The Texan Part 17

"A what?"

"A pilgrim, or tenderfoot, or greener or chechako, or counter-jumper, owin' to what part of the country you misfit into. We thought you wouldn't have no guts, an' we'd----"

"Any what?"

The Texan regarded the other hopelessly. "Oh h.e.l.l!" he muttered disgustedly. "Can't you talk no English? Where was you raised?"

The other laughed. "Go on, I will try to follow you."

"I can't chop 'em up no finer than one syllable. But I'll shorten up the dose sufficient for your understandin' to grasp. It's this way: D'you know what a frame-up is?"

Endicott nodded.

"Well, Choteau County politics is in such a condition of onwee that a hangin' would be a reg'lar tonic for the party that's in; which it's kind of bogged down into an old maid's tea party. Felonious takin's-off has be'n common enough, but there hasn't no hangin's resulted, for the reason that in every case the hangee has got friends or relations of votin' influence. Now, along comes you without no votin' connections an' picks off Purdy, which he's cla.s.sed amongst human bein's, an' is therefore felonious to kill. There ain't nothin'

to it. They'd be poundin' away on the scaffold an' testin' the rope while the trial was goin' on. Besides which you'd have to linger in a crummy jail for a couple of months waitin' for the grand jury to set on you. A few of us boys seen how things was framed an' we took the liberty to turn you loose, not because we cared a d.a.m.n about you, but we'd hate to see even a snake hung fer killin' Purdy which his folks done a wrong to humanity by raisin' him.

"The way the thing is now, if the boys plays the game accordin' to Hoyle, there won't be no posses out huntin' you 'cause folks will all think you was lynched. But even if they is a posse or two, which the chances is there will be, owin' to the loosenin' effect of spiritorious licker on the tongue, which it will be indulged in liberal when that bunch hits town, we can slip down into the bad lands an' lay low for a while, an' then on to the N. P. an' you can get out of the country."

Endicott extended his hand: "I thank you," he said. "It is certainly white of you boys to go out of your way to help a perfect stranger. I have no desire to thrust my neck into a noose to further the ends of politics. One experience of the kind is quite sufficient."

"Never mind oratin' no card of thanks. Just you climb up into the middle of that bronc an' we'll be hittin' the trail. We got quite some ridin' to do before we get to the bad lands--an' quite some after."

Endicott reached for the bridle reins of his horse which was cropping gra.s.s a few feet distant.

"But Alice--Miss Marc.u.m!" With the reins in his hand he faced the Texan. "I must let her know I am safe. She will think I have been lynched and----"

"She's goin' along," interrupted the Texan, gruffly.

"Going along!"

"Yes, she was bound to see you through because what you done was on her account. Bat an' her'll be waitin' for us at Snake Creek crossin'."

"Who is Bat?"

"He's a breed."

"A what?"

"Wait an' see!" growled Tex. "Come on; we can't set here 'til you get educated. You'd ought to went to school when you was young."

Endicott reached for a stirrup and the horse leaped sidewise with a snort of fear. Again and again the man tried to insert a foot into the broad wooden stirrup, but always the horse jerked away. Round and round in a circle they went, while the Texan sat in his saddle and rolled a cigarette.

"Might try the other one," he drawled, as he struck a match. "Don't you know no better than to try to climb onto a horse on the right-hand side? You must of be'n brought up on G-Dots."

"What's a G-Dot?"

"There you go again. Do I look like a school-marm? A G-Dot is an Injun horse an' you can get on 'em from both sides or endways. Come on; Snake Creek crossin' is a good fifteen miles from here, an' we better pull out of this coulee while the moon holds."

Endicott managed to mount, and gathering up the reins urged his horse forward. But the animal refused to go and despite the man's utmost efforts, backed farther and farther into the brush.

"Just shove on them bridle reins a little," observed the Texan dryly.

"I think he's swallerin' the bit. What you got him all yanked in for?

D'you think the head-stall won't hold the bit in? Or ain't his mouth cut back far enough to suit you? These horses is broke to be rode with a loose rein. Give him his head an' he'll foller along."

