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diff --git a/78877-0.txt b/78877-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ff06c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/78877-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,827 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78877 *** + + + CLEAN CRAZY + + by W. C. Tuttle + Author of “Muley’s Morals,” “Salt of the Earth,” etc. + + +“Cleanliness is next to godliness, Hen,” orates Telescope Tolliver, +trying to stick up uh razor slash on his face with some cigaret paper. +“Uh feller ought to take uh bath once uh week whether he needs it or +not. Uh course I don’t mean that yuh ought to rub all the cuticle loose, +but uh nice refreshing bath, taken in uh gentlemanly manner don’t hurt +nobody.” + +“That’s nice to listen to, Telescope,” says I. “Cleanliness is uh hi-yu +state of uh affairs, but when uh feller has to absorb said cleanliness +from uh wash-basin and uh dirty towel, it sort uh loses its girlish +charms. + +“The last time I gets dudish thataway Muley Bowles comes along and gets +his big feet into that basin. I’ve only got as far down as my ears, and +there ain’t no water left, so I proclaims uh drouth on the lower part uh +my system and lets her go at that. I’d give three cheers to know who +honed this razor. If Chuck don’t get rid uh them corns uh his pretty +soon we’ll all have to grow whiskers on our faces. What’s all this here +talk about baths about, Telescope?” + +“Uh man ought to go clean to uh dance, Hen,” he proclaims. “Being as +there’s going to be uh sprinkling of the fair sex at the Seven A shindig +it ain’t no more than right that we sloughs off uh little real estate +and smells more like uh rose. I hates to shave this early, but if Muley +and Chuck ever starts to get dolled up for uh dance there ain’t never +going to be no chance for uh civilized man to get prepared. We’ll get +most all ready, except the per-fume, Hen, and then they can have it all +to themselves, eh?” + +“Speaking uh baths,” says I. + +Telescope smokes hard on his cigaret, and grins at me. + +“Hen,” says he, reminiscent like, “did you admire the swimming-hole when +you was uh kid?” + +“I’d tell uh man,” says I. “Why, doggone it, Telescope, I re——” + +“Fine,” says he, still grinning. “About half-way between here and +Paradise, down there where Tin Cup Crick makes that elbow turn, there’s +uh swimming-hole that was sure built to order. I discovered it the other +day, when I hazes uh cow across.” + +“Too close to the road,” I objects. “Anybody going along the road could +look right over there.” + +“Naw. Bushes all along the bank. You’d have to stand up in uh wagon to +see the water uh-tall, Hen. Let’s me and you go down there and have uh +good old swim. What do yuh say, eh?” + +“Here they are, Muley!” yells Chuck Warner from the doorway. “You guard +the window while I hangs uh rope on ’em, and we’ll split the reward.” + +“Being funny is an art, Chuck,” states Telescope, dangling uh pair uh +green neckties in his hands. “There’s always something pitiful about the +funny stuff you say. What are you and that animated can uh goose-grease +trying to start around here?” + +“Goose-grease, eh?” yelps Muley Bowles from the window, where his face +looms up like uh milk-cheese. “You long, limber-jointed cross between uh +surveyor’s chain and uh razor-backed hawg—you!” + +“Well, spring it,” I advises. “Let’s all laugh.” + +“Haw! Haw! Haw!” whoops Chuck. “You’ll laugh all right, Hen. Sheriff +McFee was taking uh couple uh crazy men up to Warm Springs from Red +Lodge last night. He had them two hombres in the express car, where +their language won’t offend nobody—and drummers, and when it gets dark +they opines that they desires to sleep. McFee humors them by letting ’em +take off their clothes. + +“Well, pretty soon they seems to get uh longing for the free and open +pe-rairie, so they busts McFee over the head with uh crate uh aigs, +piles uh heavy trunk on the messenger, and hits the cactus near +Paradise, with nothing on their bodies or minds. + +“Also they takes McFee’s and the messenger’s six-shooters. McFee arrives +in Paradise with aigs in his hair and malice in his heart. He offers uh +hundred dollars reward for information that will corral the aig-busters. +I’d opine that them nude nuts will be hard to take alive.” + + “Uh man, with nothing on his mind + And nothing on his legs, + Who hits the county sheriff + With uh case uh ancient aigs, + Then pilgrims out in cactus land + To take uh little sleep + Hadn’t ought