Friar Tuck Part 28

After Olaf had rode out o' sight to the north, Horace sez: "Has he allus been crazy?"

"He's not crazy," sez I.

"Then what did he mean by sayin' I had a very brave flame an' that I spoke true?" sez Horace. "Course he's crazy. Didn't you notice his eyes."

"Yes," I sez, "I've noticed his eyes a lot; but I don't think he's crazy-except in thinkin' 'at Kit Murray'll marry him. Why, she would as soon think o' marryin' a he-bear as Olaf."

"Well, I think they have drove him crazy," sez Horace; "but I'm goin'

to bestir myself in his favor."

He took himself as serious as if he had been Napoleon an' David both; an' I could smell trouble plain. We decided to move our camp down to Olaf's, an' wrangle his herd into the Spread every night. Pearl Crick Spread was as fine a little valley as a body ever saw; filled with cottonwoods an' snugglin' down out o' the wind behind high benches.

The crick came in through a gorge, an' went out through a gorge; an'

it was plain to me that the Spread was worth fightin' for.

When we got back to the camp we found that a couple o' Cross brand boys had happened along, by accident, of course, an' were tryin' to swap news o' the weather for news o' the neighbors. Our crowd hadn't loosened up none; and as soon as we came back the Cross-branders left.

Horace looked pleased. "I bet I got one of 'em last night," sez he, shakin' his head.

Well, we all grinned, we couldn't help it. "I bet you get another chance at 'em, too," sez Slim. Our outfit had been peaceable for so long that the prospect of trouble actually made us feel nervous enough to show it.

We moved down to Olaf's, and each night we fetched in his little bunch o' cows, an' allus kept up some hosses in the corral. The Cross-branders used to wander by our place purty frequent, but allus in the matter o' business.

One day, after we'd been livin' at Olaf's about a week, Badger-face Flannigan, an' a pair of as mean-lookin' Greasers as ever I saw, came ridin' along. Me an' Horace had been up in the hills after some fresh meat, an' we see them before they saw us. They were ridin' slow an'

snoopin' about to see what they could pick up, an' when they saw us they looked a bit shifty for a moment.

Then Badger wrinkled up his face in what was meant for a friendly grin, an' sez: "h.e.l.lo, fellers. Have you-un's bought Olaf out?"

"Nope," sez I. "We're just out here for a little huntin'; an' Olaf got us to look after his stuff for a few days while he went visitin'."

"Wasn't the' any huntin' closer to home?" sez Badger-face, a little sarcastic.

"Not the kind o' huntin' we prefer," sez Horace, sort o' dreamy like.

Badger-face drilled a look into Horace, who had put on his most no-account expression. "What's your favorite game," sez he, "snow-shoe rabbits?"

"Oh, no," drawled Horace as if he felt sleepy, "silver-tips an' humans is our favorite game; but o' course the spring is the best time-for silver-tips."

"Where might you be from?" asked Badger-face.

"I might be from Arizona or Texas," sez Horace; "but I ain't. I'm a regular dude. Can't you tell by my whiskers?"

Badger-face was so puzzled when Horace gave a little rat-laugh that I had to laugh too; and ya could see the blood come into Badger's cheeks, but still, he couldn't savvy this sort o' game, so he couldn't quite figure out how to start anything.

Horace had practiced what he called a muscle-lift, which he said he used to see the other kids do on parallel bars; and now he slipped to the ground an' tightened his cinch an' cussed about the way it had come loose, as natural as life. Then he put one hand on the horn an'

the other on the cantle an' drew himself up slow. He kept on pushin'

himself after his breast had come above the saddle until he rested at arm's length. Then he flipped his right leg over, an' took his seat as though it was nothin' at all. Any one could see it was a genuwine stunt, though it was of no earthly use to a ridin' man.

Now, just because the' was no sense to this antic, it made more of an impression on Badger-face than the fanciest sort o' shootin' or ropin'

would 'a' done; an' he puzzled over what sort of a speciment Horace might be, till it showed in his face.

"Come on down an' have supper with us," sez Horace. "You can see for yourself what the prospect for fresh meat is; so you can be sure of a welcome."

"No, we can't very well come this evenin'," sez Badger-face.

"Why not?" sez Horace. "You look to me like a man who was gettin'

bilious for the want of a little sociability. Come on down an' we'll swap stories, an' have a few drinks, an' I'll sing ya the best song you ever hearkened to."

"No, we got to be goin'," sez Badger-face; an' he an' the Greasers rode off while Horace chuckled under his breath as merry as a magpie.

"That's what you call a bad man, is it?" sez he. "I tell you that feller's a rank coward."

"Would you have the nerve to pick up a horn-toad?" sez I.

"No," sez he; "cause they're poison."

"They ain't no more poison 'n a frog is," I sez; "but most people thinks they are, an' that is why strangers are afraid of 'em. Now, Badger-face ain't no coward. He's a shootin' man; but he can't make you out, an' this is what makes him shy of ya."

"Well," sez Horace, "I'd rather be a free horn-toad than a mule in harness. Come on, let's go eat."

The next afternoon Horace went along to help bring in the bunch o'

cattle; an' some one up on the hill took a shot at him. He couldn't ride up the hill, so he hopped off the pony, an' started up on foot.

Mexican Slim was closest to him, an' he started after; but the feller got away without leavin' any trace. Horace was wonderful pleased about it, an' strutted more than common.

"There now," sez he after supper; "do you mean to tell me 'at that feller wasn't a coward? Why the' ain't enough sand in their whole outfit to blind a flea!"

We just set an' smoked in silence. When a feller as little as him once begins to crow, the's nothin' to do but wait till his spurs get clipped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A LITTLE GUN-PLAY

It's curious how hard it is, sometimes, to get trouble started. We all knew 'at the Cross-branders was ready to clean us out, an' itchin' for the job; but the's one curious little holdback in the make-up of every healthy animal in the world. Every sane animal the' is wants self-defence as his excuse for takin' life. I admit that now and again beasts an' men both get a sort o' crazy blood-l.u.s.t, an' just kill for the sake of it; but it's the rare exception.

One of us allus made it a point to go along with Horace; an' most times when we'd meet up with any o' the Cross-branders, they'd never miss the chance to fling some polite smart talk at him; but the little cuss could sa.s.s back sharper 'n they could, an' I reckon they was suspicious that he wouldn't 'a' been so cool if he hadn't had bigger backin' than was in sight. It was perfectly natural to think 'at he had been sent out as a lure by some big cattle outfit, or even the government; so they went cautious till they could nose out the game.

One day Badger-face an' the two Greasers came along when Horace was out ridin' with Tillte Dutch. Dutch was one o' these innocent-lookin'

Germans-big, wide-open eyes, a half smile, an' a sort of a leanin' to fat. He never had but one come-back to anything-which was to splutter; but he was dependable in a pinch.

"Whatever made you so unspeakable little?" sez Badger-face to Horace.

Horace looked behind him, an' all about, an' then sez in surprise: "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," sez Badger-face. "You seem to dry down a little smaller each day."

"Well," sez Horace, speakin' in a low secret-tellin' tone, "I'll tell ya; but I don't want ya to blab it to every one ya see. When I was a young chap, I used to go with a big, awkward, potato-brained slob, about your size. I could out-shoot him, out-ride him, run circles around him, an' think seven times while he was squeezin' the cells of his brain so they'd touch up again' each other; but one day he made a bet that he could eat more hog-meat 'n I could; an' he won the bet.