CHAPTER VIII.
Tom and Jerry; Wheelers.
"Obstinacy or love, that a-way, when folks pushes 'em to excess, is shorebad medicine. Which I'd be aheap loath to count the numbers them twoattribootes harries to the tomb. Why, son, it's them sentiments thatkills off my two wheel mules, Tom an' Jerry."
The Old Cattleman appeared to be on the verge of abstract discussion. Asa metaphysician, he was not to be borne with. There was one method ofescape; I interfered to coax the currents of his volubility into otherand what were to me, more interesting channels.
"Tell me of the trail; or a story about animals," I urged. "You weresaying recently that perfect systems of oral if not verbal communicationexisted among mules, and that you had listened for hours to their gossip.Give me the history of one of your freighting trips and what befell alongthe trail; and don't forget the comment thereon--wise, doubtless, itwas--of your long-eared servants of the rein and trace-chain."
"Tell you what chances along the trail? Son, you-all opens a wide-flungrange for my mem'ry to graze over. I might tell you how I'm lost once,freightin' from Vegas into the Panhandle, an' am two days withoutwater--blazin' Jooly days so hot you couldn't touch tire, chain, orbolt-head without fryin' your fingers. An' how at the close of thesecond day when I hauls in at Cabra Springs, I lays down by that cold an'blessed fountain an' drinks till I aches. Which them two days of thirstterrorises me to sech degrees that for one plumb year tharafter, I nevermeets up with water when I don't drink a quart, an' act like I'm layin'in ag'in another parched spell.
"Or I might relate how I stops over one night from Springer on my way tothe Canadian at a Triangle-dot camp called Kingman. This yere is aone-room stone house, stark an' sullen an' alone on the desolate plains,an' no scenery worth namin' but a half-grown feeble spring. This Kingmanain't got no windows; its door is four-inch thick of oak; an' thar'sloopholes for rifles in each side which shows the sports who builds thatedifice in the stormy long-ago is lookin' for more trouble than comfortan' prepares themse'fs. The two cow-punchers I finds in charge is scaredto a standstill; they allows this Kingman's ha'nted. They tells me howtwo parties who once abides thar--father an' son they be--gets downed bya hold-up whose aim is pillage, an' who comes cavortin' along an'butchers said fam'ly in their sleep. The cow-punchers declar's theyhears the spooks go scatterin' about the room as late as the night beforeI trails in. I ca'ms 'em--not bein' subject to nerve stampedes myse'f,an' that same midnight when the sperits comes ha'ntin' about ag'in, Iturns outen my blankets an' lays said spectres with the butt of my mulewhip--the same when we strikes a light an' counts 'em up bein' a coupleof kangaroo rats. This yere would front up for a mighty thrillin' taleif I throws myse'f loose with its reecital an' daubs in the colour plentyvivid an' free.
"Then thar's the time I swings over to the K-bar-8 ranch for corn--bein'I'm out of said cereal--an' runs up on a cow gent, spurs, gun-belt, bighat an' the full regalia, hangin' to the limb of a cottonwood, dead asGeorge the Third, an' not a hundred foot from the ranch door. An' howinside I finds a half-dozen more cow folks, lookin' grave an' sayin'nothin'; an' the ranch manager has a bloody bandage about his for'ead,an' another holdin' up his left arm, half bandage an' half sling, thetoot ensemble, as Colonel Sterett calls it, showin' sech recent war thatthe blood's still wet on the cloths an' drops on the floor as we talks.An' how none of us says a word about the dead gent in the cottonwood orof the manager who's shot up; an' how that same manager outfits me withten sacks of mule-food an' I goes p'intin' out for the Southeast an'forgets all I sees an' never mentions it ag'in.
"Then thar's Sim Booth of the Fryin' Pan outfit, who's one evenin' campedwith me at Antelope Springs; an' who saddles up an' ropes onto the laigsof a dead Injun where they're stickin' forth--bein' washed free by therains--an' pulls an' rolls that copper-coloured departed outen hissepulchre a lot, an' then starts his pony off at a canter an' sort o'fritters the remains about the landscape. Sim does this on the argymentthat the obsequies, former, takes place too near the spring. This yereSim's pony two months later steps in a dog hole when him an' Sim's goin'along full swing with some cattle on a stampede, an' the cayouse falls onSim an' breaks everything about him incloosive of his neck. The othercow-punchers allers allow it's because Sim turns out that aborigine overby Antelope Springs. Now sech a eepisode, properly elab'rated, mightfeed your attention an' hold it spellbound some.
