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diff --git a/old/66045-0.txt b/old/66045-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 27b6342..0000000 --- a/old/66045-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1322 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Creepin’ Tintypes, by W. C. Tuttle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Creepin’ Tintypes - -Author: W. C. Tuttle - -Release Date: August 11, 2021 [eBook #66045] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CREEPIN’ TINTYPES *** - -[Illustration: Creepin’ Tintypes] - - - -CREEPIN’ TINTYPES - -by W. C. Tuttle - -Author of “Tippecanoe and Cougars Two,” “Between Pike’s Peak and a -Pickle,” etc. - - -There ain’t no question but what me and “Dirty Shirt” Jones would like -to go back to Piperock. Sort of a call of the wild, I reckon, and at -that there ain’t many places wilder than Piperock. - -Me and Dirty started in to help “Scenery” Sims, the sheriff, put -“Tombstone” Todd in jail. It was dark and Scenery didn’t have no -handcuffs, so me and Dirty helped him handle his prisoner. Me and Dirty -have peered upon the wine when it was red and neither of us cared much -for Scenery with his squeaky little voice; so when Piperock awoke the -next morning they had to dynamite the jail to get their sheriff out of -his own cell. No, I don’t know where Tombstone went. - -Thereupon Piperock riseth in a body and follers me and Dirty plumb to -the border. Maybe they wanted to congratulate us, but we’re very, very -modest. Me and Dirty ain’t bad. We was just joking with Scenery. - -Anyway, I don’t think Tombstone was guilty of rustling Seven A cows. He -said he wasn’t, and there wasn’t no reason for him lying about it to me -and Dirty, unless he was afraid we’d want part of the proceeds. This is -why we’re in a strange county, at a strange bar and talking with a -stranger. He’s a pe-culiar-looking _hombre_, sort of sad-eyed, as he -peers through his glass of hard liquor. - -“The West,” says he, “is the bunk. There ain’t none such.” - -“What for kind of a West does you require?” asks Dirty, like he was -trying to sell the feller a necktie. - -“Wild,” says he. “Wild like the writers tell us about. The kind of a -West that Buffalo Bill knew. I’ve hunted for it loud and long, but she -ain’t and that’s an end to it. Have another drink?” - -“Mister,” says Dirty, “you came West but you never got there. Somehow -you missed Piperock.” - -“Whither lieth said Piperock?” - -“Lieth is a good word,” nods Dirty. “In direction, she’s south of here -and as the crow flies she’s a hundred miles.” - -“Is that real West?” - -“Man, that’s the West. All others is imitations and frauds.” - -“You brings me great cheer,” says he. “Bartender, do your duty.” - -“You bring cheer to two of us, the same of which makes three cheers.” - -“I wouldst have you take me to this Piperock place.” - -“Yeah?” says Dirty. “Me and Ike Harper are not taking anybody within -sheriff-shot of Piperock, although our hearts are homesick for the old -village of vice. We wouldst go there, pardner, but circumstances are -against us. We’ll tell yuh some few things pertaining to that hamlet of -horror, but that’s as far as we’ll go. - -“The city limits of Piperock are the distance a sheriff can ride in two -hours and then shoot with a .30-30; the same of which marks a spot -several miles removed from the turmoil of town. Me and Ike are outside -that distance and we stays out, eh, Ike?” - -“You couldn’t ’a’ said more if yuh hired a hall,” says I. “Why does yuh -wish to see the West in its raw state, mister?” - -“I am a realist,” says he, dreamy-like. “I hate the artificial.” - -“Gawd bless and keep yuh,” says Dirty. “You’ll find it there, but yuh -may never return back. The sheriff sells cemetery space.” - -He absorbs his liquor and seems a heap interested. - -“Is there a bank there that might be robbed and does they have a stage -that might have a reason for carrying bullion?” - -“Now,” says Dirty, “me and Ike appears shocked at your question, but at -the same time we’re a heap interested. Let’s go outside where there -ain’t no walls to have ears and speak of such things as banks and -stages. Yuh never can tell who might overhear us and suspect us of -philanthropy.” - -We goes across the street and sets down on the sidewalk. - -“Now,” says Dirty, “there is a bank and there is a stage. Me and Ike are -broke, but up to the present our records are as clean as our six-guns.” - -“Would you know how to rob a bank or a stage?” he asks. “Do the job like -it ought to be done?” - -“We ain’t got no references from bank nor stage-lines,” says I. - -“But,” says Dirty, “we’re honest. We’ll split three ways, mister.” - -He thinks it over for a while, and then says— - -“Well, I feel that I’ve struck what I’ve been looking for.” - -“That’s what ‘Mighty’ Jones said when he fell off into