CHAPTER ONE
THE MEETING
It's a curious thing--life. Ya might just as well ask a kitten tochase her own tail or a dog to bay at the evenin' star, or aperiodical spring to run constant, as to ask a feller right out totell a story. Some things can only be done spontaneous.
Friar Tuck used to say 'at whenever he could cut it, he allus got onthe lee side o' human nature and let it blow down on him natural; andmy way o' gettin' to the lee side o' human nature in story-tellin' isnot to ask for a story, but to start tellin' one myself. And it's agood plan not to put over too good a one either; 'cause if it seems asthough a feller is short run on stories, some listener is likely totake pity on him and fit him out with a new assortment so as he won'tbe such bad company for himself when he's alone again. This is the wayI've picked up most o' my stories.
Then again, it's allus hard for me to tell what is the true beginnin'of a story. It's easy enough to tell cream from milk--after the milkhas stood long enough for the cream to rise to the top; but the greattrouble is, that a man's own recollections haven't stood long enoughfor him to skim out just what part he might be in need of.
Without meanin' the least mite o' disrespect to any one, it does seemto me that if I was able to plan out any sort of a memory at all, Icould have made a few improvements on the ones we now have.
My own memory is as stubborn as a mule and as grippy as a bulldog.What it does remember, it calls up in the shape o' pictures; and I seeold things just as plain as livin', breathin' beings; but try as Iwould, I never could keep my memory from loadin' herself down with somany trifles that sometimes I've had to spade it over as many as sixtimes to turn up some important item which I was actually in need of.When my memory's in a good humor, I like to start a pipe and lean backand just watch old scenes over again, the same as if I was in athe-ater; and I can see every twinkle in a pair o' well-known eyes,which have been lookin' up through six feet of earth for this many along year, and I can hear--actually hear--the half tones ripplin'through voices which have no more part in my to-day than the perfumeo' last year's flowers; and then, like as not, my memory'll lay herears back and refuse to confide what I did with my shavin' soap.
When I look back at my own life and compare it with others, it seemslike a curious, patch-worky sort of affair, and not much more my ownthan the lives o' those others with which I compare it. I allus likedmy work, and yet it never attracted my attention much. Side-trips andsuch-like stand out plain as figures in a hand-painted picture, suchas I've seen in hotels down at Frisco; but the work part is just ablotchy, colorless sort of smudge, the same as the background o' oneo' these pictures.
When I first took on with Jabez--every one called him ol' Cast SteelJudson at this time--they wanted to know if I could ride. I wasnothin' but a regular kid then, so I handed in a purty high average asto my ridin' ability; though, truth to tell, I wasn't no bronco busterthose days. They gave me a genuwine mean one as a starter, and told meto ride him clean or step off and walk.
At that time I didn't even know how to discard a hoss when I couldn'tstand the poundin' any longer; so when I felt my backbone gettin'wedged too far into my skull, I made a grab for the horn. My luck wason the job that day and I got the quirt, instead. At his next pitch,my hand went up as natural as ever, and I slammed down the quirt ashard as I could. It landed on a ticklish spot and before he had timeto make up his mind, the cayuse had started to run, me whalin' him atevery jump and givin' thanks between 'em. I rode him good and out assoon as he started to stampede, and they all thought I was a realrider. Well, this gave me a lot o' trouble--tryin' to live up to myreputation--but that's a good sort o' trouble for a kid to have.
Now I can feel all the sensations o' this ride as plain as though itwas this mornin'; but the's a thousand rides since then which have allmelted an' run together. The same with most o' the rest o' my work: Iallus aimed to do my bit a little quicker and cleaner 'n the rest; butas soon as I learned all the tricks of it, it fell into a rut, likebreathin' and seein'. Easteners seem to have an idee that our lifemust be as carefree and joyous as goin' to a different circus everyday in the year; but it ain't: it's work, just like all other work.We're a good bit like our ridin' ponies: when we're in the thick of itwe're too busy to take notice; and when we're through, we'rehungry--and that's about the whole story.
