Happy Hawkins Part 41

"What on?" sez I, for he seemed purty blocky an' fat-legged for a ridin' man.

"On that there sailboat," sez he, pointin' to a thing about the size of a flat-iron with a knittin'-needle stickin' out of it. I give a little think, an' I sez: "To tell you the gospel truth, Bud, I ain't never been on a sailboat in my life; but I'm game to play her one whirl if you'll just wait until I get my breakfast."

"How long will it take?" sez he. "Deuced if I know," sez I. "I've been waitin' hereabout two hours already an' the' ain't none showed up yet."

"Why don't you go to a restaurant?" sez he.

"I thank you kindly for the suggestion," sez I; "but the same brilliant idee occurred to me a little over two hours ago, an' all my finger-nails is wore to the quick tryin' to scratch up enough change."

He studied my face a moment, then he chuckled up a laugh, an' scooted over to an eatin'-house, comin' back with a lot o' stuff an' some coffee. Then we got into the boat an' begun to sail. Oh, it certainly was grand! By the time I had made it up with my stomach we were out on the Pacific Ocean, an' I felt like Christopher Columbus.

Enjoy myself? Well. I guess I did! I felt like a boy with copper-toed boots an' a toy balloon. Then things began to churn up wild an'

furious. Fatty said that Pacific meant mild an' peaceful--the darned, sarcastic, little liar! The storm that was presently kazooin' along was fierce an' horrible, an' that d.i.n.ky little soap-bubble cut up scand'lous.

We went jumpin' an' slidin' ahead, tilted away over on one side, but Fatty never turned a hair; he said it was nothin' but a capful o' wind, an' he sat in the back end o' the boat with a little stick in his hand, hummin' tunes an' havin' the time of his life; but give me a bunch of blizzard-scared long-horns for mine.

I never knowed a boat was so human. This one bucked an' kicked an'

reared up an' tried to fall over on its back, the same as a mustang; while I held on with my teeth an' wondered if it was a put-up job. Then I began to feel as though I had partakin' of a balloon. I gritted my teeth an' swallered hot water constant; but it wasn't no use; purty soon that beautiful breakfast began to fight its way to liberty. Layer after layer, up it came; an' all the while mebbe I wasn't feelin' like a tender-foot, with that fat little cuss puffin' his pipe in the back seat, as happy as a toad.

After a bit he looks at me purty sympathetic like, an' sez, "You seem to have a weak stomach."

"Weak?" I yells. "Weak! why you doggone son of a pirate, it kicks like a shotgun every time it goes off. Weak!"

We stayed out on our pleasure trip the best part of the day, me layin'

with what used to be my head jammed under the front seat, while my liver chased my stomach up an' down my backbone, tryin' to squeeze out a few more crumbs o' that breakfast. You can believe me or not; but when noon came that double dyed villain got out the grub an' began to eat--even goin' so far as to ask me to join him. A hog wouldn't 'a'

done it. We came back; about five o'clock, an' by the time we reached the landin' place I was feelin' fine. An' hungry-- Say!

When we got upon the platform an' started to walk up-town Fatty sez to me, "What are you goin' to do to kill time now?"

"Time?" sez I. "Well, now, I dunno as I feel any inborn hankerin' to slaughter time; but if the game laws ain't in force I wouldn't mind flus.h.i.+n' up a covey of fat young ham sandwidges."

"You're a funny cuss," sez he.

"I am," sez I; "an' I hope I won't come sudden in front of a lookin'-gla.s.s. A good hearty laugh just now would be purty apt to puncture my stomach--it's jammed up so tight again my backbone."

"You don't seem to like this community," sez he.

"I don't know," sez I. "It's been a mighty long time since I tasted it; but I have an idy that I'd enjoy some served hot with a couple o'

porterhouse steaks smothered in cornbeef hash an' about three pints o'

coffee."

He chuckled up another laugh, an sez, "If you had a good job here would you be apt to settle?"

"Settle?" sez I. "You needn't worry much about that; I'm no tight-wad.

When it comes my turn to settle I generally fish up a handful an' say, 'Here, take it out o' that an' keep the change.'"

He looked at me a minute without speakin', an' then he said, as though he was thinkin' aloud, "You seem to be mighty well set up."

I was hurt at this. "Your ticket ent.i.tles you to one more guess," sez I. "Any time anybody got set up in my company since I struck town the bartender allus managed to sneak me the checks without gettin' caught at it. The' must 'a' been a cold snap here, an' all the easy spenders got froze up."

"No, I mean you're wonderful well built," sez he. "Kin you ride a hoss?"

"I can," sez I, "if he's kind an' gentle, an' I manage to get a good grip on the saddle horn, an' he don't start to lopin' or somethin' like that."

"Do you know what a knight is?" sez he.

"Yes," sez I, "I do when I'm home; but since I've been here I ain't wasted none of 'em in sleep, so I ain't right certain."

"No, I don't mean that kind," sez he. "I mean the soldiers of long ago who used to wear steel armor an' fight with spears an' rescue maidens an' so forth. I believe I can get you a job at it for a month or so, at three dollars a day."

"Now look here, Bud," sez I, "them three dollars look mighty enticin'

to me, an' I ain't no objection to rescuin' the maidens; but I move we cut out the steel armor an' the spears. If the' 's any great amount o'

maidens in need o' rescuin', I could do the job a heap quicker with my six-shooters."

"Oh, I don't mean to be a real knight," sez he. "I want you to advertise tobacco."

"Say," sez I, "perhaps you never noticed it; but after you've been livin' on air for some time you get so you can't tell whether it's yourself or the other feller what's crazy. I came down to this town because my appet.i.te was clogged up an' wouldn't work; but I'm cured.