"Son, if I was to turn myse'f loose on, great an' little, the diversincidents of the trail, it would consoome days in the relation. I couldtell of cactus flowers, blazin' an' brilliant as a eye of red fire ag'inthe brown dusk of the deserts; or of mile-long fields of Spanish bayonetin bloom; or of some Mexican's doby shinin' like a rooby in the sunlighta day's journey ahead, the same one onbroken mass from roof to ground ofthe peppers they calls _chili_, all reddenin' in the hot glare of the day.
"Or, if you has a fancy for stirrin' incident an' lively scenes, thar's atime when the rains has raised the old Canadian ontil that quicksand fordat Tascosa--which has done eat a hundred teams if ever it swallowsone!--is torn up complete an' the bottom of the river nothin' saveb'ilin' sand with a shallow yere an' a hole deep enough to drown a housescooped out jest beyond. An' how since I can't pause a week or two forthe river to run down an' the ford to settle, I goes spraddlin' an'tumblin' an' swimmin' across on Tom, my nigh wheeler, opens negotiationswith the LIT ranch, an' Bob Roberson, has his riders round-up thepasture, an' comes chargin' down to the ford with a bunch of one thousandponies, all of 'em dancin' an' buckin' an' prancin' like chil'en outenschool. Roberson an' the LIT boys throws the thousand broncos across an'across the ford for mighty likely it's fifty times. They'd flash 'emthrough--the whole band together--on the run; an' then round 'em up onthe opp'site bank, turn 'em an' jam 'em through ag'in. When they ceases,the bottom of the river is tramped an' beat out as hard an' as flat as afloor, an' I hooks up an' brings the waggons over like theford--bottomless quicksand a hour prior--is one of these yere asphaltstreets.
"Or I might relate about a cowboy tournament that's held over in the flatgreen bottom of Parker's arroya; an' how Jack Coombs throws a rope an'fastens at one hundred an' four foot, while Waco Simpson rides at theherd of cattle one hundred foot away, ropes, throws an' ties down apartic'lar steer, frees his lariat an' is back with the jedges ag'in inforty-eight seconds. Waco wins the prize, a Mexicansaddle--stamp-leather an' solid gold she is--worth four hundred dollars,by them onpreecedented alacrities.
"Or, I might impart about a Mexican fooneral where the hearse is ablanket with two poles along the aige, the same as one of these battlelitters; of the awful songs the mournful Mexicans sings about departed;of the candles they burns an' the dozens of baby white-pine crosses theysets up on little jim-crow stone-heaps along the trail to the tomb;meanwhiles, howlin' dirges constant.
"Now I thinks of it I might bresh up the recollections of a mornin' whenI rolls over, blankets an' all, onto something that feels as big as aboot-laig an' plenty squirmy; an' how I shows zeal a-gettin' to my feet,knowin' I'm reposin' on a rattlesnake who's bunked in ag'in my back allsociable to warm himse'f. It's worth any gent's while to see how heatedan' indignant that serpent takes it because of me turnin' out so earlyand so swift.
"Then thar's a mornin' when I finds myse'f not five miles down the windfrom a prairie fire; an' it crackin' an' roarin' in flame-sheets twentyfoot high an' makin' for'ard jumps of fifty foot. What do I do? Gofor'ard down the wind, set fire to the grass myse'f, an' let her burnahead of me. In two minutes I'm over on a burned deestrict of my own,an' by the time the orig'nal flames works down to my fire line, my ownspeshul fire is three miles ahead an I myse'f am ramblin' along cool an'saloobrious with a safe, shore area of burnt prairie to my r'ar.
