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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bb4b2e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66898 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66898) diff --git a/old/66898-0.txt b/old/66898-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6c26f90..0000000 --- a/old/66898-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1494 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dough or Dynamite, 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: Dough or Dynamite - -Author: W. C. Tuttle - -Release Date: December 7, 2021 [eBook #66898] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOUGH OR DYNAMITE *** - - - - - DOUGH OR DYNAMITE - - By W. C. TUTTLE - - Author of “Clean Crazy,” “Monkeying with Ancestors,” etc. - - -Me and “Muley” Bowles and “Chuck” Warner are putting a saddle on a -colt in the Cross J corral, when “Telescope” Tolliver enters the -precincts of said ranch, and we gets our first glimpse of Archibald -Ames. - -Archibald occupies a seat on the buckboard with Telescope, and they -soon comes over and climbs on top of the corral fence. Archibald’s -name fits him—in a way. The length of his first name indicates his -girth and his last name his height. He’s one of them persons who you’d -never invite to set down, ’cause he don’t seem to require no such -posture. - -It takes him quite a long time to negotiate the top-pole of the -corral, and when he does get up there he has to balance—his feet won’t -reach the next pole. He’s wearing them dinky little pants, with the -seat of a shoplifter and the knees of Lord Fauntleroy. His calves -perspire in shiny leggings, and for a hat he wears a libel on the name -of Stetson. - -Muley gives him a passing glance, yanks up another notch on the cinch, -and grunts— - -“What’ll we do with it?” - -“Love it to death or render it out,” grunts Chuck. “Looks to me like -one of them playthings for kids that yuh can’t tip over and make it -stay down. Let’s give this colt a chance to breathe, while we peers a -little closer at this attraction.” - -We ambles over and looks up at the critter’s soles. - -“Mister Ames,” orates Telescope, “I’m obliged to make yuh used to -Muley Bowles. He’s the sylph-like critter in woolly chaps. That one -with the sad, horse-faced features is Chuck Warner, the anti-George -Washington of Yaller Rock County, and the other person down there is -Henry Peck. They’re all harmless. - -“Bunch, this is Mister Archibald Ames, who is to be with us for a -spell.” - -“I’m pleased to meet yuh,” smiles Archie. - -“You ought to be,” agrees Muley. “It ain’t often that we shows this -much interest in a stranger. What seems to bring yuh hither?” - -“I brung him,” states Telescope. “Mister Ames is looking for local -color. Sabe?” - -“What’s he done, and is he wanted by Federal, State or county?” asks -Chuck, serious-like, wiggling his ears. - -Chuck can wiggle his ears just like a mule. - -“Done what?” grunts Telescope. “Chuck, you boob, don’t yuh know what -local color is?” - -“I’ll bite,” grins Chuck. “Go ahead and spring it, Telescope.” - -Telescope clears his throat, rolls a cigaret and glares at Chuck, who -glares right back, and wiggles his ears. - -“Look at them ears!” applauds Archibald. “I’d love to get a close-up -of them.” - -“Mister,” reproves Chuck, “it ain’t seemly that a stranger should set -on top of a corral and make remarks about the physical failings of a -native son. Keep on at the pace you’ve started, and that spell that -Telescope spoke about can be spelled in four letters: g-o-n-e. Sabe?” - -“You got a lot to say about it, now ain’t yuh?” reproves Telescope. -“You ain’t nothing around here but a forty-dollar puncher. You got a -lot of chance to tell visitors where to head in. Come on, Mister Ames, -and we’ll go up and see the man what owns this ranch, and ain’t no -more sense than to pay forty dollars to a runt like that.” - -They climbs down and goes up to the ranch-house. - -“Haw! Haw! Haw!” whoops Muley, shaking every ounce of his two hundred -and forty pounds of bone and lard. “Haw! Haw! ‘Come on, Mister Ames, -and we go up to see the man’—haw, haw, haw! You will tell folks where -to head in at, will yuh?” - -Muley is a poet. There might ’a’ been as good rhymers as him once upon -a time, but they’re all dead and departed. Muley is the he-buzzard of -the flock right now. He hangs on to the side of the corral and wipes -the tears out of his eyes. - -“Gosh!” he snorts. “Telescope sure showed his breeding, Chuck. Yuh -could tell he’s been well raised. Sticks his chin up in the air, like -a grouse with a goiter, and proclaims: ‘Come on with me, Mister Ames.’ -Haw! Haw! Haw!” - -“Some day I’m going to reach up and hang my fist on his jaw,” -proclaims Chuck. - -“You better catch him in bed or carry a ladder with yuh,” says I. “You -got ambition, Chuck, but your height ain’t noways adequate.” - -A little later old man Whittaker, who owns the Cross J outfit, comes -out with Archibald, and them two goes back to town in the buckboard. -Telescope comes down to the bunk-house and sets down in our midst. - -Chuck gives him a mean look, and goes on playing solitaire. Telescope -admires himself in our cracked shaving-mirror. - -“Better fix your features in your mind, Telescope, ’cause you’re sure -going to need a pattern after Chuck gets through with yuh,” laughs -Muley. - -“That banty little ear-wiggler!” snorts Telescope. “I got a feeling -that I ain’t going to punch cows much longer.” - -“Dead men punch no cows,” states Chuck. “Your perceptions are getting -clearer.” - -“Where do yuh feel bad, Telescope?” I asks. “Tell papa where it -hurts.” - -“Aw ——!” Telescope turns from the mirror and glares at us. “I’m glad -I’m going to get away from you half-wits.” - -“Has the old man been kicking on yuh wasting so much time over at the -Bowers ranch, holding hands with Miss Amy, or has that tumble-bug yuh -had down to the corral been whispering sweet nothings in your ear?” -asks Chuck. - - * * * * * - -“You leave Miss Bowers’ name out of it!” snaps Telescope. “Mister Ames -is a moving-picture man, and I may cease punching the festive cow to -play hero parts for him. Me and him have had quite some conversation -regarding same, and he assures me that I’ve got the physique and -features for a lead.” - -“You got the physique and features for a funeral if yuh don’t quit -wearing my red tie,” says I. “That’s right—throw it on the floor. If -yuh wants to make a hit with folks, why don’t yuh buy some clothes of -your own?” - -“Tell us all about it, little one,” begs Muley, resting his fat chin -on his hands, and squinting at Telescope. - - “Sing us a song of a locoed man, - Who got stuck on your face and shape— - A form that was built by accident, - And the face of a Jungle ape. - Sing us a song of a keeper bold, - Who went sound asleep one day, - A keeper who’s going to show up soon, - And lead little Archie away.” - -“I’ll tell yuh nothing!” yelps Telescope. “You fellers are just plumb -ignorant.” - -“Ain’t it true?” nods Chuck. “I’d take a job, too, if I was begged.” - -“You!” snorts Telescope. “Haw, haw, haw! Mister Ames told me that if -he wanted something for the public to laugh at he’d sure hire you. No, -Chuckie. This is a moving picture—not a sideshow.” - -“Here’s the idea,” continues Telescope. “Mister Ames wants something -real. He wants real punchers and——” - -“Ninety-eight cents in Chicago,” nods Chuck. “I seen in a mail-order -catalog where yuh could get good ones for——” - -“He wants a real hold-up,” states Telescope. “He wants a stage held -up, and he don’t want no fake. Sabe? Somehow he’s got the idea that I -could do it artistic-like.” - -“Your experience will help yuh out,” nods Chuck. “There was a hold-up -over in Mexican Cañon once, and the feller——” - -“Sufficient, Chuck!” snorts Muley, and Chuck winks at me. - -“Well, of course it wasn’t done by one man,” murmurs Chuck. “One of -the posse shot the horns off a animile and made a muley. Correct me if -I appear to be wrong,” - -“You stand corrected,” states Muley. “Desist from historical romance, -or I’ll remember one Summer afternoon down in Cottonwood, when a -certain man went into a bank, and ——” - -“I accepts the correction,” admits Chuck, playing a red queen on a red -king, and Telescope continues: - -“You fellers keep this under your hats. Sabe? Along about Wednesday -afternoon I’m going to hold up the stage from Piperock. Of course -after it’s over I’ll return everything, and all the while this picture -will be taken. He wants to advertise it as a real hold-up, and she -will be all that.” - -“Going south, as she drags out of Hell Gate Crossing,” orates Chuck. - -“That’s the designated place,” grins Telescope. “You must ’a’ been -studying the situation, Chuck.” - -“Suppose somebody takes a shot at yuh?” I suggests. “Art Miller ain’t -no suckling infant, and if there’s a shipment from the Golden Cross -aboard there might be a guard.” - -“Yuh never can tell about them shipments,” agrees Chuck. “I’ve tried -several times to find out.” - -“No wonder yuh know a good place,” laughs Telescope. “Never mind, -there ain’t going to be no shooting. I’ll have ’em buffaloed. My -shells will all be blanks. If I makes good in this I cinches a job -with Archibald Ames, and it’s good-by to the Cross J. No more will -Mister Tolliver ride the hills and smell of burnt hair and corrals. -Poor, eh? I’ll be eating breakfast in bed while Chuck Warner is out -chopping holes in the ice so the doggies can drink.” - -“A little more such talk and yuh won’t have to be a actor to get -breakfast in bed,” states Chuck. “Keep it up, and you’ll have all your -meals in bed. If you wants to hear me say what I think about you being -a actor you got to come outside. I got too much respect for the -bunk-house to express myself here.” - -This day being Monday, we has to put up with that kind of conversation -until Tuesday afternoon, when Chuck opines that he’s going up to -Piperock. Chuck can’t stand prosperity, and Tuesday is payday. He’s a -roulette fiend, and he runs into bad luck every time he bucks a wheel -in Paradise, so he wearies his bronc with monthly trips to Piperock. -Once he won eight dollars up there. It cost him forty but he never -figured that side of the ledger. - -Anyway we wishes him many happy returns of the day, and he lopes away. -As he forks his bronc he grins at Telescope, and says: - -“To be a good actor, yuh got to imagine you’re the party you’re -imitating. Just think you’re ‘Slippery’ Silverton, Telescope. He’s a -good pattern to go by. Sabe?” - -Slippery sure ain’t no imitation. He’s had the Montana officers -buffaloed for so long that they think he’s more than one man. The -accumulated rewards for him look like the weekly clean-up at the U. S. -mint. - -Me and Muley wishes to see the proceedings, so we rides down to -Paradise the next day with Telescope, and has converse with Archibald -Ames. He squints at the sky and shakes his head. - -“I doubt it,” says he. “Too cloudy. Yuh can’t get snappy stuff in -atmosphere like this, and there can’t be no retake. We’ll let her go -until tomorrow. I may set up after a while and get some character -stuff. Lots of local color around here. Good characters, and the -background is great. Know what I mean?” - -“Perfectly,” says I. “Sheep-herders and so forth.” - -Telescope opines that old man Bowers’ ranch is calling him, so a -little later on he rides away, he and Muley horns into a poker game, -and about an hour later Archibald Ames invades the place and leans -against the bar. Mike Pelly leaves the table to serve him, but Archie -ain’t dry. He asks a question— - -“Can you tell me where I can get some raw beef?” - -He turns to us, and we sees the most wonderful black eye yuh ever -seen. - -“Holy henhawks!” I snorts. “What yuh been doing?” - -“I’ll tell yuh,” snorts “Doughgod” Smith, from the doorway. “He’s been -exhibiting his danged ignorance. He opines to get a picture of a -shepherd and he picked me!” - -“Doughgod ain’t no shepherd,” I explains to Archie. - -“This is a —— of a time to tell me!” wails Archie, and he goes across -the street to a restaurant. - -The next we sees of him he’s taking a picture of a rackful of broncs -and then he goes over and photygrafts a greaser kid and a dog. - - * * * * * - -Me