I'm the most infernally cured individual you ever set eyes on, an' I'm goin' back where food ain't too blame proud to be seen in company with a poor man."

Well, I broke through his crust that time, an' we sidled into a feed-joint, where I pried my ribs apart while he un folded his plot. It seemed the' was a brand of chewin' tobacco what had one o' these here knights on the tag, an' I was to dress up like the picture an'

advertise it. The man who was to do it had sprained his ankle, an'

Fatty's brother was huntin' up a new man. Fatty said he'd get me the job.

Well, he did, an' next mornin' I started out in a tin suit with a sort of kettle turned upside down an' covered with feathers for a sky-piece.

I certainly made an imposin' sight, an' all I had to do was to ride around an' fling little plugs o' tobacco out o' my saddle-bags. But the' was draw-backs. The' generally is.

Take the real native-son brand of Friscoite, an' he'll tell you 'at Frisco an' Paradise are sunonomous. I used to like to argue 'em out about it. One day I had a thirty-third degree one pointin' his finger in my eye an' beatin' his palm with his fist, an' spreadin' himself somethin' gorgeous. He never curbed his jubilization nor altered the heavy seriousness of his expression; but in the most matter-of-fact way in the world he backs over to the door-jamb an' begins to polish it up with his spinal column. If ya'll notice you'll find most o' the coats in that locality has curious little streaks up the back--but it ain't polite to ask questions about 'em.

"Look here, Bud," sez I, interruptin', "I know all about your golden gates an' sea lions an' cosmopopilic civilization; but how about your fleas?"

"Fleas!" sez he. "Hang the fleas! I'll tell you about them. The devil He tried an experiment; he wanted a place so fine to live in that man wouldn't have no inducement to try to get to heaven; so he studied all the cities an' the towns--an' then he made Frisco. The experiment worked to perfection; everybody what lived there was perfectly satisfied, an' the preachers couldn't make 'em believe 'at any place could be any better. But the good Lord, he was powerful fond o' the Friscoites, so he finally figgered out the little red flea--an' then even Frisco had a drawback; not enough to give the town anything of a black eye; just enough to leave one little talkin'-point in favor of everlastin' bliss."

Well, these here fleas was consid'able of a talkin'-point with me all right when I was takin' the part of a canned knight. They used to congregate together in the valley between my shoulder-blades, an' I'd get off an' back up again a lamp-post, but it wa'n't no use. I couldn't reach 'em, an' the' ain't no way on earth to scare 'em. Finally I hit upon a plan of wearin' a couple o' feet o' chain down the back o' my neck an' givin' it a jerk now an' again. It was only just moderately comfortable; but I had the satisfaction of knowin' that it was more of a bother to them than it was to me. A suit of armor ain't no tenement house, it's only meant for one. But when they got on my face they had me beat. I'd forget all about bein' sealed up, an' I'd take a smash at one an' bat the kettle over again my forehead until I had both eyebrows knocked out o' line.

I carried a spear with a little flag on it, an' rode a hoss built like a barrel. He had been in the brewery business all his life an' looked the part. About the only item in the whole parade that put me in mind of myself was my lariat. I smuggled that along for company, an' so I'd have somethin' to work with, provided anything turned up.

Fatty had give me a book called "Ivanhoe" the night before I started out, an' it was full o' pictures about knights knockin' each other about with spears; an' I bet a hat it was fun to be a real one an' not have no tobacco to advertise, but just nothin' to do except jab each other with spears. I reckon a corkin' good one like Ivanhoe himself or the Black Knight got more 'an three a day for it too; but the one best bet is, that the vigilance committee those days didn't take on much superfluous fat.

I enjoyed myself first rate, an' upset a couple o' delivery wagons because they wouldn't make way for me, roped a runaway steer 'at had the whole town scared, an' chased a flat-head clear into the Palace Hotel for throwin' a pear at me. Fatty's brother confided to him that I was the best advertis.e.m.e.nt they'd ever had.

Still I allus get weary o' doin' the same sort o' thing day after day.

That's what gets me about livin' in town; it's so blame monotonous. Out on the range now a feller can allus be expectin' a little excitement even if he ain't enjoyin' it right at the time; but in town it's just the same thing over an' over again. It's bad enough at any time; but if you want to soak yourself plumb full o' the horrors of a great city you want to wear a tin suit with an iron kettle strapped on your head that you can't take off without help. I got so blame disgusted drinkin'

steam beer through a straw that if any one would 'a' dared me I'd 'a'

signed the pledge.

If it hadn't been for the children I'd probably got hysterical an' been voted into the uncurable ward; but they thought I was the finest thing out, an' I used to give 'em little plugs o' tobacco for souvynears. I used to read "Ivanhoe" at night an' tell stories to the kids the next day. Some o' them thought I was a fairy G.o.dmother; an' I generally had such a gang troopin' after me that we looked like an orphan asylum out for an airin'. I allus did like children.

Well, one day I was out at the foot o' the hill neighbor-hood on Sutter Street. A lot o' cars was blockaded, an' a herd o' kids stood lookin'

on. I stopped an' talked to 'em, an' the' was one little girl, just for all the world like another little girl I used to know, away back yonder in Indiana. She had the same confidin' smile an' the same big, wide open eyes; an' I felt a sort o' lump in my throat when she looked at me. She had that same queer little look that Barbie'd had when she was a child too. Her mother was named Maggie, which also happened to be the name o' the little girl I had known clear away back when I'd been a school-boy. All of a sudden I felt lonesome again; so I give the kids the slip an' skirted the car.