Clarence E. Mulford_Hopalong Cassidy 04 (16 page)

"Try again," grinned Fisher, his face clearing with hope.

The bartender shuffled, and Fisher turned a five, which proved to be
just one point shy when his companion had shown his card.

"Now," remarked Fisher, watching his money disappear into the
bartender's pocket, "I'll put up my gun agin ten of yore dollars if
yo're game. How about it?"

"Done—that's a good weapon."

"None better. Ah, a jack!"

"I say queen—nope,
king
!" exulted the dispenser of liquids. "Say,
mebby you can get a job around here when you quit the CG," he suggested.

"That's a good idea," replied Fisher. "But let's finish this while we're
at it. I got a good saddle outside on my cayuse—go look it over an'
tell me how much you'll put up agin it. If you win it an' can't use it,
you can sell it. It's first class."

The bartender walked to the door, looked carefully around for a moment,
his eyes fastening upon a trail in the sandy street. Then he laughed.
"There ain't no saddle out here," he reported, well knowing where it
could be found.

"What! Has that ornery piebald—well, what do you think of that!"
exclaimed Fisher, looking up and down the street. "This is the first
time that ever happened to me. Why, some coyote stole it! Look at the
tracks!"

"No; it ain't stolen," the bartender responded. He considered a moment
and then made a suggestion. "Mebby the marshal can tell you where it
is—he knows everything like that. Nobody can take a cayuse out of this
town while the marshal is up an' well."

"Lucky town, all right," chirped Fisher. "An' where is the marshal?"

"You'll find him down the back way a couple of hundred yards; can't miss
him. He allus hangs out there when there are cayuses in town."

"Good for him! I'll chase right down an' see him; an' when I get that
piebald—!"

The bartender watched him go around the corner and shook his head sadly.
"Yes; hell of a lucky town," he snorted bitterly, listening for the riot
to begin.

The marshal still sat against the corral gate and stroked the Winchester
in beatific contemplation. He had a fine job and he was happy. Suddenly
leaning forward to look up the road, he smiled derisively and shifted
the gun. A cow-puncher was coming his way rapidly, and on foot.

"Are you the marshal of this flea of a town?" politely inquired the
newcomer.

"I am the same," replied the man with the rifle. "Anything I kin do for
you?"

"Yes; have you seen a piebald cayuse straying around loose-like, or
anybody leading one—CG being the brand?"

"I did; it was straying."

"An' which way did it go?"

"Into the town pound."

"What! Pond! What'n blazes is it doing with a pond? Couldn't it drink
without getting in? Where's the pond?"

"Right here. It's eating its fool head off. I said pound, not pond.
P-o-u-n-d; which means that it's pawned, in hock, for destroying the
vegetation of Rawhide, an' disturbing the public peace."

"Good joke on the piebald, all right; it was never locked up before,"
laughed Fisher, trying to read a sign that faced away from him at a
slight angle. "Get it out for me an' I'll disturb
its
peace. Sorry it
put you to all that trouble," he sympathized.

"Two dollars an' four bits, an' a dollar initiation fee—it wasn't never
in the pound before. That makes three an' a half. Got the money with
you?"

"What!" yelled Fisher, emerging from his trance. "What!" he yelled
again.

"I ain't none deaf," placidly replied the marshal. "Got the money, the
three an' a half?"

"If you think yo're going to skin me outen three-fifty, one-fifty, or
one measly cent, you need some medicine, an' I'll give it to you in
pill form! You'd make a bum-looking angel, so get up an' hand over that
cayuse,
an' do it damned quick
!"

"Three-fifty, an' two bits extry for feed. It'll cost you 'bout a dollar
a day for feed. At the end of the week I'll sell that cayuse at auction
to pay its bills if you don't cough up. Got the money?"

"I've got a lead slug for you if I can borrow my gun for five minutes!"
retorted Fisher, seething double from anger.

"Five dollars more for contempt of court," pleasantly responded Mr.
Townsend. "As Justice of the Peace of this community I must allow
no disrespect, no contempt of the sovereign law of this town to go
unpunished. That makes it eight-seventy-five."

"An' to think I lost my gun!" shouted Fisher, dancing with rage. "I'll
get that cayuse out an' I won't pay a cent, not a damned cent! An' I'll
get you at the same time!"

