by B. M. Bower
*CHAPTER VII*
*WEIGHTS AND MEASURES*
The proprietor of the general store glanced out of the window as theroan stopped before his door, and he frankly frowned at Tex's entry.
"Ain't no letters come for no Joneses," he said brusquely.
"Hope springs eternal," replied Tex. He sauntered up to the counter andwas about to turn and lean against it when his roving glance passedalong a line of wide-necked bottles. They looked strangely familiar andhe glanced at them again. A label caught his eye. "Chloral Hydrate" heread silently. He looked at Williams and chuckled. "I don't claim tobe no Injun, but just th' same I got a lot of patience when it comes towaitin'. Looks like I'm goin' to need it, far as that letter isconcerned." He looked along the walls of the store. "You shore carry abig stock for a town like this, Mr. Williams," he complimented, his eyesagain viewing the line of bottles with a sweeping glance. "Strychnine,"he read to himself, nodding with understanding. "Shore, for wolves an'coyotes. Quinine, Aloes, Capsicum, Laudanum--quite a collection for ageneral store. Takes me back a good many years." Aloud he said. "Iwas admirin' that there pipe, an' I've got to have it; but that ain'twhat I'm lookin' so hard for." Again he searched shelves, up and down,left and right, and shook his head. "Don't see 'em," he complained.His mind flashed back to one word, and his medical training promptedhim. "Chloral hydrate--safe in the right hands and very efficient.Ought to be tasteless in the vile whiskey they sell out here. You nevercan tell, an' I might need every aid." He shook his head again, andagain spoke aloud. "Too bad, cuss it."
"If you wasn't so cussed secret about it I might be able to help youfind what yo're lookin' for," growled Williams. "Bein' th' proprietor Iknow a couple of things that are in this store. Yore article might beamong 'em."
"I'm loco," admitted Tex. "What I want is some center-fire .38 shorts.Couple of boxes will be enough."
Williams flashed a look at the walnut handle of the heavy Colt at hiscustomer's thigh. He could see that it was no .38. Suspicion promptedhim and he wondered if his companion was a two-gun man, with only one ofthem being openly worn. Such a combination was not a rarity. A gun ina shoulder holster or a derringer on an elastic up a sleeve might welluse such a cartridge. This would be well to speak to Bud Haines about.
"You would 'a' saved yore valuable time, an' mine, if you'd said so whenyou first come in," ironically replied Williams. "Got plenty of .45's,quite some .44's, less .41's, and a few .38's in th' long cat'ridges. Iain't got no .38 shorts, nor .32's, nor .22's, nor no putty for puttyblowers. Folks around these diggin's as totes guns mostly wants 'emman-size."
"I reckon so," agreed Tex pleasantly. "Don't blame 'em. Failin' in th'other qualifications they'd naturally do th' best they could to make upfor them they lacked. I'm shore sorry you ain't got 'em because myrifle cat'ridges are runnin' low. That's what comes of havin' to buy agun that don't eat regulation food. It was th' only one he had, an' Ihad to take it quick, bein' pressed hard at th' time. Time, tide, an'posses wait for no man. Yo're dead shore you ain't got 'em, huh?"
"Well, lemme see," cogitated the proprietor, scratching his head. "Idid have some--they sent me some shorts by mistake an' I never took th'time to send 'em back. You wait till I look."
"Then you've got 'em now," said Tex. "You never could sell 'em in thesediggin's, where folks as totes guns mostly wants 'em man-size. I'llwait till you see." He idly watched the scowling proprietor as he wentbehind the counter and dropped to one knee, his back to his customer.As he started to pull boxes from against the wall Tex silently sat onthe counter as if better to watch him.
Williams was talking more to himself than to Tex, intent on trying toremember what he had done with the shorts, and save himself a protractedsearch. "Kept 'em with th' rest of th' cat'ridges till I got mad fromnearly allus takin' 'em down for longs. I think mebby I put 'em abouthere."
Tex leaned swiftly backward, his hand leaping to one of the wide-mouthedbottles on the shelf. "They shore are a nuisance," he said in deepsympathy.
