Red Saunders' Pets and Other Critters, Page 2

  Oscar's Chance, per Charley

  "Bhooooooorrr! Bhooooooooooooooorrrrr!" It was the hollow,melancholy, wild beast-howl of a fog-horn. We were drifting upon atragic coast, where the great waves slipped up the cliffs noiselessly,to disappear upon the other side. At the time, I was talking to aperson who had just been a sort of composite of several of my friends,but was now a gaunt bay mule. "Isn't it co-o-ld?" I said to him, andshivered. He looked me sternly in the eye. "Get up!" said he. Thevessel struck a rock and trembled violently. "Get up!" repeated themule, and there was a menace in his voice now. "Bhooooooooooorrrrr!"moaned the fog-horn. This was dreadful. But worse followed. Thewaters gathered themselves and rose into a peak, the mule slidingswiftly to the apex, still holding me with his uncanny eyes. Therecame a shock, and Oscar said, "For the Lord's sake, kid! They've beenbraying away on that breakfast horn for the last five minutes. Hustle!"

  I found myself upon my hands and knees; in a cabin, all right, but thecabin was on the prairie. I looked around, stupid with sleep. Thefamiliar sights met my eye--Oscar tiptoeing about, bow-legged, armsspread like wings, drawing his breath through his teeth, after thefashion of half-frozen people. Old Charley sat humped up in thecorner, sucking his cob pipe. The stove was giving forth a smell ofhot iron, and no heat, as usual. On it rested a wash-basin, whereinsome snow was melting for the morning ablutions. A candle projected asort of palpable yellow gloom into the grey icy morning air. I dressedrapidly. As I slept in overcoat and cap, this was no great matter. Apair of German socks and arctics completed my attire. Evidently I hadbeen put upon the floor by the hand of Oscar. For this, when Oscarstretched his nether garment tight, in the act of washing his face, Ismote him upon the fulness thereof with a long plug of chewing tobacco."Aow!" he yelled, recurving like a bow and putting his hands to hiswound. Promptly we clinched and fell upon old Charley. To the floorthe three went, amid a shower of sparks from the cob pipe. "You dampesky kids!" said the angry voice of Charles (the timbre of that voice,after travelling through four inches of nose, is beyond imitation)."Get off'n me! Quit now! Stop yer blame foolin'!"

  Get off'n me!]

  Oscar and I swallowed our giggles and rolled all over Charley."_Well_, by Jeeroosha!" came from the bottom of the heap in the tone ofone who has reached the breaking point of astonished fury. "I'm goin'to do some shootin' when this is over--yes, sir, I won't hold back nomore--ef you boys don't git off'n me this minit, so help me Bob! I'llbite yer!"

  This was a real danger, and we skipped off him briskly. "Why,Charley," explained Oscar, "you see, we got so excited that we didn'tnotice----"

  "There's Steve now," interrupted Charley, pointing with a long crookedforefinger to the doorway. "Well, Steve! I'm glad you come. I justwant you to see the kind of goin's on there is here." Charles clearedhis throat and stuck his thumb in his vest. "F'r instance, thismornin', I sittin' right there in that corner, not troublin' nobody,when up gets that splay-footed, sprawlin', lumberin' bull-calf of anOscar, an' that mischievious, sawed-off little monkey of a Harry, andthey goes to pullin' and tusslin', and they jes' walks up and down onme, same's if I was a flight of steps. Now, you know, Steve, I'm a manof sagassity an' _ex_periunce, an' I ain't goin' to stand fur no suchdograsslin'. I felt like doin' them boys ser'us damage, but they'reyoung, and life spreads green and promisin' befo' 'em, like a bananatree; consequently I prefer jus' to tell you my time is handed in."

  Charley was proudly erect. His arms stretched aloft. His one yellowtooth rested on his lower lip; his face, the thickness and texture of amuch-worn leather pocketbook, showed a tinge of colour as the wordswent to his head like wine.

  Steve looked at the floor. "Too bad, Charley; too bad," he said ingrave sympathy. "But probably we can fix it up. Now, as we havecompany, would you mind hitting the breakfast trail?"

  "After I've made a few remarks," returned Charles haughtily.

  Steve dropped on a stool. "Sick your pup on," he said. Charley leapedat the opportunity.

