The Coming of Cassidy—And the Others

by Frank Norris

  VI

  HOPALONG'S HOP

  Having sent Jimmy to the Bar-20 with a message for Buck Peters and seenthe tenderfeet start for Sharpsville on the right trail and underescort, Bill Cassidy set out for the Crazy M ranch, by the way of ClayGulch. He was to report on the condition of some cattle that Buck hadbeen offered cheap and he was anxious to get back to the ranch. It wasin the early evening when he reached Clay Gulch and rode slowly down thedusty, shack-lined street in search of a hotel. The town and the streetwere hardly different from other towns and streets that he had seen allover the cow-country, but nevertheless he felt uneasy. The air seemedto be charged with danger, and it caused him to sit even more erect inthe saddle and assume his habit of indifferent alertness. The first manhe saw confirmed the feeling by staring at him insolently and sneeringin a veiled way at the low-hung, tied-down holsters that graced Bill'sthighs. The guns proclaimed the gun-man as surely as it would have beenproclaimed by a sign; and it appeared that gun-men were not at that timeheld in high esteem by the citizens of Clay Gulch. Bill was growingfretful and peevish when the man, with a knowing shake of his head,turned away and entered the harness shop. "Trouble's brewin' somewheresaround," muttered Bill, as he went on. He had singled out the first oftwo hotels when another citizen, turning the corner, stopped in histracks and looked Bill over with a deliberate scrutiny that left butlittle to the imagination. He frowned and started away, but Billspurred forward, determined to make him speak.

  "_Might_ I inquire if this is Clay Gulch?" he asked, in tones that madethe other wince.

  "You might," was the reply. "It is," added the citizen, "an' th' CrazyM lays fifteen mile west." Having complied with the requirements ofcommon politeness the citizen of Clay Gulch turned and walked into thenearest saloon. Bill squinted after him and shook his head inindecision.

  "He wasn't guessin', neither. He shore knowed where I wants to go. Ireckon Oleson must 'a' said he was expectin' me." He would have beensomewhat surprised had he known that Mr. Oleson, foreman of the Crazy M,had said nothing to anyone about the expected visitor, and that no one,not even on the ranch, knew of it. Mr. Oleson was blessed withtaciturnity to a remarkable degree; and he had given up expecting to seeanyone from Mr. Peters.

  As Bill dismounted in front of the "Victoria" he noticed that two menfurther down the street had evidently changed their conversation andwere examining him with frank interest and discussing him earnestly. Asa matter of fact they had not changed the subject of their conversation,but had simply fitted him in the place of a certain unknown. Before hehad arrived they discussed in the abstract; now they could talk in theconcrete. One of them laughed and called softly over his shoulder,whereupon a third man appeared in the door, wiping his lips with theback of a hairy, grimy hand, and focused evil eyes upon the innocentstranger. He grunted contemptuously and, turning on his heel, went backto his liquid pleasures. Bill covertly felt of his clothes and stole aglance at his horse, but could see nothing wrong. He hesitated: shouldhe saunter over for information or wait until the matter was brought tohis attention? A sound inside the hotel made him choose the lattercourse, for his stomach threatened to become estranged and it simplyhowled for food. Pushing open the door he dropped his saddle in acorner and leaned against the bar.

  "Have one with me to get acquainted?" he invited. "Then I 'll eat, forI 'm hungry. An' I 'll use one of yore beds to-night, too."

  The man behind the bar nodded cheerfully and poured out his drink. Ashe raised the liquor he noticed Bill's guns and carelessly let the glassreturn to the bar.

  "Sorry, sir," he said coldly. "I 'm hall out of grub, the fire 's hout,_hand_ the beds are taken. But mebby 'Awley, down the strite, can tykecare of you."

  Bill was looking at him with an expression that said much and he slowlyextended his arm and pointed to the untasted liquor.

  "Allus finish what you start, English," he said slowly and clearly."When a man goes to take a drink with me, and suddenly changes his mind,why I gets riled. I don't know what ails this town, an' I don't care; Idon't give a cuss about yore grub an' your beds; but if you don't drinkthat liquor you poured out _to_ drink, why I 'll natchurally shove itdown yore British throat so cussed hard it 'll strain yore neck. Get toit!"

  The proprietor glanced apprehensively from the glass to Bill, then on tothe business-like guns and back to the glass, and the liquor disappearedat a gulp. "W'y," he explained, aggrieved. "There hain't no call for toget riled hup like that, strainger. I bloody well forgot it."

  "Then don't you go an' 'bloody well' forget this: Th' next time I dropsin here for grub an' a bed, you have 'em both, an' be plumb polite aboutit. Do you get me?" he demanded icily.