"I allus have more or less trouble gettin' 'em," he admitted, his handsworking silently and swiftly with the cork. "Didn't hardly hope to get'em here," he confessed as he swung back and replaced the depletedbottle. He assumed an erect position again, one hand resting in a coatpocket. "Shore sorry to put you to all this trouble," he apologized;"but if you got 'em you are lucky to git rid of 'em, in this town."
Williams turned his head, saw his customer perilously balanced on theedge of the counter, and watching him with great interest. "I can find'em if they're here, Mr. Jones," he growled. "You might strain yoreback, leanin' that way--yep, here they are, four boxes of 'em. Onlywant two?"
"Reckon I better take all I can git my han's on," answered Tex. "Notellin' where I can git any more, they're that scarce."
"Yore rifle looks purty big an' heavy for these," observed Williams,craning his neck in vain to catch a glimpse of it. It lay on the otherside of the horse. "Yes, it's one of them _saengerbund_, orshootin'-fest guns," replied Tex. "Made for German target clubs, backin th' East. Got fine sights, an' is heavy so it won't tremble none.Two triggers, one settin' th' other for hair-trigger pullin'. Cost mefifty-odd. Don't bother to tie 'em up; they carry easier if they ain'tall in one pocket. Don't forget that pipe."
Williams did some laborious figuring. "I see yo're gettin' acquaintedfast," he remarked, pushing the change across the counter. "ThemSaunders are real interestin'."
"Oh, so-so," grunted Tex. "Tenderfeet allus are. But I reckon she'llmake yore nepphey a good wife. Seems to be real sensible, an' she shorecan cook!"
"Hennery is a fortunate boy," replied Williams complacently, socomplacently that Tex itched to punch him. "He'll make her a goodhusban', bein' nat'rally domestic an' affectionate. An' he's so sot onit that I'm near as much interested in their courtship as they are. Ishore would send anybody to dance in h--l as interfered with it.Gettin' cooler out?"
"Warmer out, an' in," answered Tex. "Well, they ought to be real happy,bein' young an' both near th' same age. I'm sayin' age is moreimportant than most folks admit. Me an' you, now, would be makin' aterrible mistake if _we_ married a woman as young as she is. We got toomuch sense. An' I'm free to admit that I'm rope shy--don't like hobblesof any kind, a-tall. I'm a maverick, an' aim to stay so. When is th'weddin' comin' off?"
"Purty soon, I reckon," replied Williams, his voice pleasanter than ithad been since Tex had appeared in town. "She's nat'rally a littleskittish, an' Hennery is sort of shy. Young folks usually are. He wastellin' me you gave him some good advice."
Tex laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know how good it is," hereplied. "An' it wasn't no advice. I just sort of mentioned to himsomethin' I found worked real well; but what works with one woman ain'tgot no call to get stuck on itself--th' odds ain't in favor of itsrepeatin'. If it was me, howsomever, I'd shore try it a whirl. Itcan't do no harm that I can see."
"He's goin' to back it a little," responded Williams, "till he sees howit goes."
"A little ain't no good, a-tall," replied Tex. "It might not show anyresults for awhile, an' then work fast an' sudden. Well, see you latermebby. This cayuse of mine needs some exercise. So-long."
Williams followed him to the door, hoping for a glimpse of the Germanshooting-club rifle, but Tex mounted and rode away without turning thatside of the horse toward the store.
His next stop was the hotel, where he had a few sandwiches put up forhim and then he left town, heading for Buffalo Creek. He had noparticular object in choosing that direction, the main thing being toget out of town and to stay out of sight until after dark. As he rodehe cogitated:
"Chloral hydrate. Twenty to thirty grains is the dose soporific. Yes;that's right. In a hydrous crystal of this nature that would just aboutfill--what?" He rode on, oblivious to his surroundings, trying topicture the size of a container that would hold the required weight ofcr
ystals. "In our rough-and-ready weights a silver half-dime was twentygrains; a three-cent piece was forty grains, and I think my three-centsilver piece of '51 weighed ten grains. But not havin' any of 'em now,all that does me no good. Shucks--there's plenty of miners' scales inthis country. Bet Blascom has one that'll help me out: an' a grain is agrain, all th' way through." He hitched up his heavily loaded belt andas his hand came into contact with the ends of the cartridges hechuckled and slapped the horse in congratulation.
