CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A CONTESTED LIFE-TITLE
The bullet which had gone through Badger-face hadn't touched a singlebone. It had gone through his left lung purty high up, but somethin'like the pneumonie set in, an' he was a sorry lookin' sight when thefever started to die out after havin' hung on for two weeks. He hadbeen drinkin' consid'able beforehand, which made it bad for him, an'the Friar said it was all a question of reserve. If Badger-face hadenough of his constitution left to tide him over, he stood a goodchance; but otherwise it was his turn.
He didn't have much blood left in him at the end of two weeks on airand water, and he didn't have enough fat to pillow his bones on. Weall thought 'at he ought to have something in the way o' feed; but theFriar wouldn't stand for one single thing except water. He said 'atfood had killed a heap more wounded men 'n bullets ever had; so we lethim engineer it through in his own way.
When the fever started to leave, he got so weak 'at Horace thought hewas goin' to flicker out, an' he felt purty bad about it. He didn'tregret havin' done it, an' said he would do just the same if he had itto do over; but it calls up some mighty serious thoughts when a fellowreflects that he is the one who has pushed another off into the dark.On the night when it seemed certain that Badger-face would lose hisgrip, we all went into his room an' sat around waitin' for the end, tosort o' cheer him up a little. Life itself is a strange enoughadventure, but death has it beat a mile.
Along about nine o'clock, Badger said in a low, trembly voice: "What'dyou fellers do to me, if I got well?"
He didn't even open his eyes; so we didn't pay any heed to him. Whenhe first got out of his head, he had rambled consid'able. Part o' thetime he seemed to be excusin' himself for what he had done, an' parto' the time he seemed to be gloatin' over his devilment; but the'wasn't any thread to his discourse so we didn't set much store by it.After waitin' a few minutes, he quavered out his question again, an'the Friar told him not to worry about anything, but just to set hismind on gettin' well.
Badger shook his head feebly from side to side an' mumbled, "Thatdon't go, that don't go with me." He paused here for a rest, an' thenwent on. "I've been in my right mind all day, an' I've been thinkin' alot, an' tryin' some experiments. I can breathe in a certain way whichmakes me easier an' stronger, an' I can breathe in another way whichshuts off my heart. I don't intend to get well merely for the pleasureo' gettin' lynched; so if that's your game, I intend to shut off myheart an' quit before I get back the flavor o' life. It don't maketwo-bits difference with me either way. What d' ya intend to do?"
He had been a long time sayin' this, an' we had exchanged glancespurty promiscuous. We hadn't give a thought as to what we would dowith him, providin' he responded to our efforts to save his life; butit was purty generally understood that Badger had fitted himself to bestrung up, just the same as if he hadn't been shot at all. Now,though, when we came to consider it, this hardly seemed a square deal.There wasn't much common sense in chokin' a man's life down his throatfor two weeks, only to jerk it out again at the end of a rope, an' wefound ourselves in somethin' of a complication.
"What do ya think we ort to do to ya?" asked Tank.
"Lynch me," sez Badger, without openin' his eyes; "but I don't intendto wait for it. I don't blame ya none, fellers. I did ya all the dirtI could; but I don't intend to furnish ya with no circusperformance--I'm goin' on."
He began to breathe different, an' his face began to get purplish an'ghastly. "Can he kill himself that way?" I asked the Friar.
"I don't know," sez the Friar. "I think 'at when he losesconsciousness, nature'll take holt, an' make him breathe the mostcomfortable way--but I don't know."
"Let Olaf take a look at his flame," sez Horace; so Olaf looked atBadger a long time.
Olaf hadn't wasted much of his time on Badger. He wasn't long onforgiveness, Olaf wasn't; an' ever since the time 'at Badger had beenso enthusiastic in tryin' to have him lynched for killin' Bud Fisher,Olaf had give it out as his opinion that Badger was doomed for hell,an' he wasn't disposed to take any hand in postponin' his departure.Olaf was the matter-o'-factest feller I ever knew. The' don't seem tobe much harm in most of our cussin', but when Olaf indulged inprofanity, he was solemn an' earnest, the same as if he was sayin' aprayer backwards.
"It don't look like Badger's flame," sez he after a time. "It'sgettin' mighty weak an' blue, an' the's a thick spot over his heartwhich shows plainer 'n the one over his wound."
"I move we give him a fresh start," sez Horace.
"He'd ort to be lynched," sez Tank. "I don't see why we can't try himout now, an' if we find him guilty, why he can kill himself if hewants to, or else get well again an' we'll do it for him."
Neither what Horace said nor what Tank said called out much response.We knew the' wasn't any one could say a good word for Badger-face an'so he well deserved his stretchin'; but on the other hand, there hewas turnin' gray before our eyes, an' it went again' our nature todiscard him, after havin' hung on to him for two weeks. The Friar leftthe side of the bed an' retired into a corner, leavin' us free toexpress ourselves.
"I don't see how we can let him go free," sez Tank. "He sez himself'at he ort to be lynched; an' when a feller can't speak a good wordfor himself, I don't see who can."