  The proprietor stared at the angry puncher as he gathered up his saddleand rifle and started for the door. He turned to put away the bottleand the sound came near being unfortunate for him. Bill leapedsideways, turning while in the air and landed on his feet like a cat,his left hand gripping a heavy Colt that covered the short ribs of thefrightened proprietor before that worthy could hardly realize the move.

  "Oh, all right," growled Bill, appearing to be disappointed. "Ireckoned mebby you was gamblin' on a shore thing. I feels impelled tooffer you my sincere apology; you ain't th' kind as would even gamble_on_ a shore thing. You 'll see me again," he promised. The sound ofhis steps on the porch ended in a thud as he leaped to the ground andthen he passed the window leading his horse and scowling darkly. Theproprietor mopped his head and reached twice for the glass before hefound it. "Gawd, what a bloody 'eathen," he grunted. "_'E_ won't be aseasy as the lawst was, blime 'im."

  Mr. Hawley looked up and frowned, but there was something in thesuspicious eyes that searched his face that made him cautious. Billdropped his load on the floor and spoke sharply. "I want supper an' abed. You ain't full up, an' you ain't out of grub. So I 'm goin' toget 'em both right here. Yes?"

  "You shore called th' turn, stranger," replied Mr. Hawley in his Sundayvoice. "That's what I 'm in business for. An' business is shore dullthese days."

  He wondered at the sudden smile that illuminated Bill's face and halfguessed it; but he said nothing and went to work. When Bill pushed backfrom the table he was more at peace with the world and he treated,closely watching his companion. Mr. Hawley drank with a show ofpleasure and forthwith brought out cigars. He seated himself beside hisguest and sighed with relief.

  "I 'm plumb tired out," he offered. "An' I ain't done much. You looktired, too. Come a long way?"

  "Logan," replied Bill. "Do _you_ know where I 'm goin'? An' why?" heasked.

  Mr. Hawley looked surprised and almost answered the first part of thequestion correctly before he thought. "Well," he grinned, "if I couldtell where strangers was goin', an' why, I would n't never ask 'em wherethey come from. An' I 'd shore hunt up a li'l game of faro, you bet!"

  Bill smiled. "Well, that might be a good idea. But, say, what ails thistown, anyhow?"

  "What ails it? Hum! Why, lack of money for one thing; scenery, foranother; wimmin, for another. Oh, h--l, I ain't got time to tell youwhat ails it. Why?"

  "Is there anything th' matter with me?"

  "I don't know you well enough for to answer that kerrect."

  "Well, would you turn around an' stare at me, an' seem pained an' hurt?Do I look funny? Has anybody put a sign on my back?"

  "You looks all right to me. What's th' matter?"

  "Nothin', yet," reflected Bill slowly. "But there will be, mebby. Youwas mentionin' faro. Here 's a turn you can call: somebody in this wartof a two-by-nothin' town is goin' to run plumb into a big surprise.There 'll mebby be a loud noise an' some smoke where it starts from; an'a li'l round hole where it stops. When th' curious delegation nowholdin' forth on th' street slips in here after I 'm in bed, an' makesinquiries about me, you can tell 'em that. An' if Mr.--Mr. Victoriadrops in casual, tell him I 'm cleanin' my guns. Now then, show mewhere I
'm goin' to sleep."

  Mr. Hawley very carefully led the way into the hall and turned into aroom opposite the bar. "Here she is, stranger," he said, stepping back.But Bill was out in the hall listening. He looked into the room andfelt oppressed.

  "No she ain't," he answered, backing his intuition. "She is upstairs,where there is a li'l breeze. By th' Lord," he muttered under hisbreath. "This is some puzzle." He mounted the stairs shaking his headthoughtfully. "It shore is, it shore is."

  The next morning when Bill whirled up to the Crazy M bunkhouse anddismounted before the door a puncher was emerging. He started to saysomething, noticed Bill's guns and went on without a word. Bill turnedaround and looked after him in amazement. "Well, what th' devil!" hegrowled. Before he could do anything, had he wished to, Mr. Olesonstepped quickly from the house, nodded and hurried toward the ranchhouse, motioning for Bill to follow. Entering the house, the foreman ofthe Crazy M waited impatiently for Bill to get inside, and thenhurriedly closed the door.

