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diff --git a/old/66050-0.txt b/old/66050-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 708feef..0000000 --- a/old/66050-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1214 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dirty Work for Doughgod, 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: Dirty Work for Doughgod - -Author: W. C. Tuttle - -Release Date: August 13, 2021 [eBook #66050] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIRTY WORK FOR DOUGHGOD *** - -[Illustration: Dirty Work for Doughgod] - - - - -DIRTY WORK FOR DOUGHGOD - -by W. C. Tuttle - -Author of “For the Parson of Paradise,” “Jay Bird’s Judgment,” etc. - - -“No, sir,” says Mike Pelly. “No more female teachers for Paradise. -’Cause why? ’Cause all the fool punchers fall in love with her and ruin -her educational qualities—that’s why. We don’t no more than get a she -teacher, until all the saddle-slickers around here quit working and -prevents her from teaching the young idea how to shoot straight.” - -“This here miss, who writes me from Great Falls, orates that she’s the -goods,” states “Doughgod” Smith. “She slings a good hand.” - -“Let her sling it—in Great Falls,” says Mike. “As chairman of the Board -of Trustees of Paradise, I hereby open and above board objects to -anything but a male teacher.” - -“I places my bet with yours,” says J. B. Whittaker, owner of the Cross J -outfit. “Women has always been the bane of my existence, and in a case -like this I opens my mouth like a wolf and openly howls for a man. -_Lignum vitæ._” - -“_E pluribus unum_,” says Mike, and the session is over. - -Me and “Chuck” Warner sets there on the saloon steps and listens to -those words of wisdom. Chuck wiggles his ears a lot at the decision and -watches them adjourn for a drink. - -“Confounded old coots,” says Chuck sad-like. “Only one of them is -married, and he ain’t got no kids. I don’t blame Mike for harboring -resentment against the weaker sex—after seeing his wife, but them other -two loveless lunatics ain’t got no cause to boycott calico for -educational purposes. I figured on a woman teacher, Henry.” - -“You and me both,” says I. “According to fiction, a puncher has to fall -in love with a school-teacher.” - -Old Doughgod Smith wanders out and comes over to us, wiping his -mustache. - -“You’re three lovely old joy-killers, Doughgod,” says Chuck. “Regular -old race-suiciders.” - -“Now, now, Chuck,” says Doughgod, setting down with us. “Don’t blame me. -It’s two against one, and I’m the one. Also, I’m sort of up against it. -I didn’t know them snake-huntin’ cohorts of mine were so bitter against -women—honest to gosh! That Miss—” Doughgod scratched his head—“I don’t -know her name right now—well, she sounds on paper like a regular -teacher; so I told her to come and take the job. She’s on her way now, -and I don’t know how to head her off.” - -“Two ways out,” states Chuck. “Either shoot J. B. or Mike and get a -warmhearted man in their place, or meet the train and send her back from -whence she comes.” - -“Meet her at the train? Me? Not Doughgod Smith! Not me, Chuck. I got -rheumatism in the vocal cords when it comes to denying a female -anything. I can stand without hitching long enough to meet a lady in a -crowd, but I don’t walk right up and speak to one. Reckon I’ll have to -pay her way back.” - -“I could meet her if I was properly coaxed,” observes Chuck. “Me—I ain’t -scared of no female woman.” - -“Would you do that, Chuck?” asks Doughgod anxious-like. “Honestly, would -you?” - -“Yeah. Give me the money for the ticket.” - -“By grab, Chuck, you and me are friends for life. Here’s twenty. I don’t -know what the ticket costs, but I ain’t asking questions. If she asks -for me, you tell her—what’ll you tell her?” - -“I never rehearse, Doughgod. I’ll tell her something—you gamble on -that.” - -Doughgod wanders away, hugging himself, so me and Chuck buys a drink. We -meets “Muley” Bowles and “Telescope” Tolliver, and Chuck tells them -about the trustee meeting. - -“That’s a danged shame,” states Telescope. “This here country is pining -for the touch of a woman’s gentle hand. Now, when she shows up, we got -to tell her to pilgrim along. Just ’cause them two old, dried-up -specimens don’t want women, it ain’t no reason why we don’t.” - -“Dogs in a manger,” says Muley, shaking his fat face until it wobbles. -Muley had had about enough cheer for a fat man, and he ain’t none too -secure on his feet. “As the poet would shay: - - “Drink to me only with thy eyes, - Oh, women, lovely women, - If I hadn’t washed las’ Shummer - I’d like to go in schwimmin’.” - -“Muley, you’re making light of a dark subject,” chides Telescope. -“This is a case of two old pelicans trying to cut the sentiment out of -the cow business, and we’ve got to frustrate it. _Sabe?