Part 76 (1/2)
”I feel like revenge,” she said, trying to apply the ”come along” to his arm.
When she exerted the pressure she cried out with pain, for she had succeeded only in hurting herself. Billy grinned at her futility. She dug her thumbs into his neck in imitation of the j.a.panese death touch, then gazed ruefully at the bent ends of her nails. She punched him smartly on the point of the chin, and again cried out, this time to the bruise of her knuckles.
”Well, this can't hurt me,” she gritted through her teeth, as she a.s.sailed his solar plexus with her doubled fists.
By this time he was in a roar of laughter. Under the sheaths of muscles that were as armor, the fatal nerve center remained impervious.
”Go on, do it some more,” he urged, when she had given up, breathing heavily. ”It feels fine, like you was ticklin' me with a feather.”
”All right, Mister Man,” she threatened balefully. ”You can talk about your grips and death touches and all the rest, but that's all man's game. I know something that will beat them all, that will make a strong man as helpless as a baby. Wait a minute till I get it. There. Shut your eyes. Ready? I won't be a second.”
He waited with closed eyes, and then, softly as rose petals fluttering down, he felt her lips on his mouth.
”You win,” he said in solemn ecstasy, and pa.s.sed his arms around her.
CHAPTER XIV
In the morning Billy went down town to pay for Hazel and Hattie. It was due to Saxon's impatient desire to see them, that he seemed to take a remarkably long time about so simple a transaction. But she forgave him when he arrived with the two horses. .h.i.tched to the camping wagon.
”Had to borrow the harness,” he said. ”Pa.s.s Possum up and climb in, an'
I'll show you the Double H Outfit, which is some outfit, I'm tellin'
you.”
Saxon's delight was unbounded and almost speechless as they drove out into the country behind the dappled chestnuts with the cream-colored tails and manes. The seat was upholstered, high-backed, and comfortable; and Billy raved about the wonders of the efficient brake. He trotted the team along the hard county road to show the standard-going in them, and put them up a steep earthroad, almost hub-deep with mud, to prove that the light Belgian sire was not wanting in their make-up.
When Saxon at last lapsed into complete silence, he studied her anxiously, with quick sidelong glances. She sighed and asked:
”When do you think we'll be able to start?”
”Maybe in two weeks... or, maybe in two or three months.” He sighed with solemn deliberation. ”We're like the Irishman with the trunk an' nothin'
to put in it. Here's the wagon, here's the horses, an' nothin' to pull.
I know a peach of a shotgun I can get, second-hand, eighteen dollars; but look at the bills we owe. Then there's a new '22 Automatic rifle I want for you. An' a 30-30 I've had my eye on for deer. An' you want a good jointed pole as well as me. An' tackle costs like Sam Hill. An'
harness like I want will cost fifty bucks cold. An' the wagon ought to be painted. Then there's pasture ropes, an' nose-bags, an' a harness punch, an' all such things. An' Hazel an' Hattie eatin' their heads off all the time we're waitin'. An' I 'm just itchin' to be started myself.”
He stopped abruptly and confusedly.
”Now, Billy, what have you got up your sleeve?--I can see it in your eyes,” Saxon demanded and indicted in mixed metaphors.
”Well, Saxon, you see, it's like this. Sandow ain't satisfied. He's madder 'n a hatter. Never got one punch at me. Never had a chance to make a showin', an' he wants a return match. He's blattin' around town that he can lick me with one hand tied behind 'm, an' all that kind of hot air. Which ain't the point. The point is, the fight-fans is wild to see a return-match. They didn't get a run for their money last time.
They'll fill the house. The managers has seen me already. That was why I was so long. They's three hundred more waitin' on the tree for me to pick two weeks from last night if you'll say the word. It's just the same as I told you before. He's my meat. He still thinks I 'm a rube, an' that it was a fluke punch.”
”But, Billy, you told me long ago that fighting took the silk out of you. That was why you'd quit it and stayed by teaming.”
”Not this kind of fightin',” he answered. ”I got this one all doped out.
I'll let 'm last till about the seventh. Not that it'll be necessary, but just to give the audience a run for its money. Of course, I'll get a lump or two, an' lose some skin. Then I'll time 'm to that gla.s.s jaw of his an' drop 'm for the count. An' we'll be all packed up, an' next mornin' we'll pull out. What d'ye say? Aw, come on.”
Sat.u.r.day night, two weeks later, Saxon ran to the door when the gate clicked. Billy looked tired. His hair was wet, his nose swollen, one cheek was puffed, there was skin missing from his ears, and both eyes were slightly bloodshot.
”I 'm darned if that boy didn't fool me,” he said, as he placed the roll of gold pieces in her hand and sat down with her on his knees. ”He's some boy when he gets extended. Instead of stoppin' 'm at the seventh, he kept me hustlin' till the fourteenth. Then I got 'm the way I said.