Wolfville Nights Part 20

forth for Hickman's.

"'As we-all is sailin' thoughtlessly along the trail, Dobbin ups an'

bolts. Sech flights is onpreeceedented in the case of Dobbin--who's that sedate he's jest alive--an' I'm sh.o.r.e amazed; but I yanks him up an' starts anew. It's twenty rods when Dobbin bolts ag'in. This time I hears a flutter, an' reaches 'round Jule some to see if her petticoats is whippin' the wheel. They ain't; but Jule--who esteems said gesture in the nacher of a caress--seemin' to favour the idee, I lets my arm stay 'round. A moment later an' this yere villain Dobbin bolts the third time, an' as I've sort o' got my one arm tangled up with Jule, he lams into a oak tree.

"'It's then, when we're plumb to a halt, I does hear a flutter. At that I gets down to investigate. Gents, you-all may onderstand my horror when I finds 'leven of my shawl-neck game chickens roostin' on that side-bar's reach! They're thar when we pulls out. They've retired from the world an' its cares for the night an', in our ignorance of them chicken's domestic arrangements, we blindly takes 'em with us. Now an' then, as we goes rackin' along, one of 'em gets jolted off. Then he'd hang by his chin an' beat his wings; an' it's these frenzied efforts he makes to stay with the game that evolves them alarmin' flutterin's.

"'Jule--who don't own chickens an' who ain't no patron of c.o.c.kfights neither--is for settin' the shawl-necks on the fence an' pickin' 'em up as we trails back from the Gander-Pullin'.

"'"As long as it's dark," says Jule, "they'll stay planted; an' we rounds 'em up on our return."

"'But I ain't that optimistic. I knows these chickens an' they ain't so somnolent as all that. Besides it's a cinch that a mink or a fox comes squanderin' 'round an' takes 'em in like gooseberries. 'Leven shawl-necks! Why, it would be a pick-up for a fox!

"'"You're a fine Injun to take a girl to a dance!" says Jule at last, an' she's full of scorn.

"'"Injun or no Injun," I retorts a heap sullen, "thar ain't no Gander-Pullin' goin' to jestify me in abandonin' my 'leven shawl-necks an' me with a main to fight next month over on the Little Bloo!"

"'At that I corrals the chickens an' imprisons 'em in the r'ar of the side-bar an' goes a-weavin' back for camp, an' I picks up three more shawl-necks where they sets battin' their he'pless eyes in the road.

"'But I sh.o.r.e hears Jule's views of me as a beau! They're hot enough to fry meat! Moreover, Jule tells all Sni-a-bar an' I'm at once a scoff an' jeer from the Kaw to the Gasconade. Jule's old pap washes out his rifle an' signs a pledge to plug me if ever ag'in I puts my hand on his front gate. As I su'gests, it rooins my social c'reer in Sni-a-bar.

"'While I'm ground like a toad that a-way beneath the harrow of this double setback of the drum an' Jule, thar's a circus shows up an'

pitches its merry tent in Sni-a-bar. I knows this caravan of yore--for I'm a master-hand for shows in my yooth an' allers goes--an' bein' by virchoo of my troubles ready to plunge into dissipation's mad an'

swirlin' midst, I sa'nters down the moment the waggons shows up; an'

after that, while that circus stays, folks who wants to see me, day or night, has to come to the show.

"'The outfit is one of them little old jim-crow shows that charges two-bits an' stays a month; an' by the end of the first day, me an' the clown gets wropped up like brothers; which I'm like one of the fam'iy!

I fetches water an' he'ps rub hosses an', speakin' gen'ral, does more n.i.g.g.e.r work than I ever crosses up with prior endoorin' my entire life.

But knowin' the clown pays for all; sech trivial considerations as pullin' on tent ropes an' spreadin' sawdust disappears before the honour of his a'quaintance. It's my knowin' the clown that leads to disaster.

"'This merrymaker, who's a "jocund wight" as Colonel Sterett says, gets a heap drunk one evenin' 'an' sleeps out in the rain, an' he awakes as hoa.r.s.e as bull-frogs. He ain't able to sing his song in the ring.

It's jest before they begins.

"'"Dan," he croaks, plenty dejected, "I wish you'd clown up an' go in an' sing that song."

"'This cantata he alloodes to, is easy; it's "Roll Jurdan, Roll," an' I hears it so much at n.i.g.g.e.r camp meetin's an' sim'lar distractions, that I carols it in my sleep. As the clown throws out his bluff I considers awhile some ser'ous. I feels like mebby I've cut the trail of a cunnin' idee. When Jule an' old Hickey an' the balance of them Sni-a-bar outcasts sees me in a clown's yooniform, tyrannisin' about, singin' songs an' leadin' up the war-jig gen'ral, they'll regret the opinions they so freely expresses an' take to standin' about, hopin'

I'll bow. They'll regyard knowin' me as a boon. With that, I tells the clown to be of good cheer. I'll prance in an' render that lay an'

his hoa.r.s.eness won't prove no setback to the gaiety of nations.