  "There _are_ some things I sh'd like to mention," said he. We notedwith pleasure that he wore his sarcastic manner. "F'r instance, youdoubtless behold them small piles of snow on the floo', which has comein through certain an' sundry holes in the wall that orter been chinkedlast fall. Is it _my_ place to chink them holes? The oldes' an' mose_ex_periunced man in the hull cat-hop? I reckon otherwise. Then whydidn't they git chinked? Why is it that the snows and winds of anoutraged and jus'ly indignant Providence is allowed to introdoosetheirselves into this company unrebuked?

  "I have heard a' great deal, su', about the deadenin' effeck producedupon man's vigger by a steady, reliable, so'thern climate. As acitizen of the State of Texas fo' twenty years I repel the expersionwith scorn and hoomiliation. Nevertheless and notwithstanding,'lowing' that to be the truth, did you encounter anything in this herecountry to produce such an effeck? For Gawd's sake, su', if there'sanything in variety, a man livin' here orter lay holt of the grassroots, fur fear he'd git so durn strong he couldn't stay on the face ofthe yearth. Ef it ain't so sinful cold that yer ears'll drap off at atouch, it's so hell-fire hot that a man's features melt all over hisface, and ef it ain't so solemn still that you're scart to death, thewind'll blow the buttonholes outer yer clo's'. I have seen it do ahull yearful of stunts in twenty-four hours, encludin' hot an' coldweather, thunderstorms, drought, high water, and a blizzard. Thatsettles the climate question. Then what is it that has let them holesgo unchinked? I'll tell you, su'; it's nothin' more nor less than thetinkerin', triflin', pettifoggin' dispersition of them two boys.That's what makes it that there's mo' out-doors inside this bull-penthan there is on the top of Chunkey Smith's butte; that's what makes itI can't get up in the mornin' without having myself turned inter athree-ringed circus. But I ain't the man to complain. Ef there'sanything that gums up the cards of life, it's a kicker; so jes' as oneman to another, I tells you what's wrong here and leaves you to figgerit out fer yerself."

  He glanced around on three grave faces with obvious satisfaction. Hiswrath had dissipated in the vapour of words. "Nor they ain't such badboys, _as_ boys, nuther," he concluded.

  "I will examine this matter carefully, Charles," said Steve.

  "I thank you, su'," responded Charley, with a courtly sweep of his hand.

  "Not at all," insisted Steve, with a duplicate wave. "I beg that youwon't mention it. And now, if you would travel toward the house----"

  "_Cer_tainly!"

  And out we went into North Dakota's congealed envelope, with the smokefrom the main-house chimney rising three hundred feet into the air, asnow-white column straight as a mast, Charley stalking majesticallyahead, while we three floundered weakly behind him.

  "Ain't he the corker?" gasped Oscar. "When he gets to jumping sidewaysamong those four-legged words he separates me from my good intentions."

  "'With scorn and hoomiliation,'" quoted Steve, and stopped, overcome.

  "'I tells you what's the matter and leaves you to figger it out foryourself,'" I added. Then Charley heard us. He turned and approached,an awful frown upon his brow.

  "May I inquire what is the reason of this yere merriment?" he asked.The manner was that of a man who proposed to find out. It sat onCharley with so ludicrous a parody that we were further undone. Steveraised his hands in deprecation, and spoke in a muffled voice thatbroke at intervals.

  "Can't I laugh in my own backyard, Charley?" he said. "By the LordHarry, I _will_ laugh inside my stakes! No man shall prevent me. TheConstitution of the United States, the Declaration of Independence, andthe Continental Congress give me the right. Now what have you got tosay?"

  "I dunno but what you have me whipsawed there, Steve," replied Charley,scratching his head. "Ef it's your right by the Constitootion, o'course I ain't goin' to object."

  "Do either of you object?" demanded Steve of Oscar and me in hisdeepest bass. No, we didn't object; we fell down in the snow andcrowed like chanticleer.

  "Hunh!" s
norted Charley. "Hunh! Them boys hain't got brains in theirheads at all--nothin' but doodle-bugs!"

  "Well, Charley," continued Steve, "as you don't object, and they don'tobject, and I don't object, for God's sake let's have breakfast!"

  "I'll go you, Steve," replied Charles seriously, and we entered thehouse uproarious.

