires you, and I didn’t lay any plans. I’m working for Rockwell and not for Judge Pembroke.”

“You wanted to get my job for that muttonhead friend of yours!” breathed Hibbard, through his teeth.

“Who’s the muttonhead?” demanded Fortune, stepping forward truculently. “Me?”

“Keep off, Jimmie!” said Clancy. “Hibbard’s business is with me, not with you. I don’t care a rap about you, one way or the other,” he went on to Hibbard, “but it’s my private opinion that the judge did a good piece of work when he pulled the pin on you. I’ve an idea that you have been double crossing him right along, and that he has just begun to find it out.”

“Mean to say I’m a thief?” asked the other hotly.

“Any fellow who will disable a car just to get a commission for having it overhauled isn’t giving much attention to the interests of his employer; what’s more----”

Hibbard’s face was full of wrath. With a muttered oath, he struck at Clancy with his fist.

The red-headed chap was not taken by surprise. He had kept his eyes on the chauffeur’s face, and he knew that blow was coming an instant before it was launched.

Clancy side-stepped with the swiftness of lightning, and the clenched hand found only space. Before Hibbard could recover his balance, Clancy had struck him and sent him to his knees.

“Gle-ory to snakes, and all sashay!” piped Fortune jubilantly. “Pard, you found him! That little surprise party was somethin’ of a jolt. The cimiroon went gunnin’ for more’n he expected.”

With a bellow of rage, Hibbard regained his feet and plunged into the garage. The next moment a monkey wrench came sailing through the door, but Clancy saw it in time to dodge. Hibbard followed the monkey wrench in person, armed with a hammer. His face was working convulsively, and he seemed absolutely beside himself.

“I’ll kill you!” he cried huskily.

Fortune leaped to take a hand in the set-to, but Clancy ordered him back.

“Leave Hibbard to me,” he said; “I can handle him.”

Fortune, his eyes wide with apprehension for his “pard,” retreated slowly, and watched.

What he saw was something of a revelation to him in the art of self-defense. The red-headed chap gave a pretty demonstration of coolness and skill as opposed to brute strength and unreasoning rage.

Whirling the hammer in short, vicious circles, Hibbard executed a furious attack. Clancy stood his ground until the fellow was close, then he sprang high into the air. His feet shot out, and the toe of one shoe landed on the wrist of the hand that held the hammer. The heavy weapon went clattering to the cement walk.

Then, while the driver stood disarmed, Clancy sailed into him with vigor and determination. In almost less time than it takes to tell of it, Hibbard was tripped, flung from his feet, and cast against the adobe wall.

The force of his fall dazed him, and he sat in a quivering heap, his back to the adobe and his eyes blinking up at Clancy.

“What’s this?” called the sharp voice of Rockwell, who came hurrying through the door.

“Hibbard picked a quarrel with me,” answered Clancy calmly. “His fists weren’t good enough, and he went after a monkey wrench and a hammer.”

The garage owner looked down on the driver.

“Haven’t you got any sense at all?” he asked sternly. “Do you think you’re helping yourself any by this kind of work?”

Hibbard shook his head, as though to clear the fog from his brain, and got up slowly.

“That red-headed skunk has euchered me out of a job,” he growled. “I’ll get even with him, by thunder! If I can’t get him one way, I will another.”

“My advice to you, Hibbard, is to sing small,” said Rockwell. “Don’t want to get yourself in the lockup, do you?”

“I don’t care a whoop where I get myself, if I can saw off even with that dub!”

He made another pass at Clancy with his fist, but Rockwell grabbed the doubled arm and pulled the baffled chauffeur off along the walk toward the main street. The two presently turned the corner and were lost to sight.

“Hibbard’s no match for you, Reddy,” said Fortune, “but you look out for him, jest the same. He’s the sort that’ll hit from behind, and strike in the dark. Mind that!”

Clancy laughed lightly.

“Hibbard can’t scare me,” he answered. “He’s sore because he lost his job--and he’s blaming everybody but himself.”

“While you’re watchin’ him, pard,” said Fortune, “keep a weather eye out for old Rocks. He allers has a few tricks up his wide and flowin’ sleeve, and I don’t like the looks o’ things around these diggin’s. That’s honest.”