Hellgate Cañon -and dislodged a hunk of galena ore, fifty feet from the bottom,” says -Dirty. - -“A feller never knows his luck till the wheel stops.” - -“You two are going with me,” says he. - -“Us two ain’t goin’ to do no such a thing,” says I. “You don’t know -Piperock like we do.” - -“That’s why you’re going with me.” - -“You’re a danged poor fortune-teller,” observes Dirty. “Me and Ike would -last about as long as a snowball in Yuma and you’d be alone. They’d put -us in a nice little jail and then you’d get lost, strayed or stolen. - -“No, sir. You write to all your folks, predictin’ your demise, leave -your watch and chain with the bartender, and then walk into town, -unarmed and with your hands in the air.” - -“By golly, that’s the town I’ve been looking for,” says he. “Thanks.” - -“Mister, she’s a great place for freaks,” says Dirty. “You won’t be in -that place long until you’ll join P. T. Barnum.” - -“Barnum?” says he. “Barnum is dead.” - -“Sure—I know it.” - -“Yes,” says he, after a while. “You’re going with me. I’ll disguise you -so nobody will know you, you understand? I must have you with me.” - -“Mister,” says I, “are you just a —— tenderfoot who wants to be a bad -man, or what’s all your talk about banks and bullion?” - -“I am a realist, as I said before. The West has never been depicted as I -feel it really is and I am going to show them something new. I have a -story, ‘The Twilight Trail,’ which has been partly done, but I want -realism. I want the spirit of the old West in it. I want a stage -hold-up, a bank robbery, with real people in it, in a Western town—real -West. Now, do you understand?” - -“Just like I do Chinese,” says I. “You said a lot, but she don’t somehow -fit into my mind. You don’t want much, I _sabe_ that part of it, don’t -you, Dirty?” - -“Yeah, he’s plumb modest and meek, Ike. Are you a writer?” - -“Moving-pictures, gents. I am Llewellyn Waldemar.” - -“Sounds like a breed of bird-dogs,” says Dirty, “but his ears are too -small.” - -“You don’t need to insult me,” he snaps. - -“Now, wait,” begs Dirty. “Did you ever see a Llewellyn dog?” - -“No, I never did.” - -“Well, then don’t get insulted. They’re a —— nice-lookin’ animile. You -say you’re a movin’-pitcher?” - -“No, I take ’em.” - -“Hm-m-m-m,” says Dirty. “I never seen any, but I’ve heard tell about -’em. Does them pitchers make yuh think they’re movin’?” - - * * * * * - -The feller looks at Dirty, like he was a new species of animal, and then -wipes his eyes. He wipes his eyes several times and acts like he had a -fish-bone in his throat, but he gets all right after while and says: - -“Come on. I’m going to find a disguise for you to wear.” - -“You’re a wonder if you can conceal me,” says Dirty, who is cock-eyed in -one optic. “All them snake-hunters has to do is take one look at me and -I’m due to chase buffalo in the happy hunting-ground.” - -“Smoked glasses will fix you,” says he. - -“Smoked glasses won’t help my bowlegs,” says I. “Magpie says he can roll -me like a hoop.” - -“I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d have to look at -Piperock through smoked glasses,” wails Dirty. - -Well, he fixed us up; that’s a cinch. When he got through with us we -looked like a couple of shepherds gone to seed. Down at one of them -two-handed stores he purchased us both a outfit. He got us each a pair -of smoked specs and some whiskers which makes us resemble a pair of -owls. - -“Your home town won’t recognize you now,” says he. - -“No,” says Dirty, “but that won’t profit us much. Piperock may not -penetrate our disguise, but that won’t stop ’em from pot-shooting a pair -of freaks.” - -“There’s one cinch,” says I. “They won’t never kill us in our own -names.” - -He takes us up to a hotel where all his stuff is and we sets down on the -bed while he packs up. - -“What kind of a sheriff have they got in Piperock?” he asks. - -“He’s a wonder,” says Dirty, “and very fast with a gun.” - -Then me and Dirty thinks about Scenery Sims. He’s about five feet two -inches tall and his face is so danged thin that his mustache looks like -a buffalo-robe hanging on a hatchet. I could rummage around in a sack -and get a gun faster than Scenery could pull one out of his holster. - -Waldemar got us a pair of valises to pack our own clothes in and then we -drinks to our disguises and pilgrims to the depot. - -“I know,” says Dirty, as we climb on the train, “I know —— well that -we’re pilin’ up for grief for our side. We ain’t got no sense, Ike.” - -“They’ll never know you,” says Waldemar. - -“After we’re dead they will,” wails Dirty, “and I ain’t never deceived -anybody yet. I can just hear ‘Old Testament’ Tilton sayin’, ‘Man is of -few days and full of trouble, O, my brethren, and these two grabbed off -more than they could chew,’ and then the Cross J quartet will sing, -‘Jee-e-e-roo-o-o-sa-lem, Jee-e-e-roo-o-o-sa-lem, lee-e-ft