Nor did she prove in any way a social failure. When the tired and sweating players lay down in the dry sand to cool off, she was persuaded into accompanying their nonsense songs with the ukulele. Nor was it long, catching their spirit, ere she was singing to them and teaching them quaint songs of early days which she had herself learned as a little girl from Cady--Cady, the saloonkeeper, pioneer, and ax-cavalryman, who had been a bull-whacker on the Salt Intake Trail in the days before the railroad.
One song which became an immediate favorite was:
"Oh! times on Bitter Creek, they never can be beat, Root hog or die is on every wagon sheet;
The sand within your throat, the dust within your eye, Bend your back and stand it--root hog or die."
After the dozen verses of "Root Hog or Die," Mark Hall claimed to be especially infatuated with:
"Obadier, he dreampt a dream, Dreampt he was drivin' a ten-mule team, But when he woke he heaved a sigh, The lead-mule kicked e-o-wt the swing-mule's eye."
It was Mark Hall who brought up the matter of Billy's challenge to race out the south wall of the cove, though he referred to the test as lying somewhere in the future. Billy surprised him by saying he was ready at any time. Forthwith the crowd clamored for the race. Hall offered to bet on himself, but there were no takers. He offered two to one to Jim Hazard, who shook his head and said he would accept three to one as a sporting proposition.
Billy heard and gritted his teeth.
"I'll take you for five dollars," he said to Hall, "but not at those odds. I'll back myself even."
"It isn't your money I want; it's Hazard's," Hall demurred.
"Though I'll give either of you three to one."
"Even or nothing," Billy held out obstinately.
Hall finally closed both bets--even with Billy, and three to one with Hazard.
The path along the knife-edge was so narorw that it was impossible for runners to pass each other, so it was arranged to time the men, Hall to go first and Billy to follow after an interval of half a minute.
Hall toed the mark and at the word was off with the form of a sprinter. Saxon's heart sank. She knew Billy had never crossed the stretch of sand at that speed. Billy darted forward thirty seconds later, and reached the foot of the rock when Hall was half way up. When both were on top and racing from notch to notch, the Iron Man announced that they had scaled the wall in the same time to a second.
"My money still looks good," Hazard remarked, "though I hope neither of them breaks a neck. I wouldn't take that run that way for all the gold that would fill the cove."
"But you'll take bigger chances swimming in a storm on Carmel Beach," his wife chided.
"Oh, I don't know," he retorted. "You haven't so far to fall when swimming."
Billy and Hall had disappeared and were making the circle around the end. Those on the beach were certain that the poet had gained in the dizzy spurts of flight along the knife-edge. Even Hazard admitted it.
"What price for my money now?" he cried excitedly, dancing up and down.
Hall had reappeared, the great jump accomplished, and was running shoreward. But there was no gap. Billy was on his heels, and on his heels he stayed, in to shore, down the wall, and to the mark on the beach. Billy had won by half a minute.
"Only by the watch," he panted. "Hall was over half a minute ahead of me out to the end. I'm not slower than I thought, but he's faster. He's a wooz of a sprinter. He could beat me ten times outa ten, except for accident. He was hung up at the jump by a big sea. That's where I caught 'm. I jumped right after 'm on the same sea, then he set the pace home, and all I had to do was take it."
"That's all right," said Hall. "You did better than beat me.
That's the first time in the history of Bierce's Cove that two men made that jump on the same sea. And all the risk was yours, coming last."
"It was a fluke," Billy insisted.
And at that point Saxon settled the dispute of modesty and raised a general laugh by rippling chords on the ukulele and parodying an old hymn in negro minstrel fashion:
