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diff --git a/78677-0.txt b/78677-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..921961c --- /dev/null +++ b/78677-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,885 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78677 *** + + MAGPIE--DIPLOMAT + + W. C. Tuttle + +Author of “A Bull Movement in Yellow Horse,” “Fifty-Fifty with Bonnie,” etc. + + +Th’ two jackasses which were in front stopped, and then me and Magpie +Simpkins, which were behind, stopped also and there we sees ’em settin’ +along th’ road on uh pile uh boulders. + +There’s three of ’em. Th’ near one will stand about six feet six in +his boots, and has uh face that any Roman-nosed hoss might envy. Th’ +next one is sorta built like uh bureau, and wears uh tobacco-stained +mattress on th’ lower level of his face. + +Th’ far one is uh runt. I’d opine that he’d occupy about five feet of +th’ atmosphere straight up; and yuh could split rails with his features. +Th’ redeemin’ part of th’ runt is his feet. If he ain’t wearin’ eight +pairs uh wool socks inside them boots, he’s got uh foundation like uh +church. + +“Holy mackerel!” sez Magpie. “If I was in Alaska I’d remark that some +amatoor had tried to make three totem poles, but in this neck of th’ +timber I’d say--gosh, Ike, them’s uh sad trio.” + +“Whither?” asks th’ human chalk-line, without changin’ uh feature. + +“Yon,” sez Magpie, pointin’ east. “We’re on uh pilgrimage to uh new +settlement called Pinto. Know ye of it?” + +“Do we?” asks th’ slender one of th’ other two. + +Th’ two of ’em spits in th’ dust and nods-- + +“We does.” + +“Anythin’ doin’ over there?” I asks. + +They looks at each other agin and announces in chorus-- + +“There is.” + +“Don’t tell us about it, cause th’ surprise will do us good,” sez +Magpie. + +Th’ tall one uncoils hisself from th’ boulder and hauls out uh knife +and uh plug of tobacco. He slices off uh quarter section of township +eight, pokes it into his mouth, wipes th’ knife on his lips and sighs +deep-like. + +“Strangers,” sez he, “th’ keys of Pinto are yours. As th’ mayor of said +city I’m overjoyed to welcome yuh in, but I ain’t aimin’ to conduct no +sight-seein’ tour, sabe? Yuh got to see things all by yore lonesome. + +“I’m Jefferson J. Jenkins, called ‘Tex’ by my friends, mayor of Pinto. +This here party on my right, with th’ Rip Van Winkle stubble on his +chops, is Cold Deck Briggs, my chief of police, and this here miniature +of uh sardine, which grows to man’s estate only in th’ feet, is Peevee +Jack Skinner, treasurer.” + +“I’m Magpie Simpkins and this is Ike Harper,” sez Magpie, bowin’ low. +“Th’ names of them other two jackasses is Arabella and Phebe, and we’re +glad to meet yuh. You talks as though th’ city had become boresome.” + +“Has it?” asks Jefferson J., known as ‘Tex.’ + +“It has,” agrees th’ other two, and Tex backs their play. + +“I hopes that you’ll kindly ignore any and all inquiries as to our +whereabouts, in case yore asked,” sez Tex. “You fellers don’t look like +what I’d call harbingers uh joy yoreselves, and if it would cheer yuh up +any I can elucidate uh tale uh woe what’s uh humdinger.” + +“We’re receptive to confidences,” sez Magpie. “Shoot!” + +We eases ourselves onto th’ pile uh boulders, and rolls uh smoke. Tex +cuts uh school section out of that plug, rolls it around in his face, +and narrates thus: + + * * * * * + +“I’m married; Cold Deck’s married and Peevee’s married. That’s th’ ---- +of it! Gents, yuh can hardly believe that our wives are jealous of us, +can yuh?” + +Magpie looks ’em over careful-like and shakes his head. + +“I oncet knowed uh white woman which fell in love with uh sheep-herder. +Bein’ uh great lover and disciple of th’ truth, I’d shore appreciate it +if you’d keep out uh fiction. Go ahead.” + +“It’s uh fact, ain’t it boys?” asks Tex. + +Th’ other two nods sadlike, and Tex continues: + +“Th’ three of us, beside bein’ th’ reignin’ officers uh said town, are +elected trustees of th’ school. Eddication was our finish. I suppose +that kids have to have schoolin’ if they expects to be anybody--I +didn’t have none, and I’m uh mayor. Well, so long as we don’t have no +school everythin’ is fine. + +“When th’ schoolhouse is built, we finds that we has to have uh +teacher. Th’ three of us confers, and disagrees, as usual. In fact +th’ disagreement gits so disagreeable that somebody has to bust th’ +lock on th’ door and come in and pry us apart. Bein’ uh wise ol’ +coot, I figgers that I’m th’ one to go ahead and bust this deadlock. +I don’t seem to have no luck at all. Pinto don’t seem to appeal to +teachers none. I racks my ol’ brain fer uh while, and then Jimmy +McFee, our shaver, hair-cutter and tonsorial artist give me uh tip. +It looks good. + +“Jimmy shows me uh paper in which females states their desires to bust +into matrimony. There’s all kinds. Jimmy and me peruses said paper +until we locates one which brands herself Miss Ivy Clemons. She alleges +herself to be uncommon bright, havin’ uh college eddication. + +“That,” sez Jimmy, “is whom yuh wants. All she wants is yore pitcher and +uh few lyin’ words to match hers. Sabe? She comes uh whoopin’, and when +she finds out that yore married she’ll be pleased to teach school.” + +“Uh-huh,” I agrees. “But I’ve got uh idea what beats that four ways from +th’ jack. Why send my pitcher, eh? Why not send uh pitcher of somebody +else, Jimmy?” + +Tex stopped and reached fer his plug, and Cold Deck opines: + +“That shore was one hy-iu idea. Yuh see, gents, me and Tex and Peevee +gits our pitchers took down to Great Falls this Spring, and we +exchanges.” + +“Anyway,” sez Peevee, “Tex oughta give me credit fer pickin’ uh good +looker fer him. Me and Jimmy ponders uh heap before we decides on her.” + +“Well,” sez Cold Deck, “th’ one what Tex sends my pitcher to wasn’t much +fer looks, but as uh hellwinder of uh talker I re-spects Tex’s selection +uh heap.” + +“I’d take it,” sez Magpie wisely, “that you fellers, with th’ able +assistance of th’ village whisker eradicator, double-crosses each other +and gits in bad at home.” + +“Mister Simpkins, I wishes to shake yore hand,” states Tex. “When I’m +ol’ and feeble I can tell my gran’children that oncet upon uh time I +held th’ paw of uh wise man. Shake.” + +“Clearest perception I ever seen,” opines Cold Deck. “Don’t he ketch on +to things quick, Peevee?” + +Peevee nods slowly, and goes on starin’ at th’ ground. + +“Ain’t yore wives got no use fer yuh at all?” I asks. + +Th’ three of ’em shakes their heads slowly, and Tex drawls: + +“No-o-o, I can’t say that they has. Cold Deck’s wife has uh hoss-pistol, +Peevee’s has got his .45, and mine’s got my ol’ sawed-off shotgun. +That’s all they got for us--that we knows of.” + +“And she’s got that ol’ pistol loaded with chiny marbles, too!” wails +Cold Deck. “I sees her put in four when I went home to explain. My +goshafry! Four eight-gage chiny marbles inside yore hide would make +yuh scratch some.” + +“Uh .45 raises somethin’ beside uh rash,” opines Peevee. + +“And twelve buckshot to uh shell don’t resemble uh mosquito bite,” +opines Tex. “That ol’ riot gun is awful easy on th’ trigger, too. +Sometimes when yuh shoots one bar’el th’ other goes off in sympathy +with it. Sabe?” + +“How’d yore wives git wise to them females?” asks Magpie. + +“Git wise!” wails Cold Deck. “My gosh! Them three he-hunters happens to +land in Pinto on th’ same day. Th’ one what is wished on me inquires as +to my whereabouts, and ambles to my happy home. My wife comes to th’ +door, and this female asks if this is th’ domicile of one, Mister +Briggs. My wife opines that it is, and, bein’ uh woman, she asks this +person what she wants of Mister Briggs. This she-person hauls out that +letter and my pitcher and opines that she’s come all th’ way from some +danged place in th’ East to make Mister Briggs uh good wife. My Gawd!” + +“I suppose th’ same thing happens at th’ other homes,” sez Magpie. + +Tex nods, and Peevee inhales deep on his cigaret. + +“Only at my bungaloo it was uh li’l different,” states Peevee. “I was +to home.” He looks sadlike at his big feet, and hitches up his belt. “I +ain’t what you’d call uh fast person on th’ hoof, and my wife overhauls +me easy. She shore is one deadly person, and I distinctly remembers +oncet that I promises to love, honor and obey her. Them first two +promises was superfluous in my case.” + +“Mebby yuh could fix things up if yuh went about it in th’ right way,” I +suggests; but Cold Deck looks at me sadlike and states: + +“Mister, yore heart is in th’ right place, but when it comes to wimmen +yore heart don’t count. It takes brains and muscle. Yore not married, I +takes it.” + +“Yore welcome,” I replies. “Life is too full uh worries fer me to locate +uh mate.” + +“That’s what I figgered, too,” sez Tex. “Before I meets Anastasia I +feels that I’m packin’ uh load uh worries and woe, but I immediately +and soon finds that I was jist packin’ an empty saddle. Uh pack +hoss, when he opines that he’s packin’ more than his share, can balk +or amble between two trees and pull th’ danged load off, but by th’ +whisperin’ wolves, there ain’t no two trees growin’ close enough +together to ever scrape th’ load off my back. Also, if you’ve never +been married, jist take it from me and don’t balk after yuh do.” + +“Where do you fellers hail from?” asks Cold Deck. + +“Piperock,” sez Magpie. + +“Know three hombres named Slim Hawkins, Andy Johnson and Weinie Lopp?” + +“Shore we do--know ’em up, down and sideways. Why?” + +“They’re down there,” states Cold Deck mournful-like, pointin’ down th’ +road. “Th’ one what calls hisself Andy Johnson assaults me yesterday and +pins my star on uh tame coyote pup. Also he ties uh can to th’ animile. +I’m agin’ that hombre--me.” + +“Also I ain’t makin’ no love-medicine to th’ one named Slim,” orates +Peevee Jack. “He sets into my li’l game uh draw yesterday. Bein’ lit up +to uh certain extent he has more luck than observation--I thought. +Figgerin’ that it’s about time fer him to hit th’ earth, I signals th’ +bartender and he slips me uh cold deck. I don’t know how it’s done, but +when th’ showdown comes I’m trailin’ his four aces with four kings, and +th’ treasury of Pinto is gone.” + +“And Weinie,” sez Magpie. “What’s he done?” + +“Nothin’,” sez Tex. “He’s plumb tame compared with th’ other two. All +he’s done in th’ last few days is to sell th’ Palace saloon to three +different persons. + +“So Weinie owned uh saloon at last,” sez I. “Well, well!” + +“He never owned nothin’ in th’ saloon line except uh thirst!” snorts +Tex. “I said he sold one. Sabe?” + +Magpie scratches his head and pulls out uh li’l red note-book and uh +pencil. + +“I begins to see uh light,” he states. “Give me th’ names uh them three +female man-hunters.” + +“Miss Ivy Clemons, Miss Estelle Waterbury and--Peevee, what was th’ name +of th’ queen you discards?” + +“Clementine Margareet Elvington.” + +Magpie writes th’ names down, puts th’ book in his pocket, and stands +up. + +“Well, Ike,” sez he, yawnin’, “I reckon we better be moseyin’ on. What +do you fellers aim to do--set here all yore lives?” + +“I gotta do my assessment work on th’ Merry Ellen before New Year’s,” +states Peevee, spittin’ at uh rock lizard and hittin’ his boot. + +“Well,” sez I, “this is th’ last of August, so yuh better git uh move on +yoreself, old-timer. Any he-person who ain’t man enough to boss his own +house will shore need about four months to do uh hundred dollars’ worth +uh work on uh prospect.” + +“Them’s my ideas to uh gnat’s eyebrow,” he states. “Uh man oughta be uh +man among men. Am I right, Tex?” + +“When his wife’s got uh gun?” + +“Gosh!” sez Peevee. “I done forgot that li’l detail. Anyway, Tex, we +can’t stand out here and starve. Let’s go in and trust to luck.” + +Tex gits up, takes uh fresh bite off th’ plug, and hitches up his belt. + +“All right,” sez he. “Uh riot gun makes uh messy-lookin’ corpse, but I’d +jist as soon be dead as lonesome. Come on, Cold Deck.” + +“Four li’l chiny marbles,” mumbles Cold Deck, countin’ on his fingers. +“My gosh-afry! Uh feller wouldn’t have stren’th enough left to pull +off his boots. Them marbles are about ten-gage, and they won’t all hit +together.” + +We strings off up th’ road towards Pinto, and Ike Harper is behind th’ +procession. It’s uh trait of th’ Harper tribe to allus guard th’ rear. + + * * * * * + +Pinto was uh city which sprung from nothin’ and she showed it in every +line. By actual count there was twelve houses on th’ main street, which +they calls Sycamore Avenue after uh lone, impoverished mesquite which +they leaves in th’ public square. Of th’ twelve aforementioned houses +on Sycamore Avenue, two are business houses and th’ rest are saloons +and dance-halls. + +Pinto was uh necessity--like arsenic, strychnine and sawed-off shotguns. +One day uh pore ol’ whisker-packin’ prospector knocks uh piece uh rock +off uh ledge and opines that he’s got th’ world by th’ tail and uh +downhill drag. + +Like all of his kind he swears to hisself that he won’t tell uh single +soul of his find. He don’t. He gits to town, fills his skin with +laughin’ water and opines that he’s got uh message for th’ world. He +climbs on th’ bar and tells about uh hundred willin’ listeners where +there’s uh ledge uh free millin’ that will run about five hundred to +th’ ton. Therefore Pinto. Th’ original discovery, Th’ Weddin’ Ring, is +th’ only rich property, and after th’ first rush th’ town gits back to +th’ level of uh one-mine town and drifts on. + +We pilgrims to th’ outskirts and stops fer uh conference. + +“Gents,” sez Magpie, “I got a idea. Do yuh sabe deplomacy?” + +“Metal, disease or uh human bein’?” asks Tex. + +“Neither,” sez Magpie. “It’s uh state of affairs. Suppose you fellers +hive up some place while me and Ike converses with yore wives. Sympathy +is shore uh strike buster fer jealousy, and we’ll work on their +feelin’s. Sabe?” + +“That’s friendly talk, mister,” opines Peevee. “You never seen my +wife--yet--so be glad. We’ll await yore comin’ in th’ back room of th’ +Palace saloon. Adios.” + +Tex diagrams th’ village so we can find their homes, and then we +pilgrims out to seek fer sympathy. + +We selects Cold Deck’s bungaloo first. There’s uh meek-lookin’ woman on +th’ porch, and we sees her slip what looks uh heap like uh pistol under +her apron when she comes out to meet us. + +“Howdy, ma’am,” sez Magpie. “Is this th’ widow of Cold Deck Briggs?” + +“Widow?” sez she. “Has Cold Deck been----” + +“Yes’m, he has. I hates to break th’ bad news to you, ma’am, but +somebody has to do it, and me bein’ uh stranger, they asks me to do +it. Yuh see Cold Deck was sorta despondent about somethin’, ma’am, +and he tries to relieve his sufferin’ with uh rope.” + +“Tries to?” she snorts. + +“Shore,” sez Magpie. “Th’ rope broke. Mebby he’ll recover, ma’am, but +it’s best to be prepared.” + +“Well,” sez she, half hitchin’ her back hair with uh pin, “I thought at +first that you was a-lyin’ to me, but that last part sounds jist like +him. Miles uh good rope, and he picks uh pore piece. Good afternoon.” + +“That,” sez Magpie, as we pokes th’ burros down towards Tex’s place, +“shore prejudices me agin’ wimmin, Ike. They ain’t got no hearts.” + +“After knowin’ Cold Deck fer uh while I’m of th’ opinion that she’s +plumb normal and of uh sympathetic disposition,” sez I. + +“Ma’am,” sez Magpie to th’ fattest specimen of fe-male humanity I ever +seen, which comes to th’ door of th’ shack, “I’m uh bearer of bad news.” + +“S-s-s-shoot!” she wheezes. + +“Yore husband, ma’am, is--yuh see, Mrs. Jenkins, an Injun follers yore +husband out uh town and, as I was sayin’----” + +“Th’-th’-th’ Injun k-k-k-killed him?” she stutters. + +“Uh-huh,” nods Magpie. “Leastwise he may be dead. Yuh see, ma’am, yuh +can’t always tell from appearances. Me and Ike arrives on th’ scene +jist as th’ Injun was goin’ to scalp him and----” + +“G-g-g-g-goin’ to s-s-s-scalp Tex! G-g-g-gosh! He-he ain’t got no +ha-ha-hair!” + +“Yuh see, ma’am,” explains Magpie, “he still has his hat on and th’ +Injun didn’t know that he was bald.” + +“Did yuh-yuh-yuh search his po-po-pockets?” she splutters. + +I informs her that me and Magpie are uh pair of honest prospectors, and +it seems to touch her uh heap. She wipes her eyes on her apron and backs +into th’ house. Jist when she’s about half in and half out she remarks +in what ain’t exactly uh sad voice, but still it’s sorta melancholy--“He +had eighty-eighty-eighty dollars in his po-po-pockets when he left and I +sup-sup-suppose I’ll never s-s-s-see it agin.” + +We shoves th’ burros around so they’re headed fer Peevee’s domicile, and +pilgrims on. + +“After seein’ her,” opines Magpie, “I can partly understand Tex’s +statement that their wives is jealous of ’em. Tex has my sympathy, Ike.” + +“As crape-hangers, Magpie, we resembles Santa Claus uh heap,” I replies. + +I’ll state right here that Peevee runs true to form. It allus seems to +me that uh li’l runt that can look uh jackrabbit in th’ face without +bendin’ his back--th’ man’s of course--seems to allus pick uh truck hoss +of uh woman fer uh mate, and Peevee wasn’t no exception. She shore was +full grown. + +I looks her over in th’ doorway, and then whispers to Magpie, as we +nears th’ gate--“She shore must have uh meek disposition to have to +use uh .45 on Peevee.” + +“Ma’am,” sez Magpie, takin’ off his hat and bendin’ low, “we’re th’ +sorrowful bringers of bad news to you and yours.” + +“You’re doin’ th’ talkin’!” she snaps. + +“Yore late husband, ma’am----” + +“As usual,” sez she. “Go on.” + +“As I was sayin’, ma’am, yore late husband, Peevee Jack Skinner, was +bit by uh rattlesnake, and by this time is probably an ‘also ran’ in +th’ human race. I’m sorry, ma’am, but----” + +“Where is th’ snake?” she asks. + +“I killed it,” sez Magpie, “and throwed its mangled remains into the +rocks.” + +“Where?” she snaps. + +“Well--uh--why th’ interest in th’ snake? It’s dead.” + +“I jist wanted to know,” sez she, steppin’ inside, and half closin’ th’ +door, “so I can find it and give it uh decent burial. I admires anythin’ +with nerve, and any snake that would take uh chance on bitin’ Peevee +Skinner is shore entitled to uh heeroe’s grave.” + +“Ike, we found sympathy,” sez Magpie as we pilgrims back to town. + +“With th’ reverse English,” sez I. “If all th’ sympathy between them +three wives and three husbands was collected in one heap it wouldn’t +throw an assayer’s scale out of balance--and them scales weighs uh +pencil mark.” + + * * * * * + +“Well, you ol’ pelicans,” whoops uh voice in our ear, and here comes +Weinie Lopp down Sycamore Avenue. “Where in thunder did you people +come from? Welcome to----” + +Weinie’s sombrero snaps off his head, and from down th’ avenue comes +th’ whang of uh six-gun. Weinie picks up th’ hat and steps into th’ +protection of th’ corner of uh house. He peeks around th’ corner fer +uh minute, and then holds out th’ hat fer our inspection. + +“That’s th’ third time today,” sez he sorta solemn-like. + +“If this keeps up I’ll have to git uh new lid.” + +“Why th’ target practice?” I asks. + +“Non-appreciation of humor, Ike. Yesterday I sells th’ Weddin Ring mine +to three different parties, each time it was uh bargain--fer cash--and +now they’re showin’ their appreciation by tryin’ to lead me up.” + +“I hears that yore specialty was sellin’ saloons,” laughs Magpie. + +“Uh-huh,” grins Weinie. “I’m uh reg’lar real-estater. I’ll sell +anything!” + +“Got anythin’ on hand right now?” I asks. + +“Nope,” states Weinie, peekin’ around th’ corner and exposin’ his hat +without gettin’ uh slug. “If this keeps up though, Ike, I’m goin’ to git +uh option on uh piece uh ground out north uh town and start uh cemetery. +These Pinto hombres can’t shoot, but I’m gittin’ tired of dodgin’--and +uh hat like that costs money. Have yuh seen Slim and Andy yet?” + +“Jist got in,” sez Magpie. + +“Let’s go and see ’em,” suggests Weinie. + +“Slim won th’ poker game in th’ Pioneer saloon yesterday, and he’s +runnin’ it at uh profit. I reckon that Andy is helpin’. Andy got in +bad with th’ authorities, but that don’t mean nothin’. What you +fellers doin’ way over here?” + +“Weinie, can you keep yore mouth shut?” asks Magpie. + +“Like uh clam, Magpie. Shoot!” + +“Now listen, Weinie, this ain’t to be mentioned to uh soul. Somebody’ll +shore git in bad if yuh spreads it. Sabe?” + +“I hopes I marries uh ornery, hombly specimen of female, and that all +th’ deevorce judges loses their voice if I ever breathes uh word, +Magpie. Cross my heart.” + +Magpie hauls out that li’l red book and fumbles th’ pages. + +“Weinie, did yuh ever hear of folks by th’ names of Miss Ivy Clemons, +Miss Estelle Waterbury and Miss Clementine Margareet Elvington?” + +“Shore. And th’ Duke of Buckin’ham. I’ve read most all them kinda +novels, Magpie. I remembers in th’ last one----” + +“This ain’t no novel,” states Magpie. “Th’ people I mentions are right +here in Pinto. Leastwise they ought to be.” + +“Go ahead--I’ll bite,” laughs Weinie, takin’ another cautious peek +around th’ corner. + +“Lissen closely,” sez Magpie. “These three females are from th’ Far +East, and they’re reekin’ with money. They don’t wish people to know +who they are so they ain’t makin’ no blow about their wealth. Sabe? +Since that last strike on th’ Weddin’ Ring, Weinie, this country is +advertised uh heap through th’ East. + +“Bein’ business people these three she persons opine that they can +come here and corral uh bunch uh property, and do it uh heap cheaper +than uh man could. It stands to reason that nobody is goin’ to hand +uh gold brick to uh trustin’ woman.” + +“You spoke uh heap, Magpie,” agrees Weinie. “Air these she persons good +to look upon?” + +“Beauty is only skin deep, Weinie, and money makes uh pore complexion +bloom like uh rose. I ain’t seen ’em yet.” + +“Uh course I don’t want this to become general knowledge,” continues +Magpie, “’cause me and Ike figgers that we has th’ first show. Mebby +we can peddle some prospects and----” + +“Dog-gone ol’ pelicans,” snickers Weinie, punchin’ Magpie in th’ ribs. +“Fortune hunters, eh? What’s th’ matter with lettin’ li’l Weinie into +th’ game, eh?” + +“Mebby, later on. Yuh see, me and Ike ain’t matrimonial inclined, and +when some uh these Pinto snake-hunters gits wise to their money we’ll +have too danged many to buck. Just give me and Ike uh chance to make +uh stake, and then th’ hull population of Pinto can fight to see who +marries ’em. Havin’ money, they can shore pick and choose. Sabe?” + +“I suppose there ain’t nothin’ again me tryin’ to sell ’em uh saloon is +there?” laughs Weinie. + +“Go to it!” sez Magpie. “Me and Ike are goin’ to find somethin’ to eat, +and then we’ll probably come over to see Slim and Andy.” + +“I’ll tell ’em yore in town,” sez Weinie. “Now, if I can git across th’ +street without gittin’ another hole in my hat, I’ll be lucky.” + +We stands there and watches him. He ducks low and races across. When +he’s almost across we sees him grab his hat off and tuck it under his +arm, and then we hears th’ _pop_ of uh six-gun down th’ street. Weinie +stops in th’ saloon door long enough to put his thumb to his nose and +wiggle his fingers at somebody down th’ street. + +“Magpie,” sez I, “you shore got Ananias out on uh limb. What’s th’ idea +of all these pervarications?” + +“Deeplomacy, Ike. I feels deeply fer th’ officials of this fair city and +I aims to bring peace and comfort to their homes.” + +“Mebby,” sez I. “I don’t sabe that word yuh jist used but I shore do +recognize uh danged lie when I sees it. As fer unitin’ them lovin’ +famblys agin--I’m uh disciple of brotherly love--me.” + +“Jist remember, Ike, be it ever so humble there’s no place like home.” + +“Humbleness, forty-fives, riot-guns and hoss-pistols make uh real +cheerful combination,” I opines. + +“Anyway, I’ve started th’ campaign, Ike.” + +“Meanin’ which?” + +“Tellin’ Weinie. He dodged bullets to git across there and put Andy +and Slim wise to th’ game. I’ll bet right now that them hombres are +figgerin’ in millions. Let’s go find them three sorrowin’ sons.” + +We pilgrims around behind th’ Palace saloon and dumps th’ packs off our +livestock. + +“How’d yuh find things?” asks uh voice, and we turns to see Tex Jenkins’ +long face stickin’ out of uh window, and right behind him appears Cold +Deck and Peevee. They’re anxious lookin’. + +“Yore uh fine crew,” laughs Magpie. “Lettin’ uh pore inoffensive +fe-male run blazers on yuh thataway. From what I can gather they’re +shore feelin’ bad about it.” + +“What’d yuh tell my wife?” asks Cold Deck. + +“I showed her th’ error of her ways, and she almost weeps.” + +“Did my wife weep?” inquires Peevee. “She didn’t, did she?” + +“No,” sez Magpie, “she didn’t weep, but she felt bad. She remarks +somethin’ about uh heero, and then goes into th’ house. Uh woman hates +to have uh man see her cry--especially uh strong woman.” + +“She’s strong enough,” agrees Peevee, “but that heero stuff don’t sound +edzactly like her. Much obliged though.” + +“Yore welcome,” states Magpie. “Where can I find them three +home-hunters?” + +“They’re over to th’ St. Charles hotel,” sez Tex. “At least they was +this mawnin’.” + +“We’ll go over there, Ike, and see what we can do fer their comforts. +I was born with uh sympathetic disposition and I can’t bear sufferin’. +Tex, I’m goin’ to ask uh favor of you three fellers. No matter what +happens, don’t tell anybody what yuh knows about these three fe-males. +Sabe? Yuh can tell yore wives, of course, but they won’t believe yuh +anyway. I’m doin’ all this fer yore good, so don’t peddle no +information.” + +While we’re crossin’ Sycamore Avenue to th’ hotel, I takes off my hat to +Magpie three times. As uh liar I admires him. I allus admires uh good +liar. They say George Washington couldn’t tell uh lie, but I’ve got it +on him four ways from th’ Jack. I can lie but I don’t dare to. Everybody +knows when I strays from th’ straight and narrer and sometimes they +thinks so when I don’t stray. I can’t grow whiskers thick enough on my +face to tell uh lie and play safe. + +We finds them fe-males right away. They’re infestin’ th’ parlor, and +Magpie butts in and starts conversin’ like he’d knowed ’em all his life. +He introduces me and himself, and one of th’ ladies makes us used to th’ +other two. I didn’t look at their teeth, but I’d opine that they’d range +from thirty-five to forty-five. Miss Waterbury is about thirty-five, +yaller-haired, and sorta built fer speed up to about four hundred yards. + +Miss Clemons has black hair, brown eyes and will weigh about one-eighty +on th’ hoof. She’s got uh kind eye. Miss Elvington favors uh lodge-pole +uh heap and is wearin’ enough brown hair to make uh swing rope. From +what I can see of th’ paint on her face, she’s on th’ war path or +gittin’ ready to start. + +“Ladies,” sez Magpie, “we understands how yuh happens to come out here +and we’re here as uh committee uh two to try and find means uh settlin’ +th’ tangle. You can all be glad that yuh didn’t git th’ husbands you +expected. Myself, I don’t believe in annexin’ uh husband by mail, but +it takes all kinds uh marriages to make uh community.” + +“What would you suggest,” asks Miss Clementine. “We came out here in +good faith, and now we haven’t enough money to get home.” + +“Yore prime object was matrimony, wasn’t it, ma’am?” + +They all nods. + +“Ladies, I’ve got a idea,” sez Magpie. “In this town is three men who +would make three good wimmen, husbands. Sabe? They’re from th’ same +town as we are and we’re plumb anxious to see ’em married and settled +down. If they knowed that you wanted to marry ’em they’d shy like uh +bronc at uh paper