  "They 've got onto it some way," he said, his taciturnity gone; "butthat don't make no difference if you 've got th' sand. I 'll pay youone hundred an' fifty a month, furnish yore cayuses an' feed you. I 'mlosin' more 'n two hundred cows every month an' can't get a trace of th'thieves. Harris, Marshal of Clay Gulch, is stumped, too. _He_ can'tmove without proof; _you_ can. Th' first man to get is George Thomas,then his brother Art. By that time you 'll know how things lay. GeorgeThomas is keepin' out of Harris' way. He killed a man last week over inTuxedo an' Harris wants to take him over there. He 'll not help you, sodon't ask him to." Before Bill could reply or recover from hisastonishment Oleson continued and described several men. "Look out forambushes. It 'll be th' hardest game you ever went up ag'in, an' if youain't got th' sand to go through with it, say so."

  Bill shook his head. "I got th' sand to go through with anythin' Istarts, but I don't start here. I reckon you got th' wrong man. I comeup here to look over a herd for Buck Peters; an' here you go shovin'wages like that at me. When I tells Buck what I 've been offered he 'llfall dead." He laughed. "Now I knows th' answer to a lot of things.

  "Here, here!" he exclaimed as Oleson began to rave. "Don't you go an'get all het up like that. I reckon I can keep my face shut. An' lemmeobserve in yore hat-like ear that if th' rest of this gang is like th'samples I seen in town, a good gun-man would shore be robbin' you totake all that money for th' job. Fifty a month, for two months, wouldbe a-plenty."

  Oleson's dismay was fading, and he accepted the situation with a grimsmile. "You don't know them fellers," he replied. "They 're a bad lot,an' won't stop at nothin'."

  "All right. Let's take a look at them cows. I want to get home soon asI can."

  Oleson shook his head. "I gave you up, an' when I got a better offer Ilet 'em go. I 'm sorry you had th' ride for nothin', but I could n'tget word to you."

  Bill led the way in silence back to the bunk house and mounted hishorse. "All right," he nodded. "I shore was late. Well, I 'll begoin'."

  "That gun-man is late, too," said Oleson. "Mebby he ain't comin'. Youwant th' job at _my_ figgers?"

  "Nope. I got a better job, though it don't pay so much money. It'ssteady, an' a hull lot cleaner. So-long," and Bill loped away, closelywatched by Shorty Allen from the corral. And after an interval, Shortymounted and swung out of the other gate of the corral and rode along thebottom of an arroyo until he felt it was safe to follow Bill's trail.When Shorty turned back he was almost to town, and he would not havebeen pleased had he known that Bill knew of the trailing for the lastten miles. Bill had doubled back and was within a hundred yards ofShorty when that person turned ranchward.

  "Huh! I must be popular," grunted Bill. "I reckon I will stay in ClayGulch till t'morrow mornin'; an' at the Victoria," he grinned. Then helaughed heartily. "Victoria! I got a better name for it than that, allright."

  When he pulled up before the Victoria and looked in the proprietorscowled at him, which made Bill frown as he went on to Hawley's. Puttinghis horse in the corral he carried his saddle and rifle into the barroomand looked around. There was no one in sight, and he smiled. Puttingthe saddle and rifle back in one corner under the bar and covering themwith gunny sacks he strolled to the Victoria and entered through therear door. The proprietor reached for his gun but reconsidered in timeand picked up a glass, which he polished with exaggerated care. Therewas something about the stranger that obtruded upon his peace of mindand confidence. He would let some one else try the stranger out.

  Bill walked slowly forward, by force of will ironing out the humor inhis face and assuming his sternest expression. "I want supper an' abed, an' don't forget to be plumb polite," he rumbled, sitting down bythe side of a small table in such a manner that it did not in the leastinterfere with the movement of his right hand. The observing proprietorobserved and gave strict attention to the preparation of the meal. Thegun-man, glancing around, slowly arose and walked carelessly to a chairthat had blank wall behind it, and from where he could watch windows anddoors.

  When the meal was placed before him he glanced up. "Go over there an'sit down," he ordered, motioning to a chair that stood close to therifle that leaned against the wall. "Loaded?" he demanded. Theproprietor could only nod. "Then sling it acrost yore knees an' keepstill. Well, start movin'."

  The proprietor walked as though he were in a trance but when he seatedhimself and reached for the weapon a sudden flash of understandingillumined him and caused cold sweat to bead upon his wrinkled brow. Heput the weapon down again, but the noise made Bill look up.

  "Acrost yore knees," growled the puncher, and the proprietor hastilyobeyed, but when it touched his legs he let loose of it as though itwere hot. He felt a great awe steal through his fear, for here was agun-man such as he had read about. This man gave him all the best of itjust to tempt him to make a break. The rifle had been in his hands, andwhile it was there the gun-man was calmly eating with both hands on thetable and had not even looked up until the noise of the gun made him!

