Happy Hawkins Part 26

He was good about one thing, though: he just about took the night trick off my hands, so that I begun catchin' up with my sleep again. He used to load himself down with firearms an' he and Fido would hunt Chinamen two or three hours every night, but he never had no luck. Several times the neighbors rode by an' they told us that the' was a gang breakin'

into houses an' stealin', but they couldn't seem to get any track of 'em.

One mornin' I was tryin' to find out what made the sewin' machine drop st.i.tches, when he came runnin' in with his eyes stickin' out like a toad's.

"He's been sleepin' in the barn," sez he.

"Who--the horse?" sez I, thinkin' it was one of his jokes.

"No," sez he, "the Chinaman."

Well, I looked at him, an' he explained how his suspicions had been aroused, an' that he had made a practice of stirrin' up the straw each evenin', an' then each mornin' would find the print of a man's body but that he had put tar on the ladder without gettin' any evidence.

I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears at this, an' turned the machine out on pasture for a while. We went to the barn, an' there, sure enough, was the print of a man's body. Then we adjourned to the shade to hatch up a sub-tile plot. We smoked an' hatched until it was time for me to go in an' help with dinner. We was both thinkin' hard, an' finally I sez, "Now, Ches, the craftiest thing for us to do, is for me to cover up in the straw, an' when he lays down, explode my gun against his ribs." He had pestered me a mighty sight, an' I never was partial to 'em nohow. Ches never made any reply; he was what you call engrossed. All of a sudden he leaps to his feet an' slaps me on the shoulder.

"Happy," sez he, "are ya game?"

I looked at him a while, an' then I sez gently, "Now look here, Mister, I ain't no hero, an' if you happen to have any more college festivities to introduce, why I'll own up to a yellow streak a foot wide; but I don't recollect just what day it was that any livin' man accused me of bein' down-right pale-blooded. If you got any hair-raisin' projec' in your head, don't bother to break it gentle. Just tell it right out, an'

I'll lean up against this tree, so as not to hurt myself should I faint."

"Well," sez he, chucklin' like a prairie-dog. "I propose we paint up the goat with phosphorus, put him in the barn, an' me an' you get up in the trees to watch."

"What's the goat done?" sez I.

"The goat ain't done nothin'," sez he, "but he'll scare the c.h.i.n.k to death, an' when he comes out we can shoot him in the leg or something."

"No," sez I, "it won't work. The c.h.i.n.k knows the goat better'n we do; an' it'll be the goat that'll come out an' get shot in the leg, while the c.h.i.n.k'll get away."

"Oh, rats!" sez Ches. "He won't even know it's a goat. Can't you see that?"

"Why won't he know it's a goat?" I sez, gettin' impatient. "A Chinaman's got just as much sense as a human being, an' you'll find it out sometime too."

"Yes, but didn't I tell you I was goin' to paint him with phosphorus?"

sez Ches, all het up.

"I don't know what phosphorus is," sez I, "but you'll have to do a master job of painting to make that William goat look like a pinchin'-bug. Still, this is your projec' an' if you want to play the wheel one whirl, why I'll help stick up the stake."

I was busy about the house all afternoon, an' Ches kept himself penned up in his labatory. He had brought out a lot of stuff in cans an'

bottles, had turned the woodshed into what he called a labatory, an'

spent a good part of his time there, mixin' up peculiar stenches. They used to smell something frightful; but they only exploded about half the time. No matter what they did do, he always claimed that it was just exactly what he intended; but his hands was colored up constant like a fried egg, an' I never took much joy in loafin' about the woodshed.

That night as soon as I had my dishes washed an' the kitchen red up, we caught the goat an' took him to the barn. He was considerable of a goat, this one was, with horns on him a foot long an' a fright of a temper. He was one o' these fellers what is always out o' humor, only sometimes farther out than common. Still, me with my rope, an' Ches with his football habits, was one too many for Mr. Goat; an' we soon had him up in the haymow. Then I pa.s.sed up the can o' paint, an' took a stroll around to see that no one had been givin' us the look-over.