to be arrested; + He should be herding sheep.” + +Muley recites with his face through the window. + +I don’t reckon that Muley could help orating poetry if he wanted to. He +tips the hay-scales at two hundred and forty, rides the biggest +saddle-tree in the State, and constantly lives in hope that his past is +forgotten, and that he can learn to spin uh rope without balling it up. + +Telescope Tolliver was built after uh pole-bean pattern. He ducks every +time he enters the door, and rides with short stirrups so his feet won’t +drag. His past is closely linked with Muley’s, and the less said about +it the better. Telescope insists that he’s originally from Kentucky—the +Tollivers of Kentucky, with the accent on “the.” Telescope sings. Some +folks sings by music and some by ear, but Telescope sings by main +strength. + +Chuck Warner has banty legs on uh man-sized body, face like uh bronc, +and ability to tell uh lie and stick to it. He wiggles his ears like uh +burro, looks trusting out of uh pair uh innocent blue eyes, and +sings—when somebody don’t stop him. + +Me? I’m Hen Peck. I was born in Missouri and showed in Montana. I ain’t +so awful to look at and I got uh lot uh natural sense. I sure can make +uh banjo set up and take notice; and also can sing uh little. I’m to be +described as having uh sympathetic disposition and warts on both hands. +I’m unlucky. If I hadn’t uh started to punch cows for uh living I might +uh made uh mark in the world, but no matter if I had, somebody would +have come along and rubbed it out. + +Right now this unholy quartet is drawing down forty and board from the +Cross J outfit, owned and cussed at by old man Whittaker, christened +Ephriham. Any one wishing to correspond with me can send it to any one +of us, care of the Cross J ranch, Yellow Rock County, Montana. It don’t +make no difference who yuh address the letter to—the other three will +get it sooner or later. + +“Lucky thing that you and Muley had your clothes on, Chuck,” says I. +“That’s all the alibi yuh had. How long did it take you and Muley to +frame up uh lie like that?” + +“It ain’t no lie, Hennery,” replies Muley. “McFee is getting up uh posse +right now.” + +“Why didn’t you fellers go with him?” asks Telescope. “They say it takes +uh thief to catch uh thief: why not uh nut to catch uh nut? Like +attracts like.” + +Me and Telescope dodges two pair uh boots, and arrives outside intact. + + * * * * * + +“Let’s go swimming,” says Telescope, and we did just that thing. That +swimming-hole was built to order, and we can’t hardly wait to get our +clothes off. I reckon it’s about uh hundred in the shade, and believe me +that water did feel good to little Henry Clay Peck, Esq. + +We dives off the bank and disports like uh pair uh muskrats. After we +ducks each other uh couple uh times, like uh pair uh kids, Telescope +shakes the water out of his ears and says: + +“Hen, them broncs look uh heap dry and hot, don’t yuh think? Suppose we +gives ’em uh bath, too?” + +“Not for mine,” says I. “That saddle cost me too much coin and I don’t +take no chance on having it curl up. Sabe?” + +“Huh!” he snorts. “I reckon it would hurt yuh uh lot to ride bareback, +wouldn’t it? We can take off the saddles and bridles and use hackamores. +That’ll be more than we got on. What yuh say?” + +I didn’t say. I climbs right out and begins to take off my rig. I’m +riding uh big Lazy Y roan, with just enough sense in its head to cause +it to eat. Telescope’s is uh brown outlaw, which displays uh +Cross-in-uh-Box brand and uh wicked-looking eye. We climbs on and forces +’em into the water. It’s deep enough to make ’em swim, and we starts ’em +to milling right in the middle of the crick. + +Sudden like my bronc lets out uh snort like uh scared buck and paws for +the bank, and Telescope’s brown is right against me, snorting like uh +freight engine on uh grade. + +I gets one look as we hits the bank, and sees the cause of all the +fright. Goats! Dozens of goats. High up on the other bank I glimpses uh +dilapidated figure, which I recognizes as being “Harelip” Hansen. + +Harelip used to be uh cowman, but some rustlers busted up his herd. Then +he went into sheep over on another range just in time to get mixed up in +the sheep and cattle trouble, and his sheep paid the penalty of his +sins. He opines that nobody is going to hurt uh goat so he invests in uh +small herd. + +I never saw two broncs take such uh dislike to goats as them two did. Me +and Telescope are all slick from that water, and the broncs are wet, +too, so yuh