"An' thar's a night on the Serrita la Cruz doorin' a storm, when thelightnin' melts the tire on the wheel of my trail-waggon, an' me layin'onder it at the time. An' it don't even wake me up. Thar's the time,too, when I crosses up at Chico Springs with eigh
ty Injuns who's beenbuffalo huntin' over to the South Paloduro, an' has with 'em four hundredodd ponies loaded with hides an' buffalo beef an' all headed for theirhome-camps over back of Taos. The bucks is restin' up a day or two whenI rides in; later me an' a half dozen jumps a band of antelopes jest'round a p'int of rocks. Son, you-all would have admired to see themsavages shoot their arrows. I observes one young buck a heap clost. Heholds the bow flat down with his left hand while his arrows in theircow-skin quiver sticks over his right shoulder. The way he would flashhis right hand back, yank forth a arrow, slam it on his bow, pull it tothe head an' cut it loose, is shore a heap earnest. Them missiles wouldgo sailin' off for over three hundred yards, an' I sees him get sevenstarted before ever the first one strikes the ground. The Injunsacquires four antelope by this archery an' shoots mebby some fortyarrows; all of which they carefully reclaims when the excitementsubsides. She's trooly a sperited exhibition an' I finds it mightyentertainin'.
"I throws these hints loose to show what might be allooded to by way ofstories, grave and gay, of sights pecooliar to the trail if only somegent of experience ups an' devotes himse'f to the relations. As it is,however, an' recurrin' to Tom an' Jerry--the same bein' as I informs you,my two wheel mules--I reckons now I might better set forth as to how theycomes to die that time. It's his obstinacy that downs Jerry; while pore,tender Tom perishes the victim--volunteer at that--of the love he b'arshis contrary mate.
"Them mules, Tom an' Jerry, is obtained by me, orig'nal in Vegas.They're the wheelers of a eight-mule team; an' I gives Frosty--who's agambler an' wins 'em at monte of some locoed sport from Chaparita--twelvehundred dollars for the outfit. Which the same is cheap an' easy atdouble the _dinero_.
"These mules evident has been part an' passel of the estates of someMexican, for I finds a cross marked on each harness an' likewise on bothwaggons. Mexicans employs this formal'ty to run a bluff on any evilsperit who may come projectin' round. Your American mule skinner nevermakes them tokens. As a roole he's defiant of sperits; an' even when heain't he don't see no refooge in a cross. Mexicans, on the other hand,is plenty strong on said symbol. Every mornin' you beholds a Mexicanwith a dab of white on his fore'erd an' on each cheek bone, an' also onhis chin where he crosses himse'f with flour; shore, the custom isyooniversal an' it takes a quart of flour to fully fortify a full-blownGreaser household ag'inst the antic'pated perils of the day.
"No sooner am I cl'ar of Vegas--I'm camped near the Plaza de laConcepcion at the time--when I rounds up the eight mules an' looks 'emover with reference to their characters. This is jest after I acquires'em. It's allers well for a gent to know what he's ag'inst; an' you canput down a stack the disp'sitions of eight mules is a important problem.
"The review is plenty satisfactory. The nigh leader is a steadypractical person as a lead mule oughter be, an' I notes by his ca'mjedgmatical eye that he's goin' to give himse'f the benefit of everydoubt, an' ain't out to go stampedin' off none without knowin' the reasonwhy. His mate at the other end of the jockey-stick is nervous an'hysterical; she never trys to solve no riddles of existence herse'f, thisJane mule don't, but relies on her mate Peter an' plays Peter's systemblind. The nigh p'inter is a deecorous form of mule with no bad habits;while his mate over the chain is one of these yere hard, se'fish, waryparties an' his little game is to get as much of everything except workan' trouble as the lay of the kyards permits. My nigh swing mule is awit like I tells you the other day. Which this jocose anamile is thelife of the team an' allers lettin' fly some dry, quaint observation.This mule wag is partic'lar excellent at a bad ford or a hard crossin',an his gay remarks, full of p'int as a bowie knife, shorely cheers an'uplifts the sperits of the rest. The off swing is a heedless creaturewho regyards his facetious mate as the very parent of fun, an' he goesabout with his y'ear cocked an' his mouth ajar, ready to laugh them 'hah,hah!' laughs of his'n at every word his pard turns loose.
"Tom an' Jerry is different from the others. Bein' bigger an' havin'besides the respons'bilities of the hour piled onto them as wheel mulesmust, they cultivates a sooperior air an is distant an' reserved in theirattitoodes towards the other six. As to each other their pose needs moredeescription. Tom, the nigh wheeler--the one I rides when drivin'--isinfatyooated with Jerry. I hears a sky-sharp aforetime preach aboutJonathan an' David. Yet I'm yere to assert, son, that them sacred peopleain't on speakin' terms compared to the way that pore old lovin' Tom mulefeels towards Jerry.
