Friar Tuck Part 20

He fished out his gun, an' I see that he didn't savvy the use of it, which put a little uncertainty into my end o' the game.

"Farewell, cruel world," he muttered mournfully, usin' his gun to gesture with. "Farewell, sweet dreams of childhood; farewell ambition an' love an' dear tyranic duty; farewell moon an' stars an' gentle breezes, farewell-"

Eugene would probably have gone on sayin' farewell to each particular thing in the world until he talked himself to sleep, but just then a pebble slipped from the side o' the ravine and rolled to his feet, and he stopped with a jerk an' listened. Then he straightened himself an'

sez in a determined tone: "n.o.body can't prevent me. I shall end it now."

Before I could move, he placed the muzzle to his forehead an' fired, rollin' over on his back. I heard a sort of cough, like when a man hits his best with an ax, an' somethin' came plumpin' down the ravine like an avalanche.

I rushed up, lit a match, an' there on his back was Eugene, a small red welt on his forehead, but looking calm and satisfied, while almost on top of him lay a man in a heap. I straightened him out, lit another match, an' looked at the stranger. His hair was flamin' red an' you could have tied his red mustaches around the back of his neck. He was shot through the forehead an' plumb dead.

I saw how it was in a flash: Eugene had almost missed himself, but had shot Red Erickson, who had been hidin' up the side of the ravine behind him. I slipped Red's empty gun into his hand, emptied Eugene's gun; an' then I tore for town, gathered up the boys an' told 'em that Eugene had gone up the ravine bent on mischief. We got a lantern and hurried up the ravine where Eugene was just comin' back to genuwine consciousness again.

He sat there with his head in his hands tryin' to cheer himself with some o' the mournfullest moanin' ever I heard. I held the lantern to Red's face a moment an' bawled out: "Boys, this is Red Erickson! Him an' Eugene has been duelin', an' they have killed each other."

This gave Eugene his cue-an' a cue was all Eugene ever needed. He pulled himself together, took plenty o' time to get the lay o' the land; an' then he gave us a tale o' that fight which laid over anything I ever heard in that line.

We carried 'em back to town, an' Eugene was a hero for true. He got the reward all right, paid off his debts, an' kept addin' details to that fight until it was enough to keep a feller awake nights. His reputation picked up right along until even ol' man Dort had to admit the' was more to Eugene than he had allowed.

Next day when I got back to the Diamond Dot, I found Horace all packed up for leavin'; and it made me feel mournful to the bones o' my soul.

I didn't know how much I thought of him until he started to pull out; and I felt so ashamed at what I had done, that I offered to let him kick me all about the place if he'd just forget about it and stick along.

But Horace had a stiff neck, all right, and he wouldn't give in. Tank had had all he could do to get Horace to take the check back; and now, try as I would, I couldn't get him to stay. I drove over to the station with him, and we had a long talk together. He was in a good humor when he left, and I could see he was wishful to stay; but havin'

made up his mind, he stuck to it. He said he had had more fun while with us than durin' all the procedure of his life; and that if we had just kept the joke among us Dotters, he wouldn't have felt so cut up about it. I told him he had acted just right and that I had acted dead wrong, although it was him takin' Tank's word above mine which had first made me sore.

This was new light to him, and he softened up immediate. Fact was, we got purt' nigh girlish before the train pulled out with him wavin' his handkerchief from the back porch.

I still feel some shame about this episode; and if any o' you fellers ask any more questions to lead me into tellin' of my own silly pranks, why, I'll drive you off the place, and then get my lips sewed shut.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

KIT MURRAY

Horace had left, I felt purty lonely for a while. It's hard for me to look back and keep things in regular order; because the different lines cross each other and get mixed up. Always, little Barbie's affairs came first with me; but I reckon most of you have heard her story, so I'm keepin' shy of it this time. First of all there was my innermost life, which would have been mostly mine no matter where I'd gone; then there was the part of my life which touched Barbie's, and this was the best and the highest part of it; and then there was the part which touched Friar Tuck an' a lot of others, each one of which helped to make me what I am; but back of it all was my work; so it's not strange if I find it hard to stick to the trail of a story.

Anyway, it was while I was feelin' lonesome about Horace leavin' that the Friar first began to use me as a trump card, and called on me for whatever he happened to want done. I was mighty fond o' bein' with the Friar; so I lent myself to him whenever I could, and we got mighty well acquainted. He loved fun of a quiet kind; but the' was allus a sadness in his eyes which toned down my natural devilment and softened me. The' was lots o' things I used to enjoy doin', which I just couldn't do after havin' been with the Friar a spell, until I had give myself a good shakin', like a dog comin' up out o' water.

For several quiet years about this time, I used to act as scout for him, now and again, goin' ahead to round up a bunch when he had time to give 'em a preachin'; or goin' after him when some one who couldn't afford a doctor was took sick. We talked about purt' nigh everything, except that some way, we didn't talk much about women; so I was never able to pump his own story out of him, though he knew exactly how I felt toward Barbie, long before I did myself.

Durin' these years, the Friar tried his best to get on terms with the Ty Jones crowd; but they refused to get friendly, and the more he did to make things better in the territory, the more they hated him.

It was right after the spring round-up that I first heard the Friar's name mixed up with a woman. This allus makes me madder 'n about anything else. When a man and a woman sin, why, it's bad enough, and I'm not upholdin' it; but still in a way it's natural, the same as a wolf killin' a calf. It's the cow-puncher's business to kill the wolf if he can, and he ought to do it as prompt as possible. This is all right; but gossip and scandal is never all right.

