CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW SIX-GUN
Independence was alive all over, humming with business, its muddystreets filled with all kinds of vehicles drawn by various kinds andnumbers of animals. Here a three-yoke ox team pulled stolidly, there afour-mule team balked on a turn, and around them skittish or dispiritedhorses carried riders or drew high-seated carriages. The motley crowd onfoot picked its way as best it could. Indians in savage garb passedIndians in civilization's clothes, or mixtures of both; gamblers rubbedelbows with emigrants and made overtures to buckskin-covered trappersand hunters just in from the prairies and mountains, many of whom weregoing up to Westport, their main rendezvous. Traders came into and wentfrom Aull and Company's big store, wherein was everything the frontierneeded. Behind it were corrals filled with draft animals and sheds fullof carts and wagons.
Boisterous traders and trappers, in all stages of drunkenness, whothought nothing of spending their season's profits in a single week ifthe mood struck them, were still coming in from the western foothills,valleys, and mountains, their loud conversations replete with roughphrases and such names as the South Park, Bent's Fort, The Pueblo, FortLaramie, Bayou Salade, Brown's Hole, and others. Many of them so muchresembled Indians as to leave a careless observer in doubt. Some weredriving mules almost buried under their two packs, each pack weighingabout one hundred pounds and containing eighty-odd beaver skins,sixty-odd otter pelts or the equivalent number in other skins. Usuallythey arrived in small parties, but here and there was a solitarytrapper. The skins would be sold to the outfitting merchants and wouldestablish a credit on which the trapper could draw until time to outfitand go off on the fall hunt. Had he sold them to some far, outlying posthe would have received considerably less for them and have paid from twohundred to six hundred per cent more for the articles he bought. As longas there was nothing for him to do in his line until fall set in, hemight just as well spend some of the time on the long march to thefrontier, risking the loss of his goods, animals, and perhaps his lifein order to get better prices and enjoy a change of scene.
The county seat looked good to him after his long stay in the solitudes.Pack and wagon trains were coming and going, some of the wagons drawn byas many as a dozen or fifteen yokes of oxen. All was noise, confusion,life at high pressure, and made a fit surrounding for his comingcarousal; and here was all the liquor he could hope to drink, of betterquality and at better prices, guarantees of which, in the persons ofnumerous passers-by, he saw on many sides.
Rumors of all kinds were afloat, most of them concerning hostile Indianslying in wait at certain known danger spots along the trails, and of thehostile acts of the Mormons; but the Mormons were behind and the trailwas ahead, and the rumors of its dangers easily took precedence. It wasreported that the first caravan, already on the trail and pressing hardon the heels of spring, was being escorted by a force of two hundredUnited States dragoons, the third time in the history of the Santa Fetrade that a United States military escort had been provided. Dangerswere magnified, dangers were scorned, dangers were courted, dependingupon the nature of the men relating them. There were many noisyfire-eaters who took their innings now, in the security of the town, whowould become as wordless, later on, as some of the tight-lipped andtaciturn frontiersmen were now. Greenhorns from the far-distant Eastwere proving their greenness by buying all kinds of useless articles,which later they would throw away one by one, and were armed in a mannerbefitting buccaneers of the Spanish Main. To them, easiest of all, wereold and heavy oxen sold, animals certain to grow footsore and useless bythe time they had covered a few hundred miles. They bought anything andeverything that any wag suggested, and there were plenty of wags onhand. The less they knew the more they talked; and experienced caravantravelers shook their heads at sight of them, recognizing in them themost prolific and hardest working trouble-makers in the whole, longwagon train. Here and there an invalid was seen, hoping that the longtrip in the open would restore health, and in many cases the hopesbecame realizations.
Joseph Cooper installed his niece in the best hotel the town affordedand went off to see about his wagons and goods, while Tom Boyd hurriedto a trapper's retreat to find his partner and his friends. The retreatwas crowded with frontiersmen and traders, among whom he recognizedmany acquaintances. He no sooner had entered the place than he wassoundly slapped on the shoulder and turned to exchange grins with hisbest friend, Hank Marshall, who forthwith led him to a corner where asmall group was seated around a table, and where he found Jim Ogden andZeb Houghton, two trapper friends of his who were going out to Bent'strading post on the Arkansas; Enoch Birdsall and Alonzo Webb, twoveteran traders, and several others who would be identified with thenext caravan to leave.