and Muley donates as much as we can to Mike’s game, and then quits. -We wanders down to Art Miller’s barn, and sets down in the sun. We -haven’t been there long, when we sees the stage drive up to the depot. -They dumps some stuff off, and then drives down to the barn. Beside -Art is old man Warner’s son Chuck, and when he sees us he grins all -over his homely face. Art sees us, and they both whoops. - -“Awful funny,” says Muley. “Haw, haw!” - -“Any time yuh don’t think it was yuh got another think coming,” whoops -Chuck, hanging on to a front wheel. “Haw! Haw! Haw! Left the danged -fool up a—haw, haw, haw—tree!” - -Art leans against one of his wheelers, and the tears runs out of his -eyes. - -“Some—haw, haw, haw—picture!” gargles Art. “I ain’t laughed so much in -my whole life!” - -Him and Chuck looks at each other, and busts out laughing again. - -“What seems to be tickling yuh?” asks Muley. “Is it a secret?” - -“Oh, glory!” gasps Chuck. “Listen, you fellers. That’s going to be -some picture. Telescope held up that stage, but nobody will ever see -that picture. Haw! Haw! Haw! We drives out of the crossing, and he -stops us, just like a regular bandit. Of course we know he’s got -blanks in his gun, but we elevates our hands to make the play good, -He’s got a sack over his head, so yuh can’t see his face, and I got a -false mustache on so he won’t know me. I made it myself. - -“Well, we kicks the express box off, and sudden-like goes for our -guns. He must ’a’ been dreaming to let us get the drop thataway. We -makes him throw his gun in the river. Haw! Haw! Haw! - -“Then we makes him put the box back on the stage,” whoops Art. “After -he gets that done we makes him walk down to the river, and get a big -rock. Then we marches him back and makes him put it on the empty boot. -He made ten trips after boulders. Then we makes him dance a while, -crawl all the way around the outfit on his hands and knees, and to -finish up we made him climb up an old cottonwood snag, and he’s there -when we drives out of sight, with our thumbs at our noses at him. Haw! -Haw!” - -“Wait ’till I see Telescope,” promises Chuck, weak-like. - -“Haw!” says Muley. “He’d admire to hear it, Chuck. He was here until a -while ago, and went over to Bowers’.” - -“Here? Telescope?” squeaks Chuck. - -“Uh-huh,” says I. “it was too cloudy, so we postponed taking that -picture.” - -Art and Chuck looks foolish-like at each other and then at us. - -“Well!” says Chuck “I don’t sabe this.” - -“That’s the trouble with you, Chuck,” opines Muley. “Art don’t have -much sabe either. I reckon you fellers had about ten thousand easy -dollars crawling around your stage on its hands and knees, and just to -show your contempt for it yuh rode away with your thumbs at your nose -and your fingers wiggling at it.” - -“Sus-slippery Silverton!” stutters Chuck. “That sure was Slippery! -Ain’t we the dangdest fools on earth!” - -“By a majority of two,” agrees Muley, “Telescope will be delighted.” - -“My ——!” gasps Art. “Slippery Silverton! I think that box had a -shipment from the Golden Cross. What a chance I took!” - -“All the way from Piperock,” says I, but I don’t think Chuck got it—he -was beyond words. - -Me and Muley went up and had a drink, and Muley laughs so hard that he -forgot to pay for it. We meets Art a little later on but there ain’t -much fun joshing him about it. - -“It’s on Chuck,” says he. “He explains the joke to me, and as she’s -pulled off as per schedule I thinks it’s all right.” - -“But it spoils things for Telescope,” says I. “You knowing about it -spoils the hold-up. It might look like a fake. Sabe?” - -“That’s right,” agrees Art. “Telescope is a friend of mine and—I got -it! I’ll make out that I don’t feel good, and I’ll ask ‘Ricky’ -Henderson to drive for me. He wants to come down anyway.” - -“That’s fine,” says Muley. “Telescope will make it right with you, and -we won’t tell him about today.” - -That night we don’t have neither Telescope or Chuck with us. Telescope -is just riding away as we come in, and we don’t have a chance to talk -with him, and Chuck don’t come home, ’cause he’s too danged ashamed to -face Telescope. - -The next morning the old man sends me and Muley over to the Triangle -to get some cows that Johnny Myers brought out of the Sleeping Crick -Hills with some of his, and we misses the picture-taking. We travels -as fast as we can, but the stage has gone past when we hits the main -road on our way back. There ain’t nobody at the Hell Gate crossing, so -we pilgrims on to the ranch. - -About an hour later Telescope comes in, and a little later Chuck -drifts home. - -“There seems to be a Jonah on this job,” states Telescope. - -“What yuh limping about, Telescope?” asks Chuck. - -“Hurt my knee. Reckon it’s a good thing the stage didn’t come down -today, ’cause I’d ’a’ been a cripple in that picture. Slipped on a -rock.” - -“Stage didn’t come down?” I asks, and Telescope shakes his head. - -“Nope. Me and Mister Ames was there for two hours after the time, but -she don’t show up.” - -“Didn’t come down?” wonders Chuck, aloud. “Didn’t go to Paradise?” - -“She sure didn’t. Hadn’t been there when I left.” - -Chuck looks foolish-like, and gets busy reading an old magazine. I -notices that he’s got it upside down, but his lips are moving, so I -reckon it don’t matter. He’s restless, and don’t sleep well that -night. - -The next morning, right after breakfast, up rides Bill McFee, our -unworthy sheriff; Ricky Henderson, Art Miller and Al McGuire, who -manages the ground work of the Golden Cross. Telescope limps over to -greet them, and they seems a heap interested in Telescope’s walk. - -“What do yuh think, Ricky?” asks McFee. - -“I’d hate to swear to it, Bill, but he limped.” - -“I arrests yuh in the name of the law for robbing the Piperock stage -yesterday, Telescope,” states Bill. - -Telescope looks foolish-like at Bill, and then laughs. - -“Yesterday, Bill? Why, it never——” - -“The description covers yuh,” states Bill. “I got your pardner, who -calls himself Archibald Ames, in jail. He’s already admitted the -intent to rob it, but says if you robbed it he don’t know nothing -about it. Said he was late meeting yuh, so he don’t know what yuh -might ’a’ done.” - -“Whoever done it got seven thousand in that box,” states McGuire. - -“Seven thousand!” wonders Telescope. “I thought the clean-up was -brought down yesterday.” - -“Some folks did,” grins McGuire. “We figured to double-cross some wise -folks.” - -I hears a deep breath, and Chuck sets down hard on the step. Old man -Whittaker comes out, and they has to chaw the whole thing over again. - -“Well,” says the old man, “I don’t think that Telescope done it, but -under the circumstances I reckon he’ll have to go to jail.” - -“At least yuh can have breakfast in bed,” consoles Muley, and then he -recites: - - “A man in jail don’t have no cares; - The flight of time don’t bother him, - There ain’t no place for him to go, - The passing hours lightly skim. - The judge may say, ‘A year or two, - In places where they don’t need clocks,’ - But you should care—when you get loose, - You’ve seven thousand in that box.” - -“Muley, when I get loose I’m going to cut your rhymer square in two,” -proclaims Telescope, and just then the old man leads Telescope’s bronc -up, and he rides away with the posse. - - * * * * * - -We’re sad. Doggone, it sure is a sad sight to see our compatriot in -the hands of the law. We smokes a while, and then I turns to Chuck— - -“Where is that seven thousand, Chuck?” He looks, queer-like, at me for -a moment, and shakes his head. - -“Danged if I know, Hen.” - -“You had it, didn’t yuh?” - -“Nope. Listen; I held up that stage before it got to the ford. Sabe? I -was going to chase Ricky away and drive it myself. Figured I’d have -some fun with Telescope. Sabe? Well, I scared —— out of Ricky. He -ain’t got no nerves anyway, and——” - -“Wait!” yelps Muley. “Do you mean to set there and tell us that you -scared Ricky so bad that he didn’t know your physique from -Telescope’s? How about the limp?” - -“Don’t rush me!” snaps Chuck. “Telescope was so cocky about that -picture stuff that I figured to have some fun. Did yuh ever walk on -stilts? Well, I did when I was a kid. I made me a pair that just -filled my boots, and pulled a flour sack over my head. Limp? - -“Of course I’d limp. I danged near fell on my face when I yelled for -him to stop. I made him get out and walk back up the road, and told -him if he stopped I’d perforate him. I took the box off the seat, -which I figured was that shipment, and looks her over. On it in big -letters she proclaims to be dynamite. I lays that box back on the -seat, gets my stilt tangled in a wheel, and fell plumb off the grade. - -“Well, the team ran away, that’s all I know. I figured that Ricky -would stop ’em—they wasn’t running fast.” - -“What kind of a looking box?” asks Muley. - -“Wooden box with two ends and four sides. Regular dynamite box.” - -“Well described,” applauds Muley. “All we got to find is a wooden box, -with two ends and four sides.” - -Art Miller comes back in about an hour for some things of Telescope’s, -and we talks it over with him. - -“Must ’a’ been Telescope or the party what held her up that other -time,” says he. “The feller that me and Chuck fussed around with -didn’t have no limp.” - -“Maybe the exercise that you and Chuck gave him made him stiff and -sore,” I suggests, and Art grins. “Maybe. Funny thing about that -hold-up. After that feller helps himself he must ’a’ scared that team, -’cause they runs away and scatters things all the way up to ‘Mighty’ -Jones’ place, where they smashes a front wheel on a stump and stops. - -“Ricky says there was a box of dynamite from the Golden Cross, the -same of which he holds careful in the seat. He said that he was meek -when held up, ’cause he was afraid that feller might shoot into that -box. That box is a goner, and it’s a wonder it didn’t blow that outfit -to thunder—unless that’s the treasure-box.” - -Art pilgrims back towards town, and we all starts for the corral. - -“Where yuh going?” asks Muley. - -“After some dynamite dough,” says all three of us together. - -We rides up and down that road from the ford to Mighty’s place, but we -don’t find nothing. We stops at the old Soda Springs trail, which -shows fresh tracks. By mutual consent we turns up the trail. About -half a mile up the crick we discovers a camp. - -We recognizes old “Frenchy” Timmons as the party humped over the fire, -tossing flapjacks, so we rides up and greets him. He’s got a couple of -moth-eaten burros nosing around his little tent. Frenchy is so crooked -that he’s suspicious of himself. He’s one of them kind of prospectors -what goes around with the feeling that every man what speaks kindly to -him is laying to beat him out of the next strike he makes. He looks up -through a decade of whiskers and grunts a greeting. - -“How’s your stock of location notices holding out, Frenchy?” asks -Muley. “For a man with only two burros you can make more ‘discoveries’ -than any sourdough I ever seen.” - -“Yah-h-h-h!” gurgles Frenchy, way back in the whiskers. “I find heem -sometame, Mooley.” - -“You dang well know yuh—yuh sure have, Frenchy. Look!” - -Muley points behind Frenchy, and there one end sticking out of the -brush, is a wooden box, and the word “DYNAMITE” fairly yelps at us in -big letters. - -Frenchy turns to see what we’re looking at, and the son-of-a-gun -reaches for his six-shooter. He was years too late. Me and Chuck have -him covered before he can touch his gun, and he stands there like a -lamb, while Muley balances that box in front of him on the -saddle-horn. - -“Next time yuh better find out who owns things before yuh picks ’em up -for yourself,” advises Chuck. “Throw that gun over in the brush! -That’s the stuff. Now keep your mouth shut! Sabe?” - -Frenchy didn’t say a word, but we can see that he’s a heap annoyed. We -strings out down the trail, and when we’re about two hundred yards -from the camp, comes a splintering noise, and the report of a big -rifle. Me and Chuck throws our broncs off the trail and gets down. We -can hear Muley complaining about things, and we asks him why he feels -so cross. - -“Danged old pelican!” he wails. “That bullet cut the corner off our -box!” - -“You still got it, ain’t