Burning Daylight by Jack London

enough–too quickly for Dede, who found herself against Bob’s

neck

as he pivoted around and bolted the other way. Daylight followed

on her horse and watched. He saw her check the animal quickly to

a standstill, and immediately, with rein across neck and a

decisive

prod of the left spur, whirl him back the way he had come and

almost as swiftly.

“Get ready to give him the quirt on the nose,” Daylight called.

But, too quickly for her, Bob whirled again, though this time, by

a severe effort, she saved herself from the undignified position

against his neck. His bolt was more determined, but she pulled

him into a prancing walk, and turned him roughly back with her

spurred heel. There was nothing feminine in the way she handled

him; her method was imperative and masculine. Had this not been

so, Daylight would have expected her to say she had had enough.

But that little preliminary exhibition had taught him something

of Dede’s quality. And if it had not, a glance at her gray eyes,

just perceptibly angry with herself, and at her firm-set mouth,

would have told him the same thing. Daylight did not suggest

anything, while he hung almost gleefully upon her actions in

anticipation of what the fractious Bob was going to get. And Bob

got it, on his next whirl, or attempt, rather, for he was no more

than halfway around when the quirt met him smack on his tender

nose. There and then, in his bewilderment, surprise, and pain,

his fore feet, just skimming above the road, dropped down.

“Great!” Daylight applauded. “A couple more will fix him. He’s

too smart not to know when he’s beaten.”

Again Bob tried. But this time he was barely quarter around when

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152

the doubled quirt on his nose compelled him to drop his fore feet

to the road. Then, with neither rein nor spur, but by the mere

threat of the quirt, she straightened him out.

Dede looked triumphantly at Daylight.

“Let me give him a run?” she asked.

Daylight nodded, and she shot down the road. He watched her out

of sight around the bend, and watched till she came into sight

returning. She certainly could sit her horse, was his thought,

and she was a sure enough hummer. God, she was the wife for a

man! Made most of them look pretty slim. And to think of her

hammering all week at a typewriter. That was no place for her.

She should be a man’s wife, taking it easy, with silks and satins

and diamonds (his frontier notion of what befitted a wife

beloved), and dogs, and horses, and such things–“And we’ll see,

Mr. Burning Daylight, what you and me can do about it,” he

murmured to himself! and aloud to her:–

“You’ll do, Miss Mason; you’ll do. There’s nothing too good in

horseflesh you don’t deserve, a woman who can ride like that.

No; stay with him, and we’ll jog along to the quarry.” He

chuckled. “Say, he actually gave just the least mite of a

groan that last time you fetched him. Did you hear it? And did

you see the way he dropped his feet to the road–just like he’d

struck a stone wall. And he’s got savvee enough to know from now

on that that same stone wall will be always there ready for him

to lam into.”

When he parted from her that afternoon, at the gate of the road

that led to Berkeley, he drew off to the edge of the intervening

clump of trees, where, unobserved, he watched her out of sight.

Then, turning to ride back into Oakland, a thought came to him

that made him grin ruefully as he muttered: “And now it’s up to

me to make good and buy that blamed quarry. Nothing less than

that can give me an excuse for snooping around these hills.”

But the quarry was doomed to pass out of his plans for a time,

for on the following Sunday he rode alone. No Dede on a chestnut

sorrel came across the back-road from Berkeley that day, nor the

day a week later. Daylight was beside himself with impatience

and apprehension, though in the office he contained himself. He

noted no change in her, and strove to let none show in himself.

The same old monotonous routine went on, though now it was

irritating and maddening. Daylight found a big quarrel on his

hands with a world that wouldn’t let a man behave toward his

stenographer after the way of all men and women. What was the

good of owning millions anyway? he demanded one day of the

desk-calendar, as she passed out after receiving his dictation.

As the third week drew to a close and another desolate Sunday

confronted him, Daylight resolved to speak, office or no office.

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153

And as was his nature, he went simply and directly to the point

She had finished her work with him, and was gathering her note

pad and pencils together to depart, when he said:–

“Oh, one thing more, Miss Mason, and I hope you won’t mind my

being frank and straight out. You’ve struck me right along as a

sensible-minded girl, and I don’t think you’ll take offence at

what I’m going to say. You know how long you’ve been in the

office–it’s years, now, several of them, anyway; and you know

I’ve always been straight and aboveboard with you. I’ve never

what you call–presumed. Because you were in my office I’ve

tried to be more careful than if–if you wasn’t in my office–you

understand. But just the same, it don’t make me any the less

human. I’m a lonely sort of a fellow–don’t take that as a bid

for kindness. What I mean by it is to try and tell you just how

much those two rides with you have meant. And now I hope you

won’t mind my just asking why you haven’t been out riding the

last two Sundays?”

He came to a stop and waited, feeling very warm and awkward, the

perspiration starting in tiny beads on his forehead. She did not

speak immediately, and he stepped across the room and raised the

window higher.

“I have been riding,” she answered; “in other directions.”

“But why…?” He failed somehow to complete the question. “Go

ahead and be frank with me,” he urged. “Just as frank as I am

with

you. Why didn’t you ride in the Piedmont hills? I hunted for

you

everywhere.

“And that is just why.” She smiled, and looked him straight in

the eyes for a moment, then dropped her own. “Surely, you

understand, Mr. Harnish.”

He shook his head glumly.

“I do, and I don’t. I ain’t used to city ways by a long shot.

There’s things one mustn’t do, which I don’t mind as long as I

don’t want to do them.”

“But when you do?” she asked quickly.

“Then I do them.” His lips had drawn firmly with this affirmation

of will, but the next instant he was amending the statement “That

is, I mostly do. But what gets me is the things you mustn’t do

when they’re not wrong and they won’t hurt anybody–this riding,

for instance.”

She played nervously with a pencil for a time, as if debating her

reply, while he waited patiently.

Burning Daylight

154

“This riding,” she began; “it’s not what they call the right

thing.

I leave it to you. You know the world. You are Mr. Harnish, the

millionaire-”

“Gambler,” he broke in harshly

She nodded acceptance of his term and went on.

“And I’m a stenographer in your office–”

“You’re a thousand times better than me–” he attempted to

interpolate, but was in turn interrupted.

“It isn’t a question of such things. It’s a simple and fairly

common situation that must be considered. I work for you. And

it isn’t what you or I might think, but what other persons will

think. And you don’t need to be told any more about that. You

know yourself.”

Her cool, matter-of-fact speech belied her–or so Daylight

thought, looking at her perturbed feminineness, at the rounded

lines of her figure, the breast that deeply rose and fell, and at

the color that was now excited in her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I frightened you out of your favorite stamping

ground,” he said rather aimlessly.

“You didn’t frighten me,” she retorted, with a touch of fire.

“I’m not a silly seminary girl. I’ve taken care of myself for a

long time now, and I’ve done it without being frightened. We

were together two Sundays, and I’m sure I wasn’t frightened of

Bob, or you. It isn’t that. I have no fears of taking care of

myself, but the world insists on taking care of one as well.

That’s the trouble. It’s what the world would have to say about

me and my employer meeting regularly and riding in the hills on

Sundays. It’s funny, but it’s so. I could ride with one of the

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