Part 43 (1/2)

”After you!” I called, always willing to oblige--”after you. Shoot first, and hear me afterwards, eh? That's right, boys. You see, I pack no gun, 'cause I'm yo' guest.”

The guns were put away.

”You've heard,” says I, ”from Misteh Crazy Hoss how I subdued this Ryan and got a quittance for Jim du Chesnay from the charge of murder. I'm his guardian, boys. Furthermore, you heard from Misteh Crazy Hoss a plumb truthful account of how I saved this whole crowd from being wolf-bait fed to us for our supper--the same being considered unwholesome. Now, as to this pore little felon, he put up the only play he knew to save hisself from being murdered. He ain't a lion to fight with teeth, or a man to distribute gunfire on his enemies; but his back's to the wall and he puts up the best little fight he knows about.

He, bein' a sure snake, uses poison, whereat, having drawn his fangs, I takes his side, and begs the critter's life. I want to have him for a curio to put in my collection, and I offers ten cents for the same--which is more'n he's worth.”

”Boys,” said McCalmont, ”if this yere Chalkeye didn't allus take the weaker side, he'd be a rich man still, instead of an outlaw herdin' with our gang as his last refuge.”

The robbers seemed to like me some better now, and a feeling of popularity began to glow on my skin.

”But,” says McCalmont, ”in the matter of this yere snake, he acts plumb erroneous. If the snake escapes to give evidence, he can identify the entire gang, Chalkeye included. Go--kill that snake!”

Crazy Hoss rushed to the kitchen. ”Gawn!” he yelled. ”Escaped! So this is yo' game, Mr. Chalkeye!”

”Kill him! kill him!”

”Halt!” McCalmont faced the rush against me--outroared the shouting.

”Back, or I fire! Back, you curs! Deal with this business afterwards--we want the snake first! Whar's them smell-dawgs? Here, Powder! Powder!

Here, you Rip; come on, lil' dawg! Crazy Hoss, you put on them dawgs to the scent, track down this Ryan, and kill him. Then come back.”

The dogs were put on Ryan's trail. ”Go, get 'im, Rip! Sick 'im, Powder!

Tear 'im and eat 'im! Come along, boys!” So the whole crowd poured away to track Ryan.

McCalmont grabbed me by the arm to hold me back.

”You fool,” he hissed through his teeth, ”come on--there's not a moment to lose--or them wolves will get you! Curly! Curly, come out, you, and fetch Chalkeye's gun. Chalkeye, you come quick.”

Curly came running from the little hind room with our guns, while McCalmont rushed me to the kitchen. ”Here,” he said, ”hold this sack for grub!”

”Not them meat b.a.l.l.s,” says I; ”meat b.a.l.l.s is out of season.”

”All right,” he laughed, pitching a half-sack of flour into the bag which I held, then a side of bacon, and such other truck as was handy.

”Curly, you knows whar to take this man?”

”Come along,” says Curly. And I followed tame, with the sack on my shoulder until we gained the woods.

”Back!” says Curly sudden, and dodged for cover, while I dropped flat behind a fallen tree. Looking from under, I saw Ryan come surging past in front of us, screeching like all possessed, the smell-dogs at his tail, and the robbers swarming close behind.

”A near thing that,” says Curly, when they had pa.s.sed; ”creep through under the log.”

I crept through with my sack, and she followed.

”Lie low,” she said; ”we're hidden here from the ranche until we can run some more. Get out yo' gun.”

They say that we white men, using our right hands mostly, is strongest on that side, and apt to bear to the left when we don't take note how we run. Anyway, Ryan, instead of circling south, had circled to the left and lost himself, then, when he found he was hunted, went off his head complete. He was back in the yard now, close beside the house, where McCalmont headed him off with a shot from the door, while the robbers spread out half circling. They laughed and shouted.

”My turn first!” says Crazy Hoss.

”Take his off ear, Crazy!”