Friar Tuck Part 39

"What for?" sez I. "Ya never can tell how a trial will turn out; but we know 'at they have forfeited the right to live; so we'll just give 'em what they've earned and save all fuss."

"No good ever comes of men taking the law into their own hands," sez the Friar firmly.

"How come, then, that you didn't run an' tell some justice o' the peace, 'at these two snakes was actin' disrespectful-instead of knockin' 'em up again' the logs?" sez I.

"I should have done so if I had had time," sez the Friar with dignity.

"Well, you're better trained 'n we are," sez I; "but it still takes a little time for you to make your hands mind your self-control, after you've been het up. You can do it in ten minutes, say; but it takes us about a week, and by that time the' won't be any need for the law."

"No," sez the Friar, "I insist that we rely upon the law. We count ourselves as of the better element; and the most vicious conditions arise when the better element takes the law into its own hands. When a vicious man does illegal violence, it does not establish a precedent; but when the decent man does the same thing, it tears away forms of civilization which have taken centuries to construct."

"That sounds like sense," sez I; "and after this is all over, I don't mind arguin' it out with you; but right now, it would seem to me that if we went to law about this, it would be because we wanted to shoulder onto the law the responsibility of doin' what we feel ought to be done, but which we haven't the nerve to do ourselves."

"If you attempt to lynch these men, I shall ride at once and give the alarm," sez the Friar.

"And when you came back, you would find 'em swingin' from a limb," sez I. "I'm with you in most things, Friar, and if the' was a shred o'

doubt, I'd be with you in this; but it's too plain a case. I'm willin'

to hold these two in secret until we can collect a posse o' twelve to give 'em a jury trial; but this is the most I'll do. Ty Jones has got others of his gang away from the law, but he don't get these two-not if I can help it."

Horace sided with me, and so did The, though he didn't have much to say. He was thinkin' of his own trip to pester Olaf, and it came back to him purty strong. The Friar finally had to agree not to notify the law until I'd had time to gather up a posse. I made Horace promise not to tell the Friar about our seein' the woman back at Ty's, saw that the Greasers were planted safe in Olaf's log barn, and set out at once for the Diamond Dot on a fresh hoss. I never want to eat none before startin' a ride like this.

I rode all that night through the moonlight; swingin' up over the pa.s.ses, fordin' the rivers, and reachin' the Diamond Dot at noon the next day. I didn't let on to Jabez 'at I was there at all; but I got Spider Kelley, ol' Tank Williams, Tillte Dutch, and Mexican Slim to take a vacation and come on back with me. This gave five for the jury, as I didn't intend to have Horace or The sit on it, not knowin' how far their prejudice might prevent 'em from executin' my idee of justice. We set out to return, about five o'clock, and rode into the Spread at seven the next mornin' with eight other fellers we had brought along for good measure.

Old Jimmy Simpson and his four grown sons were in this bunch, and I was purty well acquainted with 'em. I knew 'at they had been amply pestered by Ty Jones's outfit, and wouldn't be too particular about what book-law might have to say on the subject, though ol' man Simpson was up on book-law. The other three were fellers they knew and were willin' to guarantee. We were all a little sleepy, so we decided to hold the trial after dinner.

The Friar had spent as much time with the Greasers as they'd stand for; but he hadn't made much impression on 'em. I knew 'at he was heart-whole in his att.i.tude, an' I hated to cross him; but this was a case o' principle with me, so when we got ready for the trial, I tried to get him to take a long walk, but he refused.

We held the trial in front o' the barn, and it was as legal as any trial ever was, and as solemn, too. We untied the prisoners, and called Kit for the first witness. She told it just as she had told it to us, but her bruised face would have been all that was necessary.

Then we called the Friar and he told his part, and we let him make a speech in favor o' law and order; and cheered him hearty, too, when he got through.

I had just begun to give my part, when Olaf and Oscar rode up. Olaf sat on his hoss and looked at us a moment, at Kit with her bruised face, holdin' the boy in her arms, at the prisoners and us; and then he asked the Friar what it all meant. The Friar was sunonomous with truth, as far as Olaf was concerned.

Olaf listened quietly, the dark red risin' in his cheeks bein' about the only change in him. When the Friar finished, Olaf got off his hoss. "The' won't be need of any more trial," sez he. "Kit, you go to the house."