yuh?” I asks. - -“Uh-huh, I got her, Hen, but she almost met her Waterloo on a rock. -Reckon it loosened all the nails. Shall we go back and smoke up that -old coot?” - -“Next Christmas,” replies Chuck. “That old coot has got a Sharps -.45-70, and the Warners don’t care for that style of death. He’s -crazy, Muley, and we’d put ourselves in his class if we went back.” - -We lifts that box back on Muley’s saddle, and went on. - -We hits the road, and makes good lime for a mile or two, when we meets -Mighty Jones. He stops and we exchanges pleasantries. We comments on -the weather, the crops—which theer ain’t none—and the general wear and -tear on the human race. Muley switches the position of that box, and -the next second we’re covered by Mighty Jones. I starts to grin, but -when I sees that Mighty is in earnest I irons my face out flat again. - -“Hands up!” he snaps, and Muley lets that box slip. She hits the -ground and rolls over. I glances at Mighty, and he’s got the look on -his face of a man who has seen all there is in life, but ain’t ready -to go blind. - -“My ——!” he gasps, whirls his bronc around and gallops off down the -road like a crazy man, holding on to his hat with one hand and fanning -his bronc with the other. - -We watches him fade away in the dust, and puts our hands down. - -“Of all the locoed actions on earth that’s the sharp end of the -limit,” proclaims Muley, sliding off his bronc. - -That last shock was almost too much for that box, ’cause when Muley -essays to lift her she sort ’a’ opened on one end. - - * * * * * - -Muley holds his position for a moment, straightens up and gets on his -bronc without taking his eyes off the box. He spurs his bronc, -easy-like, until he’s a few feet away from that box, and then he -imitates Mighty Jones. - -Me and Chuck puffs away on our cigarets and watches Muley depart. - -“I’ll likely get scared, too, but I’m taking a chance,” states Chuck, -and walks over to the box. - -He sighs deep-like, and takes off his hat. - -“Henry Peck, there must be a Supreme Being what watches over fools and -cow-punchers. This box is full of eighty per cent. dynamite. Come and -take a look.” - -“Your word is as good as gold, Chuck. That stuff must have a good -disposition to stand all that grief. Let’s go home before something -happens to irritate it.” - -We finds Muley at the ford, but he ain’t got much to say. He asks -Chuck if he saw what was in that box, and Chuck said that he did. - -“Wonderful!” exclaims Muley. “It stood rough handling but I never -thought a face like yours could look upon eighty per cent. dynamite -and not explode it. That’s why I went away so rapid.” - -The old man is home when we gets there, and he announces that -Telescope and Archibald Ames are still in jail. - -“What does Archibald have to say about it?” I asks. - -“That fat four-flusher!” yelps the old man. “He says that Telescope -might ’a’ done it. Of course this Ames feller don’t fit the -description, but he might at least—aw——” - -“I’m going down to see Telescope,” announces Muley. - - “He lies down there in durance vile - Behind the bolts and locks, - With prison staring in his face - ’Cause we can’t find that box. - That held a little bunch of gold, - Which was labeled dynamite. - Will we let our pal wear striped clothes?” - -“Not by a gol-danged sight!” I finishes, being somewhat of a poet -myself. - -Muley shakes my hand and invites me to join the Perverted Order of -Paradise Poets, of which he’s the only living member. - -“Don’t tell too much down there, Muley,” advises Chuck. “If you runs -off at the mouth I might get eased into jail, and that would cut down -the number of detectives on the case. Sabe?” - -“Fear not,” says Muley. “I go but to bring cheer to the needy. I will -be back anon.” - -About three hours later Doughgod Smith rides in, and we walks out to -where him and the old man are greeting each other. - -“If this keeps on, Whittaker, you’re going to be short of men,” states -Doughgod. - -“Huh!” grunts the old man. “One man don’t make no difference this time -of year. Three punchers is enough to set around and play cards, and -eat up good grub.” - -“You only got two left now,” says Doughgod. “Muley’s in jail, too.” - -“Muley!” snorts the old man. “What’s he in for?” - -“Stealing dynamite from Mighty Jones.” - -Chuck had started to set down on his heels, but when Doughgod’s -information hits his ears he sprawls flat on his back and blinks at -the sky. I starts to lean on a buckboard wheel that is ten feet away, -and I ends up on my back with my feet over the tongue. - -“Mighty spoke of some folks being accessory to the fact, too,” states -Doughgod, offhand-like. - -“Stealing dynamite!” yelps the old man. “Where, when and what for?” - -“I don’t know. Mighty comes to town and acts like a man what has had -delirious delight scared out of him. He anchors to Pelly’s bar until -he’s gained normal again, and then he speaks knowingly of -powder-thieves. Mighty’s half-loco, and what ain’t loco is -absent-mindness, but just the same he has Muley arrested, and he hints -of more arrests as soon as certain persons hit town. I seen Muley, and -he said if I came this way to have Chuck and Hen come to see him.” - -“That’s right,” agrees the old man. “We’ll all go down.” - -“Not me,” says I. “I got rheumatic pains in my knees. Notice how I -fell over that buckboard handle? I ain’t myself today, and I simply -couldn’t stand it to ride.” - -“Neither could I,” says Chuck. “I’m sore all over. Let’s wait until -tomorrow. Muley will be there just the same.” - -“We’ll go in the buckboard,” says the old man. “In a case like this -I’d go if I had to walk.” - -“I’d admire to walk,” says Chuck, but the old man goes after the team, -and me and Chuck helps each other limp to the bunk-house. - -“Shake hands with a murderer, Henry,” says Chuck, offering his hand. -“I’ve killed the old man and crippled Doughgod for life—in my mind. -You and me will spend the evening and night in the Paradise jail, -Henry Clay Peck.” - -“Can’t yuh think of nothing cheerful to sing?” I asks. “If we’re in -jail we never will find that box. Think!” - -“Think ——!” yelps Chuck, going to the door. “I’m going to enjoy the -untainted air as long as I can.” - -I rustles out my war-sack and puts on clean clothes. It’s liable to be -some time before I gets a chance to change again. Chuck comes back -after a while and sets down on the bunk, disconsolate-like, and plays -“Just Before the Battle, Mother” on his mouth-organ. Pretty soon the -old man yells to us. - -We walks out, slow-like, and I climbs, painfully, into the seat with -the old man. Chuck holds the team by the bits until we’re all set. -Then he lets loose and hops aboard as we goes past. We whirls out of -the yard and hits the road on the run. Sudden-like that equipage does -a high dive on one side, and yours truly stands on his head in a -mesquite bush. - -When I gets through making a cactus pincushion of my cranium, I riseth -up and looks around. - -Down the road about fifty yards sets the old man, gazing off down the -road, and cussing at a piece of line he’s still got in one hand. I -hears a groan across the road, and Chuck’s head sticks up out of the -brush. The old man gets up out of the road and painfully dusts off the -seat of his pants. He plods up to us and looks us over. - -“By cripes!” he snorts, “I ain’t suspicious of nobody on earth. I’m a -man among men, and I don’t suspicion nobody, but if that wasn’t foul -play I’ll eat the whole ranch. Now, I’ll haul you hombres to town in a -lumber wagon.” - -He plods on to the house, while I extracts cactus spines and cuss -words from my carcass. Chuck limps over and rubs his hip. - -“Light on a rock?” I asks, and he feels of his hip some more. - -He reaches into his hip pocket, takes out an object and tosses it on -the ground. - -“Lit right on the darned thing!” he groans. - -It’s the nut off a front wheel of that buckboard. I kicks it off into -the brush, and rolls a smoke. - -“Well,” says he, after a while, “you can give me credit for blocking -the wheels of progress for a minute, can’t yuh? I’ll likely have to -stand up all the way to town.” - -“We’ll get plenty of time to rest,” says I. - - * * * * * - -We got to Paradise, but it wasn’t no pleasure-ride, and the first -person we see is Mighty Jones. - -Mighty seems to have drowned his feelings, and he’s spending his -afternoon trying to hold up the hitch-rack. The old man goes in the -saloon, but me and Chuck goes over to have a interview with our enemy. -He nods at us like an owl. - -“Tut-tut-tried to bub-blow me up,” he stutters, “Tha’s mean thing -to-to-to do.” - -“Tell us all about it, old-timer,” says Chuck, helping the old boy let -loose of the rack, and leading him over to the sidewalk. “What’s all -this dynamite stuff I’m hearing about?” - -Mighty gets very deliberate in his language: - -“Eighty pershent. Tha’s good powder. Sabe? Good powder but too -ener-zhetic. Know what I mean? Mine’s eighty per shent. Stage runs -away and sehtops at my place. I find box of shixty per shent. Sabe? -Eighty too dangeroush to pack, so I exchanges. Sabe. Same price. -Eighty per shent too easy on trigger. Know what I mean? Lissen; -shomebody mus’ ’a’ stole that eighty from the stage, and I can’ fin’ -mine. Sabe?” - -“Think!” yelps Chuck. “Think where yuh put it, Mighty!” - -Mighty bobs his head and screws up his face: - -“I know. Tha’s the box Muley tried to assassinate me with.” - -“That was eighty per cent.!” yells Chuck. “Doyuh get that? It was -eighty per cent.!” - -“Zas so? Fool to drop eighty per shent. Awful careless.” - -“Where did you put that box you took off the stage?” I asks, -pronouncing every word distinct and separate. - -Mighty is so danged absent-minded that yuh got to make him remember. - -“You took it out of the stage, and then what did you do with it?” - -“Somebody must ’a’ stole—whoa! I know! In the woodshed. I thought I -put it in the barn. Ain’ that the limit? Mus’ go and turn poor old -Muley loosh. Yes, sir. He never stole nothing.” - -“That’s right,” applauds Chuck. “Go right over and tell the sheriff to -turn him loose.” - -“I got to shee Ricky firsht,” states the old pelican, wise as a barn -owl. “Mus’ shee if Ricky wants to hold him for stealing that eighty -per shent. Mighty Jones is law-abiding pershon. Know what I mean?” - -We watches Mighty weave down the street, and Chuck grins all over his -face— - -“We’ll find Telescope’s and Muley’s broncs, and we’ll go up to Mighty -Jones’ woodshed and rescue that money.” - -We finds both broncs in Pelly’s barn, so we saddles up and fares -forth. We don’t fare far until we meets Bill McFee. We stops and asks -Bill if there’s anything new. - -“Nope,” says he. “I reckon we got ’em in jail.” - -“So?” says Chuck. “Bill, how would you like to take a ride with us and -bring back that seven thousand?” - -Bill grins like it was a good joke: - -“Uh-huh. I’d admire that. What’s the joke?” - -“Ain’t no joke, Sheriff,” says I. “You go with us and bring the gold -back. Is that satisfactory?” - -“I’d admire to know a little more.” - -“Not at all necessary,” says Chuck. “Election is only three months -away, and the credit ain’t going to hurt yuh none, Bill.” - -“That’s sensible,” agrees Bill. “I’m with yuh.” - -Bill attempts to find out things, but we don’t talk much, and it’s -dark when we climbs off at Mighty’s place. We hikes right over to the -woodshed. Bill lights a match and looks inside, drops the match and -don’t stop running for a hundred yards. Me and Chuck gallops with him -for a ways, sort of sympathetic-like. - -“Bobcats!” whistles Bill. “Shed’s full of ’em!” - -Yuh never can tell what kind of a pet a nut like Mighty is liable to -have, so we ain’t surprised a lot. - -“I ain’t afraid of no cat what ever lived,” states Chuck. “I’m going -to get that box in spite of anything.” - -We pilgrims up close again, with our guns ready. Chuck finds an old -newspaper, which he lights, and we peeks around the corner of the -door, and looks right into the shiny eyes of two big cats. Three guns -goes off at the same time, and three men went away. There ain’t a -sound from the shed, so we sneaks back. - -“That’s good shooting,” applauds Bill. “Two shots killed ’em both, -’cause I shot in the ground.” - -“Sure was,” I agrees, “I did, too.” - -“Wonderful!” agrees