"Omar, we're gettin' close. Bet a .45 shell will hold the dose.However, not wantin' to kill nobody, we'd better make shore. Yo're awillin' cayuse, an' I like yore gait: suppose you let it out a little?We got business ahead."
When he came to the dried bed of a creek he followed it at a distanceand had not gone far before he espied the first fork. On the north sideof the gully was a miserable hut. "That must be Jake's: we'll detour sohe won't see us." Twenty minutes later he came to the second fork and asecond hut, not much better than the first. A familiar figure was justemerging from it, and soon Tex rode down the steep bank and hailed.
The prospector looked up and waved, turning to face his visitor. "Gladto see you," he called. "Hope Whiskey Jim ain't run you out of town."
"He might if he kept close to me, up wind," laughed Tex. "Busy doin'nothin'?"
"Busy as a hibernatin' bear. Git off an' come in th' house, where th'sun ain't so hot. An' I reckon yo're thirsty."
Tex accepted the invitation and found a box to sit on. The interior ofthe shack was not out of keeping with the exterior, and it was none tooclean. His roving glances saw and passed the gold scales, two metal cupshanging by three threads each from a slender, double-taper bar. Besideit was a tin box which he guessed contained weights.
"Washin' out lots of gold, Blascom?" asked Tex, smiling.
"Can't even wash my face without totin' water, or goin' up to th' sump.Th' crick's like it is out there for as far up as I've been. If itwasn't for a sump I've dug in a sandy place in its bed I'd had no waterat all." He reached into his pocket and produced several bits of gold,none of them much larger than a grain of wheat. "Found these when I wasgettin' water just now. That sump's goin' to go deeper right quick,'though I'm scared I'll lose my water."
"What'll they weigh?" asked Tex curiously, handing them back.
"About a pennyweight, I reckon," replied Blascom.
Tex shook his head. "Not them. You've got too trustin' a nature.Yo're too hopeful: but I reckon that's what makes miners."
Blascom arose, dropped the flecks into a scale pan and dug around in thetin box. There was a metallic clink and the two pans slowly sought thesame level. "Couple of grains under," he announced. "About twenty-two,I'd say. That's close figgerin', close enough for a guess."
"Cussed good," complimented Tex as the prospector put back the weightsand dumped the gold out into his hand. "I ain't never dug out no hunksof gold an' I'm curious. If you aim to put that sump down farther I'mjust itchin' to give you a hand. Come on--what you say?"
"You'd be a mess, sloppin' around with me," laughed Blascom. He shookhis head. "Better set down an' watch me, lendin' yore valuable advice;or stay here an' keep out of th' sun."
"I can do that in town."
Blascom considered, looking dubiously at his guest's clothes. "Here,"he said, finally. "You can help me more by carryin' water an' fillin'up everythin' in here that'll hold it. After I get through wrastlin'with a pan in that sump th' water won't be fit to drink before mornin'.That suit you?"
"Good enough," declared Tex, arising and picking up the buckets. "Comeon: reveal yore gold mine. I'm a first-class claim jumper. You had yoredinner yet?"
Blascom shook his head, picked up a shovel and his gold pan and led theway. "That can wait. It ain't often I have any free help forced on mean' I'd be a sucker to let an empty belly cut in."
"I can cook, too," said Tex. "After I fill th' hut with water I'll getyou a meal that'll make you glad yo're livin'; but you got to come afterit to eat it; an' when I yell, you come a-runnin'. If you don't I'lleat it myself."
The sump lay about a hundred yards up the creek bed, around a bend whichwas covered with a thin growth of sickly willows and box elders. It wasa hole about two feet square, the sandy sides held up by a cribwork ofsticks, pieces of boxes, and barrel staves. Blascom dipped both pailsin and started back with them.
"Wait a minute," objected Tex, reaching for them. "Thought you was goin'after nuggets while I toted th' water?"
