Part 14 (1/2)

While the Cross Canonites were liquoring at the Fas.h.i.+on Bar (Circuit drinking sarsaparilla), Lame Johny, the barkeeper, remarked: ”You-uns missed it a lot, not seein' the pr'cesh. She were a ring-tailed tooter for fair, with the d.a.m.nedest biggest noise-makin' band you ever heard, an' th' p'rformers wearin' more pr'tys than I ever allowed was made.

An' say, they've got a gal in th' bunch, rider I reckon, that's jest that d.a.m.ned good to look at it _hurts_. d.a.m.ned ef I kin git her outen my eyes yet. Say, she's sh.o.r.e prittier than airy red wagon in th' show built like a quarter horse, got eyes like a doe, and a sorrel mane she could hide in. She 's sure a _chile con carne_ proposition, if I ever see one.”

”Huh!” grunted Lee; ”may be a good-looker, but I'll gamble she ain't in it with our Sorrel-top; hey, boys? Here 's to _our_ Sorrel-top, fellers, an' th' day Circuit prances into Mancos wi' her.”

Several who tried to drink and cheer at the same time lost much of their liquor, but none of their enthusiasm. After dinner at Charpiot's, a wretched counterfeit of the splendid old Denver restaurant of that name, the Cross Canonites joined the throng streaming toward the circus.

For his sobriety designated treasurer of the outfit for the day and night, Circuit marched up to the ticket wagon, pa.s.sed in a hundred dollar bill and asked for thirty tickets. The tickets and change were promptly handed him. On the first count the change appeared to be correct, but on a recount Circuit found the ticket-seller had cunningly folded one twenty double, so that it appeared as two bills instead of one. Turning immediately to the ticket-seller, Circuit showed the deception and demanded correction.

”Change was right; you can't dope and roll me; gwan!” growled the ticket-agent.

”But it's plumb wrong, an' you can't rob me none, you kiyote,” answered Circuit; ”hand out another twenty, and do it sudden!”

”Chase yourself to h.e.l.l, you bow-legged hold-up,” threatened the ticket-seller.

When, a moment later, the ticket man plunged out of the door of his wagon wildly yelling for his clan, it was with eyes flooding with blood from a gash in his forehead due to a resentful tap from the barrel of Circuit's gun.

Almost in an instant pandemonium reigned and a ma.s.sacre was imminent.

Stalwart canvasmen rushed to their chief's call till Circuit's bunch were outnumbered three to one by tough trained battlers on many a tented field, armed with hand weapons of all sorts. Victors these men usually were over the town roughs it was customarily theirs to handle; but here before them was a bunch not to be trifled with, a quiet group of thirty bronzed faces, some grinning with the antic.i.p.ated joy of the combat they loved, some grim as death itself, each affectionately twirling a gleaming gun. One overt act on the part of the circus men, and down they would go like ninepins and they knew it--knew it so well that, within two minutes after they had a.s.sembled, all dodged into and lost themselves in the throng of onlookers like rabbits darting into their warrens.

”Mighty pore 'pology for real men, them elephant-busters,” disgustedly observed Bill Ball. ”Come fellers, le's go in.”

”Nix for me,” spoke up Circuit; ”I'm that hot in the collar over him tryin' to rob me I've got no use for their old show. You-all go in, an' I'll go down to Chapps' and fix my traps to hit the trail for the railroad in the mornin'.”

On the crest of a jutting bastion of the lofty escarpment that formed the west wall of the canon, the sun lingered for a good-night kiss of the eastern cliffs which it loved to paint every evening with all the brilliant colors of the spectrum; it lingered over loving memories of ancient days when every niche of the Mancos cliffs held its little bronze-hued line of primitive wors.h.i.+ppers, old and young, devout, prostrate, fearful of their Red G.o.d's nightly absences, suppliant of his return and continued largess; over memories of ceremonials and pastimes barbaric in their elemental violence, but none more primitively savage than the new moon looked down upon an hour later.

Supper over, on motion of Lee Skeats the Cross Canonites had adjourned to the feed corral and gone into executive session.

Lee called the meeting to order.

”Fellers,” he said, ”that dod-burned show makes my back tired. A few geezers an' gals flipfloopin' in swings an' a bunch o' dead ones on ol'

broad-backed work hosses that calls theirselves riders! Shucks! thar hain't one o' th' lot could sit a real twister long enough to git his seat warm; about th' second jump would have 'em clawin' sand.

”Only thing in their hull circus wo'th lookin' at is that red-maned gal, an' she looks that sweet an' innercent she don't 'pear to rightly belong in that thar bare-legged bunch o' she dido-cutters. They-all must 'a mavericked her recent. Looks like a pr'ty ripe red apple among a lot o' rotten ones.

”Hated like h.e.l.l to see her thar, specially with next to nothin' on, fer somehow I couldn't help her 'mindin' me o' our Sorrel-top. Reckon ef we busted up their d.a.m.n show, that gal'd git to stay a while in a decent woman's sort o' clothes. What say, shall we bust her!”

”Fer one, I sits in an' draw cards in your play cheerful,” promptly responded Bill Ball; ”kind o' hurt me too to see Reddy thar. An' then them animiles hain't gittin' no squar' deal. Never did believe in cagin' animiles more'n men. Ef they need it bad, kill 'em; ef they don't, give 'em a run fo' their money, way ol' Mahster meant 'em to have when He made 'em. Let's all saddle up, ride down thar, tie onto their tents, an' pull 'em down, an' then bust open them cages an' give every dod-blamed animile th' liberty I allows he loves same as humans!

An' then, jest to make sure she's a good job, le's whoop all their hosses ove' to th' Dolores an' scatter 'em through th' pinons!”

This motion was unanimously carried, even Circuit cheerfully consenting, from memories of the outrage attempted upon him earlier in the day. Ten minutes later the outfit charged down upon the circus at top speed, arriving among the first comers for the evening performance.

Flaming oil torches lit the scene, making it bright almost as day.

By united action, thirty lariats were quickly looped round guy ropes and snubbed to saddle horns, and then, incited by simultaneous spur digs and yells, thirty fractious broncos bounded away from the tent, fetching it down in sheets and ribbons, ropes popping like pistols, the rent canvas shrieking like a creature in pain, startled animals thres.h.i.+ng about their cages and crying their alarm. Cowboys were never slow at anything they undertook. In three minutes more the side shows were tentless, the dwarfs trying to swarm up the giant's st.u.r.dy legs to safety or to hide among the adipose wrinkles of the fat lady, and the outfit tackled the cages.

In another three minutes the elephant, with a sociable shot through his off ear to make sure he should not tarry, was thundering down Mancos's main street, trumpeting at every jump, followed by the lion, the great tuft of hair at the end of his tail converted, by a happy thought of Lee Skeats, into a brightly blazing torch that, so long as the fuel lasted, lighted the shortest cut to freedom for his escaping mates--for the lion hit as close a bee-line as possible trying to outrun his own tail. For the outfit, it was the lark of their lives. Cras.h.i.+ng pistol shots and ringing yells bore practical testimony to their joy. But they were not to have it entirely their own way.