can imagine the chance we had to hold ’em with hackamores. + +We went up that bank like two streaks, over to the main road, and away +we goes to Paradise hell-bent-for-election. + +“Ho-ho-hold that —— roan down!” yells Telescope, laying back on his +bronc’s hips, and sawing with both hands. + +“Hold ——!” I yells right back at him. “How can I hold mine while yours +acts thataway?” + +I pulls on my bronc until I ain’t got uh pull left in my carcass, but +the harder I pulls the faster he runs, with Paradise only three miles +away. + +I looks back after a while and sees Telescope riding sideways and +slapping his bronc on the side of its head, trying to turn it out of the +road, but that outlaw is so scared that it don’t even shake its head. + +I’m simply raining sweat and profanity when Telescope forges up beside +me and yells in uh scared voice— + +“Team coming!” + +I takes uh look down the sandy road, and here comes uh wagon-load uh +folks. I can see colors, so I knows that there’s females aboard. + +“What yuh going to do?” I yells, looking back, but I gets uh +demonstration instead of an answer. + +Telescope hops high in the air, away from his bronc, and spills end over +end into that hot dust. + +I takes another look at that wagon and follers suit. I lights setting +down, and I reckon I’d uh set there too long if the sand hadn’t been so +hot. I looks around and finds that the only bit uh cover is uh mesquite +bush back about uh hundred yards where Telescope had lit. + +You can talk all you like about sprinters who can make the hundred yards +in nine and four-fifths, but I made that in four-fifths flat, and it +wasn’t no cinder path either. It was ankle-deep hot sand, but I spurns +it like uh bird, slides under the bush, wraps my arms around the roots +and sticks my head into Telescope’s stummick. + +“Oof!” says Telescope, patting himself on the belt-buckle. +“_Mff-arr-guff-oof!_” + +“Yes,” says I, “it sure is some sultry.” + +“My ——!” he explodes, after he gets through swallering his discomfort. +“The shade is on the wrong side, Hen!” + +Just then the wagon rattles past, and we sees that in it is Weinie Lopp +and uh couple uh women. We angles around the bushes as they goes past +and hears ’em talking about them crazy men. + +“What’ll the officers do if they do see ’em?” asks uh female. + +“Well, ma’am, they’ll just about have to shoot first and ask questions +afterward,” replies Weinie. “They can’t afford to take no chances in uh +case like this.” + +The wagon rattles on and me and Telescope gets around on the shady side. + +“This shade ain’t much but it’s better than nothing,” states Telescope. +“Now I reckon—look out! Here comes another wagon.” + +We ducks back into the sun again and sizzles while that wagon goes on to +Paradise. I never noticed before how slow uh team uh horses can be. + +As soon as they’re out uh range we goes back to the shade, but right +away comes uh couple uh girls on horseback, and we has to enter the +fiery furnace again. + +I reckon that dust is the invention of the devil to make men sneeze at +uh time like this, but I couldn’t help it. Right when they’re opposite +us I simply has to cut loose and sneeze like uh confirmed hay-feverist. + +It scares one uh them broncs and it bolts right toward us, and uh course +Telescope has to stand up. Blooey! + +One of them horses goes right on up the road, but the other sunfishes, +and its rider lights high wide and handsome in her floppy skirt. She +sets there slapping the dust out of her eyes and making little squeaky +noises, while me and Telescope goes off across country like uh couple uh +skinned coyotes looking for uh place to hole up. + +Hot? Say, I can just feel the lard oozing out uh my carcass, and as we +tops uh hogback ridge Telescope stops long enough to pant: + +“Huh-huh-huh-Hen, we’re in uh-uh-uh nice fix! There—huh-uh-huh—uh—comes +the posse.” + +“Let ’em come,” I wheezes. “I can’t run another foot. What do we +care—nothing but men.” + +“Like ——!” he gulps. “They—huh—uh-huh—picked up them females.” + + * * * * * + +Did I say I couldn’t run another foot? I lied about my ability. Did yuh +ever run across country without no clothes on your anatomy? No, uh +course yuh never did. That’s uh privilege that is accorded to uh select +few. + +Uh cactus gets stuck on your heel, flies from there up to some choice +part of your carcass and takes uh grip that calls for pinchers and +heroic action. + +Before me and Telescope had hit Tin Cup Crick we looks like uh pair uh +full-fledged porkypines. We flops down in