Gossip and scandal is like supposin' the wolf had only wounded the calf a little, and a posse would gather and tie the two of 'em together, the wolf and the wounded calf; and take 'em into the center square of a town and keep 'em tied there for all to see until they had starved to death; and then to keep on stirrin' up the carrion day after day as long as a shred of it remained.

The Friar was allus a great one to be talkin' about the power of habits. He said that if folks would just get into the habit of lookin'

for suns.h.i.+ny days, an' smilin' faces an' n.o.ble deeds, and such like, that first thing they knew they'd think the whole world had changed for the better; but instead o' this they got into the habit of lookin'

for evil, and as that was what they were on the watch for, o' course they found it. He said it was like a cat watchin' for a mouse. The cat would plant herself in front of the mouse hole and not do anything else but just watch for the mouse. While she would be on guard, a king might be a.s.sa.s.sinated, a city might fall in an earthquake, and a s.h.i.+p-load o' people go down at sea; but if the mouse came out and the cat got it, she would amuse herself with it a while, eat it and then curl up before the fire and purr about what a fine day it had been, all because she had got what she had been lookin' for; and the's a lot in this.

Now, when I came to think it over, I hadn't heard the Friar express himself very free on women. I had heard him say to allus treat 'em kind an' square, the good ones and the bad; but when ya come to ponder over this, it wasn't no-wise definite. Still I couldn't believe ill of him; so I took a vacation an' started to hunt him up.

The feller who had told me didn't know much about it, but the feller who had told him knew it all. When I found this feller, he was in the same fix; and he sent me along to the one who had told him. They were all a lot alike in not knowin' it all; but I finally found out who the girl was.

She was a girl named Kit Murray, and she allus had been a lively young thing with a purty face, an' could ride an' shoot like a man. She had took part in a couple o' frontier-day exhibitions, and it had turned her head, and she had gone out with a show. When she had come back, she had put on more airs 'n ever, and naturally the boys were some wild about her-though I hadn't seen her myself.

News o' this kind travels fast, and I heard buzzin' about it everywhere; but it was just like all other scandal. Most people, when they gossip, believe an' tell the story which comes closest to what they'd 'a' done if they'd had the same chance; and what I figured out to be true was, that Olaf the Swede and another Cross-brander by the name o' Bud Fisher had sc.r.a.pped about the girl, Olaf near killin' the kid and the girl runnin' off to the Friar. Now, all the good deeds 'at the Friar had done hadn't caused much talk; but this news spread like wild-fire; and a lot o' those he had helped the most turned again' him and said they wished they could find out where he was hidin'.

I took it just the other way; I knew the Friar purty well, and what I feared most was, that he wasn't hidin' at all, and that Olaf would find him before I could give him warnin'. It was two weeks before I found the Friar; but once I came upon Olaf, face to face, and we eyed each other purty close. This was the first time I ever noticed his eyes. They were the queerest eyes I ever saw, a sort of blue; but a deeper blue, a bluer blue 'n anything I had ever seen outside a flower. The's a flower on the benches in June just the color of his eyes, a soft, velvety flower; but Olaf's eyes weren't soft and velvety the day we met, and they gave me a queer, creepy feelin'. I hope I didn't show it any; but I did feel relieved after I'd pa.s.sed him.

Finally I found the Friar, just as I might have expected-by the sound of his voice. I had got clear over into the Basin and was crossin'

through Carter Pa.s.s when I heard his voice above me, singin' one of his marchin' songs. I was mightily rejoiced to find him; but I had that all out of my face by the time I had wound around up to him. He was totin' a log on his shoulder, and struttin' along as jaunty as though the whole earth was simply his backyard.

"Here," I growls to him, indignant, "what do you mean by makin' such a noise? Haven't you got a grain o' gumption!"

He looked up at me with the surprise stickin' out from under his grin.

"Well, well, well!" sez he. "Who are you-the special officer for the prevention of noise?"

"I ain't no special officer of anything," I answers; "but the's people lookin' for you, and you ought to have sense enough to keep quiet."

"And I'm lookin' for people," sez he, grinnin' like a boy; "and the best way to find 'em is by makin' a noise. The' ain't any rules again'

walkin' on the gra.s.s up here, is there?"

"Olaf the Swede is after you on account o' the gal," I blunted; "and he ain't no bluffer. He intends to do away with you for good and all; and you'd better be makin' your plans."

"Goin' to do away with me for good an' all," he repeats, smilin'.

"Well, Olaf the Swede is a gross materialist. The worst he can do will be to tear off my wrapper and leave me free to find out a lot of things I'm deeply interested in. Why, Happy, you're all worked up!

You've lost your philosophy, you've become a frettish old woman. What you need is a right good scare to straighten you up again. This Olaf the Swede is part of Ty Jones's outfit, isn't he?"

"He is," I replied, shakin' my head in warnin', "and the whole gang'll back him up in this."

"Good!" sez the Friar, smackin' his hand. "I've wanted an openin'

wedge into that outfit ever since I came out here. Of a truth, the Lord doth move in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform."

"Well, he certainly will have to perform some mysterious wonders to get you out of this sc.r.a.pe," I said. I was put out at the way he took it.

"Don't be irreverent, Happy," sez he, the joy-lights dancin' in his eyes. "We are all merely instruments, and why should an instrument take it upon itself to question the way it is used. Where is this Olaf?"

"I met him yesterday; and for all I know, he's been followin' me."

"Fine, fine!" sez the Friar. "Now, you go on back to the Diamond Dot, and I'll go back over your trail and save Olaf as much bother as possible."

"I'm goin' along with you," I sez.

"No," sez he.