  There in the kitchen was Mrs. Steve and the "company," a pretty littlebright-eyed thing, whose colour went and came at a word--moreparticularly if Oscar said the word. The affair was at present in theformal state--the dawn of realisation that two such wonderful andmagnificent creatures as Oscar and Sally existed. But they were notOscar and Sally except in the dear privacy of their souls. Yet howmuch that is not obvious to the careless ear can be put into "Will youhave a buckwheat cake, Mr. Kendall?" or "May I give you a helping ofthe syrup, Miss Brown?" It took some preparation for each to get outso simple a remark, and invariably the one addressed started guiltily,and got crimson. It was the most uncomfortable rapture I ever saw,However, they received very little plaguing. I can remember but onehard hit. Oscar was pouring syrup upon Sally's cakes, his eyes fixedupon a dainty hand, that shook under his gaze like a leaf. He forgothis business. Steve looked at the inverted, empty syrup-cup for somemoments in silence. Then he said to his wife, "Emma, go and get Sallya nice cupful of fresh air to put on her cakes; that that Oscar has inthe pitcher is stale by this time."

  The affair was at present in the formal state]

  Oh, those cakes! And the ham! And the fried eggs and potatoes. Welived like fighting cocks at Steve's, as happens on most of the smallranches. The extreme glory of the prairie was not ours. We werewood-choppers, hay-cutters, and farmers, as well as punchers; but whatwe lost in romance, we made up in sustenance. No one ever saw abiscuit suffering from soda-jaundice on Steve's table. And how, aftera night's sleep in a temperature of forty below zero, I would champ myteeth on the path to breakfast! Eating was not an appetite in thosedays--it was a passion.

  Charley and I went forth after breakfast, Oscar lingering a moment,according to his use, to pass a painful five minutes in making excusesfor staying that time, where no one needed any explanation.

  "I wish to gracious Sally and Oscar would just act like people," saidMrs. Steve once in exasperation. "They get me so nervous stammering ateach other that I drop everything I lay my hands on, and I feel as ifI'd robbed somebody for the rest of the day."

  The interview over, Oscar came out, burning with his own embarrassment,and made a sore mess of everything he did for the next hour. A manmust have his mind about him on a ranch.

  Once upon a time Steve came to Charley and me, literally prancing. Wehad heard oaths and yells and sounds of a battle royal previously, andwondered what was going on. When he neared us he moved slowly, hishands working like machinery. "I would like to know," he began, andstopped to glare at us and grind his teeth. "I should like to know,"he continued, in a voice so weak with rage we could hardly hear it,"who turned the red bull into number three corral."

  Charley and I went right on cleaning out the shed. We weren't going totell on Oscar.

  "So it's him again, heh?" shrieked Steve. "Well, now I propose to showhim something. I'll show him everything!" He was entirely beyond theinfluence of reason and grammar. Charley had an ill-advised notion toplay the paternal.

  "Now, I'd cool down if I was you, Steve," he admonished.

  "You would, would you!" foamed Steve. "Well, who the devil cares whatyou'd do, anyhow? And if you tell me to cool down just once more, I'lldrive you into the ground like a tent-pin."

  I jumped through the window, and then laughed, while Charleyadministered his reproof with appropriate gestures. His long arms flewin the air as he delivered the inspired address, Steve looking at him,a bit of shamefacedness and fun showing through his heat.

  "An' mo' I tell you, Steven P. Hendricks!" rolled out Charley inconclusion. "That this citizen of Texas, jus'ly and rightjus'ly calledthe Lone Star State, has never yet experienced the feeling of bein'daunted by face of man. No, su'! By God, su'!" He held the shovelaloft like a sword. "Let 'em come as they will, male and female aftertheir kind, from a ninety poun' Jew peddler to Sittin' Bull himself,and from a pigeon-toed Digger-Injun squaw to a fo'-hundred-weight Dutchlady, I turn my back on none!"

  "You win, Charley," said Steve, and walked off. All Oscar caught outof it was the request that when he felt like reducing the stock on theranch he'd take a rifle.

  Poor Oscar! All noble and heroic sentiments struggling within him,with no outlet but a hesitating advancing of the theory that "if wedidn't get rain before long, the country'd be awful dry." Small wonderthat he burst out in the bull-pen one night with "I wish the Injunswould jump this ranch!"

  "You do?" said Charley. "Well, durn your hide for that wish! What'sgot into you to make you wish that?"