_” - -“Shentiment?” asks Muley serious-like. “This is my shentiments: - - “Love is a fleeting flower - That fleeted away from me, - Like a tumble-weed in a cyclone - Adrift on a Wintry sea. - Where are the loves of yesterday - That made my heart so light? - Gone like the howl of a coyote - That was howled at the moon last night. - -“That’s shentiment,” says Muley. “Deep from the heart. Who’s going to -the dance at the Triangle tonight, eh?” - -“Dances is secondary to the main issue,” says Telescope judicial-like, -“and poetry is incidental. We must contemplate deep and act as our -better natures dictates.” - -Muley Bowles is a self-made poet. Something inside that -two-hundred-and-forty-pound carcass seems to move him to rime, and -nothing can stop him. He’s so heavy in a saddle that all of his broncs -are bowed in the legs and run their shoes over awful. - -Telescope Tolliver came from down in the moonshine belt, and he’s got -some strange and awful ideas of what constitutes a code of honor. He’s -so long in the legs that a bronc has to pitch twice at the same time to -get him high enough to throw. - -Chuck Warner is a Roman-nosed puncher, with the shortest legs on record -and the trusting eyes of a bird-dog. According to all we can find out, -Chuck is a titled person. Of course, being an ordinary puncher, he don’t -wish to have folks know him as anything but just plain Chuck, but the -title remains just the same—Ananias the Second. I won’t go so far as to -say that he can’t tell the truth, but I will insist that he won’t. - -Me—I’m Henry Clay Peck. I play the banjo cheerfully, take my baths on -the same day of every month and do what I’m told. I can’t blame nor -credit anybody but me for what I am. - -The four of us punches cows for the Cross J, draw down forty a month and -spend our leisure time trying to figure out how old J. B. Whittaker ever -got so much talent together in one bunch. We sure make a pretty good -quartette for singing. We’ve got one tenor and three other voices. - -We hives up around Mike Pelly’s bar that day and sings songs until Chuck -suggests that we better go down to the depot and see if the lady comes -in. We’ve got several trains a day; so it’s up to us to see ’em all. The -train ain’t in yet; so we sings a few more songs. After a while the -train comes in—but no lady. Muley starts an argument with the conductor -over it, but the conductor is a big, mean-looking person; we takes Muley -away from him and sets him on a truck. - - * * * * * - -The train pulls out, and on the far side of the track stands a female. -She must have got off on the wrong side. She sure is fair to look upon, -and Muley falls off the truck when he tries to take off his hat to her. - -“Ma’am,” says Telescope, bowing and trying to take off the hat he’s -already got in his hand, “ma’am, the town is on this side.” - -“Oh,” says she and then stares at us. - - “Her hair was gug-golden, and her lips was blue. - Her eyes was sweeter than the morning dew. - Her nose was like sea-shells, and her ears was pug— - -“And I’d like to assassinate Mike Pelly and J. B. Whittaker—honest to -gosh!” says Muley, still on his hands and knees with his hat down over -one eye. - -“Ma’am, it sure pains me to tell you this, but—you’ve got to go right -back where you came from,” says Chuck sad-like. “Honestly.” - -“Go back?” she gasps, and Chuck nods. - -“Yes’m. You’ve got to. Not on our account, ma’am, but there seems to be -a sentiment against women. One of them says that women is the banes of -his existence, and the other says that—aw, Telescope, you talk a little. -I ain’t going to stand here all day arguing with a perfect lady.” - -“You heard him say it, ma’am,” agrees Telescope. “They’re against a -woman. Now if you was a—wait a minute! Gosh, lady, I got a hy-iu scheme. -We’ll slip one over on the women-haters.” - -Telescope grabs her by the arm, and the lady acts mystified-like. - -“I—I don’t understand,” says she. “I—I——” - -“This ain’t no time or place to settle it,” says Telescope. “Come on, -everybody.” - -“That’s all right, ma’am,” says