Jabez Judson was a high peak, and once a feller knew him, he never ranany risk o' gettin' him mixed up with any one else. He was the settestin his ways of any man I ever had much doin's with; but he didn'tchange about any--if he faced north on a question one day, he facednorth on it always; so a feller could tell just how any action wouldstrike him, and this made livin' with him as accurate as workin' out aproblem in multiplication, which I claim to hold qualities o' comfort.
His daughter, Barbie, was a little tot when I first took on; and shewas the apple of ol' Cast Steel's eye; an' his curb bit, and his spursas well. Barbie and I were pals from one end o' the trail to theother, and this explains a lot o' my life which otherwise wouldn'thave any answer. My ordinary work at the Diamond Dot wasn'tout-standin' enough to give me any special privileges; but I happenedto come back one time when the Brophy gang was about to clean thingsout, and Jabez gave me credit for savin' Barbie's life; so 'at hedidn't check up my time any and I did purty much as I pleased, onlyquittin' him when I couldn't put up with his set ways any longer. Iaimed to play fair with Jabez, and he with me; but once in a while welocked horns, though not often, takin' everything into account.
It was shortly after ol' Cast Steel had bought in the D lazy L brand,an' we was still pickin' up strays here an' there. Whenever he boughtup a brand he allus put the Diamond Dot on the stuff as soon as hecould, his mark commandin' more respect than some o' the littlefellers'.
When I'd get tired o' loafing about the home place, I'd take one o'the boys an' we'd start out to look for stray hosses. Spider Kelleywas with me this time, an' we had meandered here an' there until wehad picked up a big enough string to stand as an excuse for our trip,and were about minded to start back.
We had just forded a little crick when we heard a man's voice singin'off to the right. The' was a mess o' cottonwoods between us, an' westopped to listen. Now I had never heard that voice before, an' I hadnever seen the man who was running it; but right then I was ready tobelieve anything he had a mind to tell me. It was a deep, rich voice;but mellow an' tender, an' a feller could tell that he was singin'simply because he couldn't help it.
Spider looked at me with his face shinin', an' I could feel a sort o'pleasant heat in my own face. The' was a lift an' a swing, and a sortof rally-around-the-flag to this voice which got right into ya, an'made you want to do something.
"'T is thine to save from perils of perdition The souls for whom the Lord His life laid down; Beware, lest, slothful to fulfill thy mission, Thou lose one jewel that should deck His crown. Publish glad tidings; tidings of peace; Tidings of Jesus, redemption and release."
"That feller can sing some," sez Spider Kelley; but just then theponies turned back on us an' by the time we had started 'em on again,the singer had passed on up the trail, so I didn't make any reply.
I was tryin' to figure out whether it was the words or the tune or thevoice, or what it was that had made my whole body vibrate like afiddle string. As I said before, I see things in pictures an' I alsoremember 'em in pictures: a sound generally calls up a picture to mean' it ain't allus a picture anyways connected with the sound itself.This song, for instance, had called to my mind a long procession ofmarchin' men with banners wavin' an' set faces, shinin' with a gladsort o' recklessness. There ain't no accountin' for the human mind: Ihad never seen such a procession in real life, nor even in a picture;but that was what this song out there on the open range suggested tome, an' I hurried out o' the cottonwoods eager to measure the singerwith my open eyes.
When we climbed up out of the woods, we saw him goin' up the passahead of us with our ponies followin' behind as though they was par
tof his outfit. We could just catch glimpses of him; enough to showthat he was a big man on a big roan hoss, an' that he was a ridin' manin spite o' the fact that he was wearin' black clothes made up Easternstyle. He was still singin' his song, an' I straightened up in mysaddle, an' beat time with my hand as though I held a genuwine swordin it; which is a tool I've never had much doin's with.
We scrambled on up the trail, an' when we reached the top we found alittle park with the grass knee high an' a fringe o' spruce treesabout it. The song had come to a sudden end, an' we found the singeron foot with a noose about his neck an' nine rather tough-lookin'citizens holdin' a parley with him. We came to the same sort of a stopthe song had, an' Spider Kelley sez in a low tone, "What do ya supposethis is?"
