XXII
IN WHICH THE TENDERFEET CONDUCT A SHOOTING MATCH AND GLORIFY PETER
The most important event in the history of Copper Creek was indeed athand. The long-awaited Easterners were to arrive that very day to lookover the property. Billy Knapp had already driven to Rapid to meetthem, and their coming was momentarily expected.
The camp had discussed long and heatedly the method of their reception.Billy Knapp, and with him a strong contingent, advocated best clothes,an imported brass band, and a generally festal appearance of evergreensand bunting. But this, Moroney, Lafond and Graham decidedly opposed.
"The way to make men give you things," said the last, "is to pretendyou don't want them."
But it was Moroney's eloquence that carried the day. In fervidrhetoric he pointed out that men were more apt to join an alreadyprosperous community than to furnish prosperity to one sadly in need ofit. He also pointed out many other things, including the Battle ofBunker Hill and the Bird of Freedom. But that was what he meant.
So when Billy and the buckboard drove dashingly up to Bill Martin'sstoop, the white road was to all intents and purposesdeserted--unnaturally so, for not a living thing was to be seen fromone end of it to the other.
"Look's if your town was dead," remarked one of the Easterners, with alaugh.
"Oh no!" reassured Billy, seized with a sudden anxiety lest the thinghad been overdone. "But the boys is all off in th' Hills workin'."
As a matter of fact the boys were doing nothing of the kind. They werebehind the cracks of doors and the darkness of windows, watchingeagerly every move of the disembarkation, on which they whisperedexcited comments. Bill Martin was there outside, of course; Lafondsauntered over from the Little Nugget; the gambler sat chair tilted,blowing cigarette rings toward Ragged Top, never even turning his headto see the arrivals, imperturbable, indifferent as ever; Graham andMoroney were on hand by especial request; and of course no one couldkeep Peter and the Kid away. The men in the cabins were satisfied withtheir representatives. They need not worry about Graham and Moroneyanyway.
JIM PUT UP A GOOD FIGHT.]
The first of the newcomers rolled out over the wheel, stood up on twofat legs, and shook himself in a manner which proclaimed to the dullestthat his round face did not belie his good humor. He at once lookedabout him and laughed. The second was seen to be a tall spare man,gray-faced, deep-lined, but with the wrinkles of laughter about hiseyes. He wore a long linen duster and was evidently of the sort thatseasons its most serious transactions with a dry and facetious humor.The third was short, small, and irrepressible. He looked as though heshould be named Frank, as in fact he was. Although all three weredressed for travelling, they carried with them a solid air of financialresponsibility quite foreign to Copper Creek's experience, a certainshrewdness which no new circumstance could ever abash to the extent offorgetting the swiftest means to the main chance. But over thisshrewdness now was brushed a film of optimism, the over-abundanthilarity of a business man on a holiday outside his accustomedsurroundings, expanding in high spirits, persiflage, and practicaljokes. During their stay in Copper Creek this never left them. Theywere as delighted with the country as children with a new toy, and tookit about as seriously.
The concealed onlookers saw the little group stand talking a moment,and then turn into the hotel. Black Jack unloaded from the back of thebuckboard several substantial leather-bound valises. Billy drove thehorses home and returned on foot. He was pounced upon eagerly. Billywas still glowing with self-induced enthusiasm over Copper Creek.
"It's all right, boys!" he cried exultantly. "They shore has the rightidee! They tells me they thinks this is shore the finest kentry theyever see!"
"What to do next?" they inquired anxiously.
"Do? Nothin'! This ain't no circus. When the grub bell rings, moseyon over as usual, and a'ter feedin' we institutes some sort of a gameoutside."
When the grub bell rang, the miners filed solemnly into thedining-room, darting covert glances at the three visitors, alreadyseated with their entertainers. Some nodded solemnly. The Easternerswere laughing and joking each other in the most childish fashion.
"By Jove, there's a girl; only one I've seen!" cried the little mannamed Frank, as Molly came in and took her seat at another table.
"What of it?" asked Stevens, the tall man, with his mouth full of BlackJack's boiled potatoes.
"But she's a pretty girl."
Murphy, the fat jolly one, carefully removed his butter and sodabiscuits, of which the visible supply seemed limited, beyond Frank'sreach, and ventured a glance.
"She is pretty," he agreed, firmly thwarting the little man's attemptto steal the butter in spite of his precautions.
He turned to Dan Barker and resumed a labored discussion of thecountry's game and fishing. The tall man took up his conversation withBilly.
"Yes," said he, "I go through that every morning. I find itinvaluable. It keeps me as hard as nails. Feel there!"
