CHAPTER XIV
THE STRANGER'S PLAN
Fisher, wild with rage, returned to the Paradise and profanely unfoldedthe tale of his burning wrongs to the bartender and demanded the loan ofhis gun, which the bartender promptly refused. The present owner of thegun liked Fisher very much for being such a sport and sympathized withhim deeply, but he did not want to have such a pleasing acquaintancekilled.
"Now, see here: you cool down an' I'll lend you fifteen dollars on thatsaddle of yourn. You go up an' get that cayuse out before the pricegoes up any higher--you don't know that man like I do," remarked the manbehind the bar earnestly. "That feller Townsend can shoot the eyes outof 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 atauction, 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 astranger entered the room. "Hey, stranger! Don't you leave that cayuseof 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 animalquick as a wink!" Fisher warned, excitedly.
The stranger looked at him in surprise and then smiled. "Is it usual fora marshal to steal cayuses? Somewhat out of line, ain't it?" he askedFisher, 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'tgoing 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 heremembered the time, not long past, when he himself had been accused ofbeing one. "I'll take a chance if he will--what'll you all have?"
"Little whiskey," replied Fisher, uneasily, worrying because he couldnot stand for a return treat. "But, say; you keep yore eye on thatanimal, 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 thestranger's Colt. "I gambled mine away to the bartender here an' he won'tlemme borrow it for five minutes!"
"Why, I never heard tell of such a thing before!" exclaimed thestranger, hardly believing his ears, and aghast at the thought that suchconditions could exist. "Friend," he said, addressing the bartender,"how is it that this sort of thing can go on in this town?" When thebartender had explained at some length, his interested listener smotethe bar with a heavy fist and voiced his outraged feelings. "I'll shorebe 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'mitching for a chance to tunnel a man like him. Come on an' see theshow!"
"Not much!" retorted Fisher. "While I am some pleased to meet a whiteman, an' have a deep an' abiding gratitude for yore noble offer, I can'tlet you do it. He put it over on me, an' I'm the one that's got to shoothim up. He's mine, my pudding; an' I'm hogging him all to myself. Thatis one luxury I can indulge in even if I am broke; an' I'm sorry, butI can't give you cards. Seeing, however, as you are so friendly to thecause of liberty an' justice, suppose you lend me yore gun for aboutthree minutes by the watch. From what I've been told about this townsuch an act will win for you the eternal love an' gratitude of adown-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 askis that I be the undeserving medium."
"A-men," sighed the bartender. "Deacon Jones will now pass down theaisle an' collect the buttons an' tin money."
"Stranger," continued Fisher, warming up, when he saw that his wordshad not produced the desired result, "King James the Twelfth, on thememorable an' blood-soaked field of Trafalgar, gave men their rights. Onthat great day he signed the Magnet Charter, and proved himself asgreat a liberator as the sainted Lincoln. You, on this most auspiciousoccasion, hold in yore strong hand the destiny of this town--the womenan' children in this cursed community will rise up an' bless you foreveran' 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, andwith shaking voice. "String it out till I get untangled! I ain't up muchon history, so I won't take no chance with that; but I want to tell oureloquent 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. Whatdo you think about it--"
"Let us pause to consider the shameful an' burning _indignity_perpetrated upon us to-day!" continued Fisher, unheeding the bartender'swords. "I, a peaceful, law-abiding _citizen_ of this _glorious_Commonwealth, a free an' _equal_ member of a liberty-loving nation, anation whose standard is, _now_ and forever, 'Gimme liberty or gimmedet', a _nation_ that stands for all the conceivable benefits thatmankind may enjoy, a _nation_ that scintillates pyrotechnically over theprostitution 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 beendeprived of one of my inalienable rights, the right of locomotion todistant an' other parts. _An'_ I say, right here an' now, that I won'tallow 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 byhabit an' tradition--"
"Then you won't get my gun, savvy? We'll find another way to get thatcayuse 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 geniusfull of cold lead is to act rash. Now, suppose you tell me when thisauction 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 whathe gets for the cayuse, no matter what it comes to. An' he's the wholetown, 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 Courtright here in my holster, so I reckon I can reverse his official actsan' fill his legal opinions full of holes," the stranger replied,laughing heartily. "Bartender, will you help me play a little joke onHis 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 takeoff my hat to his gunplay, all right."