Chuck. “They must ’a’ jumped high, ’cause mine -went through the roof.” - -Chuck tosses in that burning paper. Them cats are still there but -don’t move. - -“Rugs!” snorts Chuck. “Mighty is sort of a taxidermist, and he put -them eyes in himself. They sure look natural.” - -We found that box. Chuck makes a presentation speech to the minion of -the law, who recites a few appropriate words in return. Bill takes the -box on his saddle-horn, and we goes back to Paradise. - -We gets McGuire and all the rest of Paradise’s population to see the -grand opening. We assembles in Pelly’s saloon and Mike furnishes the -hammer. - -“Gents,” states Bill, “this ain’t a complete exoneration of Telescope -and Ames, but I reckon it clears ’em a plenty. The law recovers said -stolen property, but I’ll let Mister Warner and Mister Peck tell the -story. I can hunt lost things but I can’t tell a interesting story -like some folks.” - -“You better superintend this, McGuire,” he continues. “It’s a lot of -wealth to look upon.” - -He tears the top boards off, and Paradise gazes a plenty. - -Me and Chuck takes one gaze, and slips loose. We meets at the door, -ambles around the corner and forks our broncs. I follers Chuck’s lead, -and about a mile from town we stops and looks back. - -“Henry,” says he, sad-like, “who do you suppose put them rocks in that -box?” - -“If I knew I’d be a murderer,” says I, and then it strikes me funny. -“Box of scab-rock guarded by two mounted bobcats! Haw! Haw! Haw! -Mister McFee, we hereby puts in your care and custody one box, the -value of same being problematical. You being a duly elected officer of -the law, and, we having faith in your integrity and sense of duty, -turneth over said box to be dealt with as yuh see fit,” says I, -quoting Chuck’s woodshed speech. - -“Value being problematical takes the curse of anyway, Hen,” says he. - -It’s about midnight when we arrives at the Cross J. The old man is in -the bunk-house, and he looks us over, sad-like. - -“What are you fellers trying to do?” he asks. “The sheriff sure is one -sore person. Says he can prove that one or both of you was mixed up in -that robbery.” - -“Aw ——!” snorts Chuck. “I thought it was the right box.” - -“It was. McGuire identified it. The question is this: you knowed where -the box was—where are the contents? That’s what Paradise wants to -know.” - -“Paradise ain’t got nothing on us, eh, Chuck?” says I. “If they wanted -to know any worse than we do they’d all be sick.” - -Me and Chuck talks it all over and decides that the longer we’re out -of jail the more they’ll have against us when we do get in, so we -decide to give ourself up before we’re liable to capital punishment. - - * * * * * - -The next morning we rides away to be locked up in self-defense. Just -outside of Paradise we overtakes an Injun. He’s jogging along on a -glass-eyed pinto, and he grins when he sees Chuck. Chuck stands in -with all the aborigines. - -“Hello, Tenas Charley,” grins the buck. - -“Hello, Hiawatha,” grins Chuck. “Where you go so early?” - -“You sabe Doc Milliken?” - -“You bet. Why you wantum?” - -“Givum letter. Me got letter. White man hurtum leg. No walk. Me go to -Doc Milliken. Sabe?” - -He fusses around in his blanket and produces a piece of paper. Chuck -takes the paper and reads the few words. He hands me the letter and -grins. It reads like this: - - Hurt my leg. Follow the Injun to me. - -There ain’t no name signed. - -“Heap scared,” informs the Injun. “Hurtum leg on tree.” - -“Where you camp?” asks Chuck, and we gets informed that it’s on Little -Beaver Crick. Chuck gives him back the letter, and swings around. “So -long, Setting Bull,” says he, and the Injun grins and bobs off down -the road. - -“Now where?” I asks, and Chuck grins, “Slippery Silverton!” he whoops. -“If it was anybody around here they’d ‘a’ signed their name. He’s -hived up with that Injun, and we’re going to land him, Henry. Maybe -he’s got the gold, too.” - -It didn’t take us long to find that camp. We advances on foot. There’s -a white man setting on the sunny side of that teepee, and he’s in -blissful ignorance until me and Chuck lands on his shoulders like two -playful bears. He gets energetic, but Chuck taps him on the head with -his gun, and we hog-ties him proper. When he opens his eyes Chuck -grins at him an’ says— - -“Hello, Slippery.” - -He don’t say a word. - -“Don’t talk,” advises Chuck. “Yuh might wear out your teeth.” - -The feller looks at us, foolish-like, so we hoists him up on Chuck’s -bronc, and Chuck rides behind him. Once he opened his mouth and spoke -one line: - -“You fellers are an hour late.” - -That’s all he said. I reckon Chuck hit him pretty hard. - -We pilgrims right into Paradise, and up to Pelly’s saloon. There ain’t -a soul in sight, but we observes signs of life down where we holds our -court. We takes our captive down there, cuts the ropes off his legs -and takes him inside. - -The place is crowded and Telescope is on the stand. We gets in just in -time to hear the judge ask Telescope if he can think of any earthly -reason why he shouldn’t be held for the next term of court. - -“A lot of reason, Judge!” yells Chuck, pushing our prisoner up to the -front. “Here’s the main reason. Gents, I makes yuh used to Slippery -Silverton!” - -“Silverton ——!” I hears McGuire yelp. - -“That’s the owner of the Golden Cross mine, Mister Warde,” And then he -horns his way over to our prisoner and snorts—“What does this all -mean?” - -“I don’t know,” says the feller. “I—— I must ’a’ got hurt. Unless I’m -mistaken I came part-way from the mine with Joe Allerton. We had that -gold shipment. We sent out two decoy boxes on account of so many -robberies. We rode across the hills. Joe figured on just making that -train. He went to Helena. I wanted a pair of moccasins, and Joe left -me at that Indian teepee. The owner wasn’t there, so I waited. That’s -all, I guess. Somebody jumped on to me and—here I am.” - -“The—the gold didn’t come down yesterday?” gasps McGuire, and Warde -shakes his head, painful-like. “No. Just a box of rocks.” - -Just then in comes Doc Milliken. - -“Say!” he yells. “Will one of you strong men come and help me set a -man’s leg? Mighty Jones cut a tree the wrong way and it lit on him. -Lucky he was found by an Injun, who came for help. He was able to send -a note but fainted before he could sign his name. All I want is -somebody to hold him down. He’s so absent-minded that he’s liable to -run away. He says to tell Ricky Henderson that his box of dynamite is -either in the hay-loft or under his cabin floor. He can’t remember -which.” - -Art Miller is standing close to Chuck, and Chuck grabs him by the arm -and whispers—“What does a new wheel for your stage cost, Art?” - -“About eight dollars, Chuck—why?” “Here’s ten. Don’t ask me.” - -While there is plenty of talk me and Chuck backs out and rides out of -town. We’re in the bunk-house when Telescope and Muley and the old man -comes home. Telescope and Muley comes in and looks us over, -solemn-like. Pretty soon Muley climbs up on the bunk and recites, with -appropriate gestures and feeling: - - “Let me sing yuh a song of four danged fools, - Four punchers whose brains are nix, - Who done some things they ought not to do, - And got in a —— of a fix. - One was stuck on himself and wanted to be - Admired at ten cents a throw. - Another wore stilts so he’d look like a man, - When he went out after the dough. - Three of the fools fooled with dynamite, - One beat up an innocent man. - The price of a wheel was all that it cost. - You may beat it—I don’t think yuh can.” - -“Beautiful,” says I. “You’ve got a soul, Muley. There’s still that box -of dynamite of Mighty’s to account for.” - -“He picked it up on his way home,” says Muley. “That’s settled.” - -“Did Archibald Ames get his local color?” I asks, and Telescope shakes -his head. “Archibald Ames didn’t wait for nothing. He even hired -somebody to drive him to Silver Bend. I asked him what he wanted me to -do, and he told me to go to a place where they don’t cut holes in the -ice.” - -“You’ll miss them meals in bed,” sympathizes Chuck, wiggling his ears, -and ducks outdoors just in time. - -A boot-jack splintered on the door behind him. - -“Well, it ended all right anyway,” grunts Muley. “How’d yuh say yuh -hurt that leg, Telescope?” - -Telescope peeks out of the door, and then limps back to me and Muley. - -“I didn’t go to Bowers’ that first day the stage was robbed,” he -whispers. “Don’t breathe it to a soul. I wouldn’t have Chuck hear it -for a million.” - -We holds up our right hands. - -“Well,” says he, “that cottonwood snag they made me climb didn’t have -no bark on it, and when I started down I slid too fast. Sabe?” - -“Chuck was right!” I snorts. “He sure told the truth that time.” - -Telescope hops to his feet and grabs me by the arms. - -“What do yuh mean, Hen? What did Chuck say?” - -“He said it sure was slippery,” says I. - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the August 3, 1918 -issue of Adventure magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOUGH OR DYNAMITE *** - -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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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/66898-0.zip b/old/66898-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e1f12bc..0000000 --- a/old/66898-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66898-h.zip b/old/66898-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0b1cff6..0000000 --- a/old/66898-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66898-h/66898-h.htm b/old/66898-h/66898-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index d4e825f..0000000 --- a/old/66898-h/66898-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1640 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dough or Dynamite, by W. C. Tuttle</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - .poetry { display:block; text-align:left; } - .poetry .stanza { margin-top:0.7em; margin-bottom:0.7em; margin-left:4em; } - .poetry .verse { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; } - .indent2 { text-indent: -1.5em; padding-left: 3em; } - .poetry-container { text-align: center; } - .wi001 { margin-left:15%; width:70% } - .x-ebookmaker .wi001 { margin-left:5%; width:90% } - .mt01 { margin-top:1em; } - .mb01 { margin-bottom:1em; } - .tn { font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; } - .tn p { text-indent:0 } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dough or Dynamite, by W. C. Tuttle</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Dough or Dynamite</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: W. C. Tuttle</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 7, 2021 [eBook #66898]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOUGH OR DYNAMITE ***</div> -<div class='mt01 mb01 wi001'> - <img src='images/illus-001.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -</div> -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<h1 style='font-size:1.4em;'>DOUGH OR DYNAMITE</h1> -<div style='margin-top:1em;'>By W. C. TUTTLE</div> -<div style='font-size:0.8em;margin-top:0.4em;margin-bottom:1.6em;'>Author of “Clean Crazy,” “Monkeying with Ancestors,” etc.</div> -</div> - -<p>Me and “Muley” Bowles and “Chuck” Warner are putting a saddle on a -colt in the Cross J corral, when “Telescope” Tolliver enters the -precincts of said ranch, and we gets our first glimpse of Archibald -Ames.</p> - -<p>Archibald occupies a seat on the buckboard with Telescope, and they -soon comes over and climbs on top of the corral fence. Archibald’s -name fits him—in a way. The length of his first name indicates his -girth and his last name his height. He’s one of them persons who you’d -never invite to set down, ’cause he don’t seem to require no such -posture.</p> - -<p>It takes him quite a long time to negotiate the top-pole of the -corral, and when he does get up there he has to balance—his feet won’t -reach the next pole. He’s wearing them dinky little pants, with the -seat of a shoplifter and the knees of Lord Fauntleroy. His calves -perspire in shiny leggings, and for a hat he wears a libel on the name -of Stetson.</p> - -<p>Muley gives him a passing glance, yanks up another notch on the cinch, -and grunts—</p> - -<p>“What’ll we do with it?”