"Thar's one of them danged contraptions, now!" exclaimed Birdsall,pointing to the holster swinging from Tom's broad belt. "I don't thinkmuch o' these hyar newfangled weapons we're seein' more an' more everyyear. An' cussed if he ain't got a double-bar'l rifle, too! Dang it,Tom, don't put all yer aigs in one basket; ain't ye keepin' no weaponsye kin be shore on?"
"Thar both good, Enoch," replied Tom, smiling broadly.
"Shore they air," grunted Birdsall's partner. "Enoch don't reckonnothin's no good less'n it war foaled in th' Revolutionary War, an' hasgot whiskers like a Mormon bishop. Fust he war dead sot ag'insteamboats; said they war flyin' in th' face o' Providence an' wouldn'twork, nohow. Then he said it war plumb foolish ter try ter take wagginsinter Santer Fe. Next he war dead sot ag'in mules fer anythin' butpackin'. Now he's cold ter caps an' says flints war made 'special by th'Lord fer ter strike fire with--_but_, he rides on th' steamboats when hegits th' chanct; he's taken waggins clean ter Chihuahua, drivin' mulester 'em; an' he's sorter hankerin' fer ter use caps, though he won'tadmit it open. Let him alone an' watch him try ter borrer yer newpistol when th' Injuns try ter stampede th' animals. He's a danged oldfool in his talk, but you jest keep an eye on him. Thar, I've said mysay."
"An' a danged long say it war!" snorted Enoch, belligerently. "It standster reason that thar pistol can't shoot 'em out o' one bar'l plumb downthe dead center of another _every_ time! An' suppose ye want ter use adouble charge o' powder, whar ye goin' ter put it in them danged littleholes? Suppose yer caps hang fire--what then, I want ter know?"
"S'posin' th' wind blows th' primin' out o' yer pan?" queried Zeb."S'posin' ye lose your flint? S'posin' yer powder ain't no good?S'posin' ye ram down th' ball fust, like ye did that time them Crowstried ter lift our cache. Fine mess ye nigh made o' that! Onct ye startthar ain't no end o' s'posin', nohow. Caps is all right, _I_ use 'em!"
"_He_ uses 'em!" chuckled Enoch. "Ain't that a sensible answer? Caps isall right, if _he_ uses 'em! Danged if he don't make me laugh: but he'sa good ol' beaver, at that, Zeb is. As fur rammin' down th' ball fust,that time; he never told ye about how he swallered a hull mouthful o'balls when Singin' Fox sent a arrer through his cap, did he?"
Zeb looked a little self-conscious. "Beaver's shore gittin' scarce," hesaid.
"Thar's a passel o' Oregoners rendyvouin' out ter Round Grove," saidHank. "If we're goin' with 'em we better jine 'em purty quick."
Tom shook his head. "I'm aimin' fer th' Arkansas this trip. Goin' tertry it onct more."
Hank's jaw dropped. "Thar!" he snorted. "Kin ye beat that?"
"Glad ter hear it," said Jim Ogden. "We'll be with ye fur's th'Crossin'; but ain't ye gamblin', Tom?"
"Armijo shore will run up th' flags an' order out his barefoot army,"said Hank, grimly, "if he larns o' it. An' he'll mebby need th' army,too."
"He'll larn o' it," declared Birdsall. "Thar's a passel o' greasersgoin' over th' trail with us--an' shore as shootin' some o' 'em will goahead with th' news arter we reach th' Cimarron. Don't be a danged fool,Tom; you better go 'long th' Platte with th' emigrants."
"Can't do it," replied Tom. "I've give my word an' I'm goin' through terSanta Fe. Armijo'll larn o' it, all right. I've seen signs o' thatalready. Some greaser fanned a knife at me on th' boat; but I couldn
'tlarn nothin' more about it."
"Dang my hide if I ain't got a good notion ter let ye go alone!" snortedHank, whereat a roar of laughter arose. It seemed that he was very wellknown.