"I don't know," sez I, touchin' my pony, "but I'm with the singer"; some an' Spider rode on down to 'em.
I purty well sensed what it was: the' was a heap o' rebrandin' bein'done at that time, an' stringin' a man up was supposed to be the onlycure; but I was willin' to bet my roll that this singer wasn't arustler. The feller in charge o' the posse was an evil-lookin' cuss,an' if he'd 'a' had the rope around his neck, it wouldn't have lookedso misplaced. He was ridin' a Cross brand hoss; so I guessed him tobelong to the Tyrrel Jones outfit. Most o' the others in the posse wasridin' the same brand o' hosses an' wearin' the same brand ofexpressions. It was a tough-lookin' bunch.
We came up to 'em an' they looked our ponies an' us over an' nodded.We nodded back an' I asked 'em what seemed to be the trouble.
"We've finally got the feller who has been doin' the rustlin' out thisway," sez the leader, whose name was Flannigan, Badger-face Flannigan.
"That's good," sez I; "but he don't look the part."
"He acts it all right," growls Badger-face, showin' his fangs in whatwas meant for a grin. "He's ridin' one of our hosses, an' leadin' astring o' D lazy Ls."
"Leadin' 'em?" sez I.
"Yes, he's got some sort of a charm in his voice. Whiskers, here, sawhim go up on foot an' rope this colt an' lead him off the same as aplow hoss."
"Did Whiskers, here, see him charm the loose string, too?" I asked.
"No, he came in an' collected the posse, an' we decided that thiswould be a good place to try him; so we cut up the other pass an'waited for him. When he came up, this bunch o' ponies was taggin'after him."
I looked at the man with the noose about his neck, an' he was grinnin'as easy an' comfortable as I ever saw a man grin in my life. He waswearin' a vest without buttons an' a gray flannel shirt. He had arifle on his saddle an' a sixshooter on his right hip. He had big grayeyes set wide apart under heavy brows, an' they were dancin' withlaughter. I grinned into 'em without intendin' to, an' sez: "Well, Idon't really think he charmed these loose ponies intentional. Me an'Spider was takin' 'em in to the Diamond Dot an' we had a hard timemakin' 'em ford the crick. I'm some thankful to him for tollin' 'em upthe pass."
Badger-face scowled. "Well, anyhow, he charmed the beast he's ridin,all right; an' he has to swing for it."
"Are you all done with tryin' him," sez I.
"What's the use of a trial?" snarled Badger-face. "Ain't he ridin' aCross brand hoss, ain't the brand unvented, don't every one know thatwe never sell a hoss without ventin' the brand, an' can't any one see'at this hoss was never rode before?"
"Got anything to say for yourself, stranger?" I asked.
"Not much," sez the prisoner. "I have an appointment to keep atLaramie; my hoss gave out; so I just caught a fresh one an' startedon."
"What more do you want?" asked Badger-face of me.
"Well, now, the' ain't any particular hurry; an' I'm kind o' curiousto learn a little more of his methods," sez I impartial. "Don't yaknow 'at this is what they call hoss-stealin' out this way?" I askedof the stranger.
"No, this is not stealin'," he replied. "I turned another hoss loosethat I had picked up a hundred miles or so farther back; and I shouldhave turned this one adrift as soon as he had tired. They allus wanderback to their own range."
This wasn't no unheard-of custom to practice out our way; but it was anew sort o' defence for a man with a noose about his neck to put up,an' I see that some o' the others was gettin' interested. The big manhad a smile like a boy, an' steady eyes, an' a clear skin; an' hedidn't look at all the kind of a man to really need stretchin'.
"What's your plan for earnin' a livin'?" I asked.
"I am a kind of apostle," sez he, "an' I live on the bounty ofothers."
"Do you mean 'at you're a preacher?" asked Badger-face.
"Yes," the stranger replied with a smile.