the thick brush before the +posse shows up, and rolls and wheezes our lungs full of air. + +“My ——!” wails Telescope. “I’m all stuck to thunder. The end uh my nose +is the only place where there ain’t no stickers and that’s only because +it was too far in front. Here comes the posse, Hen! Thank God for these +bushes!” + +We lays low and waits for ’em to come close. Sudden like we hears uh +noise, and Harelip Hansen comes down through the brush and breaks out +into the open. We can’t see him now, but pretty soon we hears voices and +we opines that he’s conversing with the posse. + +“Zhure I zeen um,” we hears Harelip proclaim. “In zwimmin’.” + +“Which way did they go?” we hears McFee ask, and then: “Uh-huh. I +thought so. Must uh been the same ones that tackled these ladies. Mighty +lucky thing we came along when we did. Yuh never can tell about uh crazy +man. I reckon we’ll have to kill ’em.” + +“Did they have any guns?” asks somebody. + +“Yes,” we hears uh female reply. “Yes, they were heavily armed. They +surely were a savage-looking pair, weren’t they, Mable? I honestly +thought my last hour had come.” + +“Indeed, yes,” we hears the other one reply. “They surely were a +desperate-looking pair. One of them tried to overtake me.” + +Telescope kicks me on the ankle, thereby joining us together through the +medium of uh healthy prickly-pear. + +“Ouch!” groans Telescope. “Deliver me from all women.” + +“That woman ain’t lying,” I states. “She believes that them things +actually happened. Anyway you are uh desperate-looking hombre—nude +thataway, Telescope.” + +“Don’t argue shapes with me, Hennery Peck,” he hisses. “You’d make uh +good model for uh cross between uh sack uh sand and uh pretzel. You +ain’t nude, Hen. You couldn’t never be nude—not with your present +physique—you’re naked as ——!” + +“Well,” we hears some of the posse say: “It’s uh cinch they ain’t going +to come and invite us to put uh rope on ’em, so we better be moving on.” + +After they leaves us we gets busy on cactus spines. We manages to get +the worst ones out of our legs, and then starts crawling through the +brush in the general direction of our clothes. They say that curiosity +killed uh cat, but no cat was ever born with curiosity that uh range +steer can show at times. + +You can ride all around him on uh bronc and he won’t pay no attention +’cause he sort uh figures, I reckon, that the man is part of the horse, +but you let uh steer see uh man on foot, and he immediate and soon +wishes to investigate. + +This long, rangy red steer that me and Telescope crawls up against in +them bushes gets scared of uh year’s growth when he sees two nude +specimens. He lets out uh bawl like his sun was about to set, and paws +his way up uh washout, where he stands and gawps at us, with his tongue +hanging out uh foot. + +“Don’t move!” I whispers. “Stand perfectly still and he’ll think we’re +part of the scenery.” + +“I’m uh cactus,” states Telescope, and then he imitates one to +perfection by stooping over to pull uh thorn from between his toes. + +That settled things for that steer. The minute that Telescope imitates +uh cactus bending in the breeze the steer gets uh longing for uh nice +piece uh juicy cactus, and he immediate and soon comes right down to see +if we’re of the edible variety. He sticks his red head down, sticks his +tail up, puts uh kink in it, and orates aloud that he’s uh committee to +find out things. + +Me and Telescope didn’t linger longer. There ain’t nothing in sight that +looks like uh safe place to be, so we goes off across country regardless +of contour or description, and that committee uh one red steer pilgrims +in our wake. + +We acquires more cactus in our journeys, also numerous and sundry +bruises from mesquite prongs and rocks. We sure lead uh care-free and +aimless existence for the next few minutes. Telescope leads by one jump, +and about uh hop and uh bawl behind yours truly comes that Seven A +critter. Every little while it lets out uh warning that the worst is yet +to come, and we shoves the speed up another notch. + +The speed limit uh human endurance is about reached in my system, when I +sees Telescope throw up his skinny arms and drop out uh sight through uh +fringe uh brush, and the next fraction of uh second finds me doing the +same. + +I drops through space for uh second or two, and then: _glub!