"I'll see how things bust," said Ogden. "I war aimin' fer Bent's, butthar ain't no use o' gittin' thar much afore fall." He thought a moment,and then slammed his hand on the table. "I'm goin' with ye, Tom!"
"Talkin' like a blind fool!" growled Zeb Houghton, his inseparablecompanion. "I'm startin' fer th' fort, an' I'm goin' thar! If you ain'tgot no sense, _I_ has!"
Hank laughed and winked at the others. "I'll go with ye, Zeb. Me an'you'll go thar together an' let these two fools git stood up ag'in awall. Sarve 'em right if he cuts 'em up alive. We'll ask him ter send usthar ears, fer ter remember 'em by."
Zeb's remarks about the Governor of New Mexico caused every head in theroom to turn his way, and called forth a running fire of sympatheticendorsements. He banged the table with his fists. "Hank Marshall, ye gotmore brains nor I has, but I got ter go 'long an' keep that pore critterout o' trouble. If I don't he'll lose hoss _an'_ beaver!"
A stranger sauntered over, grinned at them and slid a revolving Coltpistol on the table. "Thar, boys," he said. "Thar's what ye need if yergoin' ter Santer Fe. I'm headin' fer home, back east. What'll ye give mefer it, tradin' in yer old pistol? Had a run o' cussed bad luck lastnight, an' I need boat fare. Who wants it?"
Enoch Birdsall and Hank Marshall both reached for it, but Hank was thequicker. He looked it over carefully and then passed it to his partner."What ye think o' her, Tom?" he asked.
After a moment's scrutiny Tom nodded and gave it back. "Looks brand new,Hank. Good pistol. I tried mine out on th' boat comin' up. They shoothard an' straight."
Hank looked up at the stranger and shook his head deprecatingly,starting the preliminary to a long, hard-driven barter; but he hadn'treckoned on Birdsall, the skeptic.
"Ten dollars an' this hyar pistol," said Enoch quickly.
"Wall!" exclaimed Hank, staring at him. "Dang ye! Eleven dollars an'_this_ pistol!"
"Twelve," placidly said Enoch.
"Twelve an' a half!" snapped Hank.
"An' three quarters."
"Thirteen!" growled Hank, trying to hide his misery.
Enoch raised again and, a quarter at a time, they ran the price up tosixteen dollars, Enoch bidding with Yankee caution and reluctance, Hankwith a stubborn determination not to let his friend get ahead of him.One was a trader, shrewd and thrifty; the other, a trapper, which madeit a game between a canny barterer on one side and a reckless spender onthe other. At twenty-three dollars Birdsall quit, spat angrily at a box,and scowled at his excited companion, who was counting the money ontothe table. Hank glared at Enoch, jammed the Colt in his belt and bitsavagely into a plug of tobacco, while the stranger, hiding his smile,bowed ironically and left them; and in a moment he was back again withanother Colt.
"I knowed it!" mourned Hank. "Dang ye, Enoch!"
"Boys," said the stranger, sadly, "my friend is in th' same fix that Iam. He is willin' ter part with his Colt for th' same money an' anotherold fashioned pistol. His mother's dyin' in St. Louie an' he's got tergit back ter her."
"Too danged bad it ain't him, an' you," snorted Hank.
Jim Ogden held out his hand, took the weapon and studied it. Quietlyhanding over his own pistol and the money, he held out his other hand,empty. "Whar's th' mold; an' some caps?"
"Wall," drawled the stranger, rubbing his chin. "They don't go with th'weapons--they're separate. Cost ye three dollars fer th' mold; an' th'caps air two dollars a box o' two hundred."
"Then hand her back ag'in an' take th' Colt," said Ogden, slowlyarising. "Think I'm goin' ter whittle, or chew bullets fer it? Neitherone of them guns has even been used. Thar bran' new, an' with 'em goesth' mold. Jest because I've spent a lot o' my days up on Green Riverain't sayin' I'm green. They named it that because I left my greennessthar."
"Th' caps air extry," said the vendor of Colt pistols.