"This affection of Tom's is partic'lar amazin' when you-all recalls thefashion in which the sullen Jerry receives it. Doorin' the several yearsI spends in their s'ciety I never once detects Jerry in any look or wordof kindness to Tom. Jerry bites him an' kicks him an' cusses him outconstant; he never tol'rates Tom closter than twenty foot onless at timeswhen he orders Tom to curry him. Shore, the imbecile Tom submits. Onsech o'casions when Jerry issues a summons to go over him, usin' hisupper teeth for a comb an' bresh, Tom is never so happy. Which he digsan' delves at Jerry's ribs that a-way like it's a honour; after a halfhour, mebby, when Jerry feels refreshed s'fficient, he w'irls on Tom an'dismisses him with both heels.
"'I track up on folks who's jest the same,' says Dan Boggs, one time whenI mentions this onaccountable infatyooation of Tom. 'This Jerry lovesthat Tom mule mate of his, only he ain't lettin' on. I knows a ladywhose treatment of her husband is a dooplicate of Jerry's. She metes outthe worst of it to that long-sufferin' shorthorn at every bend in thetrail; it looks like he never wins a good word or a soft look from heronce. An' yet when that party cashes in, whatever does the lady do?Takes a hooker of whiskey, puts in p'isen enough to down a dozen wolves,an' drinks off every drop. 'Far'well, vain world, I'm goin' home,' saysthe lady; 'which I prefers death to sep'ration, an' I'm out to jine mybeloved husband in the promised land.' I knows, for I attends thefooneral of that family--said fooneral is a double-header as the lady,bein' prompt, trails out after her husband before ever he's pitched hisfirst camp--an' later assists old Chandler in deevisin' a epitaph, thesame occurrin' in these yere familiar words:
"She sort o got the drop on him, In the dooel of earthly love; Let's hope he gets an even break When they meets in heaven above."
"'Thar,' concloods Dan, 'is what I regyards as a parallel experience tothis Tom an' Jerry. The lady plays Jerry's system from soda to hock, an'yet you-all can see in the lights of that thar sooicide how deep sheloves him.'
"'That's all humbug, Dan,' says Enright; 'the lady you relates of isn'tlovin'. She's only locoed that a-way.'
"'Whyever if she's locoed, then,' argues Dan, 'don't they up an' hive herin one of their madhouse camps? She goes chargin' about as free an'fearless as a cyclone.'
"'All the same,' says Texas Thompson, 'her cashin' in don't prove nolovin' heart. Mebby she does it so's to chase him up an' continyooonbroken them hectorin's of her's. I could onfold a fact or two aboutthat wife of mine who cuts out the divorce from me in Laredo that wouldlead you to concloosions sim'lar. But she wasn't your wife; an' I don'taim to impose my domestic afflictions on this innocent camp, which bein'troo I mootely stands my hand.'
"This Jerry's got one weakness however, I don't never take advantage ofit. He's scared to frenzy if you pulls a gun. I reckons, with all themcrimes of his'n preyin' on his mind, that he allows you're out, to shoothim up. Jerry is ca'm so long as your gun's in the belt, deemin' it asso much onmeanin' ornament. But the instant you pulls it like you'regoin' to put it in play, he onbuckles into piercin' screams. I reachesfor my six-shooter one evenin' by virchoo of antelopes, an' that's thetime I discovers this foible of Jerry's. I never gets a shot. At thesight of the gun Jerry evolves a howl an' the antelopes tharupon hits twoor three high places an' is miles away. Shore, they thinks Jerry is somenew breed of demon.
"When I turns to note the cause of Jerry's clamours he's loppin' hisfore-laigs over Tom's back an' sobbin' an' sheddin' tears into his mane.Tom sympathises with Jerry an' says all he can to teach him that theavenger ain't
on his trail. Nothin' can peacify Jerry, however, exceptjammin' that awful six-shooter back into its holster. I goes over Jerrythat evenin' patiently explorin' for bullet marks, but thar ain't none.No one's ever creased him; an' I figgers final by way of a s'lootion ofhis fits that mighty likely Jerry's attended some killin' betweenhoomans, inadvertent, an' has the teeth of his apprehensions set on aige.