Muley, taking hold of her other arm. -“You can trust Telescope—as long as me and Chuck and Hen are along to -protect you. Where we going, Telescope?” - -“We’ll leave our broncs here and take the buckboard,” says Telescope. -“The old man is in a poker game by this time, and he won’t need it.” - -“I asked you in a lady-like manner to tell me where we’re going,” says -Muley. “Is it a secret, Telescope?” - -“I’ll explain when we get there, Muley,” he replies. - -The four of us helps the lady into the buckboard, while them two roan -broncs dance a jig against the hitching-rack. The lady acts scared -stiff, but that’s natural under these circumstances. - -“I’ll drive,” proclaims Telescope. “The lady sets in the middle, and -Muley on the end. You other two can set in the back or get your broncs.” - -“Your statement shows lack of consideration and fine thought,” states -Chuck. “I am going to ride on that seat. Sabe?” - -“Nominations being in order, I’ll speak a word or two in favor of old -man Peck’s son, Henry,” says I. “I don’t care a whoop who drives, but -I’ll say right here that Henry Clay Peck is the third member of the -seat-riders.” - -All of which makes it hard to arrive at a peaceful solution. Telescope’s -idea of a proper argument is to slam his sombrero on the ground and talk -at the top of his voice. Naturally this aggravates said touchy team, -with the result that they casts domestication to the four winds and -whales off up the street with the fair one all alone on the seat and the -lines dragging. - -“Who in —— untied them animals?” yelps Muley. - -“Which ain’t nothing but a question,” replies Chuck, throwing down the -two halters in disgust. “Come on and let’s get our broncs. She’s due to -get killed in about a minute.” - -The four of us lopes down the street to where our animals are tied, and -if you asks me I’d say that we went out of town fast. In fact we showed -so much animation that Bill McFee, our progressive sheriff, took a shot -at us, just on general principles. - -We strung off up the road, me and Telescope fighting for first place -with Chuck running a close second and Muley bringing up the rear, eating -alkali dust like a machine. - -We hammers along for about two miles, when all to once we sees a cloud -of dust ahead of us. Said cloud is sliding toward the grade down to the -Wind River crossing, and we all sighs to think what that runaway team -will do to that lady when they hit the boulders of Wind River. We shoves -on more steam and unhooks our ropes. Me and Telescope ain’t got room for -two loops the way we’re running; so I slips back into second place. - -Down that grade we sails and into the willows just short of the ford. -Chuck and Muley have picked up a little, which hampers our show to do -any fancy rope stunts, and them four animals runs almost a dead heat to -where the road breaks straight down to the river. Which only gives us a -pitch of about thirty feet to the water’s edge. - -I don’t just know what happened then. We’re going too fast to even take -a second look. I seen a buckboard, with the horses standing up in the -water, and then the next thing I know I’m spinning over and over in the -air. Above me is Muley, with his legs spread out like sails, and he’s -flopping his arms like he was trying to fly higher. I remember that I -laughed at Muley trying to imitate a bird, and just then I took my first -bath short of Saturday evening. - -I landed in the river flat on my stummick and found out that a feller -don’t have to learn to swim in order to do it. All the wind is out of my -carcass, but I sure done some fancy crawling until I lands on a sandbar -down the river and pumps some more wind into my system. In my pocket is -a bottle of “Track Annihilator,” and I immediate and soon finds the need -of a stimulant. I hauls it out, removes the stopper and squints through -it at the sun. - -“Blam!” That bottle fades out of my hand, and all I’ve got left is the -cork. - -The next bullet cuts a rosette off my chaps; so I slides into the water -like an alligator and proceeds to waller off downstream. I may die from -drowning—I say may, ’cause I’m taking a chance—but it’s a cinch that if -I stay on that sand-bar any longer that _hombre_ with the rifle is going -to improve with practise, which will spoil all of Henry Peck’s future -ambitions. - -I hears a few more shots before I grabs a willer and hauls myself out -into the high grass. I’m too tired to hunt for information; so I -rusticates there until I hears somebody tramping grass and grunting: - -“Gol dang ’em! Gol dang ’em! Hope I drownded the whole mess of pups. -Hope I leaded up all that didn’t drown. Half-witted horse-wranglers. No -brains! Race right into me and my load of dynamite. Too bad it didn’t -bust and blow ’em all to ——! Team runs away and leaves me on the wrong -side. Gol dang——” - -“Wick Smith, throw up your hands,” says I sweet-like. - -He drops his gun and grabs atmosphere. - -“Toss that rifle into the brush,” says I, and he reaches down like a -nice little feller and obeys. - -I takes it and throws it further into the woods, and then I walks out to -him. - -“Hello, Wick,” says I. “How’s things in Piperock?” - -“Tolable, Hen. How’s the Cross J these nice days? Where’s your gun?” - -“Lost it in the river,” says I. - - * * * * * - -We looks at each other for a while, and then he says— - -“What was your hurry a while ago, Hen?” - -“Runaway. Strange lady comes in on the train, and we’re going to take -her to—I wonder where we was going to take her, Wick?” - -“My gosh, didn’t you have no place picked out?” - -“Maybe Telescope did. Well, she got in the buckboard, and the team runs -away, and we thought you was it, and—well, what’s the matter with you?” - -“Strange lady came in on the train?” he gasps. “What did she look like?” - -“Morn in Spring,” says I. “She had hair and eyes and a mouth and——” - -“Great lovely dove!” he whoops. “That’s her to a flea’s flicker.” - -“Who?” - -“My wife’s sister, Amelia. My ——! She ain’t due yet.” - -“Came today,” says I. “Came today, and——” - -“Went away,” says a sad voice, and there stands Muley, Telescope and -Chuck. - -They sure are something for to see. They look like they had been made of -mud and hadn’t dried out yet. - -“It was fate,” says Muley, digging the ooze out of his eye. - - “She braved the dangers of the iron trail, - Maybe she rode on boats that have a sail, - And all was well, - Until she came to peaceful Paradise, - Where everybody leaves who has the price. - Fate sure is—!!” - -“Amen,” says Telescope. “You handled that well, Muley.” - -“Gents,” says I, “don’t be sacrilegious. You are now standing in the -presence of the bereaved brother-in-law. The lost lady was his wife’s -sister.” - -“Shucks!” exclaims Telescope, trying to remove the hat he ain’t got. - -“This is painful, Wick. Where’s your outfit?” - -“Holy henhawks!” wails Wick. “You fellers bucked over it and through it, -et cettery, and left me setting on the bank on a busted box of dynamite, -with nothing left but my rifle—and Hen threw that in the jungle. The -rest, if there’s anything left, is likely on its way to Piperock.” - -“And we’re on foot,” wails Chuck. “My tobacco is wet, and there ain’t a -drink in the crowd, and——” - -“And Shakespeare’s dead, and Longfellow’s dead, and I don’t feel very -good myself,” finishes Muley. - -“And we’ve got to find that runaway,” says I. “They’re likely at the -ranch—unless they’re strung out along the road.” - -“My wife will give me particular thunder,” wails Wick. “She ain’t -expecting me to bring back no deceased sister-in-law—darn it all! I -reckon we better toddle over to the ranch, eh?” - -“I know a short-cut,” offers Chuck. “We’ll walk back over that ridge and -swing on to the road on the other side of Ghost Gulch. That’s only about -four miles.” - -“And still four miles from the ranch,” groans Muley. “And us wearing -high-heeled boots.” - -“Ye gods, I wish I had that rifle,” grunts Wick. “I’d kill four punchers -right here.” - -“Death ain’t nothing,” groans Muley, limping along. - - “Hell hath no fury like a blistered heel, - That busts and then begins to peel.” - -It’s dark when we got to the Cross J ranch, and we limps in like five -lost souls. There ain’t a trace of that buckboard or the lady. There -ain’t nobody around the place. - -“My gosh!” wails Wick. “Something has got to be did. She was my wife’s -sister.” - -“Why use the past tense?” complains Muley. “Maybe she still is your -wife’s sister. We’ll be square with her, Wick, and consider her alive -until she disappoints us.” - -“I know where the old man keeps his spirits,” states Chuck, fussing with -a window. “You fellers feel spirit voices calling?” - -We did. Chuck found the cache, and we has quite a seance. - -“Walking is too slow,” complains Wick. “I’ve got to go faster than that, -boys. Ain’t there a danged thing around here I can ride upon? - -“Ain’t you _hombres_ got enough _sabe_ in your