"Ain't said nothin' about no caps, yit," retorted Ogden. "I'm talkin'molds. Gimme one, an' give Hank one; or ye'll both shore as hell misshis mother's funeral."
The stranger complied, sold some caps and left the saloon in good humor;but he had not been gone two minutes before Enoch hastily arose andpleaded that he had to meet a man; and when they saw him again he had anewfangled contraption in a holster at his belt.
Hank carelessly opened his mold and glanced at it. "Pinted!" heexclaimed.
Tom explained swiftly and reassured his friends, and then suggested thatthey go down to a smithy owned by a mutual friend, and run some bullets."We better do it while we're thinkin' about it, an' have th' time," headded.
"Got lots o' time," said Ogden. "Be three weeks afore th' second caravanstarts. Thar's two goin' out this year. If 'twarn't fer th' early warmweather on th' prairies th' fust wouldn't 'a' left yet. Th' grass iscomin' up fast."
"Thar's some waggins o' th' second game out ter Council Grove already,"said Alonzo Webb. "They wanted me an' Enoch ter go 'long with 'em, butwe couldn't see th' sense o' leavin' town so fur ahead o' time, an'totin' that much more grub. 'Sides, th' roads'll be better, mebby, lateron."
The smith welcomed them and they used his fire during the lulls in hisbusiness.
"Hear Zachary Woodson's goin' out with eight waggins this year," he toldthem. "Missed th' fust caravan. Says he'll be tetotally cussed if he'sgoin' ter be captain ag'in this year."
"That's what he says every year," grunted Alonzo.
"He'll be captain if we has th' say-so," replied Hank. "Only thing, he'sa mite too easy with th' fools; but thar's goin' ter be less squabblin'about obeyin' orders this trip than ever afore. We'll see ter that."
While they discussed matters pertaining to the caravan, and ran bullets,listening to the gossip of the smith's customers, they saw Uncle Joe andhis two wagoners driving his mules toward the shop to have them re-shod.They shook hands all around and soon Uncle Joe, grinning from ear toear, told them that he was going out with the caravan. He was as tickledas a boy with a new knife.
"Just as I feared," he said in explanation. "I couldn't find any traderthat was takin' any of his women folks along; so there was only one wayout of it. I got to go. An' I don't mind tellin' you boys that it suitsme clean down to th' ground. Anyhow, all I wanted was an excuse. I got alight wagon for Patience an' me an' our personal belongings, an' I'mgoin' to drive it myself. Bein' th' only woman in th' caravan, fur as Iknow, it'll mebby be a little mite hard on her. Reckon she'll gitlonesome, 'specially since she's so danged purty."
When the laughter died down Hank Marshall, shifting his cud to the othercheek, looked from Uncle Joe to Tom and back again.
"Wall," he drawled, "I war puzzled a little at fust, but now I reckonI'm gittin' th' hang o' this hyar thing. Tom war shore hell-bent fer tergo out ter Oregon this year." He paused, scratched his head, andgrinned. "Reckon I kin drive them mules all by myself. 'Twon't be asthough it war th' fust time I've done it."
After a little good-natured banter Tom and Hank left the smithy to lookafter their affairs, for there was quite a lot to be done. The next fewdays would be busy ones for them both, but especially so for Tom, whowas expected to share his company between Patience, Hank, and Uncle Joe.
As they swung up the street Hank edged to cross it, pointing toSchoolcraft's corral. "Might as well be gittin' th' mules afore thar allrun over an' th' best took. If he kin skin me in a mule deal I'm willin'ter abide by it."
"Not there," objected Tom. "I've had some trouble with him. I'll playpack animal myself before I'll buy a single critter from him."
Hank shook with silent laughter. "_That's_ whar he got it, huh?" heexulted. "Cussed if he warn't trimmed proper. I might 'a' knowed it waryou as done it by th' way it looked." He shook again and then becamealert "Thar he is now; an' his friends air with him. Keep yer primin'dry, boy."
"I reckoned I could shake a laig," said a voice behind them, and theylooked over their shoulders to s
ee Jim Ogden at their heels, and closebehind him came his partner; "but you two kiyotes plumb made me hoof it.What's yer hurry, anyhow?"