"Badger-face," sez Horace, "you're the darnedest bother of a man Iever saw. First you infest us until we have to shoot a hole throughyou, an' then we have to nurse you for two weeks, an' now you'rediggin' your heels into our consciences. I give you my word we won'tlynch you if you get well. We'll turn you over to the law."
Badger's thin lips fell back over his yellow teeth in the ghastliestgrin a live man ever hung out. "The law," sez he with bitter sarcasm,"the law! Have you ever been in a penitentiary?"
"No," sez Horace, "I have not."
"Well, I have," sez Badger. "I was put in for another feller's deed;an' they gave me the solitary, the jacket, the bull-rings, thewater-cure, and if you'll roll me over after I'm dead, you can stillsee the scars of the whip on my back. I've tried the law, an' I'll seeyou all damned before I try it again."
Badger-face was as game as they generally get. As soon as he stoppedtalkin' he began to breathe against his heart again. Horace stoodlookin' at him for a full minute, an' then he lost his temper.
"You're a coward, that's what you are!" sez Horace. "I said all along'at you were a coward, an' another feller said so too, an' now you'reprovin' it. You can sneak an' kill cows an' cut saddles in the dark,but you haven't the nerve to face things in the open. Now, you'resneakin' off into the darkness o' death because you're afraid to facethe light of life."
This was handin' it to him purty undiluted, an' Badger opened his eyesan' looked at Horace. His eyes were heavy an' dull, but they didn'twaver any. "Dinky," sez Badger-face, "the only thing I got again' youis your size. I've been called a lot o' different things in my time;but you're the first gazabo 'at ever called me a coward--an' you'reabout the only one who has a right to, 'cause you put me out fair an'square. I wish you had traveled my path alongside o' me, though. Youain't no milksop, but after you'd been given a few o' the deals I'vehad, you'd take to the dark too. You can call me a coward if you wantto, or, after I'm gone, you can think of me as just bein' dog tiredan' glad o' the chance to crawl off into the dark to sleep. I don'twant to be on your conscience; that's not my game. All I want is justto get shut o' the whole blame business."
He talked broken an' quavery, an' it took him a long time to finish;but when he did quit, he turned on his bad breathin' again. Horace hadflushed up some when Badger had mentioned milksop; but when he hadfinished, Horace took his wasted hand in a hearty grip, an' sez: "Itake it back, Badger. You ain't no coward. I only wanted to taunt youinto stickin' for another round; but I think mighty well o' ya. Willyou agree to cut loose from the Ty Jones crowd an' try to be a man, ifwe give you your freedom, a new outfit, and enough money to carry youout of the country?"
It was some time before Badger spoke, an' then he said: "Nope, I can'tdo it
. Ty knows my record, an' he's treated me white; but if I quithim, he'll get me when I least expect it. Now understand, Dinky, thatI don't hold a thing again' you, you're the squarest feller I've evermet up with; but I'm not comin' back to life again. From where I amnow, I can see it purty plain, an' it ain't worth the trouble."
"You could write back to Ty that you made your escape from us," sezHorace.
"That's the best idee you've put over," sez Badger, after he'd thoughtit out; "but I haven't enough taste for life to make the experiment.Don't fuss about me any more. I don't suffer a mite. I feel just likea feller in the Injun country, goin' to sleep on post after days inthe saddle. He knows it'll mean death, but he's too tired out to carea white bean."
"Have you ever been in the army?" asked the Friar from his place inthe corner. We all gave a little start at the sound of his voice, forit came with a snap an' unexpected.
Badger's lips dropped back for another hideous grin. "Yes," he said,"I've been in both the penitentiary and the army--and they're a likelypair."
"Did you have a buck-skin bag?" asked the Friar, comin' up to the bed.
Badger-face tried to raise himself on his elbow, but he couldn't quitemake it. "Yes, I did," sez he, droppin' back again. "What became ofit?"
"I am keepin' it for ya," sez the Friar. "Do you wish to leave anyword in case you do not recover?"
"No," sez Badger, "the' ain't no one to leave word to. That letter wasfrom my mother, an' that was her picture. She's been dead a longstring o' years now."
"There was another picture an' a newspaper clippin'," sez the Friar.
Badger-face didn't give no heed; an' after a time the Friar sez: "Whatshall I do with them?"
"Throw 'em away," sez Badger-face. "They don't concern me none. I wasmore took with that woman's picture 'n airy other I ever saw. That wasall."
"Where did you get it?" asked the Friar.
"I got it from a young Dutchy," sez Badger wearily. "He killed afeller over at Leadville an' came out here an' took on with Ty Jones.He said she was an opery singer, an' got drugged at a hotel where hewas workin'."
Badger-face was gettin' purty weak by now, an' he stopped with a sortof sigh. The Friar took holt of his hand. "I am very much interestedin this woman," he said, lookin' into Badger's face as if tryin' togive him life enough to go on with. "Can you tell me anything elseabout her?"