The stranger smiled. "Well, I can shoot a bit myself. But I shore wishhe'd hold that auction quick--I've got to go on home without losingany more time. Fisher, suppose you go down to the pound and dare thattumble-bug to hold the auction this afternoon. Tell him that you'llshoot 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 reckonthat'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 shootwhen I'm being shot at."
"Well, I don't blame you; it's only a petty weakness," grinned thestranger, hanging onto his Colt as if fearing that the other wouldsnatch it and run. "But you'll do better without any gun--me an' thebartender don't want to have to go down there an' bring you back on aplank."
"All right, then," sighed Fisher, reluctantly, "but he'll jump the priceagain. He'll fine me for contempt of court an' make me pay money I ain'tgot for disturbing him. But I'm game--so long."
When he had gained the street, the st
ranger turned to the bartender."Now, friend, you tell me if this man of gall, this Mr. Townsend, hasgot many friends in town--anybody that'll be likely to pot shoot fromthe back when things get warm. I can't watch both ends unless I knowwhat I'm up against."
"_No!_ Every man in town hates him," answered the bartender, hastily,and with emphasis.
"Ah, that's good. Now, I wonder if you could see 'most everybody that'sin town now an' get 'em to promise to help me by letting me run this allby myself. All I want them to do is not to say a word. It ain't hard tokeep still when you want to."
"Why, I reckon I might see 'em--there ain't many here this time ofday," responded the bartender. "But what's yore game, anyhow?" he asked,suddenly growing suspicious.
"It's just a little scheme I figgered out," the stranger replied, andthen he confided in the bartender, who jigged a few fancy steps to showhis appreciation of the other's genius. His suspicions left him at once,and he hastened out to tell the inhabitants of the town to follow hisinstructions to the letter, and he knew they would obey, and be glad,hilariously glad, to do so. While he was hurrying around giving hisinstructions, the CG puncher returned to the hotel and reported.
"Well, it worked, all right," Fisher growled. "I told him what I'd doto him if he tried to auction that cayuse off an' he retorted that if Ididn't shut up an' mind my own business, that he'd sell the horse thisnoon, at twelve o'clock, in the public square, wherever that is. I toldhim he was a coyote and dared him to do it. Told him I'd pump him fullof air ducts if he didn't wait till next week. Said I had the promise ofa gun an' that it'd give me great pleasure to use it on him if he triedany auctioneering at my expense this noon. Then he fined me five dollarsmore, swore that he'd show me what it meant to dare the marshal ofRawhide an' insult the dignity of the court an' town council, an' alsothat he'd shoot my liver all through my system if I didn't leave him tohis reflections. Now, look here, stranger; noon is only two hours awayan' I'm due to lose my outfit: what are _you_ going to do to get me outof this mess?" he finished anxiously, hands on hips.
"You did real well, very fine, indeed," replied the stranger, smilingwith content. "An' don't you worry about that outfit--I'm going to getit back for you an' a little bit more. So, as long as you don't losenothing, you ain't got no kick coming, have you? An' you ain't got nointerest in what I'm going to do. Just sit tight an' keep yore eyes an'ears open at noon. Meantime, if you want something to do to keep youbusy, practise making speeches--you ought to be ashamed to be punchingcows an' working for a living when you could use yore talents an' get alot of graft besides. Any man who can say as much on nothing as youcan ought to be in the Senate representing some railroad company orwaterpower steal--you don't have to work there, just loaf an' takeeasy money for cheating the people what put you there. Now, don't getmad--I'm only stringing you: I wouldn't be mean enough to call you asenator. To tell the truth, I think yo're too honest to even think ofsuch a thing. But go ahead an' practise--_I_ don't mind it a bit."
"Huh! I couldn't go to Congress," laughed Fisher. "I'd have to practiseby getting elected mayor of some town an' then go to the Legislature forthe finishing touches."
"Mr. Townsend would beat you out," murmured the stranger, looking out ofthe window and wishing for noon. He sauntered over to a chair, placedit where he could see his horse, and took things easy. The bartenderreturned with several men at his heels, and all were grinning andjoking. They took up their places against the bar and indulged infrequent fits of chuckling, not letting their eyes stray from the man inthe chair and the open street through the door, where the auction wasto be held. They regarded the stranger in the light of a would-bepublic benefactor, a martyr, who was to provide the town with a littleexcitement before he followed his predecessors into the grave. Perhapshe would _not_ be killed, perhaps he would shoot the pound-keeper andgeneral public nuisance--but ah, this was the stuff of which dreams weremade: the marshal would never be killed, he would thrive and outlive hisfellow-townsmen, and die in bed at a ripe old age.