"Jerry is that high an' haughty he won't come up for corn in the mornin'onless I petitions him partic'lar an' calls him by name. To jest whoop'Mules!' he holds don't incloode him. Usual I humours Jerry an' shoutshis title speshul, the others bein' called in a bunch. When Jerry hearshis name he walks into camp, delib'rate an' dignified, an' kicks everymule to pieces who tries to shove in ahead.
"Once, feelin' some malignant myse'f, I tries Jerry's patience out. Idon't call 'Jerry,' merely shouts 'Mules' once or twice an' lets it go atthat. Jerry, when he notices I don't refer to him partic'lar lays hisy'ears back; an' although his r'ar elevation is towards me I can see he'shotter than a hornet. The faithful Tom abides with Jerry; though hetells him it's feed time an' that the others with a nosebag on each of'em is already at their repasts. Jerry only gets madder an' lays for Toman' tries to bite him. After ten minutes, sullen an' sulky, hunger beatsJerry an' he comes bumpin' into camp like a bar'l down hill an' eases hismind by wallopin' both hind hoofs into them other blameless mules,peacefully munchin' their rations. Also, after Jerry's let me put thenosebag onto him he reeverses his p'sition an' swiftly lets fly at me.But I ain't in no trance an' Jerry misses. I don't frale him; I saveysit's because he feels hoomiliated with me not callin' him by name.
"As a roole me an' Jerry gets through our dooties harmonious. He canpull like a lion an' never flinches or flickers at a pinch. It's shore avict'ry to witness the heroic way Jerry goes into the collar at a hardsteep hill or some swirlin', rushin' ford. Sech bein' Jerry's workhabits I'm prepared to overlook a heap of moral deeficiencies an' neverlays it up ag'in Jerry that he's morose an' repellant when I flings himany kindnesses.
"But while I don't resent 'em none by voylence, still Jerry has habitsag'inst which I has to gyard. You-all recalls how long ago I tells youof Jerry's, bein' a thief. Shore, he can't he'p it; he's a bornkleptomaniac. Leastwise 'kleptomaniac' is what Colonel Sterett calls itwhen he's tellin' me of a party who's afflicted sim'lar.
"'Otherwise this gent's a heap respectable,' says the Colonel. 'Morallyspeakin' thar's plenty who's worse. Of course, seein' he's crowdin'forty years, he ain't so shamefully innocent neither. He ain't nodebyootanty; still, he ain't no crime-wrung debauchee. I should say hegrades midway in between. But deep down in his system this person's akleptomaniac, an' at last his weakness gets its hobbles off an' he turnshimse'f loose, an' begins to jest nacherally take things right an' left.No, he don't get put away in Huntsville; they sees he's locoed an' he'scorraled instead in one of the asylums where thar's nothin' loose an'little kickin' 'round, an' tharfore no temptations.'
"Takin' the word then from Colonel Sterett, Jerry is a kleptomaniac. Iused former to hobble Jerry but one mornin' I'm astounded to see whatlooks like snow all about my camp. Bein' she's in Joone that snow theerydon't go. An' it ain't snow, it's flour; this kleptomaniac Jerry creepsto the waggons while I sleeps an' gets away, one after the other, withfifteen fifty-pound sacks of flour. Then he entertains himse'f an' Tomby p'radin' about with the sacks in his teeth, shakin' an' tossin' hishead an' powderin' my 'Pride of Denver' all over the plains. Which Jerryshore frosts that scenery plumb lib'ral.
"It's the next night an' I don't hobble Jerry; I pegs him out on alariat. What do you-all reckon now that miscreant does? Corrupts poreTom who you may be certain is sympathisin' 'round, an' makes Tom go tothe waggons, steal the flour an' pack it out to him where he's pegged.The soopine Tom, who otherwise is the soul of integrity, abstracts sixsacks for his mate an' at daybreak the wretched Jerry's standin' thar,white as milk himse'f, an' flour a foot deep in a cirkle whereof theradius is his rope Tom's gazin' on Jerry in a besotted way like he allowshe's certainly the greatest sport on earth.
"Which this last is too much an' I ropes up Jerry for punishment. Ithrows an' hawgties Jerry, an' he's layin' thar on his side. His eye isobdoorate an' thar's neither shame nor repentance in his heart. Tom issort o' sobbin' onder his breath; Tom would have swapped places withJerry too quick an' I sees he has it in his mind to make the offer, onlyhe knows I'll turn it down."