</p> - -<p>“Love it to death or render it out,” grunts Chuck. “Looks to me like -one of them playthings for kids that yuh can’t tip over and make it -stay down. Let’s give this colt a chance to breathe, while we peers a -little closer at this attraction.”</p> - -<p>We ambles over and looks up at the critter’s soles.</p> - -<p>“Mister Ames,” orates Telescope, “I’m obliged to make yuh used to -Muley Bowles. He’s the sylph-like critter in woolly chaps. That one -with the sad, horse-faced features is Chuck Warner, the anti-George -Washington of Yaller Rock County, and the other person down there is -Henry Peck. They’re all harmless.</p> - -<p>“Bunch, this is Mister Archibald Ames, who is to be with us for a -spell.”</p> - -<p>“I’m pleased to meet yuh,” smiles Archie.</p> - -<p>“You ought to be,” agrees Muley. “It ain’t often that we shows this -much interest in a stranger. What seems to bring yuh hither?”</p> - -<p>“I brung him,” states Telescope. “Mister Ames is looking for local -color. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>“What’s he done, and is he wanted by Federal, State or county?” asks -Chuck, serious-like, wiggling his ears.</p> - -<p>Chuck can wiggle his ears just like a mule.</p> - -<p>“Done what?” grunts Telescope. “Chuck, you boob, don’t yuh know what -local color is?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bite,” grins Chuck. “Go ahead and spring it, Telescope.”</p> - -<p>Telescope clears his throat, rolls a cigaret and glares at Chuck, who -glares right back, and wiggles his ears.</p> - -<p>“Look at them ears!” applauds Archibald. “I’d love to get a close-up -of them.”</p> - -<p>“Mister,” reproves Chuck, “it ain’t seemly that a stranger should set -on top of a corral and make remarks about the physical failings of a -native son. Keep on at the pace you’ve started, and that spell that -Telescope spoke about can be spelled in four letters: g-o-n-e. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>“You got a lot to say about it, now ain’t yuh?” reproves Telescope. -“You ain’t nothing around here but a forty-dollar puncher. You got a -lot of chance to tell visitors where to head in. Come on, Mister Ames, -and we’ll go up and see the man what owns this ranch, and ain’t no -more sense than to pay forty dollars to a runt like that.”</p> - -<p>They climbs down and goes up to the ranch-house.</p> - -<p>“Haw! Haw! Haw!” whoops Muley, shaking every ounce of his two hundred -and forty pounds of bone and lard. “Haw! Haw! ‘Come on, Mister Ames, -and we go up to see the man’—haw, haw, haw! You will tell folks where -to head in at, will yuh?”</p> - -<p>Muley is a poet. There might ’a’ been as good rhymers as him once upon -a time, but they’re all dead and departed. Muley is the he-buzzard of -the flock right now. He hangs on to the side of the corral and wipes -the tears out of his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Gosh!” he snorts. “Telescope sure showed his breeding, Chuck. Yuh -could tell he’s been well raised. Sticks his chin up in the air, like -a grouse with a goiter, and proclaims: ‘Come on with me, Mister Ames.’ -Haw! Haw! Haw!”</p> - -<p>“Some day I’m going to reach up and hang my fist on his jaw,” -proclaims Chuck.</p> - -<p>“You better catch him in bed or carry a ladder with yuh,” says I. “You -got ambition, Chuck, but your height ain’t noways adequate.”</p> - -<p>A little later old man Whittaker, who owns the Cross J outfit, comes -out with Archibald, and them two goes back to town in the buckboard. -Telescope comes down to the bunk-house and sets down in our midst.</p> - -<p>Chuck gives him a mean look, and goes on playing solitaire. Telescope -admires himself in our cracked shaving-mirror.</p> - -<p>“Better fix your features in your mind, Telescope, ’cause you’re sure -going to need a pattern after Chuck gets through with yuh,” laughs -Muley.</p> - -<p>“That banty little ear-wiggler!” snorts Telescope. “I got a feeling -that I ain’t going to punch cows much longer.”</p> - -<p>“Dead men punch no cows,” states Chuck. “Your perceptions are getting -clearer.”</p> - -<p>“Where do yuh feel bad, Telescope?” I asks. “Tell papa where it -hurts.”</p> - -<p>“Aw ——!” Telescope turns from the mirror and glares at us. “I’m glad -I’m going to get away from you half-wits.”</p> - -<p>“Has the old man been kicking on yuh wasting so much time over at the -Bowers ranch, holding hands with Miss Amy, or has that tumble-bug yuh -had down to the corral been whispering sweet nothings in your ear?” -asks Chuck.</p> - -<div style='height:1em;'></div> - -<p>“You leave Miss Bowers’ name out of it!” snaps Telescope. “Mister Ames -is a moving-picture man, and I may cease punching the festive cow to -play hero parts for him. Me and him have had quite some conversation -regarding same, and he assures me that I’ve got the physique and -features for a lead.”</p> - -<p>“You got the physique and features for a funeral if yuh don’t quit -wearing my red tie,” says I. “That’s right—throw it on the floor. If -yuh wants to make a hit with folks, why don’t yuh buy some clothes of -your own?”</p> - -<p>“Tell us all about it, little one,” begs Muley, resting his fat chin -on his hands, and squinting at Telescope.</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> -<div class='poetry'> -<div class='stanza'> -<div class='verse'>“Sing us a song of a locoed man,</div> -<div class='indent2'>Who got stuck on your face and shape—</div> -<div class='verse'>A form that was built by accident,</div> -<div class='indent2'>And the face of a Jungle ape.</div> -<div class='verse'>Sing us a song of a keeper bold,</div> -<div class='indent2'>Who went sound asleep one day,</div> -<div class='verse'>A keeper who’s going to show up soon,</div> -<div class='indent2'>And lead little Archie away.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“I’ll tell yuh nothing!” yelps Telescope. “You fellers are just plumb -ignorant.”</p> - -<p>“Ain’t it true?” nods Chuck. “I’d take a job, too, if I was begged.”</p> - -<p>“You!” snorts Telescope. “Haw, haw, haw! Mister Ames told me that if -he wanted something for the public to laugh at he’d sure hire you. No, -Chuckie. This is a moving picture—not a sideshow.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s the idea,” continues Telescope. “Mister Ames wants something -real. He wants real punchers and——”</p> - -<p>“Ninety-eight cents in Chicago,” nods Chuck. “I seen in a mail-order -catalog where yuh could get good ones for——”</p> - -<p>“He wants a real hold-up,” states Telescope. “He wants a stage held -up, and he don’t want no fake. Sabe? Somehow he’s got the idea that I -could do it artistic-like.”</p> - -<p>“Your experience will help yuh out,” nods Chuck. “There was a hold-up -over in Mexican Cañon once, and the feller——”</p> - -<p>“Sufficient, Chuck!” snorts Muley, and Chuck winks at me.</p> - -<p>“Well, of course it wasn’t done by one man,” murmurs Chuck. “One of -the posse shot the horns off a animile and made a muley. Correct me if -I appear to be wrong,”</p> - -<p>“You stand corrected,” states Muley. “Desist from historical romance, -or I’ll remember one Summer afternoon down in Cottonwood, when a -certain man went into a bank, and ——”</p> - -<p>“I accepts the correction,” admits Chuck, playing a red queen on a red -king, and Telescope continues:</p> - -<p>“You fellers keep this under your hats. Sabe? Along about Wednesday -afternoon I’m going to hold up the stage from Piperock. Of course -after it’s over I’ll return everything, and all the while this picture -will be taken. He wants to advertise it as a real hold-up, and she -will be all that.”</p> - -<p>“Going south, as she drags out of Hell Gate Crossing,” orates Chuck.</p> - -<p>“That’s the designated place,” grins Telescope. “You must ’a’ been -studying the situation, Chuck.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose somebody takes a shot at yuh?” I suggests. “Art Miller ain’t -no suckling infant, and if there’s a shipment from the Golden Cross -aboard there might be a guard.”</p> - -<p>“Yuh never can tell about them shipments,” agrees Chuck. “I’ve tried -several times to find out.”</p> - -<p>“No wonder yuh know a good place,” laughs Telescope. “Never mind, -there ain’t going to be no shooting. I’ll have ’em buffaloed. My -shells will all be blanks. If I makes good in this I cinches a job -with Archibald Ames, and it’s good-by to the Cross J. No more will -Mister Tolliver ride the hills and smell of burnt hair and corrals. -Poor, eh? I’ll be eating breakfast in bed while Chuck Warner is out -chopping holes in the ice so the doggies can drink.”</p> - -<p>“A little more such talk and yuh won’t have to be a actor to get -breakfast in bed,” states Chuck. “Keep it up, and you’ll have all your -meals in bed. If you wants to hear me say what I think about you being -a actor you got to come outside. I got too much respect for the -bunk-house to express myself here.”</p> - -<p>This day being Monday, we has to put up with that kind of conversation -until Tuesday afternoon, when Chuck opines that he’s going up to -Piperock. Chuck can’t stand prosperity, and Tuesday is payday. He’s a -roulette fiend, and he runs into bad luck every time he bucks a wheel -in Paradise, so he wearies his bronc with monthly trips to Piperock. -Once he won eight dollars up there. It cost him forty but he never -figured that side of the ledger.</p> - -<p>Anyway we wishes him many happy returns of the day, and he lopes away. -As he forks his bronc he grins at Telescope, and says:</p> - -<p>“To be a good actor, yuh got to imagine you’re the party you’re -imitating. Just think you’re ‘Slippery’ Silverton, Telescope. He’s a -good pattern to go by. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>Slippery sure ain’t no imitation. He’s had the Montana officers -buffaloed for so long that they think he’s more than one man. The -accumulated rewards for him look like the weekly clean-up at the U. S. -mint.</p> - -<p>Me and Muley wishes to see the proceedings, so we rides down to -Paradise the next day with Telescope, and has converse with Archibald -Ames. He squints at the sky and shakes his head.</p> - -<p>“I doubt it,” says he. “Too cloudy. Yuh can’t get snappy stuff in -atmosphere like this, and there can’t be no retake. We’ll let her go -until tomorrow. I may set up after a while and get some character -stuff. Lots of local color around here. Good characters, and the -background is great. Know what I mean?”</p> - -<p>“Perfectly,” says I. “Sheep-herders and so forth.”</p> - -<p>Telescope opines that old man Bowers’ ranch is calling him, so a -little later on he rides away, he and Muley horns into a poker game, -and about an hour later Archibald Ames invades the place and leans -against the bar. Mike Pelly leaves the table to serve him, but Archie -ain’t dry. He asks a question—</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me where I can get some raw beef?”</p> - -<p>He turns to us, and we sees the most wonderful black eye yuh ever -seen.</p> - -<p>“Holy henhawks!” I snorts. “What yuh been doing?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell yuh,” snorts “Doughgod” Smith, from the doorway. “He’s been -exhibiting his danged ignorance. He opines to get a picture of a -shepherd and he picked me!”</p> - -<p>“Doughgod ain’t no shepherd,” I explains to Archie.</p> - -<p>“This is a —— of a time to tell me!” wails Archie, and he goes across -the street to a restaurant.</p> - -<p>The next we sees of him he’s taking a picture of a rackful of broncs -and then he goes over and photygrafts a greaser kid and a dog.</p> - -<div style='height:1em;'></div> - -<p>Me and Muley donates as much as we can to Mike’s game, and then quits. -We wanders down to Art Miller’s barn, and sets down in the sun. We -haven’t been there long, when we sees the stage drive up to the depot. -They dumps some stuff off, and then drives down to the barn. Beside -Art is old man Warner’s son Chuck, and when he sees us he grins all -over his homely face. Art sees us, and they both whoops.</p> - -<p>“Awful funny,” says Muley. “Haw, haw!”</p> - -<p>“Any time yuh don’t think it was yuh got another think coming,” whoops -Chuck, hanging on to a front wheel. “Haw! Haw! Haw! Left the danged -fool up a—haw, haw, haw—tree!”