Part 4 (1/2)
”Yes, sir!” he began. ”That's a great place--old Coney. You boys that's never been off the range don't know what it is you've missed. There's side shows, and circuses, and shoot-the-chutes, and whirley-go-rounds, and Egyptian seeresses, and hot-dog joints, and--well, say, speakin' of hot-dog reminds me of the time I took the job of spieler fer Go-Go, the dog-faced boy. This here Go-Go was a yaller n.i.g.g.e.r that they had rigged up like a cannibal and put in a big box along with a lot of dehorned rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and sech. It was my job to stand up over the box, while the ballyhoo man outside was pullin' 'em in, and pop a whip over this snake-eatin' cannibal, and let on like he was tryin' to escape. I had a little old pistol that I'd shoot off, and then Go-Go would rattle his chain and yell '_Owww-wah!_' like he was sure eatin'
'em alive.
”That was the barker's cue, and he'd holler out: 'Listen to the wild thing! He howls, and howls, and howls! Go-Go, the wild boy, the snake-eatin' Igorotte from the Philippines! Step right in, ladies and gentlemen! The price is ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a dollar----' and all that kind of stuff, until the place was filled up.
Then it was my turn to spiel, and I'd git up on the box, with a blacksnake in one hand and that little old pistol in the other, and say:
”'La-adies and gentle-men, before our performance begins I wish to say a few words relatin' to Echigogo Cabagan, the wild boy of Luzon. This strange creature was captured by Lieutenant Crawford, of the Seventy-ninth Heavy Artillery, in the wilds of the Igorotte country in the Philippines. At the time of his recovery he was livin' in the tropical jungles, never havin' seen a human face, an' subsistin'
entirely upon poisonous reptyles, which was his only pets and companions. So frequently was he bit by these venomous reptyles that Professor Swope, of the Philadelphia Academy, after a careful a.n.a.lysis of his blood, figgers out that it contains seven fluid ounces of the deadly poison, or enough to kill a thousand men.
”'On account of the requests of the humane society, the mayor, and several prominent ladies now present in the audience, we will do our best to prevent Go-Go from eatin' his snakes alive but----' and right there was the n.i.g.g.e.r's cue to come in.
”'_Oww-wah!_' he'd yell, shakin' his chain and tearin' around in his box, '_Ow-woo-wah_!' And then he'd grab up them pore, sufferin'
rattlesnakes and sech, and quile 'em around his neck, and snap his teeth like he was bitin' heads off--and me, I'd pop my whip and shoot off my pistol, and scare them fool people most to death.
”Well, that was the kind of an outfit it was, and one day when the n.i.g.g.e.r was quieted down between acts and playin' with a rag-doll we had give him in order to make him look simple-minded-like, a big, buck Injun from the Wild West Show come in with the bunch and looked at Go-Go kinder scary-like. You know----”
A noise of scuffling feet made the story-teller pause, and then the gang of card players came tumbling out of the bunk-house.
”Let's roast some ribs,” said one.
”No, I want some bread and lick,” answered another.
”What's the matter with aigs?” broke in a third.
”Say, you fellers shut up, will you?” shouted a man by the fire. ”Old Brig's tellin' us a story!”
”Oh, git 'im a chin-strap,” retorted the bull-voiced Buck. ”I want some ribs!”
”Well, keep still, can't ye?” appealed the anxious listener; but silence was not on the cards. The chuck-box was broken open and ransacked for a butcher-knife; then as Buck went off to trim away the ribs of the cook's beef, Hardy Atkins and his friends made merry with the quiet company.
”Ridin' 'em again, are you, Brigham?” inquired Happy Jack with a grin.
”No, he's divin' off'n that hundred-foot pole!” observed Poker-faced Bill sardonically.
”And never been outside the Territory!” commented Hardy Atkins _sotto voce_.
Something about this last remark seemed to touch the loquacious Brigham, for he answered it with spirit:
”Well, that's more than some folks can say,” he retorted. ”I sure never run no hawse race with the sheriff out of Texas!”
”No, you pore, ignorant Jack Mormon,” jeered Atkins; ”and you never rode no circus hawse at Coney Island, neither. I've seen fellers that knowed yore kinfolks down on the river, and they swore to Gawd you never been outside of Arizona. More'n that, they said you was a worser liar than old Tom Pepper--and he got kicked out of h.e.l.l fer lyin'.”
A guffaw greeted this allusion to the fate of poor old Tom; but Brigham was not to be downed by comparisons.
”Yes,” he drawled; ”I heerd about Tom Pepper. I heerd say he was a Texican, and the only right smart one they was; and the people down there was so dog ignorant, everything he told 'em they thought it was a lie. Built up quite a reputation that way--like me, here. Seems like every time I tell these Arizona Texicans anything, they up and say I'm lyin'.”
He ran his eye over his audience and, finding no one to combat him further, he lapsed into a mellow philosophy.
”Yes,” he said, c.o.c.king his eye again at Bowles; ”I'm an ignorant kind of a feller, and I don't deny it; but I ain't one of these men that won't believe a thing jest because I never seen it. Now, here's a gentleman here--I don't even know his name--but the chances are, if he's ever been to Coney, he'll tell you my stories is nothin'.”