up your voice -an’ see-e-ng.’” - -“The Holy City,” says Waldemar. “A beautiful thing.” - -“She’s only skin-deep with that bunch,” sighs Dirty. “I hope they just -bury me and dispense with the sermon and songs.” - -“We won’t hear none of it,” says I. “We’ll be layin’ there with our -smoked glasses on and a cactus flower on our breast.” - -“I think I’m goin’ to like Piperock,” says Waldemar. - -“Your taste is all in your mouth, then,” says Dirty. “What are we -supposed to be, in case anybody asks us?” - -“You two?” - -He thinks for quite a while, and then says: - -“Tell you what—you two are scientists, looking for the remains of a—a -dinosaur. Mister Jones will be Professor Doolittle and Mister Harper -will be Professor Smythe. How’s that for names?” - -“Lookin’ for a dinny-sor,” nods Dirty. “Might as well die for that as -anything else, I reckon. Do we have to describe said—uh—thing? Is it a -predatory animile, bird of prey or a crippled crawler?” - -“The dinosaur,” says he, “died a million years ago.” - -“Some fortune-teller likely told him what Piperock was goin’ to be -like,” says Dirty. - - * * * * * - -We got off the train at Paradise, just in time to catch Art Miller’s -stage to Piperock, and on that stage is “Magpie” Simpkins and Judge -Steele. Magpie looks us over, careful-like and then shakes his head. - -“There ain’t none,” says he. - -“None what?” asks Dirty. - -“E-clipse of the sun.” - -“Professor Smythe and Professor Doolittle have ruined their eyes working -on scientific data,” explains Waldemar. - -“Why confine your post mortem to eyes?” asks Magpie. “’Pears to me that -they’ve ruined the rest of ’em, too. I suppose that one—” pointing at -me—“got warped in the legs from studyin’ the shape of the earth. Can’t -they talk United States?” - -“They were born in this country,” says Waldemar. - -“What part?” asks the judge. - -“All of us, you —— fool!” I snaps. - -“Think we were assembled?” - -“Goin’ to Piperock?” asks Magpie. - -“Yes,” says Waldemar. “Yes, we are bound for there.” - -“On a mission?” asks the judge. - -“Mostly for a rest,” says Waldemar. - -“You likely will be,” admits Magpie, “and there’s plenty of room in the -jail.” - -We goes to Sam Holt’s hotel. Old Sam sizes us up kinda close-like, and -then Waldemar says— - -“Have you three rooms?” - -“I have,” says old Sam, “and two of ’em I’ll keep.” - -“What do you mean?” asks Waldemar. - -“Them two,” pointing at me and Dirty, “can’t get no room from me. The -last shepherd what stayed in my hotel left a lot of his mee-nag-i-ree -behind.” - -“Your danged old hotel didn’t need ’em,” says Dirty. “You ain’t changed -blankets since the battle of Little Big Horn.” - -“What do you know about me?” he asks. “Who in —— are you?” - -“I’m Professor Doolittle,” says Dirty, “and I’m lookin’ for a -dinny-sor.” - -“You don’t look like you’d do much and I ain’t got none today,” says -Sam, meanlike. “You —— shepherds are always loco about something.” - -“Can we sleep in the barn?” I asks. - -“No, yuh can’t! My horses are all pets.” - -“Isn’t there any other hotel?” asks Waldemar. - -“I can give yuh a place to sleep,” squeaks a voice behind us, and we -turns to see Scenery Sims. - -“Ah,” says Waldemar, “another landlord looking for business.” - -“I ain’t no landlord—I’m the sheriff,” squeaks Scenery. “I’ve got a -empty jail if yuh wants a place to sleep.” - -Me and Dirty are sort of thinking it over when Magpie Simpkins shows up. -He asks what the trouble is, and Sam Holt tells him. - -“Scientists is always welcome to my shack,” says Magpie. “I’ve got -room.” - -“We don’t wish to deprive yuh,” says Dirty. - -“There ain’t no depravity about it,” says Magpie. “I hankers to talk -with learned men, being as this is such a ignorant neighborhood, and -you’re just as welcome as the flowers in January. What seek ye here?” - -“I’m lookin’ for a dinny-sor,” says Dirty. - -“Never heard of him,” says Magpie. “There used to be a Dinny McCall -workin’ for the Five Dot outfit, down near Sulphur Flat.” - -“This has been dead a million years,” explains Dirty. - -“Oh,” says Magpie, fussing with his mustache. “Oh, yeah. That was before -I came here. What killed him?” - -“Wear and tear, I reckon,” says Dirty. - -He takes me and Dirty down to his cabin, and makes us to home. - -“I had a pardner once,” says Magpie, “but the —— fool went loco, and -some law-abidin’ citizens chased him across the border.” - -“Did he done wrong?” asks Dirty. - -“If he ever done right he came back and corrected himself. Him and -another cross between a bed-bug and a bee-sting went away together, and -Piperock profiteth thereby. Make yourselves to home. You gents comes -here at a opportune time, you know it? Tomorrow is the tenth anniversary -of Piperock and we’re goin’ to celebrate.” - -“Celebrate?” whispers Dirty, hoarse-like. “Celebrate what? Is the town -married?” - -“Anniversary,” explains