Part 29 (1/2)

When I found out that the' was one single thing 'at this big, loose-jointed galoot could beat me at, I felt so blame small that I never got over it, an' this is why I disguise myself in these whiskers.”

The two Greasers couldn't help but grin, an' the fool Dutchman sn.i.g.g.e.red. This was more 'n Badger-face could stand. He shot his hand across an' pulled his gun quick as a flash; but Horace didn't move, he just sat still, with a friendly smile on his face; an' Badger-face sat there with his gun in his hand, scowlin' jerk-lightnin' at him.

Spider an' Slim had gone after meat that day, an' they came into view with the carcase of a doe, just as Badger drew his gun. Me an' Tank was listed to wrangle in the bunch, an' we came ridin' along just after the other two came into view. The Greasers gave a little cough an' Badger-face looked up an' saw us. It looked like a put-up job, all right; an' chariots of fire, but he was mad! Pullin' a gun on a man is the same as shootin' at him. Badger-face had been tricked into givin'

us just grounds to slaughter him, and he wasn't quite sure what move to make next. Our outfit had been purty well advertized, through cleanin' out the Brophy gang, me an' Mexican Slim were both two-gun men an' known to be quick an' accurate, while Tank was ever-lastin'ly gettin' into trouble, owin' to his friendly feelin's for liquor. As we drew closer we made our smoke-wagons ready, while his two Greasers kept their hands in plain view, and harmless.

Badger had a trapped look in his face; but he didn't say anything, an'

he didn't cover Horace with his gun; he just held it ready. We did the same with ours, an' it was the foolest lookin' group I was ever part of. Ol' Tank was the one who finally started things. ”Look here, Badger-face,” he bellowed, ”if you so much as harm a hair o' those blamed ol' whiskers, why, we'll have to put ya out o' business.”

Horace turned an' looked at Tank in surprise. ”Aw, put up your gun,”

he said. ”Badger-face ain't in earnest. We had an argument the other day: I said 'at a man lost time crossin' his hand to pull his gun, an'

he said it could be done quicker that way 'n any other; so to-day he joked me about bein' as small in the body as he is in the brain, an' I came back at him, also jokin' in a friendly way; an' he took this excuse to pull his gun on me, without any ill intent; but only to prove how quick he could do it. It stuck in his holster, though; an'

if we'd been in earnest, I'd have had to kill him. I've had him covered all this time; but you can see for yourselves 'at his gun ain't c.o.c.ked. Now put up your guns, and next time, don't be silly.”

I know 'at Horace didn't have any gun in his hand when we came up; but when he stopped speakin', he pulled his hand with a c.o.c.ked gun in it out from under his hoss's mane, an' Badger-face was the most surprised of any of us.

”Come on down to supper, Badger-face, an' I'll sing ya my song,” sez Horace. ”We allus seem to have fresh deer meat when you happen along.”

We all put up our guns along with Badger-face, an' he mumbled some sort of an excuse an' rode away with the Greasers. O' course we'd ought to 'a' killed him right then, 'cause he was more full o' hate than a rattler; but the simple truth was, that Horace had gained control over us complete, an' we let him have his way.

”When did you get that gun in your hand, Horace?” I sez to him after supper. ”You didn't have no gun when I rode up.”

”That's what's puzzlin' Badger-face right this minute,” sez Horace. ”I didn't draw that gun until Tank made his talk; but at the same time I wasn't as defenceless as I looked. I have told you all the time 'at that man didn't have the nerve to harm me. He's a coward.”

”I reckon you'll be killed one o' these days, still believin' that,”

sez ol' Tank. ”How much fightin' experience have you ever had?”

”How much did Thesis ever have?” asked Horace.

”Never heard of him,” sez Tank. ”Who was he?”

”He was a Greek hero,” sez Horace. ”He never had had a fight till he started out to go to his father; but he cleaned out all the toughs along the way, an' when he reached his father, who was king of Athens, he found 'em just ready to send out seven young men an' seven maidens, which they offered up each year to the Minnietor, which was a beast with the body of a man, and the head of a bull, just like Badger-face.

Thesis volunteered, an' what he did was to kill the Minnietor an' end all that nonsense.”

”Well, I never heard tell o' that before, an' I don't more 'n half believe it now,” sez Tank; ”but I'm willin' to bet four dollars 'at the Minnietor didn't know as much about gunfightin' as what Badger-face does. He'll get ya yet, you see if he don't.”

”Tell ya what I'm game to do,” sez Horace. ”I'm game to go right to Ty Jones's ranch house alone. Do ya dare me?”

”No, you don't do that,” sez I. ”That's a heap different proposition.

Ty Jones wouldn't pull his gun without shootin'; and besides, he'd most likely set his dogs on ya.”

”Well, I own up 'at I don't want no dealin's with dogs,” sez Horace, thoughtful. ”Dogs haven't enough imagination to work on. If they're trained to bite, why, that's what they do; but give a human half a chance, an' he'll imagine a lot o' things which are not so. You couldn't tell Badger-face a big enough tale about me to make him doubt it. I tell ya, I got him scared.”

We didn't argue with him none; the' was some doubt about him havin'

Badger-face fooled; but the' wasn't any doubt about him havin' himself fooled-which is the main thing after all, I reckon. Anyway, we let Horace sit there the whole evenin', tellin' Greek-hero tales which must have blistered the imagination o' the feller 'at first made 'em up.

Along about nine o'clock we began to stretch an' yawn; but before we got to bed, Mexican Slim said 'at he heard a noise at the corral, an'

we all looked at one another, thinkin' it was the Cross-branders; but Horace was the first one to get back into his boots an' belt; an' he also insisted on bein' the first to open the door, which he did as soon as we blew out the candle. Then we all filed out an' sneaked down toward the corral; but first thing we knew, a voice out o' the dark whispered: ”This is me-Olaf. Is everything all right?”