</p> - -<p>Art leans against one of his wheelers, and the tears runs out of his -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Some—haw, haw, haw—picture!” gargles Art. “I ain’t laughed so much in -my whole life!”</p> - -<p>Him and Chuck looks at each other, and busts out laughing again.</p> - -<p>“What seems to be tickling yuh?” asks Muley. “Is it a secret?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, glory!” gasps Chuck. “Listen, you fellers. That’s going to be -some picture. Telescope held up that stage, but nobody will ever see -that picture. Haw! Haw! Haw! We drives out of the crossing, and he -stops us, just like a regular bandit. Of course we know he’s got -blanks in his gun, but we elevates our hands to make the play good, -He’s got a sack over his head, so yuh can’t see his face, and I got a -false mustache on so he won’t know me. I made it myself.</p> - -<p>“Well, we kicks the express box off, and sudden-like goes for our -guns. He must ’a’ been dreaming to let us get the drop thataway. We -makes him throw his gun in the river. Haw! Haw! Haw!</p> - -<p>“Then we makes him put the box back on the stage,” whoops Art. “After -he gets that done we makes him walk down to the river, and get a big -rock. Then we marches him back and makes him put it on the empty boot. -He made ten trips after boulders. Then we makes him dance a while, -crawl all the way around the outfit on his hands and knees, and to -finish up we made him climb up an old cottonwood snag, and he’s there -when we drives out of sight, with our thumbs at our noses at him. Haw! -Haw!”</p> - -<p>“Wait ’till I see Telescope,” promises Chuck, weak-like.</p> - -<p>“Haw!” says Muley. “He’d admire to hear it, Chuck. He was here until a -while ago, and went over to Bowers’.”</p> - -<p>“Here? Telescope?” squeaks Chuck.</p> - -<p>“Uh-huh,” says I. “it was too cloudy, so we postponed taking that -picture.”</p> - -<p>Art and Chuck looks foolish-like at each other and then at us.</p> - -<p>“Well!” says Chuck “I don’t sabe this.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the trouble with you, Chuck,” opines Muley. “Art don’t have -much sabe either. I reckon you fellers had about ten thousand easy -dollars crawling around your stage on its hands and knees, and just to -show your contempt for it yuh rode away with your thumbs at your nose -and your fingers wiggling at it.”</p> - -<p>“Sus-slippery Silverton!” stutters Chuck. “That sure was Slippery! -Ain’t we the dangdest fools on earth!”</p> - -<p>“By a majority of two,” agrees Muley, “Telescope will be delighted.”</p> - -<p>“My ——!” gasps Art. “Slippery Silverton! I think that box had a -shipment from the Golden Cross. What a chance I took!”</p> - -<p>“All the way from Piperock,” says I, but I don’t think Chuck got it—he -was beyond words.</p> - -<p>Me and Muley went up and had a drink, and Muley laughs so hard that he -forgot to pay for it. We meets Art a little later on but there ain’t -much fun joshing him about it.</p> - -<p>“It’s on Chuck,” says he. “He explains the joke to me, and as she’s -pulled off as per schedule I thinks it’s all right.”</p> - -<p>“But it spoils things for Telescope,” says I. “You knowing about it -spoils the hold-up. It might look like a fake. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” agrees Art. “Telescope is a friend of mine and—I got -it! I’ll make out that I don’t feel good, and I’ll ask ‘Ricky’ -Henderson to drive for me. He wants to come down anyway.”</p> - -<p>“That’s fine,” says Muley. “Telescope will make it right with you, and -we won’t tell him about today.”</p> - -<p>That night we don’t have neither Telescope or Chuck with us. Telescope -is just riding away as we come in, and we don’t have a chance to talk -with him, and Chuck don’t come home, ’cause he’s too danged ashamed to -face Telescope.</p> - -<p>The next morning the old man sends me and Muley over to the Triangle -to get some cows that Johnny Myers brought out of the Sleeping Crick -Hills with some of his, and we misses the picture-taking. We travels -as fast as we can, but the stage has gone past when we hits the main -road on our way back. There ain’t nobody at the Hell Gate crossing, so -we pilgrims on to the ranch.</p> - -<p>About an hour later Telescope comes in, and a little later Chuck -drifts home.</p> - -<p>“There seems to be a Jonah on this job,” states Telescope.</p> - -<p>“What yuh limping about, Telescope?” asks Chuck.</p> - -<p>“Hurt my knee. Reckon it’s a good thing the stage didn’t come down -today, ’cause I’d ’a’ been a cripple in that picture. Slipped on a -rock.”</p> - -<p>“Stage didn’t come down?” I asks, and Telescope shakes his head.</p> - -<p>“Nope. Me and Mister Ames was there for two hours after the time, but -she don’t show up.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t come down?” wonders Chuck, aloud. “Didn’t go to Paradise?”</p> - -<p>“She sure didn’t. Hadn’t been there when I left.”</p> - -<p>Chuck looks foolish-like, and gets busy reading an old magazine. I -notices that he’s got it upside down, but his lips are moving, so I -reckon it don’t matter. He’s restless, and don’t sleep well that -night.</p> - -<p>The next morning, right after breakfast, up rides Bill McFee, our -unworthy sheriff; Ricky Henderson, Art Miller and Al McGuire, who -manages the ground work of the Golden Cross. Telescope limps over to -greet them, and they seems a heap interested in Telescope’s walk.</p> - -<p>“What do yuh think, Ricky?” asks McFee.</p> - -<p>“I’d hate to swear to it, Bill, but he limped.”</p> - -<p>“I arrests yuh in the name of the law for robbing the Piperock stage -yesterday, Telescope,” states Bill.</p> - -<p>Telescope looks foolish-like at Bill, and then laughs.</p> - -<p>“Yesterday, Bill? Why, it never——”</p> - -<p>“The description covers yuh,” states Bill. “I got your pardner, who -calls himself Archibald Ames, in jail. He’s already admitted the -intent to rob it, but says if you robbed it he don’t know nothing -about it. Said he was late meeting yuh, so he don’t know what yuh -might ’a’ done.”</p> - -<p>“Whoever done it got seven thousand in that box,” states McGuire.</p> - -<p>“Seven thousand!” wonders Telescope. “I thought the clean-up was -brought down yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Some folks did,” grins McGuire. “We figured to double-cross some wise -folks.”</p> - -<p>I hears a deep breath, and Chuck sets down hard on the step. Old man -Whittaker comes out, and they has to chaw the whole thing over again.</p> - -<p>“Well,” says the old man, “I don’t think that Telescope done it, but -under the circumstances I reckon he’ll have to go to jail.”</p> - -<p>“At least yuh can have breakfast in bed,” consoles Muley, and then he -recites:</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> -<div class='poetry'> -<div class='stanza'> -<div class='verse'>“A man in jail don’t have no cares;</div> -<div class='indent2'>The flight of time don’t bother him,</div> -<div class='verse'>There ain’t no place for him to go,</div> -<div class='indent2'>The passing hours lightly skim.</div> -<div class='verse'>The judge may say, ‘A year or two,</div> -<div class='indent2'>In places where they don’t need clocks,’</div> -<div class='verse'>But you should care—when you get loose,</div> -<div class='indent2'>You’ve seven thousand in that box.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Muley, when I get loose I’m going to cut your rhymer square in two,” -proclaims Telescope, and just then the old man leads Telescope’s bronc -up, and he rides away with the posse.</p> - -<div style='height:1em;'></div> - -<p>We’re sad. Doggone, it sure is a sad sight to see our compatriot in -the hands of the law. We smokes a while, and then I turns to Chuck—</p> - -<p>“Where is that seven thousand, Chuck?” He looks, queer-like, at me for -a moment, and shakes his head.</p> - -<p>“Danged if I know, Hen.”</p> - -<p>“You had it, didn’t yuh?”</p> - -<p>“Nope. Listen; I held up that stage before it got to the ford. Sabe? I -was going to chase Ricky away and drive it myself. Figured I’d have -some fun with Telescope. Sabe? Well, I scared —— out of Ricky. He -ain’t got no nerves anyway, and——”</p> - -<p>“Wait!” yelps Muley. “Do you mean to set there and tell us that you -scared Ricky so bad that he didn’t know your physique from -Telescope’s? How about the limp?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t rush me!” snaps Chuck. “Telescope was so cocky about that -picture stuff that I figured to have some fun. Did yuh ever walk on -stilts? Well, I did when I was a kid. I made me a pair that just -filled my boots, and pulled a flour sack over my head. Limp?</p> - -<p>“Of course I’d limp. I danged near fell on my face when I yelled for -him to stop. I made him get out and walk back up the road, and told -him if he stopped I’d perforate him. I took the box off the seat, -which I figured was that shipment, and looks her over. On it in big -letters she proclaims to be dynamite. I lays that box back on the -seat, gets my stilt tangled in a wheel, and fell plumb off the grade.</p> - -<p>“Well, the team ran away, that’s all I know. I figured that Ricky -would stop ’em—they wasn’t running fast.”</p> - -<p>“What kind of a looking box?” asks Muley.</p> - -<p>“Wooden box with two ends and four sides. Regular dynamite box.”</p> - -<p>“Well described,” applauds Muley. “All we got to find is a wooden box, -with two ends and four sides.”</p> - -<p>Art Miller comes back in about an hour for some things of Telescope’s, -and we talks it over with him.</p> - -<p>“Must ’a’ been Telescope or the party what held her up that other -time,” says he. “The feller that me and Chuck fussed around with -didn’t have no limp.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe the exercise that you and Chuck gave him made him stiff and -sore,” I suggests, and Art grins. “Maybe. Funny thing about that -hold-up. After that feller helps himself he must ’a’ scared that team, -’cause they runs away and scatters things all the way up to ‘Mighty’ -Jones’ place, where they smashes a front wheel on a stump and stops.</p> - -<p>“Ricky says there was a box of dynamite from the Golden Cross, the -same of which he holds careful in the seat. He said that he was meek -when held up, ’cause he was afraid that feller might shoot into that -box. That box is a goner, and it’s a wonder it didn’t blow that outfit -to thunder—unless that’s the treasure-box.”</p> - -<p>Art pilgrims back towards town, and we all starts for the corral.</p> - -<p>“Where yuh going?” asks Muley.</p> - -<p>“After some dynamite dough,” says all three of us together.</p> - -<p>We rides up and down that road from the ford to Mighty’s place, but we -don’t find nothing. We stops at the old Soda Springs trail, which -shows fresh tracks. By mutual consent we turns up the trail. About -half a mile up the crick we discovers a camp.</p> - -<p>We recognizes old “Frenchy” Timmons as the party humped over the fire, -tossing flapjacks, so we rides up and greets him. He’s got a couple of -moth-eaten burros nosing around his little tent. Frenchy is so crooked -that he’s suspicious of himself. He’s one of them kind of prospectors -what goes around with the feeling that every man what speaks kindly to -him is laying to beat him out of the next strike he makes. He looks up -through a decade of whiskers and grunts a greeting.</p> - -<p>“How’s your stock of location notices holding out, Frenchy?” asks -Muley. “For a man with only two burros you can make more ‘discoveries’ -than any sourdough I ever seen.”</p> - -<p>“Yah-h-h-h!” gurgles Frenchy, way back in the whiskers. “I find heem -sometame, Mooley.”</p> - -<p>“You dang well know yuh—yuh sure have, Frenchy. Look!”</p> - -<p>Muley points behind Frenchy, and there one end sticking out of the -brush, is a wooden box, and the word “DYNAMITE” fairly yelps at us in -big letters.</p> - -<p>Frenchy turns to see what we’re looking at, and the son-of-a-gun -reaches for his six-shooter. He was years too late. Me and Chuck have -him covered before he can touch his gun, and he stands there like a -lamb, while Muley balances that box in front of him on the -saddle-horn.</p> - -<p>“Next time yuh better find out who owns things before yuh picks ’em up -for yourself,” advises Chuck. “Throw that gun over in the brush! -That’s the stuff. Now keep your mouth shut! Sabe?”