"'But I don't sing after all; an' I don't pile up Jule an' old Hickey an' the sports of Sni-a-bar neither in any all 'round jumble of amazement at my genius.

"'"Dan," says the ring master when we're in the dressin' room, "when the leapin' begins, you-all go on with the others an' do a somersault or two?"

"'"Sh.o.r.e!" I says.

"'I feels as confidant as a kangaroo! Which I never does try it none; but I supposes that all you has to do is. .h.i.t the springboard an' let the springboard do the rest. That's where I'm barkin' at a knot!

"'This yere leapin' comes first on the bill. I ain't been in the ring yet; the tumblin' business is where I makes my deeboo. I've got on a white clown soote with big red spots, an' my face is all flour. I'm as certain of my comin' pop'larity as a wet dog. I sh.o.r.e allows that when Jule an' old Hickey observes my graceful agility an' then hears me warble "Roll Jurdan, Roll," I'll make 'em hang their heads.

"'The tumblin' is about to begin; the band's playin', an' all us athletes is ranged Injun file along a plank down which we're to run.

I'm the last chicken on the roost.

"'Even unto this day it's a subject of contention in circus cirkles as to where I hits that springboard. Some claims I hits her too high up; an' some says too low; for myse'f, I concedes I'm ignorant on the p'int. I flies down the plank like a antelope! I hears the snarl of the drums! I jumps an' strikes the springboard!

"'It's at this juncture things goes queer. To my wonder I don't turn no flip-flap, but performs like a draw-shot in billiards. I plants my moccasins on the springboard; an' then instead of goin' on an' over a cayouse who's standin' thar awaitin' sech events, I shoots back'ard about fifteen foot an' lands in a ondistinguishable heap. An' as I strikes a plank it smashes a brace of my ribs.

"'For a second I'm blurred in my intellects. Then I recovers; an' as I'm bein' herded back into the dressin' room by the fosterin' hands of the ring master an' my pard, the clown, over in the audience I hears Jule's silvery laugh an' her old pap allowin' he'd give a hoss if I'd only broke my neck. Also, I catches a remark of old Hickey; "Which that Boggs boy allers was a ediot!" says old Hickey.'"

CHAPTER XV.

Bowlegs and Major Ben.

"Which this yere Major Ben," remarked the Old Cattleman, "taken in conjunction with his bosom pard, Billy Bowlaigs, frames up the only casooalty which gets inaug'rated in Wolfville."

"What!" I interjected; "don't you consider the divers killings,--the death of the Stinging Lizard and the Dismissal of Silver Phil, to say nothing of the taking off of the Man from Red Dog--don't you, I say, consider such b.l.o.o.d.y matters casualties?"

"No, sir," retorted my friend, emitting the while sundry stubborn puffs of smoke, "no, sir; I regyards them as results. Tharfore, I reiterates that this yere Major Ben an' Bowlaigs accomplishes between 'em the only troo casooalty whereof Wolfville has a record."

At this he paused and surveyed me with an eye of challenge; after a bit, perceiving that I proposed no further contradiction, he went on:

"This Billy Bowlaigs at first is a cub b'ar--a black cub b'ar: an' when he grows up to manhood, so to speak, he's as big, an' mighty near as strong physical, as Dan Boggs. Nacherally, however, Dan lays over Bowlaigs mental like a ace-full.

"It's Dave Tutt who makes Bowlaigs captive; Dave rounds Bowlaigs up in his infancy one time when he's pesterin' about over in the foothills of the Floridas lookin' for blacktail deer. Dave meets up with Bowlaigs an' the latter's mother who's out, evident, on a scout for grub.

Bowlaig's mother has jest upturned a rotten pine-log to give little Bowlaigs a chance to rustle some of these yere egreegious white worms which looks like bald catapillars, that a-way, when all at once around a p'int of rocks Dave heaves in view. This parent of Bowlaigs is as besotted about her son as many hooman mothers; for while Bowlaigs stands almost as high as she does an' weighs clost onto two hundred pounds, the mother b'ar still has the idee tangled up in her intelligence that Bowlaigs is that small an' he'pless, day-old kittens is se'f-sustainin' citizens by compar'son to him. Actin' on these yere errors, Bowlaig's mother the moment she glimpses Dave grabs young Bowlaigs by the scruff of the neck an' goes caperin' off up hill with him. An' to give that parent b'ar full credit, she's gettin' along all right an' conductin' herse'f as though Bowlaigs don't heft no more than one of them gooseha'r pillows, when, accidental, she bats pore Bowlaigs ag'in the bole of a tree--him hangin' outen her mouth about three foot--an' while the collision shakes that monarch of the forest some, Bowlaigs gets knocked free of her grip an' goes rollin' down the mountain-side ag'in like a sack of bran. It puts quite a crimp in Bowlaigs. The mother b'ar, full of s'licitoode to save her offspring turns, an' charges Dave; tharupon Dave downs her, an' young Bowlaigs becomes a orphan an' a pris'ner on the spot.