system to know that out -there somewhere in the stilly night is a remnant of my wife’s family, -crying for succor?” - -“Might he not ride, Solomon?” asks Chuck, wiggling his ears at Muley. - -“Beyond question he may,” nods Muley. “Hang a hull on Solomon, Chuck, -and let the sucker arrive at his wife’s sister’s side without delay.” - -“Solomon is which?” asks Wick. - -“Solomon,” says Telescope, “is a mule. A white mule—in color. He ain’t -no speed-demon, but he sure can save shoe leather, Wick.” - -“I accepts the nomination,” says Wick and takes another drink. - -Chuck comes back in about ten minutes, leading that long, hungry-looking -mule. We helps Wick into the saddle, wishes him a pleasant journey, and -then Chuck hits Solomon across the rump with a strap. Solomon bucks -stiff-legged down to the gate, and then we hear him pounding off down -the hard road. - -Chuck stands there looking at what he’s got in his hand, and then: - -“Gee gosh! When I took the rope off that mule, I took the bridle, too. -Poor Wickie ain’t got no rudder for his old white ship.” - -“Cancel any help from Smiths,” says Telescope. “Solomon, with all his -wives, never was half as crazy as that namesake of his. Let us all have -another inoculation of paralysis microbes and start out being merciful. -We’ve got to find that lady.” - -Then four fools started out in the dark. We sang a song at the gate and -then piked off down the road, arm in arm. As usual Muley gets so -sentimental that he has to compose a little; so we has to stop while he -recites: - - “An angel came to cow-land and stole my heart away. - She was a shrinking flower that came to me today. - My heart is like a sinker, ’cause I love her well, - But I’m ——” - -Muley breaks down and begins to sob: - -“I can’t finish it! My rimer gets drownded in tears.” - -“Let me assist you,” begs Chuck. “How’s thish? - - “My heart is like a sinker, ’cause I love her well, - But I’m ’fraid thish lovely angel has got busted all to ——! - -“Ain’t that shome finish?” - -“Grewshome ghoul,” shudders Telescope. - -“It’s a fac’,” argues Chuck. “Bet anybody forty dollars she never made -the turn out of Sillman Gulch. Betcha she turned over there. Ain’t -nobody got any shporting blood? Even money that she didn’t make that -turn—thirty to forty that they hung up before they got that far. Any -takers? Bet ten ’gainst forty that—that Solomon has killed Wick Smith -before thish.” - -“Now you’re getting into pleasant conversation,” says Telescope. “That’s -what I call looking at the doughnut instead of the hole.” - -I don’t know where we went. We took turns carrying that demijohn. We -wanted something to pour between unresisting lips, like you read about, -but we can’t seem to find no unresisting lips. - -I know we all fell into Wind River, which is three miles from Paradise. -Muley hung up on a sand-bar and sobbed himself to sleep. Telescope -crawled back on the bank and implored us to go ahead and save the women -and children and leave him to die like a man. I heard Chuck singing— - -“Locked in a stable with a s-h-e-e-p, -I lay me dow-w-w-wn in hay to sle-e-e-e-ep.” - -Me, I got tangled up in the limbs of a fallen tree and went to sleep -with my feet over a limb. - - * * * * * - -“Well!” says a voice, and I woke up. There is “Ricky” Henderson setting -on his bronc, looking at us. “What’s the matter with you fellers? I -helped rope your broncs yesterday when they came back to town, and -they’re tied to the rack in front of the Eureka—or were last night.” - -“The matter with us?” asks Muley mean-like. “That’s our business, Ricky. -Who told you to tie up our broncs in Paradise? Next time you leave ’em -alone and let ’em come home. _Sabe?_” - -“Yeah?” snorts Ricky, riding away. “With their tails behind them, eh? -All right, _Little Bo-Peep_.” - -“_Bo-Peep_, eh?” whispers Chuck, wiggling his ears. “Mamma mine!” - -“Our broncs are in Paradise,” mentions Telescope. “Three miles more, -comrades.” We hobbles along on sore feet for a while, and then Chuck -says— - -“Say, Telescope, where was you aiming to take the lady? And what was -your big scheme?” - -“Out to the ranch, Chuck. I figured on dressing her up in our clothes -and hiring her out as a male teacher. _Sabe?