"The other six mules comes up an' loafs about observant an' respectful.They jestifies my arrangements; besides Jerry is mighty onpop'lar with'em by reason of his heels. I can hear Peter the little lead mule sayin'to Jane, his mate: 'The boss is goin' to lam Jerry a lot with atrace-chain. Which it's shore comin' to him!'
"I w'irls the chain on high an' lays it along Jerry's evil ribs,_kerwhillup_! Every other link bites through the hide an' the chainplows a most excellent an' wholesome furrow. As the chain descends, thesympathetic Tom jumps an' gives a groan. Tom feels a mighty sight worsethan his _companero_. At the sixth wallop Tom can't b'ar no more, butwith tears an' protests comes an' stands over Jerry an' puts it up he'lltake the rest himse'f. This evidence of brotherly love stands me off,an' for Tom's sake I desists an' throws Jerry loose. That oldscoundrel--while I sees he's onforgivin' an' a-harbourin' of hatredsag'in me--don't forget the trace-chain an' comports himse'f like alaw-abidin' mule for months. He even quits bitin' an' kickin' Tom, an'that lovin' beast seems like he's goin' to break his heart over it,'cause he looks on it as a sign that Jerry's gettin' cold.
"But thar comes a day when I loses both Tom an' Jerry. It's about seconddrink time one August mornin' an' me an' my eight mules goes scamperin'through a little Mexican plaza called Tramperos on our way to theCanadian. Over by a 'doby stands a old fleabitten gray mare; she's shorehideous.
"Now if mules has one overmasterin' deloosion it's a gray mare; she's thereligion an' the goddess of the mules. This knowledge is common; ifyou-all is ever out to create a upheaval in the bosom of a mule thehandiest, quickest lever is a old gray mare. The gov'ment takesadvantage of this aberration of the mules. Thar's trains of pack mulesfreightin' to the gov'ment posts in the Rockies. They figgers on threehundred pounds to the mule an' the freight is packed in panniers. Thegov'ment freighters not bein' equal to the manifold mysteries of adiamond-hitch, don't use no reg'lar shore-enough pack saddle but takesrefooge with their ignorance in panniers.
"Speakin' gen'ral, thar's mebby two hundred mules in one of thesegov'ment pack trains. An' in the lead, followed, waited on an'worshipped by the mules, is a aged gray mare. She don't pack nothin' buther virchoo an' a little bell, which last is hung 'round her neck. Thisold mare, with nothin' but her character an' that bell to encumber her,goes fa'rly flyin' light. But go as fast an' as far as she pleases, themlong-y'eared locoed worshippers of her's won't let her outen theirraptured sight. The last one of 'em, panniers, freight an' all, would gosurgin' to the topmost pinnacle of the Rockies if she leads the way.
"An' at that this gray mare don't like mules none; she abhors theircompany an' kicks an' abooses 'em to a standstill whenever they drawsnear. But the fool mules don't care; it's ecstacy to simply know she'slivin' an' that mule's cup of joy is runnin' over who finds himse'fpermitted to crop grass within forty foot of his old, gray bell-bedeckedidol.
"We travels all day, followin' glimpsin' that flea-bitten cayouse atTramperos. But the mules can't think or talk of nothin' else. Itarouses their religious enthoosiasm to highest pitch; even the cynicJerry gets half-way keyed up over it. I looks for trouble that night;an' partic'lar I pegs out Jerry plenty deep and strong. The rest ishobbled, all except Tom. Gray mare or not, I'll gamble the outfit Tomwouldn't abandon Jerry, let the indoocement be ever so alloorin'.
"Every well-organised mule team that a-way allers carries along a bronco.This little steed, saddled an' bridled, trots throughout the day by theside of the off-wheeler, his bridle-rein caught over the wheeler's hame.The bronco is used to rou
nd up the mules in event they strays or declinesin the mornin' to come when called. Sech bein' the idee, the cayous isallers kept strictly in camp.
"'James' is my bronco's name; an' the evenin', followin' the vision ofthat Tramperos gray mare I makes onusual shore 'that James stays with me.Not that gray mares impresses James--him bein' a boss an' bosses havin'religious convictions different from mules--or is doo to provetemptations to him; but he might conceal other plans an' get strayedprosecootin' of 'em to a finish. I ties James to the trail-waggon, an'followin' bacon, biscuits, airtights an' sech, the same bein' my froogalfare when on the trail, I rolls in onder the lead-waggon 'an' givesmyse'f up to sleep.
