Delphi Works of Robert E. Howard (Illustrated) (Series Four)

by Robert E. Howard

  I riz up and staggered after him, hearing a wild chorus of yells break forth, but no shots. I bust out into the open, bloody all over, and my clothes hanging in tatters.

  “Where is he?” I hollered. “Did you let him git away?”

  “Who?” said Glanton, coming out from behind a boulder, whilst Van Brock and Uncle Jacob dropped down out of a tree nearby.

  “The wild man, damn it!” I roared.

  “We ain’t seen no wild man,” said Glanton.

  “Well, what was that thing I jest run outa the cave?” I hollered.

  “That was a grizzly b’ar,” said Glanton.

  “Yeah,” sneered Uncle Jacob, “and that was Van Brock’s ‘wild man’! And now, Breckinridge, if yo’re through playin’, we’ll—”

  “No, no!” hollered Van Brock, jumping up and down. “It was indubitably a human being which smote me and fled into the cavern. Not a bear! It is still in there somewhere, unless there is another exit to the cavern.”

  “Well, he ain’t in there now,” said Uncle Jacob, peering into the mouth of the cave. “Not even a wild man would run into a grizzly’s cave, or if he did, he wouldn’t stay long — ooomp!”

  A rock come whizzing out of the cave and hit Uncle Jacob in the belly, and he doubled up on the ground.

  “Aha!” I roared, knocking up Glanton’s ready six-shooter. “I know! They’s two tunnels in there. He’s in that smaller cave. I went into the wrong one! Stay here, you-all, and gimme room! This time I gits him!”

  With that I rushed into the cave mouth again, disregarding some more rocks which emerged, and plunged into the smaller opening. It was dark as pitch, but I seemed to be running along a narrer tunnel, and ahead of me I heard bare feet pattering on the rock. I follered ’em at full lope, and presently seen a faint hint of light. The next minute I rounded a turn and come out into a wide place, which was lit by a shaft of light coming in through a cleft in the wall, some yards up. In the light I seen a fantastic figger climbing up on a ledge, trying to rech that cleft.

  “Come down offa that!” I thundered, and give a leap and grabbed the ledge by one hand and hung on, and reched for his laigs with t’other hand. He give a squall as I grabbed his ankle and splintered his club over my head. The force of the lick broke off the lip of the rock ledge I was holding on to, and we crashed to the floor together, because I didn’t let loose of him. Fortunately, I hit the rock floor headfirst which broke my fall and kept me from fracturing any of my important limbs, and his head hit my jaw, which rendered him unconscious.

  I riz up and picked up my limp captive and carried him out into the daylight where the others was waiting. I dumped him on the ground and they stared at him like they couldn’t believe it. He was a ga’nt old cuss with whiskers about a foot long and matted hair, and he had a mountain lion’s hide tied around his waist.

  “A white man!” enthused Van Brock, dancing up and down. “An unmistakable Caucasian! This is stupendous! A pre-historic survivor of a pre-Indian epoch! What an aid to anthropology! A wild man! A veritable wild man!”

  “Wild man, hell!” snorted Uncle Jacob. “That there’s old Joshua Braxton, which was trying to marry that old maid schoolteacher down at Chawed Ear all last winter.”

  “I was tryin’ to marry her!” said Joshua bitterly, setting up suddenly and glaring at all of us. “That there is good, that there is! And me all the time fightin’ for my life agen it. Her and all her relations was tryin’ to marry her to me. They made my life a curse. They was finally all set to kidnap me and marry me by force. That’s why I come away off up here, and put on this rig to scare folks away. All I crave is peace and quiet and no dern women.”

  Van Brock begun to cry because they warn’t no wild man, and Uncle Jacob said: “Well, now that this dern foolishness is settled, maybe I can git to somethin’ important. Joshua, you know these mountains even better’n I do. I want ya to help me find the Lost Haunted Mine.”

  “There ain’t no sech mine,” said Joshua. “That old prospector imagined all that stuff whilst he was wanderin’ around over the desert crazy.”

  “But I got a map I bought from a Mexican in Perdition!” hollered Uncle Jacob.

  “Lemme see that map,” said Glanton. “Why, hell,” he said, “that there is a fake. I seen that Mexican drawin’ it, and he said he was goin’ to try to sell it to some old jassack for the price of a drunk.”

  Uncle Jacob sot down on a rock and pulled his whiskers. “My dreams is bust. I’m goin’ to go home to my wife,” he said weakly.

