The Round-Up: A Romance of Arizona; Novelized from Edmund Day's Melodrama
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CHAPTER VIII
The Sky Pilot
With the waves of immigration which have rolled Westward from the morepopulous East, the minister of the gospel has always been in the van.Often he combined the functions of the school-teacher with the dutiesof the medical missionary. Wherever a dozen families had settledwithin a radius of a hundred miles, the representative of a church wassoon to follow. He preached no creed. His doctrines were as wide asthe horizon. Living in the open air, preaching to congregationsgathered from the ends of the country, dealing with men moreunconventional than immoral, his sermons were concerned with the squaredeal rather than with dogma. His influences were incalculable. He madeready the field for the reapers who gathered the glory with the advanceof refinement. On the frontier he married the children, buried thedead, consoled the mourners, and rejoiced with those upon whom fortunesmiled. His hardships were many and his rewards nothing. Of all thefields of human endeavor which built up the West, the ministry is theonly one in which the material returns have not been commensurate withthe labor expended.
The Reverend Samuel Price was the representatives of the Christian armyin Pinal County, Arizona, at the time of our story. He was long andlank, narrow in the chest, with sloping shoulders. Even life on theplains could not eradicate the scholarly droop. His trousers wereblack, and they bagged at the knees. When riding, his trousers wouldwork up about his calves, showing a wide expanse of white socks. Forcomfort he wore an alpaca coat, which hung loosely about him, and, forthe dignity of his profession, the only boiled shirt in the county,with a frayed collar and white string-tie.
The Reverend Mr. Price was liked by the settlers. He never interferedwith what they considered their relaxations, and he had the savinggrace of humor.
The guests were performing a scalp-dance about the table when heentered the room. For a tom-tom, Parenthesis was beating a bucket witha gourd, and emitting strange cries with each thump. The noise andshouts confused the minister. As he was blundering among the dancers,they fell upon him with war-whoops, slapping him on the back andcrushing his straw hat over his ears.
Slim was the first to recognize the minister. He dashed into thegroup, and, swinging several aside, cried to the others to desist.
"Pardon me, but do I intrude upon a scalp-dance?" smilingly asked theparson.
"You sure have, Mr. Price," laughed Slim. "We hain't got to thescalpin'-part yet, but we're fixin' to dance off Payson's scalpto-night."
Peering at him with near-sighted eyes, Mr. Price extended his hand,saying: "Ah, Mr. Hoover, our sheriff, is it not?"
Slim wrung the parson's hand until the preacher winced. Hiding hisdiscomfort, he slowly straightened out his fingers with a painful grin.Slim had not noticed that he had hurt the parson by the heartiness ofhis greeting. With a gesture he lined up the cowboys for introduction.
"Yes, sir, the boys call me Slim because I ain't." Pointing to thefirst one in the group, he exclaimed: "This is Parenthesis."
Mr. Price looked at the awkwardly bowing cowboy in amazement. The namewas a puzzle to him. He could not grasp the application. "The editorof the Kicker," explained Slim, "called him that because of his legsbein' built that way." Mr. Price was forced to smile in spite of hisefforts to be polite. The editor had grasped the most striking featureof the puncher's physical characteristics for a label.
Parenthesis beamed on the minister. "I was born on horseback," hereplied.
"That fellow there with a front tooth is Show Low," began Slim,speaking like a lecturer in a freak-show. "The one without a fronttooth is Fresno, a California product. This yere chap with thewater-dob hair is Sage-brush Charley. It makes him sore when you callhim plain Charley."
"Charley bein' a Chink name," supplemented its owner.
Silence fell over the group, for they did not know what was the properthing to do next. A minister was to be respected, and not to be madeone of them. He must take the lead in the conversation. Mr. Price wasat a loss how to begin. He had not recovered fully from the roughnessof his welcome, so Slim took the lead again.
"I heard you preach once up to Florence," he announced, to the profoundastonishment of his hearers.