Magpie, “means a year. Piperock is ten years old -and she’s goin’ to celebrate her growth and civilization. This is her -birthday. - -“They will come from near and far, gents, and great will be the day and -date. There will be bronco-bustin’, et cettery, and bull-doggin’ of -steers. There will be ropin’ contests, et cettery and some shootin’. -She’ll be worth your patience.” - -Magpie goes out and me and Dirty sets there and looks at each other. - -“My ——!” gasps Dirty. “I feel that everything is not well with my soul. -Somebody is goin’ to see Dirty Shirt Jones behind these whiskers and -specs and I’ll be forced to stand on nothin’ and look up a rope.” - -“Be of good cheer,” says I, “for I will be with thee. They’ll have -something except Piperock’s birthday to celebrate next year.” - -“Do scientists drink hard liquor, Ike?” - -“They has a throat and a tongue,” says I. And then we pilgrims uptown, -and goes into Buck Masterson’s saloon, where we gets fortified against -our fears of the near future. Waldemar is there, and Waldemar has -surrounded himself with enough hooch to make him expand considerable. -When we gets there he’s talkin’ politics with “Half Mile” Smith, and -“Swan River,” and neither of them snake-hunters knows anything about -politics, except who is sheriff. - -He introduces us to them two misfits, and they gets agreeable. - -“Mister Smythe,” says Swan River, looking me over, “your legs are twins -to the legs of a —— fool I know, but from the waist up you look like a -bum thrower. I’m pleased to meetcha.” - -“He sure is built so he don’t have to go around nothin’,” agrees Half -Mile. - -“He’s a very brilliant man,” says Waldemar. “They both have degrees.” - -“They look about zero to me,” says Buck Masterson. - -“They know things which are concealed from ordinary men,” says Waldemar. - -“Uh-huh,” says Half Mile. “I shouldn’t be surprized. Any horse-thief is -in the same fix—if he’s got any sense.” - -A little later on we corrals Waldemar and asks him what he thinks of the -town. - -“You sure led me to the right place,” says he. “I have dreamed of this -kind of a place.” - -“You ought to stick to dreams,” advises Dirty. “We’re wishin’ you’d -hurry up and finish your business here, ’cause me and Ike hankers for -the open places. _Sabe?_ This city air stifles our lungs and makes our -necks ache.” - -“I’m framing it all up in my mind,” says he, “and in the morning we’ll -set up the camera in the hotel window which will give me a full shot at -the street, with the bank in the foreground, and then—can you two get -horses?” - -“I dunno,” says Dirty. “We have got ’em—at times.” - -“Maybe a little risky for you two,” says he. “I’ll have two of ’em at -the hitch-rack across the street. I won’t have you ride into town, -because some one might spot you. I can fake the entrance. You fellows -will dress in your range clothes, you understand? At the right time you -will come around the corner of the saloon, swing on to your horses, dash -across the street, where one of you will go inside, rob the bank and -come out, get your horses and dash out of town. I hope the sheriff will -get quick action with the posse.” - -“My ——!” gasps Dirty. “You’re all through with us, are yuh? You can’t -use us any further, mister? What has we done to you that you should wish -our demise?” - -“You ain’t taking many chances,” says he. “You’ll take ’em so by -surprize that they’ll forget everything.” - -“Except to shoot,” says I. “Piperock never forgets their guns. No, sir, -you’ve got to figure out something easier than that.” - -“It’s a chance of a life-time,” says he, sad-like, and then he gets this -idea— - -“I’ll give you a hundred dollars apiece.” - -“When?” asks Dirty. - -“After the robbery.” - -“Be a sport and make it a million apiece,” says Dirty. “We’ll never live -to collect and a man don’t mind dying for a big stake.” - -“You can keep what you get from the bank.” - -“We ain’t goin’ to take no money,” says I. “We’re just goin’ in and come -right out again. _Sabe?_ Folks will think it’s a robbery.” - -“I want this done right,” says he. “I want the real thing. Take it and -then bring it back.” - -“Well,” says Dirty, “if you feel thataway—how about yuh, Ike?” - -“It makes me no never mind, Dirty. When they finds my remains with my -dear hands folded around stolen money it won’t hurt my reputation none. -I’m willing to do danged near anything, so as we get away where I can -take off this beard. My own whiskers are growing circles inside ’em.” - -“Is the hundred satisfactory?” asks Waldemar. - -“In advance,” nods Dirty. “I’m goin’ to enjoy myself before the old -feller with the hay-hook comes along and cuts me off at the pockets.” - - * * * * * - -Waldemar starts to argue, but we both stands pat and he gives us the -money. A hundred dollars is a lot of money to a man who expects to die -the next day. There ain’t no rainy