  "My Gawd, 'e must be a wizard with 'em. I 'opes I don't forget!" Withthe thought came a great itching of his kneecap; then his foot itched soas to make him squirm and wear horrible expressions. Bill, chancing toglance up carelessly, caught sight of the expressions and growled,whereupon they became angelic. Fearing that he could no longer hold inthe laughter that tortured him, Bill arose.

  "Shoulder, _arms_!" he ordered, crisply. The gun went up with trainedprecision. "Been a sojer," thought Bill. "Carry, _arms_! About,_face_! To a bedroom, _march_!" He followed, holding his sides, andstopped before the room. "This th' best?" he demanded. "Well, it ain'tgood enough for me. About, _face_! Forward, _march_! Column, _left_!Ground, _arms_! Fall out." Tossing a coin on the floor as payment forthe supper Bill turned sharply and went out without even a backwardglance.

  The proprietor wiped the perspiration from his face and walkedunsteadily to the bar, where he poured out a generous drink and gulpedit down. Peering out of the door to see if the coast was clear, hescurried across the street and told his troubles to the harness-maker.

  Bill leaned weakly against Hawley's and laughed until the tears rolleddown his cheeks. Pushing weakly from the building he returned to theVictoria to play another joke on its proprietor. Finding it vacant heslipped upstairs and hunted for a room to suit him. The bed was thesoftest he had seen for a long time and it lured him into removing hisboots and chaps and guns, after he had propped a chair against the dooras a warning signal, and stretching out flat on his back, he prepared toenjoy solid comfort. It was not yet dark, and as he was not sleepy helay there thinking over the events of the past twenty-four hours, oftenlaughing so hard as to shake the bed. What a reputation he would have inthe morning! The softness of the bed got in its work and he fell asleep,for how long he did not know; but when he awakened it was dark and heheard voices coming up from below. They came from the room he hadrefused to take. One expression banished all thoughts of sleep
from hismind and he listened intently. "'Red-headed Irish gunman.' Why, theymeans me! 'Make him hop into h--l.' I don't reckon I 'd do that foranybody, even my friends."

  "I tried to give 'im this room, but 'e would n't tyke it" protested theproprietor, hurriedly. "'E says the bloody room was n't good enough for'im, _hand_ 'e marches me out hand makes off. Likely 'e 's in_'Awley's_."

  "No, he ain't," growled a strange voice. "You 've gone an' bungled th'whole thing."

  "But I s'y I did n't, you know. I tries to give 'im this werry room,George, but 'e would n't 'ave it. D'y think I wants 'im running haroundthis blooming town? 'E 's worse nor the other, _hand_ Gawd knows 'e wasbad enough. 'E 's a cold-_blooded_ beggar, 'e is!"

  "You missed yore chance," grunted the other. "Wish _I_ had that gun youhad."

  "I was wishing to Gawd you did," retorted the proprietor. "It neverlooked so bloody big before, d--n 'is _'ide_!"

  "Well, his cayuse is in Hawley's corral," said the first speaker. "If Iever finds Hawley kept him under cover I 'll blow his head off. Comeon; we 'll get Harris first. He ought to be gettin' close to town if hegot th' word I sent over to Tuxedo. He won't let us call him. He's aman of his word."

  "He 'll be here, all right. Fred an' Tom is watchin' his shack, an' webetter take th' other end of town--there 's no tellin' how he 'll comein now," suggested Art Thomas. "But I wish I knowed where that cussedgun-man is."

  As they went out Bill, his chaps on and his boots in his hand, creptdown the stairs, and stopped as he neared the hall door. The proprietorwas coming back. The others were outside, going to their stations anddid not hear the choking gasp that the proprietor made as a pair ofstrong hands reached out and throttled him. When he came to he was lyingface down on a bed, gagged and bound by a rope that cut into his fleshwith every movement. Bill, waiting a moment, slipped into the darknessand was swallowed up. He was looking for Mr. Harris, and lookingeagerly.

  The moon arose and bathed the dusty street and its crude shacks insilver, cunningly and charitably hiding its ugliness; and passed on asthe skirmishing rays of the sun burst into the sky in close and eternalpursuit. As the dawn spread swiftly and long, thin shadows sprangacross the sandy street, there arose from the dissipated darkness closeto the wall of a building an armed man, weary and slow from a tiresomevigil. Another emerged from behind a pile of boards that faced themarshal's abode, while down the street another crept over the edge of adried-out water course and swore softly as he stood up slowly to flexaway the stiffness of cramped limbs. Of vain speculation he was empty;he had exhausted all the whys and hows long before and now only muttereddiscontentedly as he reviewed the hours of fruitless waiting. And hewas uneasy; it was not like Harris to take a dare and swallow his ownthreats without a struggle. He looked around apprehensively, shruggedhis shoulders and stalked behind the shacks across from the two hotels.