_ I lands +all sprawled out in uh pot-hole with alkali mud in the bottom. I reckon +that steer tries to stop on the edge, but he skids around and comes down +the bank rear end first, right into our midst and mud. + +I gets uh wallop that stands me on my head up against that sticky bank, +and when I gets my perceptions to working again, I observes that steer +flat on its side in the bottom of that pot-hole with Telescope setting +on its head. + +The hole is only about twenty feet across the bottom, and the sides +slope sharp to the rim, which is about twenty feet away. The steer is +making funny noises with its nose in the mud, and Telescope’s head +droops like uh wilted flower, while he pants and puffs like uh winded +pup. I puffs uh little and rubs some mud out uh my eyes. + +“Sus-sus-some bulldogger—me,” stutters Telescope, spitting out uh gob uh +alkali mud. + +“More like uh Mexican hairless dogger,” says I. “I sure gives yuh credit +for leading that misguided piece uh beef into uh cul-de-sac.” + +“Cul de ——!” he groans, looking at the top of the bank. “I lead him all +right, but how am I going to leave him?” + +“Get him by the tail and throw him out,” I advises. “You always could +throw the bull, Telescope.” + +“Funny, ain’t yuh?” he snaps, sarcastic like. “Maybe that’s uh better +idea than you thought it would be. Out uh the mouth uh fools often +cometh wisdom. We’ll both get him by the tail and then it’s uh cinch he +can’t hook us.” + +“And he’s too wise to starve to death, and will have to leave here +sooner or later,” says I. “You set there until I gets uh good grip.” + + * * * * * + +I grabs that tail in uh death grip, braces my feet in the mud, and +notifies Telescope that he can get up and hook on. For the next few +seconds there is something doing. That animile immediate and soon gets +on his feet in that slippery, yaller mud, and digs deep into his soul +for sounds to tell how mad and scared he is. + +He tries to change ends but the anchor is too much of uh drag, so he +lets out an extra bawl for good measure and bores straight for the rim. + +We’re with him in spirit and in fact, and the three of us flops back on +to good going in record time. Preferring uh stern chase we encourages +that steer to keep going, and you can take it from me, uh steer can run. + +I’m hanging on to its tail near the rump and Telescope is out on the +extreme end, and we bumps, whips and bounds across country like two tin +cans on the tail of uh wolf. + +I’m ready to quit pretty soon, but I ain’t in no position to drop off +first, being as I’m sort of in front, so I tries to yell loud enough for +Telescope to hear— + +“Let go!” + +I thought he had taken my advice, so I slaps that steer uh parting +wallop with my free hand and lets go with the other. I was mistaken. I +reckon that Telescope must uh taken uh half-hitch on that tail, ’cause +when I lets loose I gets run into so danged hard that I turns flip-flops +and chases stars for fifty feet out of our line uh march. + +I’m laying there taking uh star census, when I hears uh voice proclaim +from the brush below me: + +“I hope he got killed! Dang his hide!” + +“Me and you both,” says I, right back at him. “I hates red steers worse +than ——!” + +Telescope Tolliver raises his bony physique into my line uh vision and +looks me over. + +“Henry Clay Peck, I didn’t mean the steer,” he states. “What did yuh let +loose for? You busted my wishbone—dang yuh!” + +“There’s luck in busted wishbones,” says I. “If your heart ain’t too +full uh malice I wish you’d come up here and take uh few prickly-pears +out uh me—I want to set down. Where’s the steer?” I asks, as Telescope +imitates uh windmill, trying to shake uh prickly-pear out of his thumb. + +“Dang his red hide—I don’t know! I don’t care! If he ain’t slowed up +none he’s in Canada by now. My gosh, I’m fit for uh hospital!” + +“And you’re all dirty, too, Telescope. Uh bath don’t do some folks any +good. Anyway we sure are having some holiday, wild and free thisaway. +What’ll we do now that’ll be painfully funny? After all this I could +laugh myself sick at uh lynching.” + +“We’ll go over and get our clothes, Hen,” he states. “I’m all through +with this here cave-man stuff. My cripes, that water will feel good on +these cuts and bruises, eh?” + +We limps across them burning sands like two naked souls in the losing +end of the hereafter, and after hunting every bit uh cover on the way, +we finally hits the bank uh Tin Cup again. We splashes around for uh +while and then climbs the bank where we left our clothes. + +“There!” says Telescope. “That water sure felt good, eh, Hen? There +ain’t no use talking, clothes sure do make the—what the ——!” + +“Gone!” says I, vacant like. “Somebody stole ’em.” + +We looks over the place where we left our habiliments of civilization, +but all that’s left is half uh Telescope’s hat, one saddle-blanket and +the two saddles and bridles. + +“Nobody stole ’em,” proclaims Telescope, pointing at the cut-up ground. +“See what took ’em, Hen? Goats! The sons-uh-guns done ate half uh my +hat, too!” + +“I hope the souls of all departed goats will haunt Harelip Hansen all +the rest of his danged life!” I pronounces. + +“Haunts ——!” howls Telescope. “Butts, you mean. Who cares about goat +ghosts?” + +We sets down there and contemplates our condition. Telescope picks up +that saddle-blanket and tries to make uh breechcloth for himself but +he’s got too many cactus spines in that part of his anatomy, so he +throws it away and puts on that half uh hat. + +“From your eyebrows on up you’re civilized,” says I. “But what’s the +use—nobody’s going to look at your face.” + +“Aw ——!” he wails. “We got to get home, so we might as well start now as +any time.” + +“We can’t take the road,” I objects. “We’re liable to run into uh posse +any time, and besides that there’s uh danged lot uh travel on this road +today. If we had clothes on we’d never meet anybody, but it seems like +when yuh gets naked yuh got to pass uh pee-rade all the time.” + +“No, we’re not using roads this season, Mister Peck,” says he. “Roads +were built for civilized folks. We’ll pilgrim up Sillman Gulch to the +forks, sneak over the top through them cottonwoods, and work our way +home down that gully back of the bunk-house.” + +“We might visit Miss Emily and Genevieve on our way,” I suggests. + +Them two is the Mudgett sisters. They lives with their brother, Abe +Mudgett, who is away right now. Them two is twins, and if there ever was +two homelier women on earth they never showed up in this State. Them two +old maids don’t need no protector, ’cause it’s uh cinch that nothing +will ever attack ’em in the daylight. + +“Uh-huh,” agrees Telescope. “We sure are dressed for uh call. I don’t +reckon that Solomon in all his glory would attract the attention that me +and you would.” + +We sneaks across the road and hits the brush up the gulch. After we’ve +gone about half uh mile, we hears voices, and sees several people ride +across the gulch above us. We drops low in the brush, as two fellers +ride close by us, and we hears one of ’em opine: + +“They can’t get far, that’s uh cinch. Believe me, I don’t take no +chances on them kind uh Jaspers. Things like this is what scares women +plumb stiff. I reckon all the men in the country are on their trail.” + +Telescope looks foolish like at me and digs some hardened mud out of his +ear. + +“That’s cheerful news for us to hear, Hennery,” says he. + +“Yes,” says I. “I ain’t been cheered so much since uh doctor took one +look at me and said, ‘Smallpox.’ I reckon we might as well keep going. +I’d as soon be killed near the ranch as out here in the brush.” + +We listens uh while and then sneaks on up the gulch. About uh quarter of +uh mile further on we slips into sight of the Mudgett house, which is +only uh short distance from the bottom of the gulch. + +We sets there and watches the place for uh while but there don’t seem to +be any sign uh life. The door is shut and the blinds are down. + +“Nobody there,” says I. “Let’s go on, Telescope.” + +“Hen, ain’t you got no sabe in your system?” he asks. “Look at the +washing on the line over there.” + +I looks and beholds two pair of overalls and some female apparel, +hanging there on uh line, stretched from the house to the barn, and it +warms my heart like wine. + +“Telescope,” says I, “you got Sherlock Holmes out on uh limb. The trunk +is open and nobody home. Let’s go cover our shame.” + + * * * * * + +We eases ourselves out of the brush, and skips across that open space +with joy in our souls, and when we’re about half-way across we turns and +goes right back to the brush with birdshot in our hides. It sure was uh +reversal of form. + +“Ambushed!” wails Telescope, as we falls under cover and picks at them +stinging spots. + +“No argument,” says I, picking uh number seven shot out uh my hide and +rolling it in my hand. “There’s always uh silver lining though, +Telescope.” + +“For instance?” + +“Well,” says I, holding out that little piece uh lead. “We might uh been +uh lot closer, for one thing, and they might uh had uh thirty-thirty.” + +_Zee-e-e-e! Zing-g-g-g-g! Boom! Boom!