Part 23 (1/2)
Tex led the way to the war-bag. ”Them clothes of yourn is plum despisable to look at,” he imparted, ”so I borrowed an outfit offen a friend of mine that's about your size. Just crawl into 'em an' see how they fit.”
Five minutes later the cowboy viewed with approval the figure that stood before him, booted and spurred, with his mud-caked garments replaced by corduroy trousers and a s.h.i.+rt of blue flannel against which the red silk m.u.f.fler made a splotch of vivid colouring.
”You look like a sure enough top hand, now,” grinned the Texan. ”We'll just take a drink on that.” He drew the cork from the bottle and tendered it to Endicott, who shook his head.
”No, thanks. I never use it.”
The Texan stared at him in surprise. ”Do you mean you've got the regular habit of not drinkin', or is it only a temporary lapse of duty?”
Endicott laughed: ”Regular habit,” he answered.
The other drank deeply of the liquor and returned the cork. ”You ought to break yourself of that habit, Win, there's no tellin' where it'll lead to. A fellow insulted me once when I was sober an' I never noticed it. But laying aside your moral defects, them whiskers of yourn is sure onornamental to a scandalous degree. Wait, I'll fetch my razor, an' you can mow 'em.” He disappeared, to return a few moments later with a razor, a cake of hand-soap, and a shaving brush.
”I never have shaved my self,” admitted Endicott, eyeing the articles dubiously.
”Who have you shaved?”
”I mean, I have always been shaved by a barber.”
”Oh!” The cowboy took another long pull at the bottle. ”Well, Win, the fact is them whiskers looks like h.e.l.l an' has got to come off.” He rolled up his sleeves. ”I ain't no barber, an' never shaved a man in my life, except myself, but I'm willin' to take a chance. After what you've done for me I'd be a d.a.m.n coward not to risk it. Wait now 'til I get another drink an' I'll tackle the job an' get it over with. A man can't never tell what he can do 'til he tries.”
Endicott viewed the cowboy's enthusiasm with alarm. ”That's just what I was thinking, Tex,” he hastened to say, as the other drew the cork from the bottle. ”And it is high time I learned to shave myself, anyway. I have never been where it was necessary before. If you will just sit there and tell me how, I will begin right now.”
”Alright, Win, you can't never learn any younger. First off, you wet your face in the creek an' then soap it good. That soap ain't regular shavin' soap, but it'll do. Then you take the brush an' work it into a lather, an' then you shave.”
”But,” inquired the man dubiously, ”don't you have towels soaked in hot water, and----”
”Towels an' hot water, h.e.l.l! This ain't no barber shop, an' there ain't no gin, or whatever they rub on your face after you get through, either. You just shave an' knock the soap off your ears an' that's all there is to it.”
After much effort Endicott succeeded in smearing his face with a thin, stringy lather, and gingerly picked up the razor. The Texan looked on in owlish solemnity as the man sat holding the blade helplessly.
”What you doin', Win, sayin' the blessin'? Just whet her on your boot an' sail in.”
”But where do I begin?”
The Texan snorted disgustedly. ”Your face ain't so d.a.m.n big but what an hour or two reminiscence ought to take you back to where it starts.
Begin at your hat an' work down over your jaw 'til you come to your s.h.i.+rt, an' the same on the other side, takin' in your lip an' chin in transit, as the feller says. An' hold it like a razor, an' not like a pitchfork. Now you got to lather all over again, 'cause it's dry.”
Once more Endicott laboriously coaxed a thin lather out of the brown hand-soap, and again he grasped the razor, this time with a do-or-die determination.
”Oughtn't I have a mirror?” he asked doubtfully.
”A mirror! Don't you know where your own face is at? You don't need no mirror to eat with, do you? Well, it's the same way with shavin'.
But if you got to have ocular evidence, just hang out over the creek there where it's still.”
The operation was slow and painful. It seemed to Endicott as though each separate hair were being dragged out by its roots, and more than once the razor edge drew blood. At last the job was finished, he bathed his smarting face in the cold water, and turned to the Texan for approval.
”You look like the second best bet in a two-handed cat fight,” he opined, and producing his book of cigarette papers, proceeded to stick patches of tissue over various cuts and gashes. ”Takin' it by an'
large, though, it ain't so bad. There's about as many places where you didn't go close enough as there is where you went too close, so's it'll average somewhere around the skin level. Anyway it shows you tried to look respectable--an' you do, from your neck down--an' your hat, too.”
”I am certainly obliged to you,” laughed Endicott, ”for going to all that trouble to provide me with clothing. And by the way, did you learn anything--in regard to posses, I mean?”
The Texan nodded sombrely: ”Yep. I did. This here friend of mine was on his way back from Wolf River when I met up with him. 'Tex,' he says, 'where's the pilgrim?' I remains noncommital, an' he continues, 'I layed over yesterday to enjoy Purdy's funeral, which it was the biggest one ever pulled off in Wolf River--not that any one give a d.a.m.n about Purdy, but they've drug politics into it, an' furthermore, his'n was the only corpse to show for the whole celebration, it bein' plumb devoid of further casualties.'” The cowpuncher paused, referred to his bottle, and continued: ”It's just like I told you before. There can't no one's election get predjudiced by hangin' you, an' they've made a kind of issue out of it. There's four candidates for sheriff this fall an' folks has kind of let it be known, sub rosy, that the one that brings you in, gathers the votes. In the absence of any corpse delecti, which in this case means yourn, folks refuses to a.s.sume you was hung, so each one of them four candidates is right now scouring the country with a posse. All this he imparts to me while he was throwin'