"I thought so, too," answered Blascom, "till I had sense enough to thinkthat I couldn't go rammin' around in there with my shovel until afterth' water was saved. You can carry 'em th' next trip. Sit down an' doth' gruntin' for me, this time. A dozen buckets will empty her,almost."
Tex shrugged his shoulders and obeyed, rolled a cigarette, and thenplucked a .45 from its belt loop. Wiping off the grease, he placed histhumb against the lead and pushed, turning the cartridge slowly as heworked. When he heard Blascom's heavy, careless tread nearing the bendhe slipped the loosened cartridge into his vest pocket and lazily arose.
"There ain't nothin' else to fill but these here buckets," said theprospector as he appeared. Filling them again he passed them to Tex andreached for the shovel and the gold pan. "There's beans you can warmup, an' some bacon. There's also some sour-doughs. Make a good pot ofcoffee an' yell when yo're ready. I'm surprised at th' way this hole'sfillin' up, but I ain't mindin' that. As long as I dump it close byit's bound to get back again."
Tex picked up the buckets and departed clumsily, his high-heeled bootsnot aiding his progress. Reaching the house he set down his load andwheeled swiftly toward the swaying balance. The pennyweight disk slidinto one pan as his other hand brought from his pocket a generousquantity of the whitish, translucent crystals. Sniffing them, he smiledgrimly and then nodded as the biting odor gripped his nostrils. He letthem drop slowly into the other pan and when the balance was struck headded one more crystal and put the rest back into his pocket. Glancingaround the hut he saw a torn, discarded pamphlet in a corner and heremoved some of the inner sheets. When he had finished weighing andwrapping he had a dozen little packages of more than twenty-four, andless than thirty, grains. Wiping out the little tray he replaced theweight, drank deeply from a bucket and then started a fire in thehome-made rock-and-clay stove. While it caught he went out, picked upsome clean pebbles and returned to the scales, soon selecting the pebblethat weighed the same as his powders. He might have use for it sometimein the future. Taking another piece of paper he emptied into it therest of the crystals from his pocket and, sorting out pieces ofthickened lint and bits of tobacco, wrapped the chloral up securely.Then he got busy with the meal and when the coffee was ready he went tothe door and shouted the old bunkhouse classic: "Come an' get it!"
Blascom soon appeared, his clothing wet and sandy, and in his hand wereseveral rice grains of gold with quite some dust. "Looks fair to me,"he said. "I can't hardly tell what I'm doin', th' sump fills up sofast, an' th' sand is washed in with th' water, fillin' it up from th'bottom as fast as I can dig it out an' pan it. I can't understand whereall that water comes from. I know there's cussed little of it furtherdown th' crick bed. When she dried up I nat'rally wanted a sump nearerth' hut, but I couldn't get one nearer than I have. Must be a springsomewhere under it." He sniffed cheerfully. "That coffee shore smellsgood," he declared, going out to wash his hands.
The meal was eaten rapidly, without much talking, but when it wasfinished Blascom packed his pipe and passed the pouch to his companion."New pipe?" he asked. "Then wet yore finger an' rub it around in th'bowl before you light her. You don't want a job cookin', do you? Inever drunk better coffee."
The new pipe going well, Tex leaned back and smiled. "I'll cook th'supper if you want. I ain't anxious to get back to town before dark.An' I'll put on them old clothes over there an' help you at th' sump th'rest of th' day. Let's get goin'."
"All right; it's a two-m
an job with that water comin' in so fast,"answered the prospector. "We'll not do any pannin'--just get th' sandout an' dump it up on th' bank, out of th' way of high water. I can panit any time. You see, this dry spell is due to end 'most any time, an'when it does it'll be a reg'lar cloud-burst. That'll mean no moreplacerin' near th' sump. Ever see these creek beds after a cloud-burst?They're full from bank to bank an' runnin' like bullets."
Tex nodded and looked steadily out of the door, his mind going back someyears and vividly presenting an arroyo and the great, sheer wall ofwater which swept down it on the day when he and his then enemy,Hopalong Cassidy, were fighting it out in the brush. His eyes glowed asthe details returned to him and went past in orderly array. From thatsudden and unexpected danger, and the impulsive chivalry of the man whohad had him at the mercy of an inspired six-gun, had come hisredemption.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I've seen 'em. They're deadly when they catcha man unawares." He drew a deep breath and returned to the mainsubject. "Why don't you hire somebody, Jake for instance, an' clean upthat sump as quick as you can?"
