Part 30 (1/2)
”Well, Mrs. Svenson,” sez Horace to Kit, ”you'll have to be mighty careful or your husband will find you out.”
”I am perfectly willin',” sez Kit with a proud little smile. She was game, all right, Kit was.
”That is why I say it is all right,” sez Olaf. ”She is young, she cannot know how she will change. If ever she no longer love me, I will not bother her. That would be a foolishness; but so long as she love me, no other man will bother her. That would be devilishness!”
”You certainly have a nice, simple scheme of life,” sez Horace. ”If ever you change your mind, I'll put up the money to take you back East, an' pay you high wages.”
”No,” sez Olaf, ”I hate circuses an' shows, an' such things. I not go.”
”You say you can tell sick places, an' fear, an' hate, an' honesty,”
sez Horace. ”Now, when I came out here, I was just punk all over. You give me a look-over, an' tell right out what you see.”
At first Olaf shook his head, but we finally coaxed him into it; an'
he opened his eyes wide an' looked at Horace. As he looked the blue in his eyes got deeper an' deeper, like the flowers on the benches in June, then when the pupil was plumb closed, the blue got lighter again, and he said: ”You have not one sick point, you have good thoughts, you are very brave, you are too brave-you are reckless. You have very great vitality, an' will live to be very old-unless you get killed. I knew an old Injun-over a hundred years old he was-he had a flame like yours. It is strange.”
You could actually see Horace swellin' up with vanity at this; but it made ol' Tank Williams hot to see such a fuss made about a small-caliber cuss; so he rumbles around in his throat a minute, an'
sez: ”Well, you fellers can fool around all night havin' your souls made light of, if ya want to; but as for me I'm goin' to bed.”
Kit insisted that we sleep on the floor just as we had been, while she an' Olaf bunked in the lean-to; but a warm chinook had been blowin'
all day, an' it was soft an' pleasant, so we took our beds out in the cottonwoods. Horace an' the Friar got clinched into some kind of a discussion; but the rest of us dropped off about as soon as we stretched out. The moon was just risin', an' one sharp peak covered with glitterin' snow stood up back o' the rim. I remember thinkin' it might be part o' the old earth's s.h.i.+ny soul.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NIGHT-PROWLERS
Whenever the's anything on my mind I sleep purty light; an' the whole Cross brand outfit was on my mind that night; so it's not surprisin'
that I woke up after a bit. The moon had climbed consid'able, an' the stars told me it was about two. I had been sleepin' alone; Horace havin' decided to crawl in with the Friar so they could quarrel at short range.
The Friar's tarp was next to mine, an' I raised myself on my elbow an'
looked at it. I could hear him breathin' natural, an' the bulk of him was so large that Horace wouldn't have made much of a mound anyway; so at first I couldn't tell whether he was there or not. I crept out till I could sit up an' get a clear view; but Horace wasn't there, so I put on my boots as quick as ever.
I sneaked over to the Friar's tarp; but Horace's hat was gone, so I knew he was up to some mischief, an' started for the corral to see if he had taken a hoss. What I feared was, that he had got to thinkin'
about what a super-wonderful flame he had, and had decided to give it a fair work-out by sneakin' down to Ty Jones's on his own hook. I was worried about this because I knew they'd do for him in a minute, if they'd catch him where they could hide all traces.
Olaf had built a large square corral an' a smaller round one, to do his ropin' in; and when I reached the near side o' the square one, I heard a slight noise near the gate of the round one. I peered through the poles of the corral, but the dividin' fence got in the road so 'at I couldn't see, an' I started to prowl around. All of a sudden, Horace's squeaky tenor piped out: ”Halt”; an' I flattened out on the ground, thinkin' he had spotted me; but just then the' was a smothered curse from the round corral, an' when I started to get up I saw Badger-face vault over the fence in the direction of Horace's voice.
Then I saw Horace standin' behind a clump with his gun on Badger-face.
”Put up your hands,” sez Horace.
Badger was runnin' straight for him; but he put up his hands at this order, and came to a slow stop about five feet from Horace. The square corral was still between me an' them, an' I drew my right gun an'
started around, keepin' my eye on 'em as much as I could through the poles.
”I reckon I got ya this time,” sez Horace, just as I reached the corner.
”I reckon you have,” sez Badger in a give-up voice; but at the same moment he took a step forward, threw his body back, an' kicked the gun out of Horace's hand. Then he lunged forward an' got Horace by the throat, flung him on his back an' straddled him-an' I broke for 'em on the run. Just before I reached 'em, the' came a heavy, m.u.f.fled report, an' Badger-face fell on his side an' rolled over on his back, clutchin' at his breast.
Horace rose to his feet, holdin' a toy pistol, put his hands on his hips, looked down at Badger-face, an' sez: ”If you'd 'a' just asked Olaf what kind of a light I give out, you'd 'a' stayed at home an'