"Not much," sez Badger-face. "She was singin' at what he called theWinter Garden at Berlin, Germany. Some Austrian nobility got mashed onher an' drugged her at the hotel. Dutchy was mashed on her, too, Ireckon. They had advertised for him in a New York paper, an' when hegot shot, over at Little Monte's dance hall, he asked me to writeabout it. His mother had died leavin' property, an' all they wantedwas to round up the heirs. I reckon they were glad enough to haveDutchy scratched from the list. I don't know why I did keep thatclippin'."
"Have you any idee how long ago it was 'at the woman was drugged?"asked the Friar.
"I haven't any idee," sez Badger-face weakly. "Carl was killed fouryears ago this Christmas eve; so it had to be before that."
"Listen to me, Badger-face," sez the Friar, grippin' his hand tight."I want you to get well. I know that all these men will stand by youand help you to start a new life."
"How long is it since I've been laid up?" asked Badger.
"Two weeks," sez the Friar. "This is two days after Christmas."
"Who tended to me?" asked Badger.
"We all did," sez the Friar, "and we all stand ready to help you makea new start."
"I had a good enough start," sez Badger; "but I fooled it away, an'I'm too old now to make a new one."
"Is there any word you want sent to your friends at Ty Jones's?" askedthe Friar.
Once more Badger skinned his face into the grin. "Friends?" sez he."When you trap a wolf, does he send any word to his friends? I haven'tgot no friends."
"Swallow this milk," sez Horace holdin' some of it out to him in a bigspoon. Kit had made Olaf start to milkin' a cow, 'cause she wanted touse milk in cookin', and intended to make butter when she had thecream saved up. Badger put the milk in his mouth, an' then spit it outagain.
"Don't you put anything else in my mouth," he sez. "I told you I wasgoin' to die; an' by blank, I am goin' to die."
"Fellers," sez Horace, turnin' to us, "do you think this man is goin'to die?" We all nodded our heads. "Then, will you give his life to me,to do with as I will?" asked Horace; and we nodded our heads again.
Horace took off his coat, an' rolled up his sleeves, an' then he cameover an' shook Badger-face by the shoulder. "Listen to me," he sez. "Ifought ya once before, for your life, and I'm goin' to fight you forit now. Do you hear what I say--I'm goin' to fight you for your ownlife. I'm goin' to make you swallow milk, if I have to tie you an'pour it in through a funnel. You can't hold your breath an' fight, an'I'm goin' to fight you."
Badger-face opened his eyes an' looked up into Horace's face. Helooked a long time, an' the ghost of a smile crept into his face."Well, you're the doggonedest little cuss I ever saw!" he exclaimed.He waited a long time, an' then set his teeth. "You beat me once," hemuttered. "Now, see if you can beat me again."
It was after midnight; so when Horace dropped the hint that hewouldn't need any help except from me an' the Friar, the rest o' theboys dug out for the bunk shack. Then Horace took us over to thefireplace an' asked us what was the best thing to do.
"I do believe 'at you have stumbled on the right plan to save him,"sez the Friar. "He has no fever, the wound is doin' splendid, and hehas a powerful constitution. The trouble is that he does not will tolive. We must spur on his will, and if we can make him fight back,this'll help. Also we must control him as much as possible throughsuggestion. Have you any plan o' your own?"
"No," sez Horace candidly. Horace didn't need anything for anyemergency except his own nerve. "I am determined that he must live,but I have no plan."
"The first thing is to give him a little warm milk," sez the Friar.
"All right," sez Horace. "You tell me what to do--by signs, as much aspossible--but let me give the orders to Badger-face. My size has madean impression on him, and we can't afford to lose a single trick." TheFriar agreed to this an' we went back to the bunk.
"Badger-face," sez Horace, "I'd rather give you this milk peaceful;but I'm goin' to give it to ya, an' you can bet what ya like on that."
Badger opened his eyes again, an' they were dull an' glazy. "Thisreminds me o' the water-cure at the pen," he said, an' then set histeeth.
"Hold his hands, Happy," sez Horace, as full o' fight as a snow-plow."Hold his head, Friar. Now then, swallow or drown."
It looked purty inhuman, but Badger had to swallow after a bit, an'when we had put as much milk into him as we wanted--only a couple o'spoonfuls--we let him go, an' he fell asleep, pantin' a little. Wewoke him up in half an hour, an' put some more milk into him. When heslept, his breathin' was more like natural, an' the fourth time, Ididn't have to hold his hands; so I went to sleep myself.
Well, Horace won this fight, too. In about four days, Badger-facebegan to have an appetite, an' then it was all off with him. Hecouldn't have died if we'd left him plumb alone; but he hadn't give upyet. The Friar kept him down to a mighty infan-tile diet, sayin' thata lung shot was a bad one, an' the pure mountain air was all that hadsaved him; but even now fever was likely to come back on him.
It was close to the tenth o' January when Horace came in from a rideone evenin', an' went in to see Badger-face, still wearin' his gun.Quick as a wink, Badger grabbed the gun; but Horace threw himself onBadger's arm, an' yelled for help. The Friar an' Olaf rushed in fromthe lean-to, an' corraled the gun in short order.
"You blame little bob-cat, you!" sez Badger. "I didn't intend to usethe gun on you."
"I know what you intended to do," sez Horace; "but you don't win thisdeal as easy as all that."
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