The little group in front of the corral gate shifted in indecision andlooked inquiringly at the horse-dealer. There was a difference betweenstirring up trouble between themselves and Tom Boyd for the purpose ofmanhandling _him_, and stirring it up between themselves and the fourtrappers.
Schoolcraft said something out of the corner of his mouth and the groupmelted away into the little shack at the corral gate. He remained wherehe was, scowling frankly at his enemy.
"Looks like they war a-fixin' ter try it on us," growled Hank, returningthe scowl with interest. "Let's go over an' say how-de-do ter 'em. Thishere town's been too peaceable, _anyhow_."
"What's th' trouble?" asked Ogden, curiously, his partner pressingagainst him to hear the answer.
"Ain't none," answered Tom. "Thar might 'a' been, but it's blowed over."
"Wall," drawled Ogden. "Ye never kin tell about these hyar frontierwinds. Yer th' partisan o' this hyar expedition, Tom. We'll foller yerlead. It's all one ter us whar ye go; we're with ye."
Schoolcraft, knowing that trouble with these plainsmen would almostcertainly end in serious bloodshed, shrugged his shoulders and enteredthe shack; and after him, from behind the corral wall darted the slenderMexican.
"Thar!" exclaimed Tom, pointing. "See that greaser? Keep yer eyesskinned fer him. He's bad medicine."
"Looks like he war fixin' fer ambushin' us, hidin' behind that wall,"growled Hank.
"He's got a fine head o' hair ter peel," snorted Zeb Houghton, whosereputation in regard to scalp lifting was anything but to his credit.The fingers of his left hand closed involuntarily with a curling motionand the wrist turned suggestively; and the Mexican, well back from thedirty window of the shack, felt a rising of his stomach and was poorcompany for the rest of the day.
The four swung on again, Ogden and his partner soon leaving the party togo to their quarters, while Tom and Hank went on along the street andstopped at another horse-dealer's, where they bought two riding horsesand eight broken-in mules, the latter covered with scars. The horseswere broken to saddle and would carry them over the trail; two of themules were to carry their necessaries and the other six their smallstock of merchandise, which they now set out to obtain. In procuring thelatter they were very fortunate, for they found a greenhorn who had paidtoo much attention to rumors and had decided at the last moment thattrail life and trading in the far west did not impress him veryfavorably; and he sold his stock to them almost at their own terms, gladto get out of his venture so easily. They took what they wanted of itand then sold the remainder at a price which nearly paid for their owngoods. Leaving their purchases at Uncle Joe's wagons under the care ofhis teamsters, they went to his hotel to spend the night.
After supper Hank, who had shown a restlessness very foreign to him,said that he was going out to take a walk and would return soon. WhenTom offered to go with him he shook his head, grinned, and departed.
The evening passed very pleasantly for Tom, who needed nothing more thanPatience's presence to make him content, and after she had said goodnight he accompanied her uncle to the bar for a night-cap. As heentered the room he thought he saw a movement outside the window, downin one corner of the sash, and he slipped to the door and peered out. Ashe cogitated about scouting around outside he heard Uncle Joe's voicecalling to him over the noise of the crowd and he made his way back tothe bar, drank to the success of the coming expedition, and engaged insmall talk with his companion and those around them. But his thoughtswere elsewhere, for Hank had been gone a long time.
"Uncle Joe, how long have you known your wagoners?" he asked.
"Long enough to know 'em well." The trader regarded him quizzically."Not worryin' about your merchandise, are you?"
"I'm wondering where Hank is."
"In some trapper's rendezvous; he'll show up in th' mornin' with nothin'worse than a headache."
"I'm not treating him right," soliloquized Tom. "A man shouldn't forgethis friends, especially when they're as close as Hank is. I'm goin'lookin' for him. Good night."
Uncle Joe watched him push his way directly through the crowd, leaving afew scowls in his wake, and pop out of the door; and the older mannodded with satisfaction. "A man shouldn't, Tom, my boy," he muttered."Stick to them that's stuck to you--always--forever--in spite of hell.That's good medicine."