_ Figured we’d slip one over -on them three old pelicans, and then they’d have to keep her—or never -hear the last of it. It was a good idea. If that little runt of a Warner -had sense enough to leave the team tied,” adds Telescope a little later. - -“You didn’t need to throw your hat on the ground and whoop like a -drunken Indian,” reproves Muley. “You’re to blame, Telescope.” - -“Yes,” says I. “You and Telescope has to argue like a pair of fools.” - -“Oh, you wasn’t in the argument, was you?” sneers Telescope. “You three -grocery-store punchers make me tired.” - -“You cut out that runt talk,” says Chuck. “I’d rather be small and -shapely than to be so tall that the buzzards roost in my hair. You think -you’re a lady-killer, Telescope, and this is the one time when you -likely qualify. Maybe the jury will adjudge so.” - -“Yes, and he swore aloud before her,” says I. “He talked around her like -she was his wife.” - -“She smiled at me,” grins Chuck sweetlike, and Muley snorts: - -“Smiled! Laughed, Chuck. Do you think for a minute that a person like -her would smile at critters like you three? That woman’s got a soul.” - -“Where do you qualify with soulful women, Muley?” asks Telescope. “Since -when has the fair sex designated a hunk of lard as the target for -soulful glances? Of course, if you designated a runt like Chuck or a -squint-faced _hombre_ like Hen Peck—” - -Love has cut a breach in the Four Disgraces. Cupid has poisoned his -arrows, and we forgets friendship ties. Maybe it was an accident—maybe -not, but anyway we ain’t gone far when Muley steps on Chuck’s ankle. -Chuck yowls like a tom-cat and slaps Muley right in the face. Telescope -grabs Chuck by the neck, and I kicks Telescope’s feet out from under -him. - -That took team work, if anybody asks you. I reckon the buzzards were the -only ones who enjoyed it. Somebody hit me between the eyes, and I -up-ended in a mesquite bush, where I found a snag, about two feet long -and as big as my wrist. So I waded right back into the conflict. Then -somebody handed me an encore in the same spot, and I got used as a -welcome mat. Then somebody laid down on top of me and pushed me into the -dirt, but I got out, found an unoccupied boot and hit that somebody -several times over the head. My eyes don’t permit me to judge distance, -but I felt out my target and made no misses. - -Then I laid down, too, and went to sleep. - -After a while I woke up and sat there, looking around. I can see -Telescope’s legs sticking up over the top of a mesquite, and Chuck is -setting in the shade of the same bush, crooning to himself while he -tries to light a cigaret on the sole of his boot. Muley is beside me, -snoring sweetly, and setting there beside us on a dilapidated white mule -is Wick Smith. - -Wick sure looks like he had been someplace and met something awful. The -mule’s head is hanging down weary-like, while Wick slouches in the -saddle, with his jaw hanging down about three inches. - -He weaves in the saddle and his mustache acts nervous-like. - -“Find anything?” he asks like the weak croak of a frog. - -“Not yet,” I whispers back at him. - -He nods, slaps the mule side of its head and turns into the road. - -“I’m still looking,” he whispers, and I says: - -“That’s fine. So am I, but I can’t see nothing, Wick.” - -And when I laid down beside Muley, I saw Wick and Solomon fade off up -the road toward Paradise. After a while we all got up and sort of stood -around. Chuck yawned and looked at his watch-chain. Pretty soon -Telescope cleared his throat— - -“I’m—I’m all through—with all of you—the whole danged bunch!” says he -hesitating-like and starts limping toward town. - -“Me—me, too,” says Muley and follers Telescope. - -Chuck looks at me mean-like and says—“Me too.” - -He pilgrims after Muley. - -Then the whole danged bunch limped in behind Chuck. - -I passed Chuck in a few minutes, and then I made Muley eat my dust. -Telescope has contracted a limp, which causes him to weave across the -road a lot and makes it hard for me to pass him. But I made it. Nobody -said anything to me, and, when folks don’t speak to me as I go past, I -get snobby, too. - -I hobbles into Mike Pelly’s saloon and sets down. There ain’t nobody -there except the bartender. Pretty soon Telescope weaves in and sets -down in the other corner. Chuck points straight for the pool-table, and -then Muley stumbles in. He looks to have lost twenty pounds, and his -feet have swelled until he’s had to slit his boots. - -“You fellers quitting the Cross J?” asks the bartender. “Thought maybe -you was,” he continues when we don’t answer, “’cause I seen your boss -leading four horses behind the wagon when he left last night.” - -“Last night?” asks