"Now you dust around for fifteen dollars even an' stop yore contempt
of court an' threats or I'll drill you just for luck!" rejoined Mr.
Townsend, angrily. "If you keep on working yore mouth like that there
won't be nothing coming to you when I sell that cayuse of yourn. Turn
around an' strike out or I'll put you with yore ancestors!"

Fisher, wild with rage, returned to the Paradise and profanely unfolded
the tale of his burning wrongs to the bartender and demanded the loan of
his gun, which the bartender promptly refused. The present owner of the
gun liked Fisher very much for being such a sport and sympathized with
him deeply, but he did not want to have such a pleasing acquaintance
killed.

"Now, see here: you cool down an' I'll lend you fifteen dollars on that
saddle of yourn. You go up an' get that cayuse out before the price
goes up any higher—you don't know that man like I do," remarked the man
behind the bar earnestly. "That feller Townsend can shoot the eyes out
of a small dog at ten miles, purty nigh. Do you savvy my drift?"

"I won't pay him a cussed cent, an' when he goes to sell that piebald at
auction, I'll be on hand with a gun; I'll get one somewhere, all right,
even if I have to steal it. Then I'll shoot out
his
eyes at ten paces.
Why, he's a two-laigged hold-up! That man would—" he stopped as a
stranger entered the room. "Hey, stranger! Don't you leave that cayuse
of yourn outside all alone or that coyote of a marshal will steal it,
shore. He's the biggest thief I ever knowed. He'll lift yore animal
quick as a wink!" Fisher warned, excitedly.

The stranger looked at him in surprise and then smiled. "Is it usual for
a marshal to steal cayuses? Somewhat out of line, ain't it?" he asked
Fisher, glancing at the bartender for light.

"I don't care what's the rule—that marshal just stole my cayuse; an'
he'll take yourn, too, if you ain't careful," Fisher replied.

"Well," drawled the stranger, smiling still more, "I reckon I ain't
going to stay out there an' watch it, an' I can't bring it in here.
But I reckon it'll be all right. You see, I carry 'big medicine'
agin hoss-thieves," he replied, tapping his holster and smiling as he
remembered the time, not long past, when he himself had been accused of
being one. "I'll take a chance if he will—what'll you all have?"

"Little whiskey," replied Fisher, uneasily, worrying because he could
not stand for a return treat. "But, say; you keep yore eye on that
animal, just the same," he added, and then hurriedly gave his reasons.
"An' the worst part of the whole thing is that I ain't got no gun, an'
can't seem to borrow none, neither," he added, wistfully eyeing the
stranger's Colt. "I gambled mine away to the bartender here an' he won't
lemme borrow it for five minutes!"

"Why, I never heard tell of such a thing before!" exclaimed the
stranger, hardly believing his ears, and aghast at the thought that such
conditions could exist. "Friend," he said, addressing the bartender,
"how is it that this sort of thing can go on in this town?" When the
bartender had explained at some length, his interested listener smote
the bar with a heavy fist and voiced his outraged feelings. "I'll shore
be plumb happy to spread that coyote marshal all over his cussed pound!
Say, come with me; I'm going down there right now an' get that cayuse,
an' if the marshal opens his mouth to peep I'll get him, too. I'm
itching for a chance to tunnel a man like him. Come on an' see the
show!"

"Not much!" retorted Fisher. "While I am some pleased to meet a white
man, an' have a deep an' abiding gratitude for yore noble offer, I can't
let you do it. He put it over on me, an' I'm the one that's got to shoot
him up. He's mine, my pudding; an' I'm hogging him all to myself. That
is one luxury I can indulge in even if I am broke; an' I'm sorry, but
I can't give you cards. Seeing, however, as you are so friendly to the
cause of liberty an' justice, suppose you lend me yore gun for about
three minutes by the watch. From what I've been told about this town
such an act will win for you the eternal love an' gratitude of a
down-trodden people; yore gun will blaze the way to liberty an' light,
freedom an' the right to own yore own property, an' keep it. All I ask
is that I be the undeserving medium."

"A-men," sighed the bartender. "Deacon Jones will now pass down the
aisle an' collect the buttons an' tin money."