  Another figure crept from the protection of Hawley's corral like aslinking coyote, gun in hand and nervously alert. He was just in timeto escape the challenge that would have been hurled at him by Hawley,himself, had that gentleman seen the skulker as he grouchily opened oneshutter and scowled sleepily at the kindling eastern sky. Mr. Hawleywas one of those who go to bed with regret and get up with remorse, andhis temper was always easily disturbed before breakfast. The skulker,safe from the remorseful gentleman's eyes, and gun, kept close to thebuilding as he walked and was again fortunate, for he had passed whenMr. Hawley strode heavily into his kitchen to curse the cold, rustystove, a rite he faithfully performed each morning. Across the streetGeorge and Art Thomas walked to meet each other behind the row of shacksand stopped near the harness shop to hold a consultation. The subjectwas so interesting that for a few moments they were oblivious to allelse.

  A man softly stepped to the door of the Victoria and watched the twoacross the street with an expression on his face that showed his smilingcontempt for them and their kind. He was a small man, so far asphysical measurements go, but he was lithe, sinewy and compact. On hisopened vest, hanging slovenly and blinking in the growing light as if toprepare itself for the blinding glare of midday, glinted a five-pointedstar of nickel, a lowly badge that every rural community knows and holdsin an awe far above the metal or design. Swinging low on his hipgleamed the ivory butt of a silver-plated Colt, the one weakness thathis vanity seized upon. But under the silver and its engraving, aboveand before the cracked and stained ivory handles, lay the power of agreat force; and under the casing of the marshal's small body lay avirile manhood, strong in courage and determination. Toby Harriswatched, smilingly; he loved the dramatic and found keen enjoyment inthe situation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a carelessly dressedcowpuncher slouching indolently along close to the buildings on theother side of the street with the misleading sluggishness of a panther.The red hair, kissed by the slanting rays of the sun where it showedbeneath the soiled sombrero, seemed to be a flaming warning; thehalf-closed eyes, squinting under the brim of the big hat, missednothing as they darted from point to point.

  The marshal stepped silently to the porch and then on to the ground, hisback to the rear of the hotel, waiting to be discovered. He had been insight perhaps a minute. The cowpuncher made a sudden, eye-bafflingmovement and smoke whirled about his hips. Fred, turning the cornerbehind the marshal, dropped his gun with a scream of rage and pain andcrashed against the window in sudden sickness, his gunhand hanging by atendon from his wrist. The marshal stepped quickly forward at the shotand for an instant gazed deeply into the eyes of the startled rustlers.Then his Colt leaped out and crashed a fraction of a second before thebrothers fired. George Thomas reeled, caught sight of the puncher andfired by instinct. Bill, leaving Harris to watch the other side of thestreet, was watching the rear corner of the Victoria and was unpreparedfor the shot. He crumpled and dropped and then the marshal, enraged,ended the rustler's earthly career in a stream of flame and smoke. Tom,turning into the street further down, wheeled and dashed for his horse,and Art, having leaped behind the harness shop, turned and fled for hislife. He had nearly reached his horse and was going at top speed withgreat leaps when the prostrate man in the street, raising on his elbow,emptied his gun after him, the five shots sounding almost as one. ArtThomas arose convulsively, steadied himself and managed to gain thesaddle. Harris looked hastily down the street and saw a cloud of dustracing northward, and grunted. "Let them go--_they_ won't never comeback no more." Running to the cowpuncher he raised him after a hurriedexamination of the wounded thigh. "Hop along, Cassidy," he smiled inencouragement. "You 'll be a better man with one good laig than th'whole gang was all put together."

  The puncher smiled faintly as Hawley, running to them, helped him towardhis hotel. "Th' bone is plumb smashed. I reckon I 'll hop alongthrough life. It 'll be hop along, for me, all right. That's _my_name, all right. Huh! Hopalong Cassidy! But I didn't hop into h--l,did I, Harris?" he grinned bravely.

  And thus was born a nickname that found honor and fame in thecow-country--a name that stood for loyalty, courage and most amazinggun-play. I have Red's word for this, and the endorsement of those whoknew him at the time. And from this on, up to the time he died, andafter, we will forsake "Bill" and speak of him as Hopalong Cassidy, acowpuncher who lived and worked in the days when the West was wild andrough and lawless; and who, like others, through the medium of the onlycourt at hand, Judge Colt, enforced justice as he believed it should beenforced.