One of the citizens, dangling his legs from the card table, again lookedclosely at the man with the plan, and then turned to a companion besidehim. "I've seen that there feller som'ers, sometime," he whispered. "I_know_ I have. But I'll be teetotally dod-blasted if I can place him."
"Well, Jim; I never saw him afore, an' I don't know who he is," repliedthe other, refilling his pipe with elaborate care, "but if he can killTownsend to-day, I'll be so plumb joyous I won't know what to do withm'self."
"I'm afraid he won't, though," remarked another, lolling back againstthe bar. "The marshal was born to hang--nobody can beat him on the draw.But, anyhow, we're going to see some fun."
The first speaker, still straining his memory for a clue to thestranger's identity, pulled out a handful of silver and placed it onthe table. "I'll bet that he makes good," he offered, but there were notakers.
The stranger now lazily arose and stepped into the doorway, leaningagainst the jamb and shaking his holster sharply to loosen the gunfor action. He glanced quickly behind him and spoke curtly: "Remember,now--_I_ am to do all the talking at this auction; you fellers just lookon."
A mumble of assent replied to him, and the townsmen craned their necksto look out. A procession slowly wended its way up the street, led bythe marshal, astride a piebald horse bearing the crude brand of the CG.Three men followed him and numerous dogs of several colors, sizes, andages roamed at will, in a listless, bored way, between the horse andthe men. The dust arose sluggishly and slowly dissipated in the hot,shimmering air, and a fly buzzed with wearying persistence against thedirty glass in the front window.
The marshal, peering out from under the pulled-down brim of his Stetson,looked critically at the sleepy horse standing near the open door of theParadise and sought its brand, but in vain, for it was standing withthe wrong side towards him. Then he glanced at the man in the door, apuzzled expression stealing over his face. He had known that man once,but time and events had wiped him nearly out of his memory and he couldnot place him. He decided that the other horse could wait until he hadsold the one he was on, and, stopping before the door of the Paradise,he raised his left arm, his right arm lying close to his side, not farfrom the holster on his thigh.
"Gentlemen an' feller-citizens," he began: "As marshal of this boomingcity, I am about to offer for sale to the highest bidder this A Number1 piebald, pursooant to the decree of the local court an' with thesanction of the town council an' the mayor. This same sale is for to paythe town for the board an' keep of this animal, an' to square the finein such cases made an' provided. It's sound in wind an' limb, fourteenhan's high, an' in all ways a beautiful piece of hoss-flesh. Now,gentlemen, how much am I bid for this cayuse? Remember, before youmake me any offer, that this animal is broke to punching cows an' is afirst-class cayuse."
The crowd in the Paradise had flocked out into the street and oozedalong the front of the building, while the stranger now leanedcarelessly against his own horse, critically looking over the one onsale. Fisher, uneasy and worried, squirmed close at hand and glancedcovertly from his horse and saddle to the guns in the belts on themembers of the crowd.
It was the stranger who broke the silence: "Two bits I bid--two bits,"he said, very quietly, whereat the crowd indulged in a faint snicker anda few nudges.
The marshal looked at him and then ignored him. "How much, gentlemen?"he asked, facing the crowd again.
"Two bits," repeated the stranger, as the crowd remained silent.
"Two bits!" yelled the marshal, glaring at him angrily: "_Two bits!_Why, the _look_ in this cayuse's eyes is worth four! Look at the spiritin them eyes, look at the intelligence! The saddle alone is worth aclean forty dollars of any man's money. I am out here to sell thisanimal to the highest bidder; the sale's begun, an' I want bids, notjokes. Now, who'll start it off?" he demanded, glancing around; but noone had anything to say except the terse stranger, who appeared to begetting irritated.
"You've got a starter--I've given you a bid. I bid two
bits--t-w-ob-i-t-s, twenty-five cents. Now go ahead with yore auction."
The marshal thought he saw an attempt at humor, and since he was feelingquite happy, and since he knew that good humor is conducive to goodbidding, he smiled, all the time, however, racking his memory for thename of the humorist. So he accepted the bid: "All right, this gentlemanbids two bits. Two bits I am bid--two bits. Twenty-five cents. Who'llmake it twenty-five dollars? Two bits--who says twenty-five dollars? Ah,did _you_ say twenty-five dollars?" he snapped, leveling an accusing andthreatening fore-finger at the man nearest him, who squirmed restlesslyand glanced at the stranger. "_Did you say twenty-five dollars?_" heshouted.
