Part 24 (1/2)
”'Easy Aaron gazes where the Mexican p'ints, an' his heart turns to water. Thar swayin' an' swingin' like ta.s.sels in the mornin' breeze, an' each as dead as Gen'ral Taylor, he beholds his entire docket hangin' to the windmill. Easy Aaron approaches an' counts 'em up.
Which they're all thar! The Stranglers sh.o.r.ely makes a house cleanin'.
As Easy Aaron looks upon them late clients, he wrings his hands.
”'”Thar hangs fame!” says Easy Aaron; ”thar hangs my chance of eminence! That eloquence, wherewith my heart is freighted, an' which would have else declar'd me the Erskine of the Brazos, is lynched with my clients.” Then wheelin' on Waco Anderson who strolls over, Easy Aaron demands plenty f'rocious: ”Whoever does this dastard deed?”
”'”Which this agitated sport,” observes Waco coldly to Shoestring Griffith, who comes loungin' up likewise, ”asks whoever does these yere dastard deeds! Does you-all recall the fate, Shoestring, of the last misguided shorthorn who gives way to sech a query? My mem'ry is never ackerate as to trifles, an' I'm confoosed about whether he's shot or hung or simply burned alive.”
”'”That prairie dog is hanged a lot,” says Shoestring. ”Which the boys was goin' to burn him, but on its appearin' that he puts the question more in ignorance than malice, they softens on second thought to that degree they merely gets a rope, adds him to the windmill with the others, an' lets the matter drop.”
”'Easy Aaron don't crowd his explorations further. He can see thar's what you-all might call a substratum of seriousness to the observations of Waco an' Shoestring, an' his efforts to solve the mystery that disposes of every law case he has, an' leaves him to begin life anew, comes to a halt!
”'But it lets pore Easy Aaron out. He borrys a hoss from the corral, packs the Texas Statootes an' his extra s.h.i.+rt in the war-bags, an' with that the only real law wolf who ever makes his lair in Yellow City, p'ints sadly no'thward an' is seen no more. As he's about to ride away, Easy Aaron turns to me. He's sort o' got the notion I ain't so bad as Waco, Shoestring, an' the rest. ”I shall never return,” says Easy Aaron, an' he shakes his head plenty disconsolate. ”Genius has no show in Yellow City. This outfit hangs a gent's clients as fast as ever he's retained an' offers no indoocements--opens no opportoonities, to a ambitious barrister.”'”
CHAPTER XVIII
Colonel Sterett Relates Marvels.
”As I a.s.serts frequent,” observed the Old Cattleman, the while delicately pruning a bit of wood he'd picked up on his walk, ”the funds of information, gen'ral an' speshul, which Colonel William Greene Sterett packs about would freight a eight-mule team. It's even money which of 'em saveys the most, him or Doc Peets. For myself, after careful study, I inclines to the theery that Colonel Sterett's knowledge is the widest, while Peets's is the most exact. Both is college gents; an' yet they differs as to the valyoo of sech sem'naries. The Colonel coppers colleges, while Peets plays 'em to win.
”'Them temples of learnin',' says the Colonel, 'is a heap ornate; but they don't make good.' This is doubted by Peets.
”One evenin' Dan Boggs, who's allers tantalisin' 'round askin'
questions--it looks like a sleepless cur'osity is p.r.o.ned into Dan--ropes at Peets concernin' this topic:
”'Whatever do they teach in colleges, Doc?' asks Dan.
”'They teaches all of the branches,” retorts Peets.
”'An' none of the roots,' adds Colonel Sterett, 'as a cunnin' Yank once remarks on a o'casion sim'lar.'
”No, the Colonel an' Peets don't go lockin' horns in these differences.
Both is a mighty sight too well brought up for that; moreover, they don't allow to set the camp no sech examples. They entertains too high a regyard for each other to take to pawin' about pugnacious, verbal or otherwise.
”The Colonel's information is as wide flung as a buzzard's wing.
Thar's mighty few mysteries he ain't authorised to eloocidate. An'
from time to time, accordin' as the Colonel's more or less in licker, he enlightens Wolfville on a mult.i.toode of topics. Which the Colonel is a profound eddicational innocence; that's whatever!
”It's one evenin' an' the moon is swingin' high in the bloo-black heavens an' looks like a gold doork.n.o.b to the portals of the eternal beyond. Texas Thompson fixes his eyes tharon, meditative an' pensive, an' then he wonders:
”'Do you-all reckon, now, that folks is livin' up thar?'
”'Whatever do you think yourse'f, Colonel?' says Enright, pa.s.sin' the conundrum over to the editor of the _Coyote_. 'Do you think thar's folks on the moon?'
”'Do I think thar's folks on the moon?' repeats the Colonel as ca'mly confident as a club flush. 'I don't think,--I knows.'
”'Whichever is it then?' asks Dan Boggs, whose ha'r already begins to bristle, he's that inquisitive. 'Simply takin' a ignorant shot in the dark that away, I says, ”No.” That moon looks like a mighty lonesome loominary to me.'
”'Jest the same,' retorts the Colonel, an' he's a lot dogmatic, 'that planet's fairly speckled with people. An' if some gent will recall the errant fancies of Black Jack to a sense of dooty, I'll onfold how I knows.