sack, but if yuh works it right you’ll land ’em. It +has been rumored that you three ladies are wealthy persons from th’ +East who are out here to look over some minin’ propositions. Don’t +dispute it. Have yuh got enough money to last uh week?” + +“Possibly we could exist for two weeks,” laughs Miss Clemons. + +“Do it,” advises Magpie, and then we pilgrims out of th’ hotel. + +“Now,” sez Magpie, “let’s go over and git them burros and be on our +way.” + +“On our way?” I asks. “Where we goin’ now?” + +“Prospectin’, Ike. We came down here to hunt gold--not to enjoy th’ +flesh pots. Anyway, I don’t think we could do any more good here at +present.” + +“If yuh calls it ‘good,’ I reckon not,” I agrees. “Me--I’m plenty +willin’ to leave here.” + +We throws th’ packs on th’ burros and starts amblin’ out of town when +here comes uh feller down th’ street, limpin’ and cussin’ uh blue +streak. It’s Cold Deck. + +“Four chiny marbles!” he wails, pointin’ at his legs. “What in ---- did +you tell her? I gits in sight of th’ front door, and out she lopes with +that hoss-pistol in her hand. She yells somethin’ at me about tryin’ uh +new rope, and then she cuts down on me with that danged pistol!” + +Jist as Magpie clears his throat to answer, here comes Peevee around th’ +corner. He’s sorta runnin’ regardless and lookin’ over his shoulder like +uh rabbit when uh coyote presses him close. He races right up to us, +digs th’ heels of his big boots in th’ dirt and skids to uh dead stop. + +“My Gawd!” sez he. “My ol’ woman’s gone plumb loco! She meets me at +th’ door with that ol’ forty-five, and sez: ‘I didn’t think it could +be true, Peevee. No snake would take uh big chance like that’.” + +“Did she shoot at yuh?” asks Cold Deck. + +“Danged if I know. I was too busy to even listen. That woman ain’t +jealous--she’s crazy!” + +“So’s mine,” agrees Cold Deck. “I reckon she couldn’t stand all that +sorrow. She’s gone hemp crazy, but blast it, she ain’t too crazy to +shoot!” + +“Lissen!” sez Magpie. “If you fellers wants me to save yore happy homes +from bein’ wrecked, keep yore mouths shut. Sabe? No matter what comes +off here in Pinto, you fellers keep still about them three wimmin. In +this here game uh deeplomacy yuh got to ----” + +From far off across th’ city comes th’ dull _boom_ of uh gun and we +looks foolish like at each other. + +“Both bar’els of uh riot-gun,” states Magpie. “Ike, let’s git a-goin’.” + +We did. When we’re almost out of sight we looks back and we sees uh +lanky figger come limpin’ down th’ street and join th’ two we jist left. + +“It wasn’t serious,” opines Magpie. “She must ’a’ shut both eyes.” + + * * * * * + +We pilgrims out into th’ hills away from Pinto. There’s several outfits +gopherin’ around th’ hills, and we digs uh few holes ourselves. Whoever +or whatever pours th’ gold into th’ Weddin’ Ring mine shore didn’t spill +any of it while they was packin’ it over, cause that country shore is +one barren spot. + +After pilgrimin’ around fer uh couple uh weeks, we decides that there +ain’t enough gold in them hills to fill uh tooth, and so we starts back. + +We’re amblin’ down uh dry wash that mornin’ when we meets uh caravan. + +Out in front walks that human chalk-line, Tex Jenkins, then comes three +burros, and in th’ rear plods Cold Deck and Peevee Jack. + +“_Klahowya!_” sez Tex. “Havin’ any luck?” + +“No,” sez Magpie. “There ain’t nothin’ in these hills. We’ve combed +’em from rimrock to peaks without findin’ uh color. You fellers might +as well turn around and come back.” + +“Shall we?” asks Tex to his pardners. + +“No!” snaps th’ other two. + +“Yore wastin’ yore time tryin’ to find anythin’,” I argues. + +“Aw, we’ll find it all right,” argues Cold Deck. “We ain’t lookin’ fer +th’ same thing you fellers are.” + +“Ain’t yuh lookin’ fer gold?” asks Magpie. + +“Not any,” states Peevee, takin’ off one of his man-sized boots and +shakin’ th’ dust out. “Yore gazin’ upon uh new kind of uh prospectin’ +outfit, Mister Simpkins. Rest yore eyes on this layout, ’cause yuh +won’t never see another on th’ same quest. We don’t want gold nor +precious metals, and we ain’t huntin’ fer oil. Mebby she ain’t here, +but we’re lookin’.” + +“Meanin’?” I asks. + +“Peace,” sez Peevee. + +“Haw! Haw! Haw!” roars Magpie. “Bunch uh dove-hunters, eh? I’d opine +from that that yore all in bad at home agin.” + +“Agin!” snorts Tex. “Did you fellers notice that he said ‘agin’? Mister +Simpkins, I wishes to inform yuh that it is ‘yet’!” + +“Did I tell yuh about them marbles?” asks Cold Deck, pullin’ out four +round pieces uh chiny and rollin’ ’em around in his hand. “These four +ranges