The stranger came to the rescue. "He did not. He hasn't opened hismouth. But _I_ said twenty-five _cents_," quietly observed the humorist.
"Who'll gimme thirty? Who'll gimme thirty dollars? Did I hear thirtydollars? Did I hear twenty-five dollars bid? Who said thirty dollars?Did _you_ say twenty-five dollars?"
"How could he when he was talking politics to the man behind him?" askedthe stranger. "I said two bits," he added complacently, as he watchedthe auctioneer closely.
"I want twenty-five dollars--an' you shut yore blasted mouth!" snappedthe marshal at the persistent twenty-five-cent man. He did not seethe fire smouldering in the squinting eyes so alertly watching him."Twenty-five dollars--not a cent less takes the cayuse. Why, gentlemen,he's worth twenty in _cans_! Gimme twenty-five dollars, somebody. _I_bid twenty-five. I want thirty. I want thirty, gentlemen; you must gimmethirty. _I_ bid twenty-five dollars--who's going to make it thirty?"
"Show us yore twenty-five an' she's yourn," remarked the stranger, withexasperating assurance, while Fisher grew pale with excitement. Thestranger was standing clear of his horse now, and alert readinesswas stamped all over him. "You accepted my bid--show yore twenty-fivedollars or take my two bits."
"You close that face of yourn!" exploded the marshal, angrily. "I don'tmind a little fun, but you've got altogether too damned much to say.You've queered the bidding, an' now you shut up!"
"I said two bits an' I mean just that. You show yore twenty-five orgimme that cayuse on my bid," retorted the stranger.
"By the pans of Julius Caesar!" shouted the marshal. "I'll put you tosleep so you'll never wake up if I hears any more about you an' yore twobits!"
"Show me, Rednose," snapped the other, his gun out in a flash. "I wantthat cayuse, an' I want it quick. You show me twenty-five dollars orI'll take it out from under you on my bid, you yaller dog! _Stop it!_Shut up! That's suicide, that is. Others have tried it an' failed, an'yo're no sleight-of-hand gun-man. This is the first time I ever paid ahoss-thief in _silver_, or bought stolen goods, but everything has tohave a beginning. You get nervous with that hand of yourn an' I'll cureyou of it! Git off that piebald, an' quick!"
The marshal felt stunned and groped for a way out, but the gun under hisnose was as steady as a rock. He sat there stupidly, not knowing enoughto obey orders.
"Come, get off that cayuse," sharply commanded the stranger. "An' I'lltake yore Winchester as a fine for this high-handed business you've beencarrying on. You may be the local court an' all the town officials, butI'm the Governor, an' here's my Supreme Court, as I was saying to theboys a little while ago. Yo're overruled. Get off that cayuse, an' don'twaste no more time about it, neither!"
The marshal glared into the muzzle of the weapon and felt a sinking inthe pit of his stomach. Never before had he failed to anticipate thepull of a gun. As the stranger said, there must always be a beginning, afirst time. He was thinking quickly now; he was master of himself again,but he realized that he was in a tight place unless he obeyed the manwith the drop. Not a man in town would help him; on the other hand, theywere all against him, and hugely enjoying his discomfiture. With somemen he could afford to take chances and jerk at his gun even when atsuch a disadvantage, but--
"Stranger," he said slowly, "what's yore name?"
The crowd listened eagerly.
"My _friends_ call me Hopalong Cassidy; other people, other things--yougimme that cayuse an' that Winchester. Here! Hand the gun to Fisher, sothere won't be no lamentable accidents: I don't want to shoot you, 'lessI have to."
"They're both yourn," sighed Mr. Townsend, remembering a certainday over near Alameda, when he had seen Mr. Cassidy at gun-play. Hedismounted slowly and sorrowfully. "Do I--do I get my two bits?" heasked.
"You shore do--yore gall is worth it," said Mr. Cassidy, turning thepiebald over to its overjoyed owner, who was already arranging furthergambling with his friend, the bartender.
Mr. Townsend pocketed the one bid, surveyed glumly the hilarious crowdflocking in to the bar to drink to their joy in his defeat, and wandereddisconsolately back to the pound. He was never again seen in thatlocality, or by any of the citizens of Rawhide, for between dark anddawn he resumed his travels, bound for some locality far removed fromlimping, red-headed drawbacks.