Muley. “Wagon?” - -“Uh-huh. Borrowed Mike’s team and wagon.” - -I rolled a smoke, and the match made as much noise as a six-shooter. We -never thought to look in the corral last night. - -Then Wick Smith comes in. He buys himself a drink, and then he wipes his -mustache. He looks at us sad-like and shakes his head. - -“Been to the post-office,” says he. “She ain’t coming until this -afternoon.” - -“——!” grunts Telescope. “That team must ’a’ taken her a long ways.” - -“Didn’t have nun-nothing on that—that mum-mule,” grunts Wick, and then -he weaves out of the door. - -Wick has been drinking. - -“What seems to be the trouble with you fellers?” asked the bartender. -“You look like you’d been to battle and got run over by a cannon.” - -We ignores the inquiry, and pretty soon Telescope says— - -“Been anything startling going on here lately?” - -“——!” snorts the bartender. “Startling! Nothing ever happens in -Paradise.” And he goes on wiping glasses. - -“That’s good,” says Muley soft-like. “I love a quiet village.” - -We got up, one at a time, and wandered outside. I’m the last one out. -There ain’t nothing to do but walk back. We might chip in and hire a rig -at the livery stable, but under the circumstances—well, we don’t feel -like riding so close together, and rigs cost money. - -I seen Muley setting on the sidewalk, pulling off his boots, and over on -the watering-trough, one on each end, sets Telescope and Chuck like a -couple of snow-birds, soaking their sore feet. Muley joins them, and -then Henry Peck goes over and immerses his corns. We ain’t been there -long when here comes Doughgod Smith, galloping up the street. - -“If he’s got any more dirty work to have done, he can do it himself,” -proclaims Chuck. “I’m through deceiving women.” - -Doughgod races up to us and hops up and down around us. - -“Get down to the depot, Chuck!” he yelps. “She’s there.” - -“Who?” asks Chuck. - -“The lady—dog-gone you! The one I gave you the money for. _Sabe?_ Point -her homeward, boys, and make it sudden,” and Doughgod lopes on up the -street. - -He sure is skittish around calico. - -“We’ve got to stand together,” observes Chuck, pulling on his boots. -“We’ve got to. Divided we fall.” - -“Under them circumstances I waves a flag of truce,” says Telescope. “I -may kill a friend later on, but it never can be said that a Tolliver -ever went back on a friend in need.” - - * * * * * - -We all plods down the street, with Muley carrying his boots, and, just -as we got to the depot, a freight-train whistles. The lady is there. -She’s setting there on a low truck in the shade, doing fancy work, and -she’s the same lady. - -“My ——!” snorts Telescope. “She must be made of cast-iron. Ain’t bunged -up a bit.” - -“And I ain’t only got seven dollars of that money left,” wails Chuck. “I -must ’a’ lost it.” - -We all digs down and manages to collect enough to make up the original -twenty, and, just as the freight rolls in, we walks over to the lady. -Chuck leans over and drops the money in her lap, and her face turns -white as flour when she looks up at us. - -“Get right into the caboose,” orders Chuck. “Dog-gone it, ma’am, we’re -sorry as ——, but we ain’t got no time to argue. There’s the money, and -here’s your train. Get on like a nice little girl, and you can write to -Doughgod for further information. _Sabe?_” - -I sure felt sorry for her. She sort of gasps and slides off that truck, -but I reckon our looks were enough. She allows herself to walk right -into the train, and away she goes off up the track toward Silver Bend. - -Doughgod has sneaked up and saw the whole thing, and he sure is glad. We -all sets down on the platform, and all to once we feels that it has been -a year since we had anything to eat. Doughgod offers to take us to a -restaurant, but we ain’t presentable; so he offers to bring us a ton of -crackers and cheese and sardines. We accepts and cheers Doughgod as he -hurries up-town. There’s another train due in an hour; so we sets down -there in the shade to eat. We seen the depot-agent looking at us through -the window. He’s a new man there; so we don’t blame him for looking with -suspicion upon us. We sure filled our skin with food, and then the train -comes rambling in. - -The usual bunch of folks hops off to stretch their legs, and all to once -we hears a voice behind us— - -“Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Smith?” - -We all turns, and there stands a tall, skinny female, with a nose like -the beak of a hawk and a lot of mustard-colored hair. I glances around -and saw Doughgod galloping off up the street like a scared coyote. - -“Ma’am,” says Telescope, “I can’t say. He may stop in Paradise, but I’d -favor Canada.” - -“Say!” yelps a heavy voice behind us, and we all turns. It is the new -station agent, and in his hands is one of them sawed-off shotguns which -are furnished by express companies, and he’s got it cocked. “I want to -know,” says he, “if you are the four whelps who kidnapped my wife and -put her in that rig yesterday. The team ran away, turned the corner and -ran into a fence, and that’s all that saved her life. I’m asking a -question?” - -“Yesterday?” asks Telescope foolish-like. “Yesterday?” - -“I said it!” he yelps. “And an hour or so ago the same four whelps -forced her to climb on a freight-train. She just wired me from Silver -Bend. I’m still asking questions, gents.” - -I seen that skinny lady edging away from us, and I seen her hop on to -the last step as the train starts, and she ducks inside like a rabbit. - -“Wait!” says Telescope. “You got that right? The team ran around the -corner and into a fence and stopped. Is that right?” - -“Ke-rect!” he snaps. “I’ve sworn out John Doe warrants for the men who -did it, and the sheriff is investigating right now. All I want is to -find ’em and I’ll fill ’em so full of ——” - -_Blam!_ - -Telescope hooked one of his feet behind that feller’s legs, and yanked -so quick and hard that the station agent got an upside-down view of his -own place of business. - -Man, we moved. A buckshot cut a groove in my boot heel, and Muley got -one across his hip pocket before we got out of range, which was fast -work with a gun. - -We dusts straight for town, when we almost runs over Wick Smith. He’s -coming along, taking up most of the road, and me and him both tries to -turn the same way. I picked myself up as quick as possible, and started -on, when I heard Wick say— - -“Train in yet?” - -“Not yet,” I yells back and tries to catch up with the rest of my bunch, -who seem to have met somebody and then went on. - -That somebody was Doughgod. I finds him setting in the middle of the -road with the brim of his hat down around his neck and a fool look on -his face. As I come up, he holds up the letter he’s hanging on to and he -says to me: - -“Huh-Henry, she ain’t—ain’t coming here. She’s gug-got a bub-better job. -She ain’t coming here, Henry.” - -“She shows a lot of sense,” says I, and I lopes on. - -I seen Telescope and Chuck and Muley gallop off the street and cut -across the hills; so I puts on more speed and catches them. - -“Bill McFee is up there,” pants Telescope when we slows to a walk. -“Dud-don’t forget we’re four John Does.” - -“That ain’t nothing to the word I’d use,” groans Muley. - -Well, we eventually got home. We collapses on the steps of the -bunk-house, and I don’t care if I never move again. Pretty soon -Telescope glances up at the door and grunts. - -Half-way up the door a piece of white paper has been pasted; so we -creaks to a standing position and peruses same: - - I put your horses in the livery-stable last night, and, if - you don’t want a big bill against them, you better get them - right away. - (signed) J. B. W. - -“——!” snorts Muley. “He—he just led them down to the stable, and that -fool bartender thought he was taking them home.” - -“And we been walking away from them all this time,” groans Chuck. - -“Here comes Mike Pelly and the old man now,” says Telescope. - -We watches old J. B. Whittaker and Mike Pelly walking down from the -ranch-house, talking serious-like. The old man turns at the barn, but -Mike comes on down to us. - -“Howdy,” says Mike. “How’s everything, boys?” - -“Ain’t able to kick,” says Telescope. “How’s it with you?” - -“Tolable. See Doughgod in town?” - -“He was there the last we seen of him,” admits Muley. “Why?” - -“Going down to see him. Dang this trustee business, anyway. Nothing but -trouble. Me and the old man have decided to accept that teacher that -wrote to Doughgod, even if she is a female. Never mix into the -school-teacher business, boys. She’s ——!” - -“She is,” agrees Muley, and we all nods. - -THE END - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the May 3, 1919 issue of -_Adventure_ magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIRTY WORK FOR DOUGHGOD *** - -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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