from my wishbone to my corns, and they shore did sting yours +truly, Cold Deck Briggs, Esq.” + +“So you fellers left yore official jobs and wives, eh?” grins Magpie. +“Well, well!” + +“We pleads guilty to th’ wives,” sez Tex, sad like. “We thinks too much +of our wives to give ’em any more chances to appear as defendants in uh +murder trial. As to our official jobs ----” + +“We sold ’em,” grins Cold Deck. “Yes, sir, we peddles our titles and +good will.” + +“But yuh can’t sell an official job,” argues Magpie. + +“Can’t we?” asks Cold Deck, turnin’ to Tex and Peevee. + +They both nods and Tex states: + +“There ain’t nothin’ yuh can’t sell in Pinto. Weinie’s sellin’ shares in +th’ Panama Canal. Mayorin’ is an under-paid chore, so I sells cheap.” + +“How could yuh sell yore jobs and who to?” I asks. + +Tex bites th’ size of uh placer claim out of his plug and sets down on +uh rock. + +“Well, yuh see when we’re approached in th’ matter we deliberates and +accepts, contingent on it bein’ satisfactory to th’ city. We calls uh +meetin’ of me and Cold Deck and Peevee, and, bein’ unanimous that we +has th’ right, we adjourns and accepts th’ office.” + +“I’m pleased,” states Cold Deck. “Ever since that coyote pup runs away +with my star, and since Peevee tries to make four kings beat four aces, +there ain’t been no joy in our jobs.” + +“Who buys yuh out?” I asks. + +“Mister Hawkins is th’ mayor, Mister Lopp is treasurer, and Andy Johnson +is chief of police,” replies Cold Deck. + +“Haw! Haw! Haw!” roars Tex, slappin’ his hat on his leg. “I almost +forgot to tell yuh. They starts right in makin’ out a new ordinance. +They--haw! haw!--they draws up one to th’ effect that no man can +peddle uh minin’ claim in Pinto unless said peddler has been uh +citizen of Pinto for three weeks.” + +“What’s so danged funny about that?” I asks. + +“Haw! Haw!” yelps Tex, fannin’ uh burro away with his hat. + +“That’s fer you two fellers. I hears Hawkins tell Johnson that this +ordinance will keep some ladies from bein’ taken in on uh wild-cat +proposition by them danged ol’ packrats. I hears yore names mentioned +soon afterwards, so I reckon they shore means you.” + +“Is them three male-hunters there yet?” asks Magpie. + +“Are they!” snorts Cold Deck. “They jist about are! Uh course me and +Tex and Peevee has too much troubles of our own to pay much attention, +and accordin’ to yore instructions we keeps our mouths shut, but I +feels that them ladies is responsible fer them three fellers desirin’ +to occupy our positions. These three new officials shore grades high +with them wimmen, and they rides herd on that St. Charles hotel some +rigorous.” + +“Well,” sez Magpie, haulin’ our burros around so they points down hill, +“I wish you luck. Peace is like gold--where yuh finds it. _Klahowya._” + + * * * * * + +They pokes on up th’ dry wash, and me and Magpie and th’ other two +jackasses pilgrims on towards sea level. About ten miles below where +we intercepts th’ peace party, we cuts into th’ Pinto road and stops. + +“I’d shore like to go over there,” sez Magpie. “But then, yuh never can +tell. Mebby them three hombres has drafted another ordinance or two in +our favor. We’ll let well enough alone, Ike.” + +We ambles on down th’ road, and jist as we’re approachin’ th’ spot +where we first meets them sons uh sorrow I bumps into th’ rear burro, +and finds that our caravan is stopped. + +“Cripes!” sez Magpie. “Look what’s here, Ike.” + +Right on that pile uh boulders, where we first spots them sons uh +sorrow, we sees three more. + +As before, th’ near one favors uh lodge-pole uh heap, and he’s +doubled up like uh jack-knife, with his chin in his hands. Th’ next +one is sprawled on th’ ground with his shoulder-blades propped up +agin’ uh rock, and all yuh can see in th’ shade of his hat is th’ +tips of his mustache. Th’ third one is short and kinda fat-like and +is doubled up like he had th’ cramps in his stummick. His face bears +out this statement. + +“Whither?” asks th’ slender one, removin’ uh limp cigaret from his +mouth. + +“Yon,” sez Magpie, pointin’ off down th’ road. “We pilgrim to Piperock.” + +“Me, too,” states th’ slim one, uncoilin’ himself from th’ rock. + +“You and me both,” opines th’ one with th’ mustache, gittin’ up and +dustin’ off th’ seat of his pants. + +Th’ four of us ambles off down th’ road in th’ dust of them burros, +while th’ fat one with th’ cramp expression still sets there and +contemplates th’ sins of mankind. + + +[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 1917 issue of +Adventure magazine.] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78677 *** |