A tour of the places where trappers congregated was barren of resultsuntil he had reached the last of such resorts that he knew, and here hefound Enoch Birdsall and Alonzo Webb, who welcomed him with suchvociferous greetings that he knew they had nearly reached thequarrelsome stage. To his inquiries as to the whereabouts of his partnerthey made boisterous replies, their laughter rattling the windows.
"Ol' beaver's settin' a-top his house--no, 'tain't no house. Settin'a-top yer pile o' goods cached with Cooper's--you tell 'im," yelledAlonzo, slapping Enoch across the back and nearly knocking him out ofthe chair. "You tell 'im, Ol' Buff'ler!"
"Prairie hen on his nest is more like _him_," shouted Enoch, returninghis friend's love tap with interest, whereupon Alonzo missed twice andfell to the floor.
"Prairie hen on yer nose!" yelled the prostrate trader, trying to swimtoward his partner. "Thar ain't no prairie beaver as kin knock me downan' _keep_ me thar! Stan' up like a man, ye polecat! An' I kin lick_you_, too!" he yelled, as Tom avoided his sweeping arm and hastenedtoward the door. "Better run! Better run! Git 'im Enoch, ye fool!"
Tom did not reach the front door, for with astonishing speed and agilityfor one so far in his cups Enoch, taking up the quarrel of his friend,whom he presently would be fighting, leaped from the table, vaulted overa chair, and by some miracle of drunken equilibrium landed on his feetwith his back to the door and swung both fists at the surprisedplainsman. Tom's eyes glinted, and then twinkled. He had few betterfriends than these two quarrelsome traders and, stepping back, he leapedover the prostrate and anything but silent Alonzo and darted out throughthe back door, laughing at the furious squabbling he left behind.Reaching the corner of the building, he fell into his habitual softnessof tread and slipped along the rear of the shacks on a direct coursefor the place where his and Cooper's merchandise was stored.Schoolcraft's corral loomed up in front of him and he skirted itsilently. He almost had reached its far corner when a Mexican's voice,raised in altercation inside the inclosure, caught his ear and checkedhim, balanced on one foot.
"For why he do eet?" demanded the Mexican, excitedly. "I tol' heem thathe mus' leeve Tomaz tr-rade goods by themselves. He ees goin' to SantaFe weethout for-rce; an' now eet ees all spoil! For what he do eet? Bah!For hees revenge he say. What ees hees revenge like Armijo's?"
"Oh, shut yer mouth an' stop yer yowlin'," growled a gruff voice. "Ephallus knows what he's a-doin'."
The poised listener outside the corral paused to hear no more but wasoff like a shadow, his stride a long, swinging lope, for he was too wiseto dash at full speed and waste fighting breath for the sake of gaininga few seconds. He made his devious way across a plain studded withwagons, piles of freight and heaps of debris, and before he reached hisobjective the sounds of conflict singled it out for him had he been inany doubt.
The open wagon-shed loomed suddenly before him and he made out astruggling mass on the ground before it, his partner's grunted cursesand the growls of Cooper's wagoner saving them from his attack. He wentinto the mass feet first, landing with all his weight and the momentumof his run on a crouched man whose upraised arm was only waiting for asure opening. The knife user grunted as he went down, and his headstruck the edge of a wagon-wheel with such force that he no longer wasa combatant. Tom had fallen to his knees after his catapulting impactand when he arose he held a squirming halfbreed over his head at theheight of his upraised arms. One heave of his powerful body and thehuman missile flew through the air and struck two of the half-breed'sfriends as they sprang to their feet in sudden alarm. They went downlike tenpins a
nd before they could gain their feet again Tom dropped onone of them, his knees squarely in the pit of the man's stomach, hisright hand on the throat of the other, while his left gripped hisadversary's knife hand and bent it steadily and inexorably back towardthe wrist.
"Th' little bobcat's j'ined us," panted Hank, crawling onto the man henow rolled under him. "Tom Boyd, Armijo's pet, with his fangs bared an'his claws out. Take _this_, you----!" he grunted as his shoulder setitself behind the smashing blow. "How ye makin' out with yer friend,Abe?" he asked of the other rolling pair.