"Indeed," politely responded Mr. Price, feeling the futility of makingany further observations. He feared to fall into some trap. Theanswers made by the boys did not seem to fit particularly well withwhat he expected and was accustomed to. The parson could not make outwhether the boys were joking with him, or whether their replies wereunconscious humor on their part.
"Yep, I lost an election bet, and had to go to church," answered Slim,in all seriousness.
The cowboys laughed, and Mr. Price lamely replied: "Oh, yes, I see."
"It was a good show," continued Slim, doing his best to appear at ease.The frantic corrections of his companions only made him flounder aboutthe more.
"Excuse me," he apologized, "I mean that I enjoyed it."
"Do you recall the subject of my discourse," inquired Mr. Price, comingto his assistance.
"Your what course?" asked Slim.
"My sermon?" answered the parson.
"Well, I should say yes," replied the Sheriff, greatly relieved tothink that he was once more out of deep water. "It was about someshorthorn that jumped the home corral to maverick around loose in thealfalfa with a bunch of wild ones."
The explanation was too much for Mr. Price. Great student of the Bibleas he had been, here was one lesson which he had not studied. As toldby Slim, he could not recall any text or series of text from which hemight have drawn similes fitted for his cowboy congregation, when hehad one. "Really, I--" he began.
Slim, however, was not to be interrupted. If he stopped he never couldbegin again, he felt. Waving to the preacher to be silent, hecontinued his description: "When his wad was gone the bunch threw himdown, and he had to hike for the sage-brush an' feed with the hogs onhusks an' sech like winter fodder."
The minister caught the word "husks." Slim was repeating his ownversion of the parable of the Prodigal Son.
"Husks? Oh, the Prodigal Son," smiled Price.
"That's him," Slim sighed, with relief. "This yere feed not being upto grade, Prod he 'lows he'd pull his freight back home, square himselfwith the old man and start a new deal--"
Sage-brush was deeply interested in the story. Its charm had attractedhim as it had scholars and outcasts alike since first told two thousandyears ago on the plains of Old Judea.
"Did he stand for it?" he interrupted.
"He sure did," eloquently replied Slim, who was surprised and delightedwith the great impression he was making with his experience at church."Oh, he was a game old buck, he was. Why, the minute he sighted thatthere prodigious son a-limpin' across the mesa, he ran right out an'fell on his neck--"
"An' broke it," cried Fresno, slapping Sage-brush with his hat in hisdelight at getting at the climax of the story before Slim reached it.
The narrator cast a glance of supreme disgust at the laughing puncher."No, what the hell!" he shouted. "He hugged him. Then he called inthe neighbors, barbecued a yearlin' calf, an' give a barn-dance, withfireworks in the evenin'."
"That's all right in books," observed Sage-brush, "but if I'd made abreak like that when I was a kid my old man would a fell on my neck forfair."
"That was a good story, Parson--it's straight, ain't it?" asked Slim,as a wave of doubt swept over him.
"It's gospel truth," answered the minister. "Do you know the moral ofthe story?"
"Sure," replied Slim. With a confidence born of deep self-assurance,Slim launched the answer: "Don't be a fatted calf."
At first his hearers did not grasp the full force of the misapplicationof the parable. Mr. Price could not refrain from laughing. The othersjoined with him when the humor of the reply dawned upon them. Pointingscornfully at the fat Sheriff, they shouted gleefully, while Slimblushed through his tan.
"Now, if you'll kindly show me where--" began Mr. Price.
"Sure. A
ll the liquor's in the kitchen--" said Sage-brush, expandingwith hospitality.
Slim pushed Sage-brush back into his chair, and Parenthesis tapped theminister on the shoulder to distract his attention.
"Thanks. I meant to ask for a place to change clothes."
"Sure you mustn't mind Sage-brush there," apologized Parenthesis; "he'sallus makin' breaks. Let me tote your war-bag. Walk this way."