</p> - -<p>Frenchy didn’t say a word, but we can see that he’s a heap annoyed. We -strings out down the trail, and when we’re about two hundred yards -from the camp, comes a splintering noise, and the report of a big -rifle. Me and Chuck throws our broncs off the trail and gets down. We -can hear Muley complaining about things, and we asks him why he feels -so cross.</p> - -<p>“Danged old pelican!” he wails. “That bullet cut the corner off our -box!”</p> - -<p>“You still got it, ain’t yuh?” I asks.</p> - -<p>“Uh-huh, I got her, Hen, but she almost met her Waterloo on a rock. -Reckon it loosened all the nails. Shall we go back and smoke up that -old coot?”</p> - -<p>“Next Christmas,” replies Chuck. “That old coot has got a Sharps -.45-70, and the Warners don’t care for that style of death. He’s -crazy, Muley, and we’d put ourselves in his class if we went back.”</p> - -<p>We lifts that box back on Muley’s saddle, and went on.</p> - -<p>We hits the road, and makes good lime for a mile or two, when we meets -Mighty Jones. He stops and we exchanges pleasantries. We comments on -the weather, the crops—which theer ain’t none—and the general wear and -tear on the human race. Muley switches the position of that box, and -the next second we’re covered by Mighty Jones. I starts to grin, but -when I sees that Mighty is in earnest I irons my face out flat again.</p> - -<p>“Hands up!” he snaps, and Muley lets that box slip. She hits the -ground and rolls over. I glances at Mighty, and he’s got the look on -his face of a man who has seen all there is in life, but ain’t ready -to go blind.</p> - -<p>“My ——!” he gasps, whirls his bronc around and gallops off down the -road like a crazy man, holding on to his hat with one hand and fanning -his bronc with the other.</p> - -<p>We watches him fade away in the dust, and puts our hands down.</p> - -<p>“Of all the locoed actions on earth that’s the sharp end of the -limit,” proclaims Muley, sliding off his bronc.</p> - -<p>That last shock was almost too much for that box, ’cause when Muley -essays to lift her she sort ’a’ opened on one end.</p> - -<div style='height:1em;'></div> - -<p>Muley holds his position for a moment, straightens up and gets on his -bronc without taking his eyes off the box. He spurs his bronc, -easy-like, until he’s a few feet away from that box, and then he -imitates Mighty Jones.</p> - -<p>Me and Chuck puffs away on our cigarets and watches Muley depart.</p> - -<p>“I’ll likely get scared, too, but I’m taking a chance,” states Chuck, -and walks over to the box.</p> - -<p>He sighs deep-like, and takes off his hat.</p> - -<p>“Henry Peck, there must be a Supreme Being what watches over fools and -cow-punchers. This box is full of eighty per cent. dynamite. Come and -take a look.”</p> - -<p>“Your word is as good as gold, Chuck. That stuff must have a good -disposition to stand all that grief. Let’s go home before something -happens to irritate it.”</p> - -<p>We finds Muley at the ford, but he ain’t got much to say. He asks -Chuck if he saw what was in that box, and Chuck said that he did.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful!” exclaims Muley. “It stood rough handling but I never -thought a face like yours could look upon eighty per cent. dynamite -and not explode it. That’s why I went away so rapid.”</p> - -<p>The old man is home when we gets there, and he announces that -Telescope and Archibald Ames are still in jail.</p> - -<p>“What does Archibald have to say about it?” I asks.</p> - -<p>“That fat four-flusher!” yelps the old man. “He says that Telescope -might ’a’ done it. Of course this Ames feller don’t fit the -description, but he might at least—aw——”</p> - -<p>“I’m going down to see Telescope,” announces Muley.</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> -<div class='poetry'> -<div class='stanza'> -<div class='verse'>“He lies down there in durance vile</div> -<div class='indent2'>Behind the bolts and locks,</div> -<div class='verse'>With prison staring in his face</div> -<div class='indent2'>’Cause we can’t find that box.</div> -<div class='verse'>That held a little bunch of gold,</div> -<div class='indent2'>Which was labeled dynamite.</div> -<div class='verse'>Will we let our pal wear striped clothes?”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Not by a gol-danged sight!” I finishes, being somewhat of a poet -myself.</p> - -<p>Muley shakes my hand and invites me to join the Perverted Order of -Paradise Poets, of which he’s the only living member.</p> - -<p>“Don’t tell too much down there, Muley,” advises Chuck. “If you runs -off at the mouth I might get eased into jail, and that would cut down -the number of detectives on the case. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>“Fear not,” says Muley. “I go but to bring cheer to the needy. I will -be back anon.”</p> - -<p>About three hours later Doughgod Smith rides in, and we walks out to -where him and the old man are greeting each other.</p> - -<p>“If this keeps on, Whittaker, you’re going to be short of men,” states -Doughgod.</p> - -<p>“Huh!” grunts the old man. “One man don’t make no difference this time -of year. Three punchers is enough to set around and play cards, and -eat up good grub.”</p> - -<p>“You only got two left now,” says Doughgod. “Muley’s in jail, too.”</p> - -<p>“Muley!” snorts the old man. “What’s he in for?”</p> - -<p>“Stealing dynamite from Mighty Jones.”</p> - -<p>Chuck had started to set down on his heels, but when Doughgod’s -information hits his ears he sprawls flat on his back and blinks at -the sky. I starts to lean on a buckboard wheel that is ten feet away, -and I ends up on my back with my feet over the tongue.</p> - -<p>“Mighty spoke of some folks being accessory to the fact, too,” states -Doughgod, offhand-like.</p> - -<p>“Stealing dynamite!” yelps the old man. “Where, when and what for?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. Mighty comes to town and acts like a man what has had -delirious delight scared out of him. He anchors to Pelly’s bar until -he’s gained normal again, and then he speaks knowingly of -powder-thieves. Mighty’s half-loco, and what ain’t loco is -absent-mindness, but just the same he has Muley arrested, and he hints -of more arrests as soon as certain persons hit town. I seen Muley, and -he said if I came this way to have Chuck and Hen come to see him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” agrees the old man. “We’ll all go down.”</p> - -<p>“Not me,” says I. “I got rheumatic pains in my knees. Notice how I -fell over that buckboard handle? I ain’t myself today, and I simply -couldn’t stand it to ride.”</p> - -<p>“Neither could I,” says Chuck. “I’m sore all over. Let’s wait until -tomorrow. Muley will be there just the same.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll go in the buckboard,” says the old man. “In a case like this -I’d go if I had to walk.”</p> - -<p>“I’d admire to walk,” says Chuck, but the old man goes after the team, -and me and Chuck helps each other limp to the bunk-house.</p> - -<p>“Shake hands with a murderer, Henry,” says Chuck, offering his hand. -“I’ve killed the old man and crippled Doughgod for life—in my mind. -You and me will spend the evening and night in the Paradise jail, -Henry Clay Peck.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t yuh think of nothing cheerful to sing?” I asks. “If we’re in -jail we never will find that box. Think!”</p> - -<p>“Think ——!” yelps Chuck, going to the door. “I’m going to enjoy the -untainted air as long as I can.”</p> - -<p>I rustles out my war-sack and puts on clean clothes. It’s liable to be -some time before I gets a chance to change again. Chuck comes back -after a while and sets down on the bunk, disconsolate-like, and plays -“Just Before the Battle, Mother” on his mouth-organ. Pretty soon the -old man yells to us.</p> - -<p>We walks out, slow-like, and I climbs, painfully, into the seat with -the old man. Chuck holds the team by the bits until we’re all set. -Then he lets loose and hops aboard as we goes past. We whirls out of -the yard and hits the road on the run. Sudden-like that equipage does -a high dive on one side, and yours truly stands on his head in a -mesquite bush.</p> - -<p>When I gets through making a cactus pincushion of my cranium, I riseth -up and looks around.</p> - -<p>Down the road about fifty yards sets the old man, gazing off down the -road, and cussing at a piece of line he’s still got in one hand. I -hears a groan across the road, and Chuck’s head sticks up out of the -brush. The old man gets up out of the road and painfully dusts off the -seat of his pants. He plods up to us and looks us over.</p> - -<p>“By cripes!” he snorts, “I ain’t suspicious of nobody on earth. I’m a -man among men, and I don’t suspicion nobody, but if that wasn’t foul -play I’ll eat the whole ranch. Now, I’ll haul you hombres to town in a -lumber wagon.”</p> - -<p>He plods on to the house, while I extracts cactus spines and cuss -words from my carcass. Chuck limps over and rubs his hip.</p> - -<p>“Light on a rock?” I asks, and he feels of his hip some more.</p> - -<p>He reaches into his hip pocket, takes out an object and tosses it on -the ground.</p> - -<p>“Lit right on the darned thing!” he groans.</p> - -<p>It’s the nut off a front wheel of that buckboard. I kicks it off into -the brush, and rolls a smoke.</p> - -<p>“Well,” says he, after a while, “you can give me credit for blocking -the wheels of progress for a minute, can’t yuh? I’ll likely have to -stand up all the way to town.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll get plenty of time to rest,” says I.</p> - -<div style='height:1em;'></div> - -<p>We got to Paradise, but it wasn’t no pleasure-ride, and the first -person we see is Mighty Jones.</p> - -<p>Mighty seems to have drowned his feelings, and he’s spending his -afternoon trying to hold up the hitch-rack. The old man goes in the -saloon, but me and Chuck goes over to have a interview with our enemy. -He nods at us like an owl.</p> - -<p>“Tut-tut-tried to bub-blow me up,” he stutters, “Tha’s mean thing -to-to-to do.”</p> - -<p>“Tell us all about it, old-timer,” says Chuck, helping the old boy let -loose of the rack, and leading him over to the sidewalk. “What’s all -this dynamite stuff I’m hearing about?”</p> - -<p>Mighty gets very deliberate in his language:</p> - -<p>“Eighty pershent. Tha’s good powder. Sabe? Good powder but too -ener-zhetic. Know what I mean? Mine’s eighty per shent. Stage runs -away and sehtops at my place. I find box of shixty per shent. Sabe? -Eighty too dangeroush to pack, so I exchanges. Sabe. Same price. -Eighty per shent too easy on trigger. Know what I mean? Lissen; -shomebody mus’ ’a’ stole that eighty from the stage, and I can’ fin’ -mine. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>“Think!” yelps Chuck. “Think where yuh put it, Mighty!”</p> - -<p>Mighty bobs his head and screws up his face:</p> - -<p>“I know. Tha’s the box Muley tried to assassinate me with.”</p> - -<p>“That was eighty per cent.!” yells Chuck. “Doyuh get that? It was -eighty per cent.!”</p> - -<p>“Zas so? Fool to drop eighty per shent. Awful careless.”</p> - -<p>“Where did you put that box you took off the stage?” I asks, -pronouncing every word distinct and separate.</p> - -<p>Mighty is so danged absent-minded that yuh got to make him remember.</p> - -<p>“You took it out of the stage, and then what did you do with it?”</p> - -<p>“Somebody must ’a’ stole—whoa! I know! In the woodshed. I thought I -put it in the barn. Ain’ that the limit? Mus’ go and turn poor old -Muley loosh. Yes, sir. He never stole nothing.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” applauds Chuck. “Go right over and tell the sheriff to -turn him loose.”</p> - -<p>“I got to shee Ricky firsht,” states the old pelican, wise as a barn -owl. “Mus’ shee if Ricky wants to hold him for stealing that eighty -per shent. Mighty Jones is law-abiding pershon. Know what I mean?”</p> - -<p>We watches Mighty weave down the street, and Chuck grins all over his -face—</p> - -<p>“We’ll find Telescope’s and Muley’s broncs, and we’ll go up to Mighty -Jones’ woodshed and rescue that money.”</p> - -<p>We finds both broncs in Pelly’s barn, so we saddles up and fares -forth. We don’t fare far until we meets Bill McFee. We stops and asks -Bill if there’s anything new.