CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TENDER FEELINGS
Me an' Horace was regular chums after this. I had got to likin' himafter he had showed up good stuff under treatment; but I never tookhim serious until he got enthusiastic about Friar Tuck. This provedhim to have desirable qualities and made him altogether worth while. Aman never gets too old to dote on flattery; but the older he gets themore particular he is about its quality. It's just like tobacco an'pie an' whiskey an' such things: we start out hungry for 'em an' takea lot o' trouble to get 'em in quantity; but after a time we'd soonergo without altogether than not to have a superior article; an' it'sjust the same way with flattery.
I took Horace into my most thoughtful moods as soon as I found outthat he was as sound as a nut at heart, an' that it wasn't altogetherhis fault that he had been a pest to me at first. The human mind islike new land, some of it's rich an' some poor. Facts is like manure,idees is like seed, an' education is like spadin' up an' hoein' an'rakin'. Rich soil is bound to raise somethin', even if it's nothin'but weeds; but poor soil needs special care, or it won't even raiseweeds. Now, manure can be put on so thick it will turn ground sour,an' seeds can be sowed so thick they will choke each other, an' agreen hand will sometimes hoe up the vegetables an' cultivate theweeds; but the soil ain't to blame for this.
Poor Horace's mind had been bungled to an infernal degree; an' it keptme busy rootin' up sprouts o' Greek religion. I'd have stood thisbetter if the Greek gods an' godduses had had Christian names; 'causeI own up 'at some o' his tales of 'em was interestin'; but I couldn'tkeep track of 'em, an' so I made him discard 'em in his conversationswith me; an' the way he flattered me was, to reform himself accordin'to what I demanded.
I was teachin' him how to shoot, an' he was enjoyin' it a lot. He hadplenty o' money, and took pleasure in spendin' it. This was good,'cause it costs a lot o' money to become a good shot. I'm glad I don'tknow what it cost me to learn how to shoot a man through both earsafter doin' the double reverse roll. I never had but one fit chance touse this, an' then I shot Frenchy through his ears without rememberin'to use the roll. I allus felt bad about this, 'cause I had a goodaudience, an' nothin' saves a man from the necessity o' shootin' hisfellows, so much as havin' it well advertised that he is thoroughlyqualified to do it in proper style. I kept up my own practicin' whileteachin' Horace, an' we had right sociable times.
He could throw up a tin can with his left hand, pull his gun and,about once out o' ten shots, hit the can before it fell; which ispurty fair shootin'; but he was beginnin' to suspect that he was aregular gun-man; which is a dangerous idee for any one to get into hishead. I tried to weight down his head a little to keep him sensible,but instead o' thankin' me he went off with Tank, who shot up a lot ofhis cartridges at target practice; and in return, puffed up thetop-heavy opinion Horace already had of himself.
He took Horace down to a warm canyon where the' was a lot o'rattlesnakes, claimin' it was necessary to test him out an' see if hehad nerve on a livin' creature. He shot off the heads o' three snakes,hand-runnin', an' it nearly broke his hatband.
When he told me about it, I let him know 'at Tank was only workin'him. "A rattlesnake will strike at a flash, Horace," sez I; "an' itwas the snake's eyes which were accurate, not yours." This cut him upan' made him a little offish with me for a few days, until he found Ihad told him the truth. Ol' Tank Williams wasn't no fancy shot; butI'd rather have tackled Horace with a gun, cocked in his hand, thanol' Tank, with his gun asleep in its holster.
After Horace had made the test of shootin' at dead snakes an' hadfound that he couldn't pop off three heads hand-runnin', he simmereddown a little an' paid more heed to what I told him; but after I hadproved that I told him straighter stuff 'n Tank did, I decided itwould be necessary to punish him a little. I didn't get downright coldwith him, because I didn't want to exaggerate his vanity any more 'nit already was; but I made it a point to do my loafin' with SpiderKelley. Horace was crazy to go bear-huntin'; but I didn't seeminterested, an' I recommended ol' Tank Williams as bein' some the bestbear-hunter the' was in existence. I wasn't jealous of Horace goin'off shootin' with Tank; but still if a feller chooses to dispense withmy company, I allus like to show him 'at I can stand it as long as hecan.
