Part 40 (1/2)

”No, we mightn't,” interrupted Crux stoutly. ”The Flint got off easy in _my_ opinion. If I had had the doin' o't, I'd have roasted him alive.”

”No, you wouldn't, Crux,” returned Ben, with a benignant smile. ”Young chaps like you are always, accordin' to your own showin', worse than the devil himself when your blood's roused by indignation at cruelty or injustice, but you sing a good deal softer when you come to the scratch with your enemy in your power.”

”You're wrong, Hunky Ben,” retorted Crux firmly. ”Any man as would blow the brains out of a poor old woman in cold blood, as the Flint did, desarves the worst that can be done to him.”

”I didn't say nowt about what _he_ desarves,” returned the scout; ”I was speakin' about what _you_ would do if you'd got the killin' of him.”

”Well, well, mates,” said d.i.c.k Darvall, a little impatiently, ”seems to me that we're wastin' our wind, for the miserable wretch, bein' defunct, is beyond the malice o' red man or white. I therefore vote that we stop palaverin', 'bout s.h.i.+p, clap on all sail an' lay our course for home.”

This suggestion met with general approval, and the curious mixture of men and races, which had thus for a brief period been banded together under the influence of a united purpose, prepared to break up.

”I suppose you an' Darvall will make tracks for Traitor's Trap,” said Crux to Hunky Ben.

”That's my trail to be,” answered the scout. ”What say you, Black Polly? Are ye game for such a spin to-night?”

The mare arched her glossy neck, put back both ears, and gave other indications that she would have fully appreciated the remarks of her master if she had only understood them.

”Ah! Bluefire and I don't talk in that style,” said Crux, with a laugh.

”I give him his orders an' he knows that he's got to obey. He and I will make a bee-line for David's Store an' have a drink. Who'll keep me company?”

Several of the more reckless among the men intimated their willingness to join the toper. The rest said they had other business on hand than to go carousin' around.

”Why, Crux,” said one who had been a very lively member of the party during the ride out, ”d'ye know, boy, that it's writ in the book o' Fate that you an' I an' all of us, have just got so many beats o' the pulse allowed us--no more an' no less--an' we're free to run the beats out fast or slow, just as we like? There's nothin' like drink for makin'

'em go fast!”

”I don't believe that, Robin Stout,” returned Crux; ”an' even if I did believe it I'd go on just the same, for I prefer a short life and a merry one to a long life an' a wishy-washy miserable one.”

”Hear! hear!” exclaimed several of the topers.

”Don't ye think, Crux,” interposed Darvall, ”that a long life an' a happy one might be better than either?”

”Hear! _hear_!” remarked Hunky Ben, with a quiet laugh.

”Well, boys,” said one fine bright-looking young fellow, patting the neck of his pony, ”whether my life is to be long or short, merry, wishy-washy or happy, I shall be off cow-punching for the next six months or so, somewhere about the African bend, on the Colorado River, in South Texas, an' I mean to try an' keep my pulse a-goin' _without_ drink. I've seen more than enough o' the curse that comes to us all on account of it, and I won't be caught in _that_ trap again.”

”Then you've bin caught in it once already, Jo Pinto?” said a comrade.

”Ay, I just have, but, you bet, it's the last time. I don't see the fun of makin' my veins a channel for firewater, and then finis.h.i.+n' off with D.T., if bullet or knife should leave me to go that length.”

”I suppose, Pinto,” said Crux, with a smile of contempt, ”that you've bin to hear that mad fellow Gough, who's bin howlin' around in these parts of late?”

”That's so,” retorted Pinto, flus.h.i.+ng with sudden anger. ”I've been to hear J.B. Gough, an' what's more I mean to take his advice in spite of all the flap-jack soakers 'tween the Atlantic and the Rockies. He's a true man, is Gough, every inch of him, and men and women that's bin used chiefly to cursin' in time past have heaped more blessin's on that man's head than would sink you, Crux,--if put by mistake on _your_ head--right through the lowest end o' the bottomless pit.”

”Pretty deep that, anyhow!” exclaimed Crux, with a careless laugh, for he had no mind to quarrel with the stout young cow-boy whose black eyes he had made to flash so keenly.

”It seems to me,” said another of the band, as he hung the coils of his la.s.so round the horn of his Mexican saddle, ”that we must quit talkin'

unless we make up our minds to stop here till sun-up. Who's goin'

north? My old boss is financially busted, so I've hired to P.T.