"An' have a knife in my back?" exclaimed Blascom, "or be killed in mysleep? I don't know much about Jake, but what little I do know abouthim, th' less he, or any of th' fellers in town know about that sump,th' better I'll like it. There ain't one I'd trust, an' most of 'em arebusted an' plumb desperate. I've been pannin' a lot better than fairday's wages out here, but I'm doin' without everythin' that I canbecause I dassn't look so prosperous. Let me show much dust in town an'I'd be raided an' jumped th' same night. They're like a pack ofstarvin' coyotes. I don't even keep my dust in this shack. I cache itoutside at night."
"Suppose you was to buy things in town with coin or bills, lettin' onthat it is yore bedrock reserve that yo're livin' on," suggested Tex."That ought to help some."
"But I ain't got 'em," objected Blascom. "Got nothin' but raw gold."
Tex laughed and dug down into his pocket. "That's easy solved. Here,"he said, bringing up a handful of double eagles. "Gold weighs as muchin one shape as it does in another--even less, bulk for bulk, withoutth' alloy. I'll change with you if you want." Then he drew back hishand and grinned quizzically. "It's allus well to think of th' littlethings. It might be better if we didn't swap. You fellers ain't likelyto have a currency reserve: more likely to have it just as you dug itout. That right?"
Blascom nodded. "Yes; 'though I knowed a feller that allus carried bigbills in place of gold when he could get 'em, an' when he wasn't broke.They weighed a lot less. Raw gold would be better, out here."
"All right; how'd you like to drop into th' hotel about eleven tonightan' win heavy from me in a two-hand game of draw? Say as much as we canfix up? How much you want to change? Couple of hundred?" He chuckled."We can fix it either way: raw gold or currency."
"Make it raw gold, then; better yet, mix it," said Blascom, arising, hisface wrinkled with pleasure. He nodded swiftly. "Be back in a minute,"and he went out. When he returned he went into a corner where he couldnot be seen by anyone passing the hut and took several sacks from hispocket. It did not take him long to weigh their contents and, callinghis visitor over to verify the weights and the cleanness of the gold, heput the odd gold back into a sack and handed the other to his companion.
"Two hundred even," he said. "Keep yore money till I take it away fromyou tonight. Much obliged to you, Jones."
"How do you know I'll be there?" asked Tex, smiling. "I got th' goldan' a cussed good cayuse. With such a good start it'll be easy."
Blascom chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Yore little game withWhiskey Jim an' your soiree with Jake tell me different," he answered."I've rubbed elbows with all sorts of men for forty-odd years--eversince I was a boy of sixteen. A man's got to back his best judgment:an' I'm backin' mine. If I wasn't shore about you do you reckon I'd betellin' you anythin' about that sump? Now then: what you say aboutsettin' here an' takin' things easy for th' rest of th' day? I don'twant you to get all mucked up."
Tex arose, took the boxes of .38 shorts out of his pockets and lay themon a shelf. He put the heavy little sacks in their places and turned."It'll do me good; an' I might learn somethin' useful," he said. "A mancan't never learn too much. Come on; we'll tackle that sump." As hechanged his clothes for those of his host the latter's words ofconfidence in him set him thinking. To his mind came scenes of longago. "Deacon" Rankin, "Slippery" Trendley, "Slim" Travennes, and othersof that savage, murderous, vulture class returned on his mental canvas.Of the worst class in the great West they had stood in the first rank;and at one time he had stood with them, shoulder to shoulder, haddeliberately chosen them for his friends and companions, and in many oftheir villainies he had played his minor parts. He stirred into renewedactivity and dressed rapidly. Changing the gold sacks into the clotheshe now wore and putting on his host's extra pair of boots, he steppedtoward the door and then thought of Jake, who reminded him somewhat ofhis former friends, lacking only their intelligence. He turned andswept up his gun and belt, buckling it around him as he left the shackto help his new friend.
