Part 10 (1/2)
”That's right, Mr. Bradford,” sez I respectful. ”You'd have to ride back anyway, so you might as well come on with us an' have a pleasant outing.”
”Besides,” sez Tank, ”up there in the Wind River country we stand a chance o' gettin' somethin' for our nerves, if the Injuns happen to be in a good humor. Those Injun doctors know all about hurbs an' which diseases they grow for, an' when they're in a good humor, they'll sell ya some.”
”What'll they do if they're not in a good humor?” asked Horace.
”Well, that's the beatin'est question I've yet heard!” sez Tank. ”How does any one know what an Injun'll do when he's not in a good humor? I don't reckon any one ever tried to learn the answer to that question.
When an Injun's not in a good humor, either you've got to kill him or he'll kill you. If we hear tell 'at they're out o' humor, we'll simply scurry back at the first hint, an' don't you forget it.”
Horace wasn't resigned yet; so he kept sawin' away with his questions all the time we were tyin' on the beds an' grub. The gra.s.s had been purty brown down below, but it was fat an' green up above, an' the ponies felt fine. We had picked out good ones, an' it took some time to get 'em wore down to where they was willin' to pack; but by seven o'clock we were ready to start, an' then Tank lifted Horace into the saddle, while I held the pony's head. We had chose a steady old feller for Horace, because we didn't want any serious accidents. Ol' Cast Steel was dead again' sheepin' the Easteners, an' I knew they'd be doin's about what we'd done already, let alone havin' any sort of a mishap.
We told Horace just what to do to save himself, an' we fixed his stirrups to just fit him; but he took it purty hard. It takes a ridin'-man a couple o' weeks to harden up after he's laid off a spell; but when a man begins to do his first ridin' at forty, it comes ex-tremely awkward. Horace was the first feller I ever saw get sea-sick on hossback; but he certainly did have a bad attack. I suppose it was the best thing 'at could have happened to him, an'
after he was emptied out, he rode some easier. We only covered about thirty miles that day altogether, an' Tank had plenty o' time to get all the sleep he could use; but when he came to lift Horace down from the saddle, Horace couldn't make his legs stiff enough to stand on.
We let him stretch out while we were makin' camp; but he fell asleep, so we had to wake him up to help get supper. I was beginnin' to feel sorry for him, but he had pestered us regardless about his nerves, an'
I knew 'at pity for him now would be the worse for him in the long run.
After supper, Horace spent consid'able time in bewailin' his fate because he had got disgusted an' thrown his whole box o' cigars into the fire. ”I've got an extra pipe, if you'd like to try that,” sez Tank. ”It's lots better for the nerves than cigars-though from what I can tell o' you, you ain't bothered much with nerves. I wish to glory I was in your skin.”
”Oh, man,” sez Horace, ”you can't imagine how I suffer. I ache like a sore tooth all over, an' it gives me a cute pain just to sit here on the gra.s.s.”
”Sit on the saddle-blankets,” sez Tank, sympathetic. As soon as Horace had piled up the blankets an' sat down on 'em, groanin' most bitter, Tank sez with feelin': ”Gee, how I envy you. You have nothin' but a few muscle-aches and chafed skin an' such, while my nerves is beginnin' to threaten me again. I'm not goin' to bother either o' you fellers, though. I'm goin' to have you tie me to a tree to-night if I can't sleep.”
Horace filled the pipe, which was an ancient one, bitter as gall; but when he began to smoke, his face became almost satisfied. The pipe was purty well choked up, so that he had some bother in keepin' it goin', but after we'd run a gra.s.s stem through it, it worked purty well, an'
we was right sociable until along about nine o'clock, when I got sleepy, myself. Then Tank began to worry about his nerves. Horace had about forgot his own nerves, he was sufferin' so from Tank's.
When we see that Horace couldn't keep awake any longer without bein'
tortured, Tank began to carry on fiercer. He rumpled up his hair, gave starts an' jerks, but the thing 'at worked best, was just to sit an'
look at his fingers, an' pick at 'em. He'd form a circle with his left thumb and forefinger, then poke his right finger through this circle and try to grab it with his right hand before it could back out. It was the craziest thing I'd ever seen; but before long Horace got to tryin' it himself. While Tank was lookin' at his fingers with his good eye, the free one rambled around, an' half the time it rested on Horace, an' fair gave him the creeps; but when I couldn't stay awake myself, I gave Tank the sign, an' he got delirious.
”I can't sleep,” he wailed, ”I can't sleep! My nerves, oh, my nerves!
One minute they're like hot wires, an' the next they're like streaks of ice. You'll have to tie me up, boys, you certainly will have to tie me up.”
I argued again' it as bein' inhuman; but Tank begged so that finally I gave in, an' we tied him to a down pine tree. Horace helped to tie him, an' he sure did his best to make a good job of it. I was a little doubtful, myself, about Tank gettin' loose; but he had blowed up his muscles, an' he coughed me the all-right signal, so me an' Horace turned in.
Horace groaned consid'able while stretchin' out; but he began to snore before I had got through findin' the soft place. When I first go to bed, I like to roll about a bit, an' stretch, an' loosen up my muscles-I like to stay awake long enough to feel the tired spots sink down again' the earth, an' sort o' ooze into it; and before I had drifted off, Horace was buzzin' away at a log in great shape.
I must 'a' slept an hour when I was wakened by a bright light, an'
lookin' out, I saw Tank Williams standin' with his back to the fire an' glowerin' down at Horace. ”As soon as this log burns off, I'm goin' to get you,” sez Tank between set teeth.
”What are you goin' to get me for?” asked Horace. ”You asked me to tie you to it. I didn't want to tie you to it, but you insisted. I'll untie you if you want me to, and rub your brow again.”
”It's too late,” muttered Tank. ”It's too infernal late. Nothin' could put me to sleep now. As soon as this log burns off, I'm goin' to get you. You was the one which brought back my nerve trouble, an' you are the one what has to suffer.”
Tank hadn't been able to free himself from the pine tree; so he had dragged it in an' across the fire. It wasn't such a big one as trees go; but it was a mighty big one for a man, tied to it as he was, to tote along. Horace reasoned with him a while longer, an' then when he saw that the trunk was about burned through, he got purty well off to one side, an' threw a chunk at me. I popped out of bed on the instant, an' began to shoot about promiscuous; so as to live up to my reputation.
When I'd emptied my gun, I looked at Tank, as though seein' him for the first time, an' sez: ”What in thunder da you mean, by raisin' all this havoc?”
”My nerves,” sez Tank, ”my pore nerves. I can't sleep, an' I can't keep my senses if I'm left tied to this tree any longer. It's all his fault, an' as soon as this log burns up, I'm goin' ta hunt him down.”
Tank an' I argued fierce as long as we could think of anything to say; an' just as the dead pine was gettin' too hot for Tank to stand it any longer, Horace calls in from the darkness, ”Don't you want me to rub your brow a while an' see if that won't put you to sleep?”