The can o' paint did have a pretty fierce smell, but I didn't put much faith in it. I'd been in opium joints, an' I knew that a Chinaman would FATTEN on a smell 'at would suffocate a goat; an' when it comes to vigorous an' able-bodied odors, a billy-goat ain't no tenderfoot himself.

After a time Ches came down with a heavenly smile on his face, so I knew the goat hadn't smothered yet; an' then we went into the house an'

handled the lights in just the regular way; but when the time came, instead of goin' to bed, we went out an' c.o.o.ned up a big tree, about on a level with the mow-window. Ches had nailed up a kind of platform, which was rickety enough to keep a sensible man on the watch; but first I knew he was wakin' me up. He had his hand over my mouth, an'

whispered, "He's in the yard now."

I ain't one o' them what yawns an' grunts an' stretches; I wake up like an antelope--all in a bunch.

The' was a little rustlin' back in some bushes over by the fence. Then, after a pause, we heard a queer scratchin' noise. He was climbin' up a tree at the back o' the barn so as to get in through a scuttle in the roof. 'T was gettin' interestin', an' I got out my guns an' held 'em ready. Ches had a whole a.r.s.enal spread out around him, an' I could easy see a week's work ahead of me, a-policin' up the premises.

The sky was just literally soggy with stars, an' you could see the outline of things purty plain. It was one o' those nights when everything is so still that you hear with the inside of your head, an'

any little real noise fair puts a crimp in ya.

We was leanin' on the rail of Ches's platform, when all of a sudden we hear the greatest jabberin' ever a human man heard. A goat an' a Chinaman speaks the same langwidge, an' goodness only knows what Billy Buck was a-tellin' him but the tone was insistent an' the effect was most exhilaratin'. I had my ears stretched out to catch every sound--an' sounds wasn't nowise scarce just then. Squeals an' groans, an' wrastlin' an' blows, kept a feller all keyed up, an' we was bitin'

our lips to keep from laughin'--an' then it happened!

The door o' that mow flew open as though it was struck by eleven engines, a dark form shot out, followed by two more--an' then the devil, himself, poked his head out through that haymow window. Talk about faces--Lord! I attended a ghost dance over in the Sioux country oncet; but it was a Sunday-school picnic alongside the face that poked its way out of that door.

The' was rings of fire around the eyes, nose, an' mouth, the whiskers was one long waverin', ghastly flame, an' the horns was two others.

The' was a blue gritchety sort o' smoke curlin' up around the face, an'

my heart laid right down in its tracks an' rolled over on its back. I only saw that face a second, but I can shut my eyes an' see it right now. Gosh!

I ain't much superst.i.ticus, 'cept when I'm gamblin', but of course I know the' 's such things as ghosts an' devils an' sich, an' I don't take no liberties with 'em. I screeched out, a "Great Scott! what's that?" My hands shut up voluntary, both my guns went off in the air, the rail broke, an' me an' Ches sort o' chuck-lucked to the ground. We didn't miss any limbs on the way down, nor the guns didn't neither.

Every time they b.u.mped a limb, they went off, an' it sounded like Custer's last stand.

We weren't hurt none, an' scrambled to our feet in a second. The' was an awful squawkin' goin' on under the haymow window, an' that horrible, fire-faced devil seemed to be eatin' the heads off the Chinamen. I got a better view of it this time, an' I see it was one o' the dragons they worship. It made me feel a little better, 'cause I didn't see why he'd have any grudge against a Christian. Still, I wasn't takin' no chances, so I grabbed Ches by the arm an' headed for the kitchen--him stickin'

his heels in the ground an' callin' me coward. I thought he had lost his mind, so I didn't pay any heed to him.

We threw ourselves against the kitchen door, an' I hammered on it with my knuckles, while Ches kicked me on the shins an' tried to get away.

Finally Mrs. Cameron raised an upstairs window an' began shootin' with her bean-blower. I've no idy what she was shootin' at; but she hit me twice in the boot-leg, an' blame if it didn't sting like a whip.

