Friar Tuck

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BENEFITS OF FASTING

  The next day Horace walked easier 'n any of us. Now I'm tellin' thisto ya straight 'n' you can believe it or not just as ya please; butthat little cuss stepped right along, began to notice the scenery, an'even cracked a few jokes now an' again; while me an' Tank just ploddedwith our minds fixed on the meal we were goin' to get that night.Horace had give up all thought o' meals, so they didn't pester himany.

  At the end of the third day Horace had lost his appetite complete.Friar Tuck had swore that hunger didn't worry a man more 'n threedays, an' sure enough, it didn't. Horace didn't care whether he everet again or not. He'd get a little dizzy when he'd start out, an' oncein a while he'd feel a bit fainty; but as far as bein' ravenous went,me an Tank had him beat a mile.

  "Where is the joke o' this fool trip?" growled Tank to me on theevenin' of the fourth day as we were eatin' the supper Spider Kelleyhad brought out. "He ain't a human at all, Horace ain't; he's areptile, an' can live without food."

  Spider was tickled a lot, and said he didn't care if he did lose hisbet, that it was worth it to find how everlastin' tough a littlehalf-hand like Horace could be when drove to it. I'd been thinkin' itover all day, but I didn't say anything.

  Friar Tuck had said it was a question of will power, more 'n anythingelse: that if a man just held his thoughts away from food it wouldn'tbother him; but if he kept thinkin' of it, the digestin' juices wouldflow into his stomach an' make him think he was starvin'; so I wasminded to try a new plan next day.

  "Spider," I sez, "you put a cow an' calf up in Nufty's Corral"--whichwas the name of a little shut-in park we would go through the nextafternoon. "Put 'em there in the mornin', a cow with an off brand, ifyou can find one, an' trim their hoofs down close, so they won't goback to the bunch. Remember 'at we're on foot, an' trim 'em closeenough to make it hurt 'em to walk. I'm goin' to make Horace hungry ifI can."

  "I hate to play again' him and my own bet," sez Spider; "but I'll havethe cow there, just to see what you're up to. If you're goin' tobutcher it, though, I don't see why a young steer wouldn't be better."

  "I'll count on you havin' it there," sez I; an' then Spider rode backto the ranch house, an' me an' Tank went to sleep.

  Next mornin' me an' Tank put the cartridges out of our belts into ourpockets. As soon as we started to walk I began to talk about myhunger, an' weakness, an' the empty feelin' in my head an' stomach. Atfirst Horace didn't pay any heed; but from the start, ol' TankWilliams caught every symptom I suggested; until I feared he'd curl upon the trail an' die o' starvation. Finally, though, Horace began topay heed to my suggestions, an' to sigh an' moan a little. Whatfinally got him was my gnawin' at my rope an' gauntlet. Tank an' I hadsaved our ropes, 'cause we expected to have need of 'em; and when nooncame an' I sat with a stupid look in my face, chewin' first the rope,an' then the wrist o' the gauntlet, Horace began to have some of thesymptoms I was fishin' for. Finally he borrowed one o' my gauntlets,an' after he had munched on it a while, he was as hungry as any onecould wish.

  "I can't go another peg," he sez when I got up to start on again.

  "How does that come?" I asked him. "When we stopped to rest you wasfeelin' more chipper 'n any of us."

  "I'm dyin' o' hunger," he replied, solemn. "I've got a gnawin' pain inmy stomach, an' I'm all in. I fear my stomach is punctured or stucktogether or somethin'."

  I had had a lot o' discussions with Friar Tuck about the power o'suggestion; but I had never took much stock in it. I could see now,though, that it actually did work. As long as Horace was tellin'himself that everything was all right, why, it was all right. Thenwhen I suggested 'at we were dyin' of hunger, why, he actually beganto die of hunger; an' it was wonderful to see the change in him. Heshowed us how he had ganted down; and the fact was, his bones hadbecome purty prominent without any help from suggestin'. He didn'thave any more belly 'n a snake; but his eyes were bright, an' his skinclear, except that it was peelin' off purty splotchy, from sun-burn.

  We finally left him an' started on; and after we'd got some distance,he staggered after us; but he was just goin' on his nerve now, an' notgettin' much joy out of existence.

  About four in the afternoon, we reached Nufty's Corral, a fine littlepark with only a narrow entrance at each end. Horace was up with us bythis time, an' we were all ploddin' along head down. Suddenly Horacegrabbed us by the arms. "Hush!" he sez.