days in his future. He don’t care a -whoop what comes to pass. Some folks might prepare themselves by -praying, but me and Dirty never have asked for anything we ain’t got the -nerve to go and get for ourselves. We just throws dull care out of the -window and gets cheerful. - -Into our rosy existence cometh “Big Foot” Benson and “Hoodoo” Harris. -Them two pelicans proclaims it open season on anything that comes in -bottles. - -“You’re a danged queer-looking pair,” says Big Foot, “but it takes all -kinds of folks to herd sheep. Klahowya.” - -“Your whiskers ain’t orthodox,” says Hoodoo, peering at Dirty, “or has -you reverted to the reptiles and sheds your skin in the hot days?” - -“We’re scientists,” says Dirty, “and we’re lookin’ for a dinny-sor.” - -“Oh, yeah,” says Hoodoo. “Well, you come to the right place, gents. The -Lord knows you can find anything here, except a square deal. Why does -you cover your eyes with gloomy glasses thataway? Does you hanker for -the dark side of life?” - -“Yuh never could find a dinny-sor with the naked eye,” says I, and they -accepts the verdict. - -That was one wild night for science. I reckon every puncher within fifty -miles showed up for the celebration, being as there’s prizes offered, -and me and Dirty, after absorbing considerable cheer, has a hard time -sticking to plain science. - -Dirty had a fight with Mighty Jones, when the two of ’em gets to -discussing whether man came from monkey or not. Mighty debates that they -are, and offers Dirty as a living proof. Two sheep-herders from over on -Medicine Creek, cries on my neck and calls me “brother,” and I licked -’em both. - -Yes, it sure was a regular evening and my throat was raw from trying to -change my natural voice and talk like a scientist ought to talk. Dirty -Shirt’s whiskers tried to crawl under his chin several times, but the -crowd was too joyful to pay any attention to whiskers. - -Somehow I can’t just remember what happened after midnight, except that -Waldemar corrals me and tells me to pull off the stunt at ten o’clock. -He explains the details, but I only hears half of it, ’cause Hoodoo is -trying to tell me something about a mosquito that bit him when he was at -the North Pole. - -Dirty and Big Foot are trying to sing something about a wild Irish rose -and Buck Masterson is standing on the bar, trying to nominate a Populist -for president. We all voted for Buck’s candidate, I remember that much, -and then me and Dirty starts home, amid much applause. - -Across the street the Cross J quartet is singing— - -“Jee-e-e-roo-o-o-sa-a-a-lem, Jee-e-e-roo-o-o-sa-a-a-lem, lee-e-e-ft up -your voice and see-e-e-ng.” - -And Judge Steele is orating about— - -“—and in the glorious land of our forefathers, where the—the—sun never -sets and the—the——” - -“Ike,” says Dirty, “a man is of few days and full of trouble, but right -now I’m a mockin’-bird, with spreadin’ pinions and a dazzlin’ top-knot. -I may die tomorrow, but right now I’m a feathered songster, light of -heart and sound of limb. O death, where is thy stinger?” - -“The devil has it on the grindstone, Dirty,” says I, “and by ten o’clock -tomorrow she’ll be sharper than a serpent’s tooth.” - - * * * * * - -The next morning we sure slept peacefully, while Magpie goes uptown. -He’s one of the leading lights, as usual. I reckon it’s about nine -o’clock when me and Dirty gets something to eat. Dirty is a danged long -ways from being a mocking-bird. We can’t eat. Maybe it’s from looking -too much into the future, but I think it’s from looking too much into -the bottom of a glass. - -“If they sees us before we gets them broncs, Waldemar’s moving-pitcher -is going to be a failure,” says I, as we puts on our own clothes, after -soaking them beards loose. - -“Waldemar?” says Dirty. “My gosh, Ike, you are getting temperamental, -like a regular primmydonner. His pitcher a failure? What’s his danged -pitcher beside my breath of life? If them or’nary saddle-slickers see us -before we reach them broncs—Waldemar gets a regular necktie pitcher. -They’ll hang us to that tree right near Sam Holt’s porch, Ike.” - -“That’s too bad, Dirty. Where’ll we go if we get away with it?” - -“There yuh are!” wails Dirty, flopping his arms. “No place to go.” - -“Well, we’ve got to go, anyway; so it might as well be now.” - -We went out of there and sneaked up on the town of Piperock, like it was -a wild thing. Maybe that statement ain’t far wrong. We crawls in behind -Buck’s place, and gets behind a pile of cord-wood. Me and Dirty has both -got watches. Mine says ten minutes to ten, and Dirty’s says fifteen -minutes after ten. - -“Mine’s right,” says Dirty, positive-like. “That watch ain’t lost a -second in two years. I can correct the sun with that watch, yuh betcha. -We’re late!” - -“Yuh can’t beat a Swiss movement,” says I, “and that’s the kind mine is. -It is now ten minutes of