  “You must be desperate if it’s come to that,” said old Joshua acidly. “You better stay up here. If they ain’t no gold, they ain’t no women to torment a body, neither.”

  “Women is a snare and a delusion,” agreed Glanton. “Van Brock can go back with these fellers. I’m stayin’ with Joshua.”

  “You all oughta be ashamed talkin’ about women that way,” I reproached ‘em. “I’ve suffered from the fickleness of certain women more’n either of you snake-hunters, but I ain’t let it sour me on the sex. What,” I says, waxing oratorical, “in this lousy and troubled world of six-shooters and centipedes, what, I asts you-all, can compare to women’s gentle sweetness—”

  “There the scoundrel is!” screeched a familiar voice like a rusty buzzsaw. “Don’t let him git away! Shoot him if he tries to run!”

  We turned sudden. We’d been argying so loud amongst ourselves we hadn’t noticed a gang of folks coming down the ravine. There was Aunt Lavaca and the sheriff of Chawed Ear with ten men, and they all p’inted sawed-off shotguns at me.

  “Don’t git rough, Elkins,” warned the sheriff nervously. “They’re loaded with buckshot and ten-penny nails. I knows yore repertation and I takes no chances. I arrests you for the kidnappin’ of Jacob Grimes.”

  “Air you plumb crazy?” I demanded.

  “Kidnappin’!” hollered Aunt Lavaca, waving a piece of paper. “Abductin’ yore pore old uncle! Aimin’ to hold him for ransom! It’s all writ down over yore name right here on this here paper! Sayin’ yo’re takin’ Jacob away off into the mountains — warnin’ me not to try to foller! Same as threatenin’ me! I never heered of sech doin’s! Soon as that good-for-nothin’ Joe Hopkins brung me that there imperdent letter, I went right after the sheriff... Joshua Braxton, what airyou doin’ in them ondecent togs? My land, I dunno what we’re a-comin’ to! Well, sheriff, what you standin’ there for like a ninny? Why’n’t you put some handcuffs and chains and shackles onto him? Air you scairt of the big lunkhead?”

  “Aw, heck,” I said. “This is all a mistake. I warn’t threatenin’ nobody in that there letter—”

  “Then where’s Jacob?” she demanded. “Perjuice him imejitly, or—”

  “He ducked into the cave,” said Glanton.

  I stuck my head in and roared: “Uncle Jacob! You come outa there and explain before I come in after you!”

  He snuck out looking meek and down-trodden, and I says: “You tell these idjits that I ain’t no kidnapper.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I brung him along with me.”

  “Hell!” said the sheriff disgustedly. “Have we come all this way on a wild goose chase? I should of knew better’n to lissen to a woman—”

  “You shet yore fool mouth!” squalled Aunt Lavaca. “A fine sheriff you be. Anyway — what was Breckinridge doin’ up here with you, Jacob?”

  “He was helpin’ me look for a mine, Lavacky,” he said.

  “Helpin’ you?” she screeched. “Why, I sent him to fetch you back! Breckinridge Elkins, I’ll tell yore pap about this, you big, lazy, good-for- nothin’, low-down, ornery—”

  “Aw, SHET UP!” I roared, exasperated beyond endurance. I seldom lets my voice go its full blast. Echoes rolled through the canyon like thunder, the trees shook and pine cones fell like hail, and rocks tumbled down the mountain sides. Aunt Lavaca staggered backwards with a outraged squall.

  “Jacob!” she hollered. “Air you goin’ to ‘low that ruffian to us
e that there tone of voice to me? I demands that you flail the livin’ daylights outa the scoundrel right now!”

  “Now, now, Lavacky,” he started soothing her, and she give him a clip under the ear that changed ends with him, and the sheriff and his posse and Van Brock took out up the ravine like the devil was after ‘em.

  Glanton bit hisself off a chaw of terbaccer and says to me, he says: “Well, what was you fixin’ to say about women’s gentle sweetness?”

  “Nothin’,” I snarled. “Come on, let’s git goin’. I yearns to find a more quiet and secluded spot than this here’n. I’m stayin’ with Joshua and you and the grizzly.”

  * * *

  11. EDUCATE OR BUST

  ME and Bill Glanton and Joshua Braxton stood on the canyon rim and listened to the orations of Aunt Lavaca Grimes fading in the distance as she herded Uncle Jacob for the home range.