  "What's up?" sez I, lookin' at him.

  "Look," he whispers, pointin' at the cow an' calf; "there's food."

  We drew back an' consulted about it. "The great danger after a fast,"I sez in warnin', "lies in overeatin'. All we can do is to drink alittle blood for the first few hours."

  "Why can't we broil a steak over some coals?" sez Horace.

  "It would kill us to eat steak now," sez I.

  He held out for the steak; but I finally sez that if he won't promiseto be temperate an' eat only what I tell him, I'll drive off the cow;and then he comes around, and agrees to it.

  "You sneak around to the far openin', Tank," I sez, then I pauses, an'looks at him as though shocked. "Where's your cartridges, man?" Iasked.

  Tank felt of his belt, and seemed plumb beat out, then he looked atmine, an' yelled, "Where's yours?"

  We both sat down on stones an' went over what we had done every minuteo' the time since we had started out; until Horace became frantic, an'sez: "What's the difference what became of 'em? Your revolvers areloaded. You can sure kill one cow out o' twenty-four shots."

  "Twenty shots," I corrected. "We allus carry the hammer on an emptychamber; an' I'm so bloomin' weak I doubt if I could hit a cow in tenshots."

  Horace turned loose an' told us what he thought of us, an' it wasedifyin' to hearken to him--he hit the nail on the head so often.Finally I sez: "Well, a man can do no more than try--Go ahead, Tank,but don't let her get by you, whatever happens."

  The cow, which was a homely grade-whiteface with a splotch on her nosewhich made it look as if most of the nose had been cut off, stood inthe center of the park, an' she was beginnin' to get uneasy, althoughthe wind was from her way.

  As soon as Tank got to his entrance he shot in the air; an' she camechargin' down on me. I shot over her, an' she charged back. We keptthis up until Horace lost patience an' called me a confounded dub."Here," sez I, "the's two cartridges left. You fire 'em, I won't."

  At first he refused, but he was desperate, and finally after I'd toldhim to use both hands, he took a shot. The cow was standin' closest tous, but lookin' Tank's way, an' Horace nicked her in the ham. Insteadof chargin' Tank, like a sensible cow, she came for us head on. Now,when a bull charges, he picks out somethin' to steer for, then closeshis eyes, and sets sail; but a cow keeps her eyes open, an' she don'taim to waste any plunges either. Horace stood out in the center of theentrance an' banged away again, strikin' the ground about ten feet infront of him.

  "Run!" I yells to him, jumpin' back behind a big rock, "Run!"

  He forgot all about bein' hungry, an' he started to backtrail like ascared jack-rabbit. The cow had forgot all about havin' had her hoofspared, an' she took after him like a hungry coyote. As she passed me,I roped her, took a snub around the rock, an' flopped her; but she didjust what I thought she'd do--rolled to her feet an' took after me.She was angry. I'd have given right smart for a tough little ponybetween my knees.

  The cow had forgot all about havin' had her hoofspared, an' she took after him like a hungry coyote]

  The rock was too big to get a half hitch over, so I just ran at rightangles from her, hopin' to stretch out more rope 'n she could cover. Idid it by a few feet; but she swung around into my rope head on, an'this flung me up again' her side. I managed to hang on to the rope,however, an' this fixed her, 'cause she'd have had to pull that rockover before she could 'a' come any farther. Horace had stopped an' wasgappin' at us from a safe distance; but Tank arrived by this time an'put another rope on her an' we had her cross-tied between two bigrocks by the time Hora
ce arrived.

  "What ya goin' to kill her with?" he asked, his eyes dancin' like anInjun's at the beef whack-up.

  "My cartridges are all gone," sez Tank.

  "Mine too," sez I.

  "Can't you use a knife, or a stone?" sez Horace, the dude.

  "You can try it if you want to," sez I; "but hanged if I will."

  He took a big stone an' walked to the head of the cow, but his nervegave out, an' he threw down the stone. "What in thunder did you tieher up for, then?" sez he.

  "I beg your pardon," sez I, "but I thought perhaps she might be alittle vexed with you on account o' your shootin' her up. She washeaded your way."

  He sat down on a stone an' looked at the cow resentful. Suddenly hisface lit up. "Why don't you milk her?" sez he. "We can live on milkfor weeks."