Kit started for the house, and the Friar asked Olaf what he intended to do.

"Kill 'em," sez Olaf, "with my two hands."

He unbuckled his belt and threw it on the ground, then kicked off his chaps, and stepped through the ring we had formed. "Stop," said the Friar. "Olaf, I forbid this."

"You had better go to the house, Friar," said Olaf with pleadin' in his voice. "Go in-please go in-an' comfort Kit."

The Friar made a rush, but we fended him off. The Greasers also tried to make a get-away; and between the three of 'em we were some busy; but it didn't last long. When the Greasers saw they couldn't break our ring, they turned on Olaf like cornered rats. They struck him and they choked him; but not once did he speak, and whenever his grip closed on their flesh, he ruined that part forever. It was a horrid sight; but I couldn't have turned my eyes away if I'd wanted to. In the end he broke their necks, one after the other, and then he stood up straight and wiped his forehead. "I take the blame," said he. "I take all the blame, here and hereafter"; which certainly was a square thing to do, though we hadn't counted on it, any.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE FRIAR GOES ALONE

The Friar had been in earnest tryin' to get to Olaf; so 'at the four Simpson boys had finally been forced to throw, an' sit on him. As soon as it was over, they got up and apologized, offerin' to let him take out any spite on 'em he saw fit, and promisin' not to feel any ill-will; but the Friar wasn't angry. He was hurt and sad to think 'at we'd do such a thing; but he had no resentment towards us.

"I know most of you men well," said he; "and I know you have done this because you felt it was right. I don't put you on one side and myself on the other. I take my full share o' the blame. It merely proves that my influence with you during the many years we have been together has not been for the best, and I am very sorry to learn how poor my work has been."

He turned and went up to the house; and we all felt nearly as bad about the way he had taken it as though the confounded Greasers had got away altogether. We talked it over and finally loaded their bodies into Olaf's wagon, and hauled 'em up on the rim, where we buried 'em and heaped a lot o' stones over 'em. We began to feel better after this, and shook hands all around, and the Simpsons and their three friends rode away.

Then we told the others about havin' seen the Friar's girl at Ty Jones's and held a council as to how we should tell him. We finally delegated Horace to do it, though he wasn't ambitious for the job. The Friar had told Kit that it was all over, and had left to take a walk without eatin' any supper. We still felt purty low-spirited, and we didn't eat much ourselves; though we felt certain he wouldn't bother his head much about a couple o' Greasers, as soon as he found out his own girl was Ty Jones's woman.

The boys had come light from the Diamond Dot, but Horace had outfitted way beyond his needs, intendin' to do consid'able campin' around, and Olaf also had a couple of extra tarps and plenty o' beddin'; so we fixed up our old bunk-shack which had been left standin', and settled down as though the interval between our previous visit hadn't been more 'n ten days.

The Friar came back about ten o'clock. He came into our shack as quiet as he could; but Horace was sittin' before the fire waitin' for him.

It was a warm night; but we had built the fire to make it a little more cheerful, and had left the door wide open. Horace saw the Friar the minute he reached the doorway, and he got up and went outside with him.

They were gone nearly an hour, and then Horace sneaked in, and wakened me up. I follered him outside; and he said that the Friar intended to ride down to see Ty Jones as soon as it was day, and that he insisted on ridin' alone. The Friar was walkin' up and down in the moonlight, his face was all twisted up, through his tryin' to hold it calm, when I took my turn at reasonin' with him; but it wasn't any use.

"Well, you'll not go alone," I said at last; "and you can make up your mind to that now. We don't know how much Ty already knows about our puttin' the Greasers out o' the game, and we don't know how much of it he'll lay to you; but we do know that he hates you, and would wipe your name off the list the first good chance he had. I'm goin' along."

The Friar was hot; we stood there in the moonlight facin' each other and takin' each other's measures. He was a shade taller and some heavier 'n I was; and ya could see 'at he'd have given right smart to have felt free to mix it with me. "Do you think I'm a baby?" he burst out. "Do you think 'at I'm not fit to be trusted out o' your sight?

You take entirely too much on yourself, Happy Hawkins!"