A half-mile farther up the coulee, the Texan headed up a ravine that led to the level of the bench, and urging his horse into a long swinging trot, started for the mountains. Mile after mile they rode, the cowboy's lips now and then drawing into their peculiar smile as, out of the corner of his eye he watched the vain efforts of his companion to maintain a firm seat in the saddle. "He's game, though,"

he muttered, grudgingly. "He rides like a busted wind-mill an' it must be just tearin' h.e.l.l out of him but he never squawks. An' the way he took that hangin'---- If he'd be'n raised right he'd sure made some tough hand. An' pilgrim or no pilgrim, the guts is there."

CHAPTER X

THE FLIGHT

When the Texan had departed Bat Lajune eyed the side-saddle with disgust. "Dat d.a.m.n t'ing, she ain' no good. A'm git de reg'lar saddle."

Slowly he pushed open the side door of the hotel and paused in the darkened hallway to stare at the crack of yellow light that showed beneath the door of Number 11.

"A'm no lak' dis fool 'roun' wit' 'omen." He made a wry face and knocked gingerly.

Jennie Dodds opened the door, and for a moment eyed the half-breed with frowning disfavour.

"Look a here, Bat Lajune, is this on the level? They say you're the squarest Injun that ever swung a rope. But Injun or white, you're a man, an' I wouldn't trust one as far as I could throw a mule by the tail."

"Mebbe-so you lak' you com' 'long an' see, eh?"

"I got somethin' else to do besides galavantin' 'round the country nights with cowboys an' Injuns."

The half-breed laughed and turned to Alice. "Better you bor' some pants for ride de horse. Me, A'm gon' git nudder saddle. 'Fore you ride little ways you bre'k you back."

"Go over to the livery barn an' tell Ross to put my reg'lar saddle on in place of the side-saddle, an' when you come back she'll be ready."

Jennie Dodds slipped from the room as the outer door closed upon the half-breed's departure, and returned a few minutes later with her own riding outfit, which she tossed onto the bed.

"Jest you climb into them, dearie," she said. "Bat's right. Them side-saddles is sure the d.i.c.kens an' all, if you got any ways to go."

"But," objected Alice, "I can't run off with all your things this way!"

She reached for her purse. "I'll tell you, I'll buy them from you, horse and all!"

"No you won't, no such thing!" Jennie Dodds a.s.sumed an injured tone.

"Pity a body can't loan a friend nuthin' without they're offered to git payed for it. You can send the clothes back when you're through with 'em. An' here's a sack. Jest stick what you need in that. It'll tie on behind your saddle, an' you can leave the rest of your stuff here in your grip an I'll ship it on when you're ready for it. Better leave them night-gowns an' corsets an' such like here. You ain't goin' to find no use for 'em out there amongst the p.r.i.c.kly pears an' sage brush.

Law me! I don't envy you your trip none! I'd jest like to know what for devilment that Tex Benton's up to. Anyways, you don't need to be afraid of him--like Purdy. But men is men, an' you got to watch 'em."

As the girl chattered on she helped Alice to dress for the trail and when the "war-bag" was packed and tied with a stout cord, the girl crossed to the window and drew back the shade.

"The Injun's back. You better be goin'." The girl slipped a small revolver from her pocket and pressed it into Alice's hand. "There's a pocket for it in the bloomers. Cinnabar Joe give it to me a long time ago. Take care of yourself an' don't be afraid to use it if you have to. An' mind you let me hear jest the minute you git anywheres. I'll be a-dyin' to know what become of you."

Alice promised and as she pa.s.sed through the door, leaned swiftly and kissed the girl squarely upon the lips.

"Good-bye," she whispered. "I won't forget you," and the next moment she stepped out to join the waiting half-breed, who with a glance of approval at her costume, took the bag from her hand and proceeded to secure it behind the cantle. The girl mounted without a.s.sistance, and snubbing the lead-rope of the pack-horse about the horn of his saddle, the half-breed led off into the night.