Ches jerked loose while I was rubbin' the sore spot, an' as I glanced up I saw the three dark forms comin' after us followed closer by the devil-dragon, his face fairly drippin' with liquid fire. The whole bunch of 'em looked outrageous big, an' I felt about as ma.s.sive an'

forceful as an angle-worm; but at that, I managed to open the celler door, an' tried to get Ches to come in too. "Ches," I whispered, for I hadn't strength enough to yell, "Ches, come on in an' save yourself;"

but he never gave no heed. He just stood crouching over in the shadow while they headed for him, devil-dragon an' all.

I wanted to crawl into the cellar alone, but I lacked just one grain of havin' moral courage enough, so I stood still with my knees beatin'

together, watchin' 'em come. My heart ached to think that he was out of his head an' fairly throwin' himself away, an' then all of a sudden, it flashed upon me that the blame fool was playin' football. On they charged like a stampeded herd, a-screechin' like a run-away freight wagon with dry axles, while that pink-checked tenderfoot stood in his tracks, as calm an' cool as the North Star, until they arrived at the proper distance, an' then he sorted out the big one in the center an'

dove for his legs.

They went up in the air, like a long-horn foolin' with the leg-throw for the first time, the other two b.u.mped into them, the fire-faced devil-dragon slipped through, caught me full in the pantry, an' we all avalanched into the celler in one mixed up tangle. I can't describe it to you. I saw a photograph oncet of the bottomless pit at a revival meeting, and this lay-out was a card out of the same deck. I ain't stuck-up nor exclusive; but hang me if I ever want to get into such a mixed crowd again. We bit an' kicked an' hammered each other till I felt like quartz at a stamp-mill. The only light we had, came from the Chinese devil'-an' I 'd a heap sooner had none.

Finally I got hold of two cues, an' it give me a logical purpose. I simply took a short hold on those cues an' b.u.mped the heads they belonged to, together, until that dragon caught sight of me an' hit me a thump in the back that loosened all my teeth. Something began to make an awful bawling sound, an' it scared the life out of me until I see the Chinese devil go up the stairs leaving a trail of flame behind him; an' then I knew that one of our own Medicines had arrived.

This was some the worst roar I ever heard. It would start in with a lot of foreign words an' end up with Rah! Rah Rah! The voice sounded something like Chess; but when I called him he didn't answer, an' I feared it was his spirit.

The' didn't seem to be any use in b.u.mpin' my two heads together any more, so purty soon I dropped 'em, an' straightened up. The' wasn't a sound, an' it was enough sight scarier than the noise had been. I looked around in the dark, an' the' was ghastly waverin' flames all over an' I could see hideous faces grinnin' at me.

I scuttled out o' that cellar like a homin' rabbit, an' ran around to the side door. Mrs. Cameron put her head out after a bit, an' when she found out who I was, she let her lantern down to me on a string, an' I screwed up my courage an' went back to the cellar. I listened a moment, an' it was quiet as a grave--it was too much like a grave to suit me. I needed the touch of an old friend, so I went back an' hunted up one of my guns, loaded it, an' went down into that cellar--an' I never want my nerves stretched no tighter than the' were right at that minute. I see three Chinamen an' Ches stretched out in a heap, Ches still huggin' the big one he had picked out first.

I carried the two of 'em upstairs still locked together, an' laid 'em on the porch. As I did so, Ches opened his eyes an' smiled weakly, ail sez to me most beseechful, "Gi' me the ball, gi' me the ball, an' let Hodge an' Roger throw me over the line. It's no use tryin' to buck through." The doggone loon still thought the was playin' football, I don't reckon a railroad wreck would give one o' them football players a single new sensation.

He jumps up after a minute, shakes himself, an' seems as good as new. I was for lettin' the c.h.i.n.ks go, an' gettin' indoors; but not for him, so we ties 'em; but I ain't a mite easy in my mind. I was still lookin'

for old Mister Devil-Dragon to come chargin' back with his Fourth o'

July face, an' put an' everlastin' crimp in us. His man had a cut in the back of the head, while my two was merely softened up a little; an'

as soon as we got 'em in the kitchen an' threw some water in their faces, they revived out of it an' began to jabber enough to give a steam whistle the headache.