We found the singer on foot with a noose about his neckan' nine rather tough-lookin' citizens holdin' a parley with him]
"Well, I never see a preacher with as short hair as yours, nor one whocarried so much artillery, nor one who made a practice o' pickin' up afresh hoss whenever he felt like it. Where'd you learn to ride, an'where'd you learn to rope?"
"Eastern Colorado. I lived there four years, an' travelled onhossback," sez the stranger.
"I'll bet you left there mighty sudden," sez Badger-face with an evilleer.
"Yes," replied the stranger, with a grin, "an' I also left onhossback."
"Well, ya satisfied now?" grunted Badger-face to me.
Livin' out doors the way I had, I naturally had a big respect forbrands. It's mighty comfortin' to feel that ya can turn your stuffloose an' know that it's not likely to be bothered; so I was upsomething of a stump about this new doctrine. "Where'd you get yourcommission from to pick up a hoss whenever you feel like it?" sez I tothe stranger.
He had a little leather sack hangin' from his saddle horn, an' hereached into it an' fished out a small book with a soft leather cover.The feller 'at was holdin' his hoss eyed him mighty close for fear itwas some sort of a gun; but the stranger ran over the leaves with hisfingers as ready as a man would step into the home corral an' rope hisfavorite ridin' pony.
"Here's my commission," sez he, as self-satisfied as though he washoldin' a government document; an' then he read aloud with that deep,mellow voice o' his, the story of the time the Lord was minded to lethimself out a little an' came into Jerusalem in state. He read it all,an' then he paused, looked about, holdin' each man's eyes with his ownfor a second, an' then he read once more the part where the Lord hadsent in a couple of his hands after the colt that no man had everbacked before--an' then he closed the book, patted it gentle an'shoved it back into the leather bag. I looked around on the posse, an'most of 'em was rubbin' their chins, an' studyin'. I've noticed thatwhile the earth is purty well cluttered up with pale-blooded an'partially ossified Christians, the's mighty few out an' out atheistsamong 'em.
"That don't go," sez Badger-face, after he'd taken time to pump up hisnerve a little.
No one said anything for a space, an' then the stranger put a littleedge on his voice, but spoke in a lower tone than before: "That doesgo," he said. "No matter what else in life may be questioned, nomatter how hard and fast a title may stick, it must crumble to dustwhen one comes and says, 'The Lord hath need of this.' It may be yourlife or it may be your property or it may be the one being you lovemost in all the world; but when the Lord hath need, your own needsmust fall away.
"Now, boys, I love the West, I glory in the fact that I can laysomething down and go on about my business an' come back a month laterand find it just where I left it; and if I was takin' these hosses tosell or trade or use for my own selfish ends, why, I wouldn't have aword to say again' your stringin' me up. I brought my own hoss intothis country and when it gave out I didn't have time to barter an'trade for another one; so I just caught one, and when it grew weary, Iturned it adrift. I don't claim the hosses I ride; I don't want to ownthem; I simply borrow them for a while because my Lord hath need ofthem. I treat them well, and when they weary, send 'em back to theirown range with a pat, and pick up another. The next fellow who ridesthat hoss will find it a little less trouble than if I hadn't used it,and there's no harm done at all. I'm working wi
th you, I'm going tomake your own work easier out here by raisin' the respect for brands,not by makin' property rights any looser; and you are goin' to workwith me--whether you want to or not. Now then, how much longer are yougoin' to keep this fool noose about my neck?"
That posse wasn't easy minded, not by a jugful. This stranger wasspeakin' as though he had power an' authority an' public opinion allon his side, and they felt consid'able like the tenderfoot who'd ropedthe buffalo--they was willin' to quit any time he was.
The Cross brand boys were purty sullen an' moody; but four o' theposse belonged to another outfit, an' they couldn't stand the strain.One of 'em, a grizzled old codger with one lamp missin', lifted thenoose from the prisoner's neck, an' sez most respectful: "Parson, I'man old man. I ain't heard a sermon for forty years, an' I'd be rightobliged to ya if you'd make us one."