ten.” - -“You’re crazy, Ike. Lemme tell yuh something about this—huh—listen to -your watch and see if she’s runnin’.” - -“It ain’t,” says I, after listening. “I forgot to wind it last night.” - -“Me, too,” says Dirty. “My ——, we’re in an awful fix.” - -Comes a few yells and a few shots out on the street and then the clatter -of six-shooter explosions. - -“The celebration is on,” says I. “It was due to start at ten o’clock. -Let’s take a chance. I hope to gosh them broncs are there for us.” I -takes my life in one hand, a six-shooter in the other and leads the way. -There’s more than two broncs at the rack, but there ain’t no time to -figure out ownership, et cettery. There’s considerable humanity in -sight. - -“Take that gray one, Dirty,” says I, and then I happens to think that we -ain’t figured out who is to go inside the bank. - -“Wait a minute,” says I. “Do you go inside or do I, Dirty?” - -“It makes no difference who goes in, Ike. We’ll be deader than —— in -about three minutes anyway. You go in, will yuh?” - -“A-a-a-board!” says I, and hops on to that mouse-colored bronc, which -looks like it might go as far and fast. - -Somehow I don’t no more than hook the right stirrup before I realizes -that I’ve made a mistake. I hears Dirty sort of hiccup a curse, and I’m -betting that he has the same thoughts. I don’t know about that -mouse-colored bronc going fast and far, but I sure know it went high. -Also, I soon realized that my saddle wasn’t cinched tight. Every time we -went high and handsome I can feel the slack in that cinch and it makes -me nervous. - -“Git to —— out of the way!” I hears Dirty yelp, and into me comes that -gray bronc, sunfishin’ like forked lightning and whistling like a scared -buck. It’s about sixty feet across that street to the front of the bank. -Know how long it took us to get there? I ain’t there yet, if you’re -curious to know, and this happened a long time ago. - -But Dirty got there. Yessir, he got there. At the edge of the sidewalk -his cinch busted and he went right in through one of the front windows. -He went in feet first, into the window with the sign painted on it, and -he stopped with one leg through the cashier’s window and the other leg -waving for help. - -My bronc stopped bucking long enough for me to see all that and then we -turns right around—me and that high-minded piece of deviltry—and we -bucked straight for Buck Masterson’s saloon. There’s a big crowd there, -and they sure give us room. Some danged fool must ’a’ tried to kill that -bronc, but missed and one bullet burned my ear, and the other peeled my -knuckles on my left hand. Yes, we went in. By that time the cinch is -back in the bronc’s flanks, and I’m riding wild and free on its rump, -with the saddle going further back all the time. - -I didn’t dare to fall off, so I done my dangdest. I got a view of scared -faces as we made a mulligan of a perfectly healthy poker game and then I -went up and jammed my head through the bale of a hanging-lamp, and took -it with us, hanging around my neck. - -The back door was partly open and we took it away, hinges and all, and -then we’re out in the open again, with Piperock, et cettery, howling in -our rear. I banged the bronc with my hat and swung him back toward the -street, where I runs into Dirty, backing across the street, shooting -every direction. I skids that bronc to a standstill, and yells— - -“Get up behind me!” - -Dirty stubs his heel and falls down and danged near shot me. Then he -gets to his feet and runs up to me. - -“Get on behind you?” he yells. “How in —— can I? You’re as far back as -you can get! I’ll get on in front.” - -Dirty got on. The first jump that bronc made landed him up on its neck, -where he locks his legs around under its jaws and away we went, me way -back on its rump and him almost on its head, while Piperock fired -salutes and cheered in a loud voice. - -We turned a corner and bucked around and around until we slammed up -against the jail, where my cinch slid down around the bronc’s hind legs -and I got kicked in the belly with both hind feet. Then the bronc -whirled sideways, and slammed Dirty against the corner of the building. -He just lets loose and drops like a suit of clothes, while the bronc -whistles again and hits for the open country. - -I ain’t got no ambition left, but I’ve got sense enough to throw the -saddle and Dirty Shirt Jones inside the jail, and then fall in after -him. I kicked the door shut, but Piperock cometh not. There ain’t no -sign of pursuit. Pretty soon Dirty’s lips open and he begins singing: - -“—le-e-e-ft up your voice and see-e-e-e-ng. Ho-o-o-o-o-sa-a-na-a——” - -“Shut up!” I croaks. “You ain’t dead—yet.” - - * * * * * - -He sets up and licks his lips while he feels of his head. - -“What did yuh say?” he asks, weak-like. - -“I said, you ain’t dead.” - -“Feller, there’s a lot of things that you don’t