"Followin' the demise of Bowlaig's mother, Dave sort o' feels reesponsible for the cub's bringin' up an' he ties him hand an' foot, an' after peelin' the pelt from the old mother b'ar, packs the entire outfit into camp. Dave's pony protests with green eyes ag'in carryin'

sech a freight, but Dave has his way as he usually does with everything except Tucson Jennie.

"At first Dave allows he'll let Bowlaigs live with him a whole lot an'

keep him ontil he grows up, an' construct a pet of him. But as I more than once makes plain, Dave proposes but Tucson Jennie disposes; an' so it befalls that on the third day after the cub takes up his residence with her an' Dave, Jennie arms herse'f with a broom an' hara.s.ses the onfortunate Bowlaigs from her wickeyup. Jennie declar's that she discovers Bowlaigs organisin' to devour her child Enright Peets Tutt, who's at that epock comin' three the next spring round-up.

"'I could read it in that Bowlaigs b'ar's eyes,' says Jennie, 'an' it's mighty lucky a parent's faculties is plumb keen. If I hadn't got in on the play with my broom, you can bet that inordinate Bowlaigs would have done eat little Enright Peets all up.

"Sh.o.r.e, no one credits these yere apprehensions of Jennie's; Bowlaigs would no more have chewed up Enright Peets than he'd played table-stakes with him; but a fond mother's fears once stampeded is not to be headed off or ca'med, an' Bowlaigs has to shift his camp a heap.

"Bowlaigs takes up his abode on the heels of him bein' run out by Tucson Jennie, over to the corral; that is, he bunks in thar temp'rary at least. An' he sh.o.r.e grows amazin', an' enlarges doorin' the next three months to sech a degree that when he stands up to the counter in the Red Light, acceptin' of some proffered drink, Bowlaigs comes clost to bein' as tall as folks. He early learns throughout his wakeful moments--what I'd deescribe as his business hours--to make the Red Light a hang-out; it's the nosepaint he's hankerin' after, for in no time at all Bowlaigs accoomulates a appet.i.te for rum that's a fa'r match for that of either Huggins or Old Monte, an' them two sots is for long known as far west as the Colorado an' as far no'th as the Needles as the offishul drunkards of Arizona. No; Bowlaigs ain't equal to pourin' down the raw nosepaint; but Black Jack humours his weakness an'

Bowlaigs is wont to take off his libations about two parts water to one of whiskey an' a lump of sugar in the bottom, outen one of these big tumbler gla.s.ses; meanwhiles standin' at the bar an' holdin' the gla.s.s between his two paws an' all as ackerate an' steady as the most talented inebriate.

"'An' Bowlaigs has this distinction,' says Black Jack, alloodin' to the sugar an' water; 'he's sh.o.r.e the only gent for whom I so far onbends from reg'lar rools as to mix drinks.'

"Existence goes flowin' onward like some glad sweet song for Bowlaigs for mighty likely it's two months an' nothin' remarkable eventuates.

He camps in over to the corral, an' except that new ponies, who ain't onto Bowlaigs, commonly has heart-failure at the sight of him, he don't found no disturbances nor get in anybody's way. Throughout his wakin'

hours, as I su'gests former, Bowlaigs ha'nts about the Red Light, layin' guileful an' cunnin' for invites to drink; an' he execootes besides small excursions to the O.K. Restauraw for chuck, with now an'

then a brief journey to the Post Office or the New York store. These visits of Bowlaigs to the last two places, both because he don't get no letters at the post office an' don't demand no clothes at the store, I attribootes to motives of morbid cur'osity, that a-way.

"The first real trouble that meets up with Bowlaigs--who's got to be a y'ar old by now--since Jennie fights the dooel with him with that broom, overtakes him at the O.K. Restauraw. Missis Rucker for one thing ain't over fond of Bowlaigs, allegin' as he grows older day by day he looks more an' more like Rucker. Of course, sech views is figments as much as the alarms of Tucson Jennie about Bowlaigs meditatin' gettin' away with little Enright Peets; but Missis Rucker, in spite of whatever we gent folks can say in Bowlaigs's behalf, believes firm in her own slanders. She a.s.serts that Bowlaigs as he onfolds looks like Rucker; an' for her at least that settles the subject an' she a.s.soomes towards Bowlaigs att.i.toodes which, would perhaps have been proper had her charge been troo.