  “There,” says Joshua sourly, “goes the most hen-pecked pore critter in the Humbolts. For sech I has only pity and contempt. He’s that scairt of a woman he don’t dast call his soul his own.”

  “And what air we, I’d like to know?” says Glanton, slamming his hat down on the ground. “What right has we to criticize Jacob, when it’s on account of women that we’re hidin’ in these cussed mountains? Yo’re here, Joshua, because yo’re scairt of that old maid schoolteacher. Breck’s here because a gal in War Paint give him the gate. And I’m here sourin’ my life because a hash-slinger done me wrong!”

  “I’m tellin’ you gents,” says Bill, “no woman is goin’ to rooin my life! Lookin’ at Jacob Grimes has teached me a lesson. I ain’t goin’ to eat my heart out up here in the mountains in the company of a soured old hermit and a love- lorn human grizzly. I’m goin’ to War Paint, and bust the bank at the Yaller Dawg’s Tail gamblin’ hall, and then I’m goin’ to head for San Francisco and a high-heeled old time! The bright lights calls me, gents, and I heeds the summons! You-all better take heart and return to yore respective corrals.”

  “Not me,” I says. “If I go back to Bear Creek without no gal, Glory McGraw will rawhide the life outa me.”

  “As for me returnin’ to Chawed Ear,” snarls old Joshua, “whilst that old she-mudhen is anywhere in the vicinity, I haunts the wilds and solitudes, if it takes all the rest of my life. You ‘tend to yore own business, Bill Glanton.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” says Bill. “So dern many things is been happenin’ I ain’t had time to tell you. But that old maid schoolteacher ain’t to Chawed Ear no more. She pulled out for Arizona three weeks ago.”

  “That’s news!” says Joshua, straightening up and throwing away his busted club. “Now I can return and take my place among men — Hold on!” says he, reching for his club again. “Likely they’ll be gittin’ some other old harridan to take her place! That new-fangled schoolhouse they got at Chawed Ear is a curse and a blight. We’ll never be rid of female school-shooters. I better stay up here, after all.”

  “Don’t worry,” says Bill. “I seen a pitcher of the gal that’s comin’ to take Miss Stark’s place, and I can assure you right now, that a gal as young and purty as her wouldn’t never try to sot her brand on no old buzzard like you.”

  I come alive suddenly.

  “Young and purty, you says?” I says.

  “As a pitcher,” he says. “First time I ever knowed a schoolteacher could be less’n forty and have a face that didn’t look like the beginnin’s of a long drought. She’s due into Chawed Ear tomorrer, on the stage from the East, and the whole town’s goin’ to turn out to welcome her. The mayor aims to make a speech, if he’s sober enough, and they’ve got together a band to play.”

  “Damn foolishness!” snorted Joshua. “I don’t take no stock in eddication.”

  “I dunno,” I said. “They’s times when I wish I could read and write.”

  “What would you read outside of the labels on whisky bottles?” snorted old Joshua.

  “Everybody ought to know how,” I said defiantly. “We ain’t never had no school on Bear Creek.”

  “Funny how a purty face changes a man’s views,” says Bill. “I remember onst Miss Stark ast you how you folks up on Bear Creek would like for her to come up there and teach yore chillern, and you taken one look at her face, and told her that it was agen the principles of Bear Creek to have their peaceful innercence invaded by the corruptin’ influences of education, and the folks was all banded together to resist sech corruption.”

  I ignored him and says: “It’s my duty to Bear Creek to pervide culture for the risin’ generation. We ain’t never had a school, but by golly, we’re goin’ to, if I have to lick every old moss-back in the Humbolts. I’ll build the cabin for the schoolhouse myself.”

  “And where’ll you git a teacher?” ast old Joshua. “This gal that’s comin’ to teach at Chawed Ear is the only one in the county. Chawed Ear ain’t goin’ to let you have her.”

  “Chawed Ear is, too,” I says. “If they won’t give her up peaceful, I resorts to vi’lence. Bear Creek is goin’ to have education and culture, if I have to wade ankle-deep in gore to pervide it. Come on, le’s go! I’m r’arin’ to start the ball for arts and letters. Air you all with me?”

  “Till hell freezes!” acclaimed Bill. “My shattered nerves needs a little excitement, and I can always count on you to pervide sech. How about it, Joshua?”