</p> - -<p>“Nope,” says he. “I reckon we got ’em in jail.”</p> - -<p>“So?” says Chuck. “Bill, how would you like to take a ride with us and -bring back that seven thousand?”</p> - -<p>Bill grins like it was a good joke:</p> - -<p>“Uh-huh. I’d admire that. What’s the joke?”</p> - -<p>“Ain’t no joke, Sheriff,” says I. “You go with us and bring the gold -back. Is that satisfactory?”</p> - -<p>“I’d admire to know a little more.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all necessary,” says Chuck. “Election is only three months -away, and the credit ain’t going to hurt yuh none, Bill.”</p> - -<p>“That’s sensible,” agrees Bill. “I’m with yuh.”</p> - -<p>Bill attempts to find out things, but we don’t talk much, and it’s -dark when we climbs off at Mighty’s place. We hikes right over to the -woodshed. Bill lights a match and looks inside, drops the match and -don’t stop running for a hundred yards. Me and Chuck gallops with him -for a ways, sort of sympathetic-like.</p> - -<p>“Bobcats!” whistles Bill. “Shed’s full of ’em!”</p> - -<p>Yuh never can tell what kind of a pet a nut like Mighty is liable to -have, so we ain’t surprised a lot.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t afraid of no cat what ever lived,” states Chuck. “I’m going -to get that box in spite of anything.”</p> - -<p>We pilgrims up close again, with our guns ready. Chuck finds an old -newspaper, which he lights, and we peeks around the corner of the -door, and looks right into the shiny eyes of two big cats. Three guns -goes off at the same time, and three men went away. There ain’t a -sound from the shed, so we sneaks back.</p> - -<p>“That’s good shooting,” applauds Bill. “Two shots killed ’em both, -’cause I shot in the ground.”</p> - -<p>“Sure was,” I agrees, “I did, too.”</p> - -<p>“Wonderful!” agrees Chuck. “They must ’a’ jumped high, ’cause mine -went through the roof.”</p> - -<p>Chuck tosses in that burning paper. Them cats are still there but -don’t move.</p> - -<p>“Rugs!” snorts Chuck. “Mighty is sort of a taxidermist, and he put -them eyes in himself. They sure look natural.”</p> - -<p>We found that box. Chuck makes a presentation speech to the minion of -the law, who recites a few appropriate words in return. Bill takes the -box on his saddle-horn, and we goes back to Paradise.</p> - -<p>We gets McGuire and all the rest of Paradise’s population to see the -grand opening. We assembles in Pelly’s saloon and Mike furnishes the -hammer.</p> - -<p>“Gents,” states Bill, “this ain’t a complete exoneration of Telescope -and Ames, but I reckon it clears ’em a plenty. The law recovers said -stolen property, but I’ll let Mister Warner and Mister Peck tell the -story. I can hunt lost things but I can’t tell a interesting story -like some folks.”</p> - -<p>“You better superintend this, McGuire,” he continues. “It’s a lot of -wealth to look upon.”</p> - -<p>He tears the top boards off, and Paradise gazes a plenty.</p> - -<p>Me and Chuck takes one gaze, and slips loose. We meets at the door, -ambles around the corner and forks our broncs. I follers Chuck’s lead, -and about a mile from town we stops and looks back.</p> - -<p>“Henry,” says he, sad-like, “who do you suppose put them rocks in that -box?”</p> - -<p>“If I knew I’d be a murderer,” says I, and then it strikes me funny. -“Box of scab-rock guarded by two mounted bobcats! Haw! Haw! Haw! -Mister McFee, we hereby puts in your care and custody one box, the -value of same being problematical. You being a duly elected officer of -the law, and, we having faith in your integrity and sense of duty, -turneth over said box to be dealt with as yuh see fit,” says I, -quoting Chuck’s woodshed speech.</p> - -<p>“Value being problematical takes the curse of anyway, Hen,” says he.</p> - -<p>It’s about midnight when we arrives at the Cross J. The old man is in -the bunk-house, and he looks us over, sad-like.</p> - -<p>“What are you fellers trying to do?” he asks. “The sheriff sure is one -sore person. Says he can prove that one or both of you was mixed up in -that robbery.”</p> - -<p>“Aw ——!” snorts Chuck. “I thought it was the right box.”</p> - -<p>“It was. McGuire identified it. The question is this: you knowed where -the box was—where are the contents? That’s what Paradise wants to -know.”</p> - -<p>“Paradise ain’t got nothing on us, eh, Chuck?” says I. “If they wanted -to know any worse than we do they’d all be sick.”</p> - -<p>Me and Chuck talks it all over and decides that the longer we’re out -of jail the more they’ll have against us when we do get in, so we -decide to give ourself up before we’re liable to capital punishment.</p> - -<div style='height:1em;'></div> - -<p>The next morning we rides away to be locked up in self-defense. Just -outside of Paradise we overtakes an Injun. He’s jogging along on a -glass-eyed pinto, and he grins when he sees Chuck. Chuck stands in -with all the aborigines.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Tenas Charley,” grins the buck.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Hiawatha,” grins Chuck. “Where you go so early?”</p> - -<p>“You sabe Doc Milliken?”</p> - -<p>“You bet. Why you wantum?”</p> - -<p>“Givum letter. Me got letter. White man hurtum leg. No walk. Me go to -Doc Milliken. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>He fusses around in his blanket and produces a piece of paper. Chuck -takes the paper and reads the few words. He hands me the letter and -grins. It reads like this:</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> -<div class='poetry'> -<div class='stanza'> -<div class='verse'>Hurt my leg. Follow the Injun to me.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There ain’t no name signed.</p> - -<p>“Heap scared,” informs the Injun. “Hurtum leg on tree.”</p> - -<p>“Where you camp?” asks Chuck, and we gets informed that it’s on Little -Beaver Crick. Chuck gives him back the letter, and swings around. “So -long, Setting Bull,” says he, and the Injun grins and bobs off down -the road.</p> - -<p>“Now where?” I asks, and Chuck grins, “Slippery Silverton!” he whoops. -“If it was anybody around here they’d ‘a’ signed their name. He’s -hived up with that Injun, and we’re going to land him, Henry. Maybe -he’s got the gold, too.”</p> - -<p>It didn’t take us long to find that camp. We advances on foot. There’s -a white man setting on the sunny side of that teepee, and he’s in -blissful ignorance until me and Chuck lands on his shoulders like two -playful bears. He gets energetic, but Chuck taps him on the head with -his gun, and we hog-ties him proper. When he opens his eyes Chuck -grins at him an’ says—</p> - -<p>“Hello, Slippery.”</p> - -<p>He don’t say a word.</p> - -<p>“Don’t talk,” advises Chuck. “Yuh might wear out your teeth.”</p> - -<p>The feller looks at us, foolish-like, so we hoists him up on Chuck’s -bronc, and Chuck rides behind him. Once he opened his mouth and spoke -one line:</p> - -<p>“You fellers are an hour late.”</p> - -<p>That’s all he said. I reckon Chuck hit him pretty hard.</p> - -<p>We pilgrims right into Paradise, and up to Pelly’s saloon. There ain’t -a soul in sight, but we observes signs of life down where we holds our -court. We takes our captive down there, cuts the ropes off his legs -and takes him inside.</p> - -<p>The place is crowded and Telescope is on the stand. We gets in just in -time to hear the judge ask Telescope if he can think of any earthly -reason why he shouldn’t be held for the next term of court.</p> - -<p>“A lot of reason, Judge!” yells Chuck, pushing our prisoner up to the -front. “Here’s the main reason. Gents, I makes yuh used to Slippery -Silverton!”</p> - -<p>“Silverton ——!” I hears McGuire yelp.</p> - -<p>“That’s the owner of the Golden Cross mine, Mister Warde,” And then he -horns his way over to our prisoner and snorts—“What does this all -mean?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” says the feller. “I—— I must ’a’ got hurt. Unless I’m -mistaken I came part-way from the mine with Joe Allerton. We had that -gold shipment. We sent out two decoy boxes on account of so many -robberies. We rode across the hills. Joe figured on just making that -train. He went to Helena. I wanted a pair of moccasins, and Joe left -me at that Indian teepee. The owner wasn’t there, so I waited. That’s -all, I guess. Somebody jumped on to me and—here I am.”</p> - -<p>“The—the gold didn’t come down yesterday?” gasps McGuire, and Warde -shakes his head, painful-like. “No. Just a box of rocks.”</p> - -<p>Just then in comes Doc Milliken.</p> - -<p>“Say!” he yells. “Will one of you strong men come and help me set a -man’s leg? Mighty Jones cut a tree the wrong way and it lit on him. -Lucky he was found by an Injun, who came for help. He was able to send -a note but fainted before he could sign his name. All I want is -somebody to hold him down. He’s so absent-minded that he’s liable to -run away. He says to tell Ricky Henderson that his box of dynamite is -either in the hay-loft or under his cabin floor. He can’t remember -which.”</p> - -<p>Art Miller is standing close to Chuck, and Chuck grabs him by the arm -and whispers—“What does a new wheel for your stage cost, Art?”</p> - -<p>“About eight dollars, Chuck—why?” “Here’s ten. Don’t ask me.”</p> - -<p>While there is plenty of talk me and Chuck backs out and rides out of -town. We’re in the bunk-house when Telescope and Muley and the old man -comes home. Telescope and Muley comes in and looks us over, -solemn-like. Pretty soon Muley climbs up on the bunk and recites, with -appropriate gestures and feeling:</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> -<div class='poetry'> -<div class='stanza'> -<div class='verse'>“Let me sing yuh a song of four danged fools,</div> -<div class='indent2'>Four punchers whose brains are nix,</div> -<div class='verse'>Who done some things they ought not to do,</div> -<div class='indent2'>And got in a —— of a fix.</div> -<div class='verse'>One was stuck on himself and wanted to be</div> -<div class='indent2'>Admired at ten cents a throw.</div> -<div class='verse'>Another wore stilts so he’d look like a man,</div> -<div class='indent2'>When he went out after the dough.</div> -<div class='verse'>Three of the fools fooled with dynamite,</div> -<div class='indent2'>One beat up an innocent man.</div> -<div class='verse'>The price of a wheel was all that it cost.</div> -<div class='indent2'>You may beat it—I don’t think yuh can.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Beautiful,” says I. “You’ve got a soul, Muley. There’s still that box -of dynamite of Mighty’s to account for.”</p> - -<p>“He picked it up on his way home,” says Muley. “That’s settled.”</p> - -<p>“Did Archibald Ames get his local color?” I asks, and Telescope shakes -his head. “Archibald Ames didn’t wait for nothing. He even hired -somebody to drive him to Silver Bend. I asked him what he wanted me to -do, and he told me to go to a place where they don’t cut holes in the -ice.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll miss them meals in bed,” sympathizes Chuck, wiggling his ears, -and ducks outdoors just in time.</p> - -<p>A boot-jack splintered on the door behind him.</p> - -<p>“Well, it ended all right anyway,” grunts Muley. “How’d yuh say yuh -hurt that leg, Telescope?”</p> - -<p>Telescope peeks out of the door, and then limps back to me and Muley.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t go to Bowers’ that first day the stage was robbed,” he -whispers. “Don’t breathe it to a soul. I wouldn’t have Chuck hear it -for a million.”</p> - -<p>We holds up our right hands.</p> - -<p>“Well,” says he, “that cottonwood snag they made me climb didn’t have -no bark on it, and when I started down I slid too fast. Sabe?”</p> - -<p>“Chuck was right!” I snorts. “He sure told the truth that time.”</p> - -<p>Telescope hops to his feet and grabs me by the arms.</p> - -<p>“What do yuh mean, Hen? What did Chuck say?”</p> - -<p>“He said it sure was slippery,” says I.</p> - -<div class="tn"> - <p>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the August 3, 1918 issue of <em>Adventure</em> magazine.</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOUGH OR DYNAMITE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. 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