Part 22 (2/2)
Pinky sat up in his blankets. ”Afraid of me, eh? You better be! I'm a bad actor. I killed Dolores's husband, and took her along, see? I----”
”Are you trying to scare me, you poor four-flusher?” Milt's right hand expanded, fingers arching, with the joyous tension of a man stretching.
”No. I'm just reading your thoughts. I'm telling you you're scared of me! You think that if I went on, I might steal your car! You're afraid because I'm so suave. You aren't used to smooth ducks. You don't dare to let me stick with you, even for today! You're afraid I'd have your mis'able car by tonight! You don't dare!”
”The h.e.l.l I don't!” howled Milt. ”If you think I'm afraid---- Just to show you I'm not, I'll let you go on today!”
”That's sense, my boy. It would be a shame for two such born companions of the road to part!” Pinky had soared up from his blankets; was lovingly shaking Milt's hand.
Milt knew that he had been tricked, but he felt hopeless. Was it impossible to insult Pinky? He tried again:
”I'll be frank with you. You're the worst wind-jamming liar I ever met.
Now don't reach for that gat of yours. I've got a hefty rock right here handy.”
”But, my dear, dear boy, I don't intend to reach for any crude lethal smoke-wagon. Besides, there isn't anything in it. I hocked the sh.e.l.ls in b.u.t.te. I am not angry, merely grieved. We'll argue this out as we have breakfast and drive on. I can prove to you that, though occasionally I let my fancy color mere untutored fact with the pigments of a Robert J.
Ingersoll---- By the way, do you know his spiel on whisky?”
”Stick to the subject. We'll finish our arguing right now, and I'll give you breakfast, and we'll sadly part.”
”Merely because I am lighter of spirits than this lugubrious old world?
No! I decline to be dropped. I'll forgive you and go on with you. Mind you, I am sensitive. I will not intrude where I am not welcome. Only you must give me a sounder reason than my diverting conversational powers for shucking me. My logic is even stronger than my hedonistic contempt for hitting the pike.”
”Well, hang it, if you must know---- Hate to say it, but I'd do almost anything to get rid of you. Fact is, I've been sort of touring with a lady and her father, and you would be in the way!”
”Aaaaaaah! You see! Why, my boy, I will not only stick, but for you, I shall do the nimble John Alden and win the lady fair. I will so bedizen your virile, though somewhat cra.s.sly practical gifts---- Why, women are my long suit. They fall for----”
”Tut, tut, tut! You're a fool. She's no beanery mistress, like you're used to. She really is a lady.”
”How blind you are, cruel friend. You do not even see that whatever my vices may be, my social standing----”
”Oh--shut--up! Can't you see I'm trying to be kind to you? Have I simply got to beat you up before you begin to suspect you aren't welcome? Your social standing isn't even in the telephone book. And your vocabulary---- You let too many 'kids' slip in among the juicy words.
Have I got to lick----”
”Well. You're right. I'm a fliv. Shake hands, m' boy, and no hard feelings.”
”Good. Then I can drive on nice and alone, without having to pound your ears off?”
”Certainly. That is--we'll compromise. You take me on just a few miles, into more settled country, and I'll leave you.”
So it chanced that Milt was still inescapably accompanied by Mr. Pinky Parrott, that evening, when he saw Claire's Gomez standing in the yard at Barmberry's and pulled up.
Pinky had voluntarily promised not to use his eloquence on Claire, nor to try to borrow money from Mr. Boltwood. Without ever having quite won permission to stay, he had stayed. He had also carried out his promise to buy his half of the provisions by adding a five-cent bag of lemon drops to Milt's bacon and bread.
When they had stopped, Milt warned, ”There's their machine now. Seems to be kind of a hotel here. I'm going in and say howdy. Good-by, Pink. Glad to have met you, but I expect you to be gone when I come out here again.
If you aren't---- Want granite or marble for the headstone? I mean it, now!”
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