  "Aw!" said Oscar, twitching around on his stool, "I'm sick and tired ofnot being able to say anything. If the Sioux got up, I could dosomething."

  "Oh, that's it," retorted Charles. "Well, Oscar, far's I can see, ifit's necessary to have a war-party of Injuns whoopin' an' yellin' an'crow-hoppin' an' makin' fancywork out of people to give you the properstart afore your gal, it'd be jes' as well for you to stay single theres' of your days. The results wouldn't justify the trouble."

  Afterward Oscar told me in private that Charley was an old stiff, andhe didn't believe he'd make a chest at a grasshopper if the latterspunked up any. That wronged old Charley. But Oscar must beexcused--he was a singularly unhappy man.

  To come back to what happened. Oscar that morning had the care ofGeronimo, a coal-black, man-eating stallion, a brute as utterly devoidof fear as of docility. A tiger kills to eat, and occasionally for thefun of it; that horse killed out of ferocity, and hate of every livingthing.

  A fearful beast is a bad horse. One really has more chance against atiger. Geronimo stood seventeen hands high, and weighed over sixteenhundred pounds. When he reared on his hind legs and came for you,screaming, his teeth snapping like bear-traps, his black mane flying, aman seemed a pigmy. One blow from those front hoofs and your troubleswere over. Once down, he'd trample, bite, and kick until your ownmother would hesitate to claim the pile of rags and jelly left. He hadserved two men so; nothing but his matchless beauty saved his life.

  Nowhere could one find a better example of hell-beautiful than when hetore around his corral in a tantrum, as lithe and graceful as a blackpanther. His mane stood on end; his eyes and nostrils were of acolour; the muscles looked to be bursting through the silken gloom ofhis coat. His swiftness was something incredible. He caught and mosthorribly killed Jim Baxter's hound before the latter could get out ofthe corral--and a bear-hound is a pretty agile animal. We had to tieJim, or he'd made an end of Geronimo. He left the ranch right afterthat. The loss of his dog broke him all up.

  We fed and watered Geronimo with a pitchfork, and in terror then, forhis slyness and cunning were on a par with his other pleasantpeculiarities. One of the poor devils he killed entered the stable allunsuspecting. Geronimo had broken his chains, and stood close againstthe wall of his stall in the darkness, waiting. The man came withinreach. Suddenly a black mass of flesh flashed in the air above him,coming down with all four hoofs--and that's enough of that story.

  A nice pet was Geronimo. An excellent decoration for a gentleman'sstable--stuffed.

  Well, Oscar turned him out this morning, and then he, Steve, and I wentfor hay. As it was toward the last of winter, all the near stacks hadbeen used up, and we had to haul from Kennedy's bottom, eight milesaway. When we started, the air was still and frozen, with a deep,biting cold unusual to Dakota; the sort that searches you and stealsall the heat you own. We were numb by the time we reached the stack,and glad enough to have warm work to do. We fell to it with a rush forthat reason, and because a dull grey blink upon the western skylineseemed to promise a blizzard. We were tying down the last load, when Iheard the hum of wind coming, and loo
ked up, expecting to see a wall offlying snow, and continued looking, seeing nothing of the kind. ThereI stood, in the air of an ice-house, when a gust of that wind struckme. A miracle! In a snap of your fingers I was bathed in genialwarmth. All about me rode the scent of spring and flowers! It was asif the doors of a giant conservatory were thrown open.

  "Chinook, boys! Chinook!" I called, casting down my fork. They ranfrom the lee of the stack, throwing their coats open, drinking it inand laughing, for, man! we were weary of winter! First it came inpuffs, at length settling down to a steady breeze, as of the sea. Thesun, that in the early morning was no more than a pale effigy, pouredon us a heart-warming fire. We hustled for home, knowing that theChinook would make short work of the snow. In fact, we had not coveredmore than half the distance before the prairie began to show brown hereand there, where it lay thin between mountainous drifts. We sang andhowled all the way to the sheds, feeling fine.

  Here Steve left us, to go to the house, while Oscar and I unloaded thesleighs.

