Part 3 (2/2)

he chokes out. ”Dwarf! You produce a squirrel to match him, will ya, or else you pack up your truck an' move on. I don't intend to have no-”

”See here, ol' man,” sez Eugene, pointin' a finger at him the same as if he'd been a naughty child. ”A short-tailed grizzly ground-squirrel is from two to four times as big as this one, so if you want to sidestep the bet, you can do it; but if you want to have some show for your money, I bet you fifty to ten that I can get a squirrel three times as big as this one. I own up that for its kind, this squirrel is of fair, average growth; but-”

”I'll take that bet!” yelled the old man. ”We'll put up our money with Ike Spargle this minute; but I don't want your odds. I'll bet you even money.”

Eugene shook his head as if he pitied the ol' man, an' he sez, ”Haven't you never travelled none, or seen a zoological garden?”

”Yes, I've travelled some, an' I've seen all kinds o' gardens,” flares back the ol' man; ”but what I want now is to fix up this bet.”

”Who'll be the judges?” sez Eugene.

”I don't care a snap. Any man who can see through the holes in a ladder'll be able to decide between the claims o' two squirrels. Ike Spargle an' Bill Thompson can be the judges.”

”There has to be three,” sez Eugene. ”We'll have Dan Stedman be the other.”

So they put up the money an' Eugene was to have six weeks to get his squirrel; an' from that on we begun to divide up into rival camps.

The' wasn't any tree squirrels out in that neck o' the woods, an' we had all forgot what wild squirrels really was like. We knew the' was ground-squirrels, red squirrels, gray squirrels, an'

flyin'-squirrels-although an argument was started about there bein'

flyin'-fish all right, but no flyin'-squirrels, which would have ended in warfare if Eugene hadn't been handy to settle it.

You wouldn't think that a little thing like a bet about the size of a squirrel would take the way it did; but Eugene was so confident on his side, an' ol' man Dort was so dead sure of Ben Butler, that the rest of us split up an' we each had a little side bet on the outcome. It seemed a tarnation long time while we was waitin'; but in a little over a month, Eugene got a big box which he took into his back room without lettin' even the fellers who had backed his squirrel get a peep at it.

From that on we got shaved twice a day an' our heads washed till the hair started to change color; so that Eugene's trade was so improved that even if he lost the bet, he was money ahead; but he scoffed the idy o' losin' the bet, even after his squirrel arrived; and as he was the only man who had seen both the contestants, he had the whole country up in the air.

Ol' man Dort had made his squirrel run around the wheel four hours a day, pokin' him up with a stick when he got lazy; an' this gave Ben Butler sech a prodigious appet.i.te that the ol' man had to set up late at night to give him an extra meal. As the day o' settlement came closer, the ol' man tapered off on the exercise, an' doubled up on the feed, until Ben Butler looked a full size larger, an' us fellers who had our money on Eugene's squirrel began to get shaky. If it had been just an even race, it would have been a fair deal; but to have to show a squirrel three times larger than Ben Butler seemed an impossibility.

Eugene had been fussin' over his entry too, an' we used to sneak up behind his shop at nights to listen to him. We could hear him snippin'

with scissors and pullin' stoppers out o' bottles and when he was through he'd say: ”Stand up there, Columbus”-which was the name of his champion, an' then he would seem to pa.s.s in a bunch o' feed, an'

say-”Good boy, Columbus! that dwarf red squirrel can turn a double handspring in your shadder.”

This used to hearten us up again, and we'd lay a little more money on Eugene's squirrel. Ike, an' Bill, an' Dan-the judges-said that they didn't claim to know anything about the breeds o' squirrels, an' all they was to judge on was the size, which would be settled by weight if the' was any dispute. They got kind o' nervous toward the end, 'cause the fellers were all on edge, an' a rank decision meant trouble in bunches.

When the final day o' settlement arrived, Boggs was seven deep with fellers on edge to see the outcome. Most of us had all we could spare hung up in bets; but the' was still a lot o' coin in the crowd, and a crew came over from Cheyenne to take charge of it.

They had a game which certainly was attractive, I'll say that much for it. It was a round board full o' numbers, and up the middle was a tower with slopin' sides covered with nails. A marble was dropped into a hole at the top and bobbled on the nails until it went into a row of holes at the bottom, and came out in a groove leadin' to one o' the numbers. Some o' these numbers doubled the player's money, some of 'em paid it over to the table; but most of 'em was neutral, and a feller had to double what he already had up, in order to stand a show. It was an innocent-appearin' game, but deceptive. When a feller had up all he could raise, some stranger would offer him two bits for his chance, put up the doublin' money-and win. This was a capper o' course; but crowds don't have any sense when they start gamblin', and this crew was cleanin' us out until, all of a sudden, I heard a clear, low-toned voice say: ”If one o' you boys would upset that table, you'd see the lever which controls the marble.”

I glanced up, and there was the Singin' Parson, as cool as a frozen fish. Ol' Tom Williams, commonly known as ”Tank,” had just lost six dollars, and he upset the table and saw just how tight braced the blame game was. Then he unlimbered his gun, and suggested that he would feel calmer if he had the six dollars back, and the Cheyenne gambler looked into Tank's free eye, which was pointin' at the ceilin', and he seconded Tank's motion. After this the rest o' the boys collected what they felt was due 'em, and the Cheyenne crowd had to fall back on charity for their noon lunch.

Just about one o'clock, the head crook saw the Singin' Parson standin'

close to Eugene's barber shop. The shop was locked, and the crowd around was lookin' at it. The crook didn't want to attract any attention; so, instead o' usin' a gun, he struck at the Parson with a club. He miscalculated, and hit the shoulder instead o' the head. The Parson whirled, grabbed the club with his left hand, and the crook's s.h.i.+rt collar with his right. The crook started to pull; but we settled down on him, and were all ready to serve out justice, when the Parson interrupted to say that it was none of our business, and if we'd just form a ring, he'd settle it to everybody's satisfaction. He said he expected to live among us for the rest of his life, and this would be a good time to introduce his methods.

We took off the crook's weapons, and then formed a big ring. The Parson was smilin' a business-like smile, while the crook was palin'

up noticeable. ”I am convinced that a man must settle some things, himself, in a new country,” sez the Parson. ”I am larger than you, so it is fair for you to use this club; but I warn you in advance that I understand how to guard again' clubs, so do your best. I'm ready, begin.”

It was quite eddifyin' to behold: the crook made a vicious smash at the Parson's head, the Parson bent his arm at the elbow, muscle out, so the bone wouldn't get bruised, stepped in, and hit the crook a swing in the short ribs. Some say it lifted him ten feet, some say only eight; but any way, when he lit, he gave a grunt like an empty barrel, and the Parson had no trouble in layin' him over his knee and givin' him the most liberal spankin' with that club I ever was spectator to; while the crowd howled itself hoa.r.s.e in the throat.

Now the Parson wasn't angry, he grinned all the way through, and when he had taken as much exercise as he felt was good for him, he set the crook on his feet, and talked fatherly advice to him as sober an'

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