It seemed that Abe was not making out according to Hank'sspecifications, so he crawled over to help him, and reached out a hand.It fastened onto a skinny neck and clamped shut, whereupon Abe rolledvictoriously free and paused to glower at his victim. His surprise,while genuine, was of short duration, and he shook his head at thecheerful Hank and then pounced onto the man who had been used as amissile, and pinned him to the ground. In a few moments the fight wasover, and the victors grinned sheepishly at each other in thesemi-darkness and re-arranged various parts of their clothing.
"I saw somethin' smash inter th' waggin wheel an' sorta reckoned youwar some'rs 'round," panted Hank. "Then I saw somethin' else sail interth' air an' knock over two o' th' thieves. Then I knowed ye war hyar. Mean' Abe war doin' our best, but we war beginnin' ter slip, like fur atth' end o' winter."
"Ye mebbe war sheddin' a little," laughed Tom, "but you'd 'a' shed themthieves afore ye petered out. Tell me about it."
"Thar ain't nothin' ter tell," replied Hank. "I'm nat'rally suspiciousby bein' up in th' Crow country so much o' my time, an' I got terthinkin' 'bout Schoolcraft. I'm mostly stronger on hindsight than I amon foresight, but this hyar's onct I sorta lined 'em both up an' got agood bead. I snuk up ter his shanty an' heard him an' that thar greaserchawin' tough meat with each other. So I come down hyar, expectin' terlay fer 'em with Abe; but danged if him an' them warn't at it already! Ionly got two feet, two han's an' one mouth, an' I had ter waste one foota-standin' on it; but th' rest o' me jined th' dance. Then you come.That's all."
"How long war you two holdin' off th' six o' 'em?" demanded Tom of Abewith great interest, and thinking that Cooper's trust was well placed.
"'Twarn't long; two comets an' about six hundred stars, I reckon,"mumbled the shrinking hero between swollen lips. "I war jest gittin' madenough to go fur my knife when Hank gits in step with th' music, an'jines han's with us. What we goin' ter do with 'em?"
"Oh, give 'em a kick apiece an' turn 'em loose without thar weapons,"suggested Hank.
Tom shook his head. "They come from Schoolcraft; let's take 'em back tohim," he suggested.
"Go ahead!" enthused Abe. Then he scratched his head. "But who's goin'ter watch th' goods while we're gone? Jake ain't due fer couple o' hoursyet."
"You air!" snorted Hank. "You need a rest, an' us two is shore enough."He prodded the figures on the ground with the toe of his moccasin. "Gitup, you squaw dogs!" he ordered.
In a moment five thoroughly cowed men were plodding before their guards.The sixth, who was still wandering about on the far side of the boundaryof consciousness, was across Tom's shoulder. Reaching the horse-dealer'sshanty, the prisoners opened the door by the simple expedient of surgingagainst it as they shrunk from the pricks of Hank's skinning knife. Thetwo men inside escaped the crashing door by vaulting over a small table,and before they could recover their wits in the face of this amazingreturn of their friends they were looking down the barrels of twosix-shooters.
Tom dumped his burden onto the table, kicked a chair through a closedwindow, swept an open ink bottle onto Schoolcraft's manly stomach, andmade a horrible face at the pop-eyed Mexican. "Hyar they air, polecat,"he growled. "Any more raids on our goods an' I trail ye an' shoot onsight. Don't give a cuss who does it, or why; _I'll git you_. If I miss,Hank won't; an' we both got good friends. Come on, Hank, it stinks inhere."
Tom turned and stalked out, but not so Hank. He backed out behind hisnewfangled weapon, pleasantly thinking of its six ready shots, slidalong the outside of the shack and then waited with great hope for ahead to pop out of the door. Having had no chance to try out the Colt hewas curious regarding its accuracy. No head popped, however, and aftera moment he sighed, slipped along the corral wall and crossed the streetwhen far enough away to be covered by the darkness. Hank had no faith inhostile humans and did not believe in showing off. The thieving,treacherous Crows agreed that the brave who took Hank Marshall's scalpwould be entitled to high honors; with the mournful reflection that bythe time it was taken, if ever, the tribe would have paid a very highprice for it.
Bring Me His Ears Page 8