_ + +Two more loads uh shot invades our sanctuary, and causes us to hug each +other. Uh course we’re about out uh range, but them shot has still got +enough ambition to bring tears to our eyes. + +“Dang uh woman!” wails Telescope. “They can’t see us but they got +imagination enough to hit us just the same.” + +“Well, they ain’t going to hit me no more,” says I. “Little Henry Clay +Peck ain’t going to expose his sylph-like form to no more shotguns.” + +I wiggles off through the brush and Telescope is with me. + +“Where yuh going?” he asks. + +“I’m going to hole up over here in the thick brush and there ain’t +nothing short of uh cloud-burst or uh fire going to pry me loose until +it gets dark. Sabe?” + +“I wish we had some way to tell ’em that we ain’t the ones,” complains +Telescope. + +“Well, we ain’t. Uh course I know and you know that we ain’t crazy, +Telescope, but there ain’t no use telling it to somebody at uh hundred +yards when they got uh gun. Nobody in this country ever seen us running +around naked thisaway, so yuh can’t blame ’em if they don’t recognize us +at uh glance. I’m sure going to lie silent until darkness covers this +troubled land. Everybody’ll be at the dance, so we’ll have uh cinch.” + +We lays there nursing our wounds, sunburn and scratches, and praying for +uh smoke until it gets dark. + +Then out we pilgrims and turns our swollen feet toward the Cross J. We +picks up prickly-pears at every step, and our progress is profanely +audible. We’re sore and stiff, and that night air ain’t what you’d +designate as being tropical. + +“Cleanliness may be next to godliness, Telescope, but this is the most +ungodly bath I ever had,” says I. “Every time I thinks of the old +swimming-hole I’m going to think of cactus, scared broncs, wild steers, +birdshot, irresponsible women and goats. This is what uh feller gets for +trying to smell like uh rose. After this I takes my bath in sections. +Never again do I remove my clothes. I don’t reckon I got uh spot the +size of uh two-bit piece on my carcass what ain’t injured in some way.” + +“Them is my sentiments, Hen,” groans Telescope. “Never again do I be so +dudish that I takes two baths in one day.” + +We pilgrims on through the dark and swings out through the willers back +of the bunk-house. + +We sees somebody light uh match on the porch of the ranch-house, but +there ain’t no beacon out to guide us home. We sneaks around to the +bunk-house door and finds it locked tight. The window is nailed down. + +“Locked out!” wails Telescope, in uh whisper. “After all this suffering +we finds that we ain’t even welcome at home. What’ll we do now, Hen?” + +“I’ll tell yuh what. We’ll sneak up to the back of the house, open the +window to the old man’s room and get some uh his clothes. We got to be +danged quiet ’cause there’s somebody on the front porch.” + +We crawls around behind the house, and up to the old man’s window. Lucky +for us the window ain’t fastened, so we pushes it up like two +experienced burglars. + +Telescope slides his lanky frame over the sill into the dark, and I’m +right behind him. + +“How are we going to get uh light?” I asks, in uh whisper. + +“Cinch,” he whispers. “I know where the old man keeps his matches.” + +He fumbles around in the dark for uh minute and then gives uh satisfied +grunt. + +“Got ’em, by gosh!” + +Then he strikes uh match, and holds it up. Here we are standing in the +middle uh that big room, like two naked souls, holding uh light for all +to see. + +“My ——!” gasps Telescope and me together, and that match still burns +merrily on. + +There’s three beds in the room; and from each bed rises the figures of +two females. They got curler things on their heads and horror in their +eyes. + +One of ’em makes uh noise like uh little chicken calling for its maw, +and then all is silent again. + +“——!” snorts Telescope, when that match burns down and nips his fingers, +and we’re in darkness again. + +I’ve heard some noises in my time, but that bunch uh females can make +more separate and distinct noises in uh short space uh time than +anything I ever heard. + +We hears somebody cuss out on the porch, and then me and Telescope meets +at the window, and both tries to go out together. The theory was all +wrong. We might uh made it in single file but not in uh bunch thataway. +We claws at that window in the dark, with female screams spurring us on, +but all we managed to do was to shut the danged thing. + +I drops to the floor and rolls under uh bed, and I feels that Telescope +is right with me. Them females is in the last stages of hysterics when +the door opens and in comes the old man and Muley Bowles. + + * * * * * + +I reckon the old