  “Yo’re both crazy,” growls old Joshua. “But I’ve lived up here eatin’ nuts and wearin’ a painter-hide till I ain’t shore of my own sanity. Anyway, I know the only way to disagree successfully with Elkins is to kill him, and I got strong doubts of bein’ able to do that, even if I wanted to. Lead on! I’ll do anything in reason to keep eddication out of Chawed Ear. ‘Tain’t only my own feelin’s in regard to schoolteachers. It’s the principle of the thing.”

  “Git yore clothes then,” I said, “and le’s hustle.”

  “This painter hide is all I got,” he said.

  “You cain’t go down into the settlements in that garb,” I says.

  “I can and will,” says he. “I look about as civilized as you do, with yore clothes all tore to rags account of that b’ar. I got a hoss down in that canyon. I’ll git him.”

  So Joshua got his hoss, and Glanton got his’n, and I got Cap’n Kidd, and then the trouble started. Cap’n Kidd evidently thought Joshua was some kind of a varmint, because every time Joshua come near him he taken in after him and run him up a tree. And every time Joshua tried to come down, Cap’n Kidd busted loose from me and run him back up again.

  I didn’t get no help from Bill; all he done was laugh like a spotted hyener, till Cap’n Kidd got irritated at them guffaws and kicked him in the belly and knocked him clean through a clump of spruces. Time I got him ontangled he looked about as disreputable as what I did, because his clothes was tore most off of him. We couldn’t find his hat, neither, so I tore up what was left of my shirt and he tied the pieces around his head like a Apache. We was sure a wild-looking bunch.

  But I was so disgusted thinking about how much time we was wasting while all the time Bear Creek was wallering in ignorance, so the next time Cap’n Kidd went for Joshua I took and busted him betwixt the ears with my six-shooter, and that had some effect on him.

  So we sot out, with Joshua on a ga’nt old nag he rode bare-back with a hackamore, and a club he toted not having no gun. I had Bill to ride betwixt him and me, so’s to keep that painter hide as far from Cap’n Kidd as possible, but every time the wind shifted and blowed the smell to him, Cap’n Kidd reched over and taken a bite at Joshua, and sometimes he bit Bill’s hoss instead, and sometimes he bit Bill, and the langwidge Bill directed at that pore dumb animal was shocking to hear.

  But between rounds, as you might say, we progressed down the trail, and early the next morning we come out onto the Chawed Ear Road, some miles west of Chawed Ear. And there we met our first human — a feller on a pinto mare, and when he seen us he give a awful squall and took out down the road towards Chawed Ear like the devil ha
d him by the seat of the britches.

  “Le’s catch him and find out if the teacher’s got there yet!” I hollered, and we taken out after him, yelling for him to wait a minute, but he spurred his hoss that much harder, and before we’d gone any piece, hardly, Joshua’s fool hoss jostled agen Cap’n Kidd, which smelt that painter skin and got his bit betwixt his teeth and run Joshua and his hoss three miles through the bresh before I could stop him. Glanton follered us, and of, course, time we got back to the road, the feller on the pinto mare was out of sight long ago.

  So we headed for Chawed Ear, but everybody that lived along the road had run into their cabins and bolted the doors, and they shot at us through their winders as we rode by. Glanton said irritably, after having his off-ear nicked by a buffalo rifle, he says: “Dern it, they must know we aim to steal their schoolteacher.”

  “Aw, they couldn’t know that,” I said. “I bet they is a war on between Chawed Ear and War Paint.”

  “Well, what they shootin’ at me for, then?” demanded old Joshua. “I don’t hang out at War Paint, like you fellers. I’m a Chawed Ear man myself.”

  “I doubt if they rekernizes you with all them whiskers and that rig you got on,” I said. “Anyway — what’s that?”

  Ahead of us, away down the road, we seen a cloud of dust, and here come a gang of men on hosses, waving their guns and yelling.

  “Well, whatever the reason is,” says Glanton, “we better not stop to find out! Them gents is out for blood!”

  “Pull into the bresh,” says I. “I’m goin’ to Chawed Ear today in spite of hell, high water, and all the gunmen they can raise!”

  So we taken to the bresh, leaving a trail a blind man could of follered, but we couldn’t help it, and they lit into the bresh after us, about forty or fifty of ‘em, but we dodged and circled and taken short cuts old Joshua knowed about, and when we emerged into the town of Chawed Ear, our pursuers warn’t nowheres in sight. They warn’t nobody in sight in the town, neither. All the doors was closed and the shutters up on the cabins and saloons and stores and everything. It was pecooliar.