  It's funny how much alike hungry animals look. As Horace sat on thestone with his anxious face, his poppin' eyes, his mussed upside-burns, an' the water drippin' from his mouth at thought o' themilk, he looked so much like a setter pup I once knew that it was allI could do to hold a straight face.

  "Do you know how to milk, Tank?" I sez.

  "I don't," sez Tank; "nor I don't know what it tastes like."

  "Go ahead an' milk her, Mr. Bradford," I sez. "You're the only onewhat knows how to milk, or who cares to drink it. What you goin' tomilk it in?"

  "I never milked in my life," sez he; "but I saw it done once when Iwas a boy, an' I'm goin' to try to milk in my hat."

  He had a bad time of it; but he only got kicked twice, an' both timesit was short, glancin' blows, not much more 'n shoves. Finally, hecame over to where me an' Tank was settin' an' flopped himself downbeside us. "Can't you strangle her with those ropes?" he sez, in whatmight well be called deadly earnest.

  We shook our heads, an' continued to sit there lookin' at the cow asthough we expected she'd point the way out of our trouble. Presentlythe calf remembered his own appetite, an' rushed up an' gave ademonstration of what neat an' orderly milkin' was. Horace sighed."Gee, I bet that's good," he said, the water drippin' from his lipsagain. He had been four days without food, walkin' all that timethrough the mountains, sleepin' out doors with no cover but a slicker;and he had about burned up all his waste products, which Friar Tucksaid was a city man's greatest handicap. His eyes got a little red ashe watched the calf, an' I saw that he meant to slaughter it; so I sezto him: "That's the way to milk, Mr. Bradford. Why don't you sneak upon the other side an' try it that way, the same time the calf is?"

  He studied a moment, an' then shook his head. "No, she could tell mefrom the calf," he said sorrowful. "Our foreheads are shapeddifferent, an' I'd have to get down on my hands and knees. She'd tellme in a minute, an' I don't want to be on my hands an' knees when shekicks me."

  "We could throw an' hog-tie her," sez Tank; "and you could get it easyan' comfortable. Would you want us to do that, Mr. Bradford?"

  Horace jumped to his feet an' shook his fist in Tank's face. "Don'tcall me Mister again," he yelled. "I'm plumb sick of it. If I everlive to get another bath an' back East where the's food in plenty,why, I'll take up the Mister again; but now that I've got to a pointwhere I have to suck milk from a hog-tied cow, you call me Horace, oreven Dinky--which was my nickname at school. Yes, for heaven's sake,tie the cow. I have to have milk, an' that's the only way I see to getit."

  Well, Tank an' I was so full o' laugh we could hardly truss up thecow; but we finally got her on her back so 'at she couldn't do nothin'but snap her tail, an' then Horace threw his hat on the ground, an'started in. I was entirely joyful: I knew 'at Spider Kelley, an' asmany o' the boys as could sneak away, were watchin' us from up on thehill, an' this was the grand triumph of my treatment for nerves.

  Horace approached the cow with consid'able caution, as she was in anawkward position. The calf had been interrupted in his meal, before hehad squenched his thirst, an' he was still prospectin' about on hisown hook.

  "Here," said Horace, givin' him a push, "this is my turn."

  You know how a calf is: a calf ain't afeared o' nothin' except hunger.Here was his food-supply bein' robbed, right when he was needin' it.He blatted down in his throat, an' tried to nose Horace out of theway. Horace was findin' that milk the best stuff he had ever tasted,an' he fought off the calf with his right hand, while he steadiedhimself by puttin' his left on the hind leg o' the calf's mother, an'got a nice coat o' creamy froth in his side-burns. He was so blamehungry he didn't see a speck o' humor in it; but me an' Tank nearlydied.

  "Say," sez Horace, raisin' his head, the milk drippin' from his lips,"can't one o' you fellers fend off this calf till I finish?"

  Tank held the calf while I advised Horace to be temperate, an' after abit he gave a sigh an' said, that that was all he could hold justthen, but not to let the cow escape. We loosened her, left one o' theropes on for a drag picket, an' took off the other. She was purty wellsubdued; but we refused to give Horace any more milk that night, an'he went to sleep before we had a fire built. Spider Kelley waswabblin' with laughter when he brought us our supper. He had been theonly one who could stay after bringin' up the cow; but he said hewouldn't 'a' missed it for three jobs.