He doubled his arm, and Billy placed his huge fingers gingerly over theEasterner's biceps. Down the long table the miners and prospectors ateuneasily, with frequent glances toward the noisy strangers, exchangingrare low-voiced comments, and twisting their feet. Between Molly andthe man whom the others called Frank there sprang up an incipientflirtation of glances.
After dinner everybody went outside into the open air, where thegathering relaxed its formality and men breathed mere freely. Murphyconversed with several on the subject of Colt's forty-fives. Heexpressed a desire for a shooting match, to which end he borrowedBilly's six-shooter, and handled it so recklessly that everybody wantedto duck.
Finally he planted the muzzle firmly between his fat legs, rested bothhands on the butt, and looked about him triumphantly.
"What'll I hit?" he asked.
"God knows!" ejaculated the tall man; "but you can shoot at this." Hedrew an envelope from his pocket, and turned toward a small board boxresting against the stump of a tree. Bill Martin started forward inalarm.
"Hol' on!" cried he, "I got some chickens in that thar coop!"
The tall man turned and wrung his hand in a mock access of gratitude."Thank you! thank you!" he cried fervently. "To think how near I cameto having the blood of those innocent chickens on my head! I shallnever cease to feel grateful to you, sir!"
He marched over to the coop and pinned the envelope square in themiddle of it.
"There," said he, stepping back with an air of satisfaction. "Now thechickens are perfectly safe!"
The proprietor grinned very doubtfully. Several men laughed, one afterthe other, as the joke penetrated.
"You go to hell, Steve," said the fat man, bubbling all over.
He raised the long six-shooter with an easy gesture.
"They're just as good as meat!" he asserted confidently as he squintedover the sights. A breathless pause ensued.
"Always cock your pistol before shooting," Frank finally admonished ina soft and didactic voice.
Murphy, red-faced, muttered something about self-cockers and triedagain. This time the pause was succeeded by a deafening report, andthe pistol leaped wildly. From the coop burst a single frightenedsquawk. Murphy beamed.
All crowded about the box, examining for the bullet hole. On theinstant, Frank became wildly and triumphantly excited, dancing aboutthe motionless end of an index finger which pointed toward theunscratched coop. The marksman looked nonplussed for a single instant.Then his face cleared.
"It went right in through that!" he claimed arrogantly, pointing thebarrel of the revolver toward a small knot hole. The other two men atonce gave vent to snorts of derisive contempt. "Prove that it didn't,"insisted the fat one. "Just prove that it didn't, and I'll pay up."He tucked his thumbs into the lower pockets of his waistcoat,supporting the revolver pendent on one forefinger, and smiled broadly.
Billy's straightforward mind saw no diplomacy beyond the inexorablelogic of the situation. "Thar ought t' be a bullet
hole in th' otherside of th' coop then," he suggested in a modest voice.
Murphy cast upon him the glance of reproach.
"I give up," he confessed with grieved dignity, and, without awaitingan investigation, turned toward the saloon. "It means drinks," heobserved laconically. "All of you!" he added to the crowd.
Near the door Peter fell in with the procession. The tall man seizedupon him before even that experienced animal could escape. After anineffectual lunge or so backward toward his haunches, the homely dogseemed to realize that no harm was intended, and so became quiet.Stevens passed his hands rapidly down Peter's back and haunches, liftedhim first off his fore legs, then off his hind legs, watching carefullythe exact position he assumed when he touched the ground again, pushedhis gums away from his teeth, and moulded through the fingers theoutline of his head.
"It's a genuine Airedale," he asserted with interest. "Who does hebelong to, and where did he come from?"
Nobody knew.
"I don't suppose there's another west of the Mississippi," he went on."It's a peculiar breed, built for scrapping." The men gathered aboutwith a new interest in Peter. "Don't know just what the strain is, butit's bred in the valley of the Aire, in England. The laboring classesthere mostly make furniture, and as they work by the piece, they cantake all the time off they want. Consequently they're a sporty lot,and go in for cock fighting and racing and badger baiting, but, most ofall, dog fighting. They evolved this strain from something or other.A good Airedale can lick anything except a Great Dane, and he fallsdown there only because the Dane's too big for him."
"I know of a bull terrier--" began Murphy.
"Your bull wouldn't be ace high. Look at the teeth on him! Get on tothe thickness of those bones! Do you think teeth would stick on thatslippery bristle coat of his? or, if they did, do you think they wouldget into that tough loose hide very hard?" He suddenly released Peterand stood up. "Frank," said he, "come here and size up this pup."
Peter shook himself and walked gravely into the arms of the adoringKid. The Kid had listened open-mouthed to every word of the expert'sstatement.
But Frank had disappeared. The incipient flirtation had developed.
The Westerners Page 22