  Suddenly I felt uncomfortable, for no reason in this world. The landabout us was rejoicing with the booming of that kind, warm wind, yet asharp uneasiness stopped me and forced me to raise my head. Forthree-quarters of a circle nothing met my eyes but the vanishingsnow-drifts. I reached the house; nothing wrong there. Steve waswalking briskly out toward us, smoking his pipe. Then the corrals--allright, number one, two, three, four--Lord have mercy!

  "Oscar!" I shrieked, and snatched him to his feet. He rose, bewilderedand half angry, then looked to where I pointed.

  Through the centre of number four corral tripped Sally, dear littletimid Sally, glad to be out in this lovely air, her eyes and mind onOscar doubtless, and in the same corral, shut off from her sight by aprojection of the sheds, stood Geronimo. And he saw her, too, for asshe waved a hand to us, he bared his great teeth and clashed themtogether. The earth seemed to rock and sink from me. Every soul onthe ranch was told to keep away from the corral with the two buffaloskulls over the gates, a warning sufficiently big and gruesome to stopanyone. What fatal lapse of memory had struck the girl?

  She was beyond help. We were all of two hundred yards away, and Stevestill farther; she was not a quarter of that from the brute. If weshouted, if we moved, we might bring her end upon her--and such an end!When I thought of that dainty, pretty little woman beneath those hoofs,I felt a hideous sickness. The man beside me said, "My God! Mymistake!" A corral opened on each side of the box stall in whichGeronimo was confined. One of these was usually empty, a reserve. Itwas into this that Oscar had turned the horse. The other was thecorral of the skulls.

  Geronimo leaped out. The girl halted, stark, open-mouthed, every signof life stricken from her at a blow. Geronimo sprang high and snappedat nothing, in evil play before the earnest. It was horrible. Wecould do neither harm nor good now, so we ran for the spot. It wasdown hill from us to them. I doubt that anything on two legs evercovered distance as we did, for all the despair. Geronimo reared andstood upon his hind feet, as straight as a man. He advanced, striking,looming above his victim. "All over," I thought, and tried to take myeyes away. I could not.

  At that instant a white-hatted, gaunt, tall figure rushed from thestable door, a shovel in its hand, straight between the girl and herdestruction. There he stood, with his partly weapon raised,unflinching. An oath came to my lips and a hot spot to my throat atthe sight. No eye ever saw a braver thing.

  At this, a dip in the ground and the eight-foot fence of the corralshut out all within. God knows how we got over that fence. I swear Ithink we leaped it. I have no memory of climbing, but I do recalllanding on the other side in a swoop.

  Geronimo had old Charley in his teeth, shaking him like a rat.

  "Steve!" I called, "Steve!" And then Oscar and I charged at the wickedbrute with our pitchforks. All that followed is a tangled, bad dreamof hurry, fear, yells, oaths, and myself stabbing, stabbing, stabbingwith the pitchfork. Then a gun cracked somewhere, a black mass toppledtoward me that knocked me sprawling--and all was still. I sat for amoment, smiling foolishly and fumbling for my hat. Steve raised me bythe arm. He still had his revolver in his hand, and his glance on thedead stallion. He asked me if I was hurt, and I said yes. He asked mewhere, and I said that made no difference. Then, as I came to a littlemore, I said I guessed I wasn't hurt, and looked around. Oscar hadSally in his arms. The tears were running down his cheeks, and hemoved his head from side to side, like a man in agony. Her head wasburied in his breast, her hands locked around his neck. It was wellwith them, evidently. But limp upon the ground, his forehead varnishedred, lay old Charley.

  We turned him over tenderly, wiping the blood away. Steve's lipsquivered as he put his hand on the old man's heart. He kept it there along time. Then he said huskily, "He's gone!" At the words the soundeye of the victim popped open with a suddenness that made my heartthrow a somersault. It was as sane, calm, and undisturbed an optic asever regarded the world.

  "G-a-w-n H--l!" said Charley.

  We laughed and wiped our eyes with our coat sleeves, and got the oldboy to his feet.

  "Same old Texas," said he, feeling of his head (the hoof had scraped,instead of smashing), "slightly disfiggered, but still in the ring."

  He caught sight of the lovers. "Hello!" he said. "Oscar's made hisante good at last--bad hawse works as well as Injuns." We started tolead him by the pair.

  "Naw, boys," he commanded. "Take me 'round 't'uther way. That galdon't want to see me now, all bloody and mussed up like this."

  It was useless to attempt making a hero of Charley.