know. Where are we?” - -“In the jail.” - -“Thank the Lord! This is better than I expected. What are we charged -with?” - -“How much did yuh get in the bank?” - -“There wasn’t anybody there,” he wails. “I left one boot. It hung in the -cashier’s window and I didn’t have time to get it loose. How did we get -here?” - -I told him all I knew about it, and he marvels exceedingly. - -“We obtained money under false pretenses, Ike,” says he. “We agreed to -rob a bank and there wasn’t nobody to hold up.” - -“He agreed to plant a couple of horses for us,” says I, “and he either -has a danged poor idea of what a feller rides to a bank robbery or we -picked the wrong steeds.” - -“Prognostications don’t alleviate the crack in my head,” says Dirty. -“’Pears to me that my brain is runnin’ out.” - -“Cast aside all fear,” says I. “You never could hit that hard. I’ve got -a splintered wish-bone and my stummick has been turned wrong side out. -What will we do next, Dirty?” - -“Get away from here,” says Dirty, which shows that his brains ain’t -leaking to no great extent. - -“How?” I asks. “Looks to me like this quiet little jail is about the -only safe place for me and you.” - -“Well, why in —— don’t somebody come along and chide us?” complains -Dirty, nervous-like. “It ain’t like Piperock to do things like this, -Ike. Why don’t they kill us and have it over with?” - -“Want to die, feller?” I asks. “Pinin’ away for death, are yuh?” - -“No, I ain’t, Ike, but if I’ve got to die—hurrah for ——! Who’s afraid of -fire?” - -“Shall we sneak back to the shack and get our disguises, Dirty?” - -“Not me! If I’m goin’ to die, good. I’ll die as Dirty Shirt Jones, not -as a buzzard-headed bug-hunter who is lookin’ for somethin’ that crawled -away and died a million years ago.” - -“Well, what yuh goin’ to do, Dirty? Figure a little, can’t yuh?” - -“Figgers be ——! I’m to camp right here until dark, or until some figger -of vengeance cometh along and herds me hence. _Sabe?_ Give yourself up, -go out and get shot, choke yourself to death with your own fair hands—do -what you think best, Ike, but old man Jones’ little fair-haired child is -goin’ inside a nice cool cell and sleep off a headache.” - -“I can’t do nothin’ but foller yuh,” says I, sad-like. - -“Your attachment for me is sweet,” says he. “I’m all choked up with -e-motion, and if I didn’t feel so bad I would cry.” - -Sometimes I wonder who left that quart of hooch under that bunk. We -moved the bunk over, so nobody could see us from the sheriff’s office, -and there she stood, brave and bold. Me and Dirty surrounds it, inhales -the odors of Araby, originated in Kentucky and fixed with equal parts of -alkali water, copperas, chewing-tobacco and coal-oil, for the -consumption of Piperock’s leading citizens. - -Then we humps up on the bunk and wishes each other a great deal of -pleasure in the future. I reckon we done a lot of wishin’. I dreamed of -a whole danged string of wishes hanging on a line like laundry out to -dry, and when I woke it was dark. Dirty Shirt sounds like a dry saw -going through a greasewood butt. I’m about to wake him up, when I hears -voices. I jabs my heel into Dirty’s shins, and he sets up like one of -them mechanical toys. - -“Yeah, and I hope yuh gets ninety-nine years and the balance of your -life,” we hears Scenery Sims saying in his rusty voice. “I’m goin’ to -put yuh in and then I’m goin’ up-town and tell all about it. Some of -them snake-hunters think I’m no good as a sheriff, but I gets my man.” - -“Some old lady must ’a’ got drunk and fell down and busted her leg,” -says Dirty in a hoarse whisper. “Hear that woodchuck peep?” - -The door of the cell is yanked open, and two men comes inside. Me and -Dirty ain’t ready for to be locked in, so as they comes in we goes out. -Scenery stands there in the dark, sort of stiff-like. Dirty Shirt lights -a match and holds it up. I hears Scenery give a gasp and then the match -went out. Then his gun falls on the floor. - -I feels two men slip past us in the dark, but I don’t reckon that -Scenery heard ’em. He moved over the table, knocked the lamp-chimney on -the floor, and then managed to light the rest of the lamp. He squints at -us, and then goes over to the cell, where he peers inside. Then he sets -down in a chair and stares at us. We don’t say a word, but we’re dang -near bustin’ inside. Pretty soon Scenery gets up, like a feller walking -in his sleep, and goes inside and pulls the door shut after himself. - -“I—I don’t know,” he squeaks in a whisper, staring at us through the -bars. “I ain’t felt good for a week—dang it! Seein’ spots in front on my -eyes. It sure is —— to see things thisaway. Must be my stummick.” - -Dirty stepped over, blowed out the light and we went outside. - -“Where to?” I asks. - -“Any civilized port,” says Dirty. - -“Somewhere, Ike, there must be a place where a feller can use up the -rest