Badger-face, he snorted scornful; but the rest of the posse wasscattered all the way from repentance to sheepishness, an' thestranger he stepped to a little rise an' he certainly did speak us asermon. First off, he sang us St. Andrew's hymn--I got to learn a goodmany of his songs after this, but o' course at that time I was as shyon hymns as the rest o' the crowd.
I tell you it was wonderful up in that little park, with the lushgrass for a carpet, the spruce trees for panelin', the bare peaksstickin' out for rafter-beams, the blue sky above for ceiling, andthat soft, deep voice fillin' the whole place an' yet stealin' into afeller's heart as easy an' gentle as a woman's whisper. He sort o'beat time as though playin' on an instrument, until before he wasthrough we were all hummin' in time with him--an' then he preached.
He told us about the fisher folks an' how they lived out doors underthe stars the same as we did; and that this was probably why the Lordhad chose 'em first to follow him. He said that city folks got torelyin' on themselves so much 'at they was likely to forget that thewhole earth was still held in the hollow of the hand which had createdit; but that men who lived with nature, out under the sun and thestars, through the heat and the cold, the wind and the rain, thechinook and the blizzard, felt the forces and the mysteries all aboutthem and this kept 'em in touch, even when they didn't know itthemselves, with the great central Intelligence back o' these forcesand mysteries. Then he told 'em how grand their lives might be if theywould only give up their nasty little habits of thought, and learn tothink broad and free and deep, the same as they breathed.
He told 'em 'at their minds could breathe the inspiration of God aseasy as their lungs could breathe the pure air o' the mountains, ifthey'd only form the habit. Then he talked to 'em friendly an'confidential about their natural devilment. He didn't talk like asaint speakin' out through a crack in the gates o' Paradise, like mostpreachers do. He called the turn on the actual way they cut up whenthey went to town, and just how it hurt 'em body an' soul; and hisface grew set and earnest, and his eyes blazed; and then he said a fewwords about mothers an' children and such, and wound up with a shortprayer.
Well two o' those fellers owned up right out in public and said thatfrom that on they was goin' to lead a decent sort of life; and oneother said 'at he didn't have any faith in himself any longer; but heinsisted on signin' the pledge, and said if that worked, why, he'd goon an' try the rest of it.
The preacher shook hands with 'em all around--he had a grip 'atwouldn't be no disgrace for a silver-tip--an' then he sez that if anyof 'em has the notion that bein' a Christian makes a weakling of aman, why, he's willin' to wrastle or box or run a race or shoot at amark or do any other sort of a stunt to show 'at he's in good order;but they size him up and take his word for it.
"Now, boys," sez he, "I hope we'll meet often. I'm your friend, and Iwant you to use me any time you get a chance. Any time or any placethat I can serve one of you, just get me word and I'll do the best Ican. It don't matter what sort o' trouble you get into, get me wordand I'll help--if I can find a way. And I wish 'at you'd speak itaround that I'm hard on hosses, so that the other fellows willunderstand when I pick one up, and not cause any delay. I'll have tohurry along now. Good-bye; I'm sorry I've been a bother to ya."
He swung up on the big roan, waved his hand and trotted out o' thepark; and just as he went down the pass on the other side, it seemedthat he couldn't hold it in any longer; so he opened up his voice inhis marchin' song again, an' we all stayed silent as long as we couldhear the sound of it.
"Well we are a lot of soft marks!" sez Badger-face at last.
"That there is a true man," replied old Grizzly, shakin' his head,"an' I'll bet my boots on it."
This seemed to be the general verdict, an' the Cross brand fellerswent off discussin' the parson, an' me an' Spider Kelley collected ourponies an' went along to the ranch, also discussin' him.
That was the first time I ever saw Friar Tuck; I made up my mind abouthim just from hearin' his voice, an' before I ever saw him; but Inever had to make it up any different. New lead an' new steel lookconsid'able alike; but the more ya wear on lead, the sooner it wearsout, while the more you wear on steel, the brighter it gets. The Friarwas steel, an' mighty well tempered.
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