"Good day, gentlemen," smiled Mr. Price. "When you are up my way, Itrust you will honor my church with your presence--" adding, after apause--"without waiting to lose an election bet."
The entrance of a Greaser to refill glasses diverted the attention ofthe guests until the most important function for them was performed.With "hows" and "here's to the bride," they drank the toast. Slim, asmajordomo of the feast, felt it incumbent upon himself to keep theothers in order. Turning angrily upon Sage-brush, he said. "Why didyou tell the Sky Pilot where the liquor was?"
"I was just tryin' to do the right thing," answered Sage-brushdefiantly.
"Embarrassin' us all like that. You ought to know that parsons don'thit up the gasoline--in public," scolded Slim.
Sage muttered sulkily: "I never herded with parsons none."
Parenthesis diplomatically avoided any further controversy by calling:"They're gettin' ready. Jim's got Jack in the back room tryin' tocheer him up. Boys, is everything ready for the getaway?"
"Sage-brush, did you get that rice?" demanded Slim.
"That's so--I forgot. I couldn't get no rice though. Dawson didn'thave none."
Without telling what he did get, Sage-brush ran from the room to thecorral.
"I told you not to let him have anything to do with it," said Fresno,glaring at his fellow workers. Each was silent, as the accusation wasgeneral, and none had been taken into the confidence of Sage-brush andFresno when arrangements were being made for the feast. Fresno had toblame some one, however. By this time Sage-brush had returned,carrying a bag.
"What did you get?" asked Slim.
"Corn," replied Sage-brush laconically.
"Ain't he the darndest!" Show Low expressed the disgust which theothers showed.
"Why, darn it," shouted Slim, shaking his fist at the unfortunateSage-brush, "you can't let the bride and groom hop the home ranchwithout chuckin' rice at 'em--it's bad medicine."
"Ain't he disgustin'!" interrupted Fresno.
"What does rice mean, anyhow?" asked the bewildered Sage-brush.
"It means something about wishin' 'em good luck, health, wealth, an'prosperity, an' all that sort of thing--it's a sign an' symbol of joy,"rattled off Slim.
"Well, now, ain't there more joy in corn than in rice?" triumphantlyasked Sage-brush.
Slim jerked open the top of the bag while Sage-brush stood byhelplessly. "Well, the darned idiot!" he muttered, as he peered intoit. "If he ain't gone and got it on the ear," he continued, as hepulled a big ear out.
"All the better," chuckled Sage-brush. "We'll chuck 'em joy inbunches."
"Don't you know that if you hit the bride with a club like this--you'llput her plumb out?" cried Slim.
Sage-brush was not cast down, however. Always resourceful, hesuggested: "We'll shell some for the bride, but we'll hand Jack his inbunches."
The idea appealing to the punchers, each grabbed an ear of corn. Somebrandished the ears like clubs; others aimed them like revolvers.
"I'll keep this one," said Slim, picking out an unusually large ear."It's a .44. I'll get one of the Greasers to shell some for the bride."
The bride was arrayed in her wedding-gown. Mrs. Allen was ready for afresh burst of weeping. The girls had assembled in the large room inwhich the ceremony was to be performed. Polly acted as her herald forthe cowboys. Appearing in the doorway, she commanded: "Say, you folkscome on and get seated."
Slim stood beside Polly as the boys marched past him. His generaladmonition was: "The first one you shorthorns that makes a break, I'mgoin' to bend a gun over your head."
The guests grinned cheerfully as they marched past the couple.
"There's a heap of wickedness in that bunch," remarked Slim piously tothe girl. Tossing a flower to him as she darted away, she cried: "Youain't none too good yourself, Slim."
"Ain't she a likely filly," mused the love-sick Sheriff. "If there'sanybody that could make me good, it's her. I'm all in. If ever I getthe nerve all at once--darn me if I don't ask her right out."
But Slim's courage oozed as quickly as it had arisen, and with a sighhe followed his companions to the wedding.