man is carrying uh lamp, but all I can see is their +boots, and the muzzles of two rifles. + +“They were here!” yelps uh female, and the noise starts all over again. + +“Wait uh minute!” howls the old man. “Shut up and give me uh chance to +get head or tail to all this noise. Do yuh mean to say that them crazy +men was in this room?” + +“I seen ’em!” yelps uh female. “They lit uh match. Must have come in the +window.” + +“——!” snorts the old man. “Somebody sure must be crazy. The window is +shut.” + +“Sherlock Holmes again,” I whispers, pinching Telescope on the leg. + +“_Yeow-w-w-w_!” + +What I thought was Telescope wasn’t him—not any! It was uh female, who, +following her natural impulse, went under the bed for safety. Anyway she +sure went out from under there like uh streak, and lights right into the +multitude. + +“Oh-o-o-o-o!” she yelps. “Something bit me!” + +“Dog,” pronounces the old man. “That Airedale will bite. Here, Booze! +Come on out, you whiskered cow-chaser! Come out uh that! Well, stay +there then—I don’t blame yuh!” + +“Make uh noise like uh Airedale, Hen,” comes uh strangled whisper from +the other bed, and I knows that Telescope is still with me. + +“What seems to be the trouble?” asks uh voice at the door, and we +recognizes it as belonging to Chuck Warner. “What’s all the fuss about?” + +“These here ladies opines that them crazy men invades their sanctuary uh +while ago,” replies the old man, and Chuck roars. + +“Haw! Haw! Haw! Did, eh? Well, well! Somebody sure must be seeing +things. Them two fellers never got off that train. They went out of that +express car, but they just crawled on top of the coach and they caught +’em at Warm Springs. McFee just got uh wire, telling all about it.” + +There ain’t uh word said for some time, and then the old man busts +loose: + +“Gol dingle dang uh woman! Here we got the whole danged country aroused +and hunting for something what ain’t! Making uh female refuge out uh my +house! Ain’t that uh —— of uh note? Chuck, you hitch up and take some uh +these females home, and Muley can take the rest. Take ’em home, take ’em +to the dance or any other danged place they wants to go. Get ’em away +from the Cross J. + +“Gol dingle dang! Don’t know uh coyote from uh naked man. Gosh A’mighty, +woman, why don’t yuh study physiology and learn the human shape? Harelip +Hansen ain’t no better, but yuh can’t blame him—he’s uh goat-herder. +Dang everybody!” + +They all leaves, while the old man fusses and splutters, and when there +ain’t nobody left in sight me and Telescope hauls our weary carcasses +out from under and sets down on uh bed. We looks foolish like at each +other, and just then the old man walks back into the room, still +spluttering. + +He shuts the door before he sees us. He’s just lighting his pipe, and +when he sees us he stops dead still, leans against the wall, weak like, +throws his pipe on the floor and puffs solemn like on that match. + +“——!” he gasps. “I might—uh—knowed—that—Chuck—lied—about—that—telegram!” +and just then Muley sticks his head inside the door. + +“Say, are you—holy—suffering—cinch-rings!” + +He looks us over with eyes the size uh two-bit pieces, and then begins +to shake like uh sack uh jelly. He gets his breath after a while, and +examines us some close like, and recites: + + “They roamed the prairie wild and free + Without uh single stitch. + They gathered cactus with their feet + And got the dobie itch. + They scared the women all to ——, + And bathed in alkali. + They had no brains—so _crazy_ men + Had to prove their alibi.” + +“You fellers expect to get to that dance?” asks the old man, still +sucking on that match. “You both better take uh bath and ——” + +“You answer him, Telescope,” says I. “I ain’t got the heart.” + +“No,” says Telescope. “Uh man what ain’t got no more sense than to give +uh man advice like that ain’t worth answering.” + +“You fellers can’t go to no dance with all that mud—” begins Muley, but +Telescope rises to his full height, and sets his jaws hard. + +“Shut up! Me and Hen may be crazy but we ain’t clean crazy! From now on +I’m going to keep my hat on when I washes my face. How about you, Hen?” + +“Me? Telescope, I’ll raise your ante uh little. From now on I’m going to +wear gloves when I washes my hands.” + + +[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in Adventure Magazine, +May 18, 1918. It is believed to be in the public domain in the +United States; copyright status may differ in other countries.] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78877 *** |