I didn't want to taunt him to hurt him-I'd rather been kicked by a hoss than to do this-but I did want to arouse him to a sense o' the truth. "You have adjusted yourself to this locality purty well, Friar," sez I; "but the's still a lot you don't quite savvy. Some cases must be settled by a man himself, but some must be left to the law. If this woman is the wife o' Ty Jones, he has the law on his side."

He turned from me and stamped off into the night with his hands clenched. He disappeared in the cottonwoods, and I was just beginnin'

to wonder if I hadn't better foller him, when he came back again. "Oh, I've been a fool, I've been a fool!" he cried. "All my life I have tried not to judge others, but all my life I have judged them. I have tried to put myself in their place, but allus I judged and condemned them for giving way to temptations which I felt that I, in their place, could have resisted. I have been a fool, and I still am a fool.

I admit that you are right, and I am wrong-but, I am going to Ty Jones's at dawn, and I'm goin' alone."

Well, that settled it-me an' the Friar had to buck each other again.

He continued to stalk up an' down through moonlight and shadow; while I tried to plan a way to head him off. I was dead sleepy, but I went around and wakened up all the other fellers, and told 'em not to get up in the mornin' until called; next I got Tank to help me, and we waited until the Friar had walked in the opposite direction, and then we took the ponies out o' the corral and headed 'em toward the hills.

The farther we got, the rougher with 'em we got, and then we turned our own mounts loose, and sent 'em after the bunch. It was a big job to pack our saddles back on our heads, but we did it, and tore down the fences to pertend 'at the ponies had vamoosed on their own hook.

Horace was walkin' with the Friar now, arguin' the benefit of a little sleep, so 'at he'd be at his best. After a time the Friar did go to bed in Horace's tarp in the corner.

I didn't wake up till after seven, myself, and all the fellers were pertendin' to sleep as though it wasn't more 'n three. The Friar didn't wake up till eight. He was beside himself when he found the ponies gone; but he ate breakfast as calm as he could, and then set out with us to wrangle in some hosses on foot.

Goin' after hosses on foot is sufficiently irritatin' to a ridin'

outfit to make it easy enough to believe 'at this was all an accident, and we didn't come up with the ponies till nearly noon. When we cornered 'em up, I never in my life saw as much poor ropin', nor as much good actin'; but we finally got enough gentle ones to ride bareback, so we could wrangle in the rest; and after a quick lunch, the Friar started to make his hoss ready.

We all started along with him. He stopped and faced on us, givin' us a long, cold look-over. You can say all you want to again' swearin', but the's times when it springs out of its own accord in a man, as natural and beautiful and satisfyin' as the flowers blossom forth on the cactus plants; and I haven't a shred of doubt that if the Friar had handed us some o' the remarks that came ready-framed to his tongue just then, they'd have been well worth storin' up for future needs; but all he did was to fold his arms, and say: "Your methods are not my methods. I am not goin' there to start trouble, and I do not even wish to give them the slightest excuse to start it of their own vo-lition.

If you are my friends, you will respect my wishes."

"Well, but you'll take at least one of us along, won't ya, Friar?" sez ol' Tank. "Likely as not we wouldn't take it up, nohow; but still if they made away with ya, we'd sort o' like to know about it as early as possible, in order not to feel suspensed any longer 'n was necessary."

"I should like to take one man along as a guide, as I am not entirely familiar with the trail from here," sez the Friar, still talkin' to us as though we were a lot of evil-lookin' strangers. "If one of you were to go along until we came within sight o' the ranch buildin's-No, they might see him and get the idee that he had gone back to join a reserve body, and I do not wish them to have the slightest grounds for resorting to force on their side. I shall have to go alone."

"I can see what you've been drivin' at, now," sez Tank, whose face was so muddled up that no one ever tried to read his thoughts in his features, and so he could lie with impunity. "Yes, I can see what you mean, now, and I got to own up 'at you're right about it. Still, you know, Friar, we're bound to worry about ya. How long do you want us to wait before we start to projectin' around to get some news of ya?"

A look of relief came to the Friar's face: "Why, if I don't come back within a week," sez he, "I haven't any objections to your notifyin'

the legal authorities that you fear something has happened to me-but don't make much fuss, for it doesn't really matter."