of his misspent life without hidin’ behind a stump every time a -human bein’ shows up.” - -“We’ve got to get transportation,” says I. “Let’s go boldly and take a -horse per each from the tie-rack, and go hence rapidly.” - -There’s a crowd in front of Sam Holt’s place. Me and Dirty went right to -the rack, picked a likely looking bronc per each and got aboard, minus -saddles and with nothing on their hammer-heads but hackamores and hair. - -Man, I thought that mouse-colored animile could do everything in the -book, but this long-legged roan proved to me that my other mount was -peckin’ along in the kindergarten class. - - * * * * * - -High and mighty we went. We changed ends, sunfishin’ and worm-fencin’, -but Ike Harper didn’t pull leather—’cause there wasn’t any; but he sure -did anchor himself to that bronc’s mane with both hands, got a toe-holt -under each shoulder and rode regardless of sun, moon, or tide. - -I gets a glimpse of Dirty Shirt Jones ahead of me, and I’d tell a man -Dirty is high above that animile’s back, the same of which ain’t healthy -to nervous systems nor stummicks. - -Into that crowd we went, ——ity blip. I got a rope under my chin, the -same of which cut off my wind. Somebody got one arm around my neck and -seems to caress me, and then I’m out in the open, far from the maddening -crowd. I manages to get a breath, shoves the encircling arm from around -my neck and finds that there’s two of us. - -I’m all mixed up in a rope. Out of the dark comes another rider, just as -my bronc gets hoppled in this danged rope, and turns a handspring. This -other horse goes over the top of us, and as far as I’m concerned the -earth and sky have met. - -Later on I removes the veil and comes back to material things. All is -dark and dreary. I hears Dirty singing, soft and low— - -“I sa-a-a-a-w the-e-e-e new Jee-e-e-ru-u-u-u-sa-a-a-lem—” and on every -word he quavers like some one was shaking his soul. - -“——!” says I. “I went further back than that, Dirty. I saw the old -town.” - -“—le-e-e-e-e-e-ft up your voice and see-e-e-ng,” wails Dirty. - -“I ain’t got none to lift!” I yells, and Dirty stops. Then he says— - -“Ike, I—I feel that my days are numbered.” - -“Mine too—thirteen,” says I, and just then we hears a faint voice -saying: - -“O-o-o-oh! O-o-o-oh!” - -“Does your horse talk English, Ike?” whispers Dirty, and just then a dim -figure reels up to us and sets down. It’s still got some rope around its -neck. We peers at it, and then Dirty scratches a match. It’s Waldemar, -wearing a half-inch rope for a necktie. He was the man I picked up on my -way through the crowd. - -“Waldemar,” says Dirty, “we welcome you to our graveyard.” - -He wheezes for a moment and then manages to croak: - -“Take that money back! Take it back!” - -“Back to the bank,” he wheezes, when we don’t say anything. “They—they -was hanging me, bub-because I—I told ’em it was just a picture stunt. -Take the money back!” - -“Way around ’em, Shep,” gasps Dirty. “We didn’t get no money. Dang it, -there wasn’t anybody in the bank!” - -“Don’t say that,” wails Waldemar. “I seen you. I got a hundred feet of -the best hold-up on earth, and they were going to hang me.” - -“But we didn’t rob the —— bank!” I yowls. - -Waldemar is silent for a while and then he says, weary-like— - -“Well, somebody did.” - -“I dimly remember tellin’ Big Foot and Hoodoo what we was goin’ to do,” -says Dirty, sad-like. “That must ’a’ been them two that Scenery brought -to jail.” - -Me and Dirty gets to our feet. My feet don’t line up good, but I’m too -good to lay down and quit. - -“We’ll just walk,” says Dirty, sad-like; “just walk and walk until we -finds the place which is farthest from Piperock, and then we’ll beg, -borrow or steal some broncs and keep on goin’.” - -“How about me?” wails Waldemar. - -We stops and looks at him, kinda wondering-like. - -“I must go back and get my film and camera before I leave,” says he, -apologetic-like. “Then where shall I go?” - -“Do just as yuh please,” says Dirty, “but as far as me and Ike Harper -are concerned, all things bein’ equal, you can take your —— creepin’ -tintypes and go plumb to ——!” - -We pilgrims away in the darkness, two sufferin’ souls, holding hands -that our feet may keep pointing ahead. We’re in no shape to walk and -Dirty says: - -“Slow up, can’t yuh? They’re lookin’ for Big Foot and Hoodoo, not us. -Scenery likely thinks he’s got snakes. Don’t go so fast, yuh——” - -“Sa-a-a-y!” yowls Waldemar, far away. “They made me tell who done it.” - -We didn’t answer him. Dirty said— - -“My ——, ain’t yuh got no speed a-tall, Ike?” - -THE END - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the June 18, 1921 issue of -_Adventure_ magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CREEPIN’ TINTYPES *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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