"Stranger," continued Fisher, warming up, when he saw that his words
had not produced the desired result, "King James the Twelfth, on the
memorable an' blood-soaked field of Trafalgar, gave men their rights. On
that great day he signed the Magnet Charter, and proved himself as
great a liberator as the sainted Lincoln. You, on this most auspicious
occasion, hold in yore strong hand the destiny of this town—the women
an' children in this cursed community will rise up an' bless you forever
an' pass yore name down to their ancestors as a man of deeds an' honor!
Let us pause to consider this—"

"Hold that pause!" interrupted the astounded bartender hurriedly, and
with shaking voice. "String it out till I get untangled! I ain't up much
on history, so I won't take no chance with that; but I want to tell our
eloquent guest that there ain't no women
or
children in this town. An'
if there was, I sort of reckon their ancestors would be born first. What
do you think about it—"

"Let us pause to consider the shameful an' burning
indignity
perpetrated upon us to-day!" continued Fisher, unheeding the bartender's
words. "I, a peaceful, law-abiding
citizen
of this
glorious
Commonwealth, a free an'
equal
member of a liberty-loving nation, a
nation whose standard is,
now
and forever, 'Gimme liberty or gimme
det', a
nation
that stands for all the conceivable benefits that
mankind may enjoy, a
nation
that scintillates pyrotechnically over the
prostitution of power—"

Bang!
went the bartender's fist on the counter. "Hey! Pause again!
Wait a minute! Go back to 'shameful an' burning,' and gimme a chance!"

"—that stands for an even break, I, Nathaniel G. Fisher, have been
deprived of one of my inalienable rights, the right of locomotion to
distant an' other parts.
An'
I say, right here an' now, that I won't
allow no spavined individual with thieving prehensils to—"

"Has that pound-keeper got a rifle?" calmly interrupted the stranger,
without a pang of remorse.

"He has. Thus has it allus been with tyrants—well armed, fortified by
habit an' tradition—"

"Then you won't get my gun, savvy? We'll find another way to get that
cayuse as long as you feel that the marshal is yore hunting. Besides,
this man's gall deserves some respect; it is genius, an' to pump genius
full of cold lead is to act rash. Now, suppose you tell me when this
auction is due to come off."

"Oh, not for a week; he wants to run up the board an' keep expenses.
Tyrants, such as him—"

"Shore," interposed the bartender, "he'll make the expenses equal what
he gets for the cayuse, no matter what it comes to. An' he's the whole
town, an' the justice of the peace, besides. What he says goes."

"Well, I'm the Governor of the State an' I've got the Supreme Court
right here in my holster, so I reckon I can reverse his official acts
an' fill his legal opinions full of holes," the stranger replied,
laughing heartily. "Bartender, will you help me play a little joke on
His Honore, the Town,—just a little harmless joke?"

"Well, that all depends whether the joke is harmless on
me
. You see,
he can shoot like the devil—he allus knows when a man is going to draw,
an' gets his gun out first. I ain't got no respect for him, but I take
off my hat to his gunplay, all right."

The stranger smiled. "Well, I can shoot a bit myself. But I shore wish
he'd hold that auction quick—I've got to go on home without losing
any more time. Fisher, suppose you go down to the pound and dare that
tumble-bug to hold the auction this afternoon. Tell him that you'll
shoot him full of holes if he goes pulling off any auction to-day, an'
dare him to try it. I want it to come off before night, an' I reckon
that'll hustle it along."

"I'll do anything to get the edge on that thief," replied Fisher,
quickly, "but don't you reckon I'd better tote a gun, going down an'
bearding such a thief in his own den? You know I allus like to shoot
when I'm being shot at."

"Well, I don't blame you; it's only a petty weakness," grinned the
stranger, hanging onto his Colt as if fearing that the other would
snatch it and run. "But you'll do better without any gun—me an' the
bartender don't want to have to go down there an' bring you back on a
plank."

"All right, then," sighed Fisher, reluctantly, "but he'll jump the price
again. He'll fine me for contempt of court an' make me pay money I ain't
got for disturbing him. But I'm game—so long."

When he had gained the street, the stranger turned to the bartender.
"Now, friend, you tell me if this man of gall, this Mr. Townsend, has
got many friends in town—anybody that'll be likely to pot shoot from
the back when things get warm. I can't watch both ends unless I know
what I'm up against."