"Exactly as I surmises, when I turns out at sun-up thar's never a mule insight. Every one of them idolaters goes poundin' back, as fast as everhe can with hobbles on, to confess his sins an' say his pray'rs at theshrine of that old gray mare. Even Jerry, whose cynicism should havesaved him, pulls his picket-pin with the rest an', takin' Tom along, goescurvin' off. It ain't more than ten minutes, you can gamble! when Jamesan' me is on their trails.
"One by one, I overtakes the team strung all along between my camp an'Tramperos. Peter, the little lead mule, bein' plumb agile an' a sharp onhobbles, gets cl'ar thar; an' I finds him devourin' the goddess gray marewith heart an' soul an' eyes, an' singin' to himse'f the while in low,satisfied tones.
"As one after the other I passes the pilgrim mules I turns an' liftsabout a squar' inch of hide off each with the blacksnake whip I'mcarryin', by way of p'intin' out their heresies an arousin' in 'em aeagerness to get back to their waggons an' a' upright, pure career. Theytakes the chastisement humble an' dootiful, an' relinquishes the thoughtof reachin' the goddess gray mare.
"When I overtakes old Jerry I pours the leather into him speshul, an' theway him an' his pard Tom goes scatterin' for camp refreshes me a heap.An' yet after I rescoos Peter from the demoralisin' inflooences of thegray mare, an' begins to pick up the other members of the team on thejourney back, I'm some deepressed when I don't see Tom or Jerry. Nor iseither of them mules by the waggons when I arrives.
"It's onadulterated cussedness! Jerry, with no hobbles an' merelydraggin' a rope, can lope about free an' permiscus. Tom, with nothin' tohamper him but his love for Jerry, is even more lightsome an' loose.That Jerry mule, hatin' me an' allowin' to make me all the grief he can,sneakingly leaves the trail some'ers after I turns him an' touches him upwith the lash. An' now Tom an' Jerry is shorely hid out an' lost a wholelot. It's nothin' but Jerry's notion of revenge on me.
"I camps two days where I'm at, an rounds up the region for the trooants.I goes over it like a fine-tooth comb an' rides James to a show-down.That bronco never is so long onder the saddle since he's foaled; I don'treckon he knows before thar's so much hard work in the world as falls tohim when we goes ransackin' in quest of Tom an' Jerry.
"It's no use; the ground is hard an' dry an' I can't even see theirhoof-marks. The country's so rollin', too, it's no trouble for 'em tohide. At last I quits an' throws my hand in the diskyard. Tom an' Jerryis shore departed an' I'm deeficient my two best mules. I hooks up theothers, an' seein' it's down hill an' a easy trail I makes Tascosa an'refits.
"I never crosses up on Tom an' Jerry in this yere life no more, but oneday I learns their fate. It's a month later on my next trip back, an'I'm camped about a half day's drive of that same locoed plaza ofTramperos. As I'm settin' in camp with the sun still plenty high--I'mcompilin' flapjacks at the time--I sees eight or ten ravens wheelin' an'cirklin' over beyond a swell about three miles to the left.
"'Tom an' Jerry for a bloo stack!' I says to myse'f; an' with that Icinches the saddle onto James precip'tate.
"Shore enough; I'm on the scene of the tragedy. Half way down a rockyslope where thar ain't grass enough to cover the brown nakedness of theground lies the bones of Tom an' Jerry. This latter, who's thatobstinate an' resentful he won't go back to camp when I wallops him onthat gray mare mornin', allows he'll secrete himse'f an' Tom off to oneside an' worrit me up. While he's manooverin' about he gets thehalf-inch rope he's draggin' tangled good an' fast in a mesquite bush.It shorely holds him; that bush is old Jerry's last picket---his lastcamp. Which he'd a mighty sight better played his hand out with me, evenif I does ring in a trace-chain on him at needed intervals. Jerry jestnacherally starves to death for grass an' water. An' what's doubly hardthe lovin' Tom, troo to the last, starves with him. Thar's water withintwo miles; but Tom declines it, stays an' starves with Jerry, an' theravens an' the coyotes picks their frames."
Wolfville Nights Page 10