Quite a string o' years had slipped away since the bettin' barber o'Boggs had strung ol' man Dort; so I reminded Spider 'at we had agreedto help even that up sometime; and Spider, he said he was ready to dohis part, whatever it happened to be; so we planned idees out amongourselves, while Horace hung around lookin' wishful.
We had never given it away about the woodchuck not bein' a regularsquirrel; so the boys still used to congregate together purty often atol' man Dort's to marvel at the way Columbus had filled out an' tookon flesh. He had got rough an' blotchy soon after he had won thecontest from Ben Butler, the red squirrel, an' it was plain to allthat Eugene had done some high-toned barberin' on him before the dayo' the show.
Ol' man Dort didn't have no affection for Columbus--fact is, he sorto' hated him for bein' bigger 'n Ben Butler; but he kept him fat an'fit so as to be ready to enter in a contest the minute any feller camealong with a squirrel he thought was big enough to back up with a bet.The trouble was, that mighty few fellers out that way owned anysquirrels, an' as the years dragged by without him gettin' any pastimeout o' Columbus, ol' man Dort's affection for him grew thinner an'thinner. Some o' the boys discovered him to be a woodchuck; but no onetold of it for fear the old man would slaughter Eugene.
The old man kept on gettin' barbered, so as to have the chance o'clashin' with Eugene about every subject which came up; but finally hegot so he could be shaved in a decent, orderly manner without havin'his head tied down to the rest. Him an' Eugene was the mostantagonistic fellers I ever met up with; but it was a long time beforeme an' Spider could think up a way to get 'em fairly at it again.
One day Spider came ridin' in from Danders, bubblin' over withexcitement, and yells out--"Pete Peabody's got a freak guinea-pig."
"That's glorious news," sez I. "Let's get all the boys together an'hold a celebration."
"I guess a freak guinea-pig's as worthy o' bein' commented on as airyother kind of freak," sez Spider, stridin' off to the corral, purtywell pouted up.
He hadn't more 'n reached it before an idee reached me, an' I ranafter him. "What is the' freakish about this guinea-pig, Spider?" sezI.
"He's got a tail," snapped Spider.
"Ain't they all got tails?" sez I.
"You know they ain't," he sez. "You remember what that feller from theEast said last spring--if you hold up a guinea-pig by the tail, hiseyes fall out, an' then when we didn't believe it, he told us theydidn't have no tails. Pete sez that this guinea-pig is the only one inthe world what has a tail."
"Do you reckon he'd sell it?"
"He'd sell the hair off his head," sez Spider.
"Well, you go back there an'--But say, has Pete got any others?"
"He had ten when I left, an' no knowin' how many he's got by thistime. Pete sez 'at guinea-pigs is the prolificest things the' is," sezSpider.
"You buy three of 'em, Spider," sez I; "a male one an' a female one,an' this here freak."
"What do I want with 'em?" sez Spider.
"I'll pay half, an' show you how to make money out of 'em," sez I.
"I don't want to tinker with no such cattle as them," sez Spider.
"You get a fresh pony, an' it won't take you no time at all," sez I.
So Spider got the pony an' went off grumblin'. When he brought 'emback he had 'em in a small box an' they certainly was curious lookin'insects. "I paid four bits apiece for the male an' the female," sezSpider, "an' twenty-five real dollars for the freak."
"If that's the way prices run," sez I, "it ain't no wonder thatguinea-pigs what are ambitious to be popular, are willin' to give upthe luxury o' tails."
"Now then, what in thunder are we goin' to do with 'em?" sez Spider.
"Get a fresh pony," sez I, "an' we'll go on over to Boggs."
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"You go to the equator!" yells Spider. "I ain't had no sleep for aweek."
"Sleep," sez I, "what's the use o' botherin' about sleep? You keep onlosin' your strength this way, an' in about a year they'll betrundlin' you around in a baby cart. All right then, you stay home an'be company for the freak. We'll hide him up in the attic so the ratscan't get him."
"Oh I could stand it to go without sleep, if I saw any sense in it,"sez Spider; "but hanged if I'm goin' to ride my bones through my skinjust to please you."
"Suit yourself," sez I. "We'll put the freak in the tin cake-box an'punch a few holes in it to give him air. I'll do that while you'remakin' up your mind about goin' along to Boggs."
"What you goin' to do with the male an' the female?" sez Spider as Istarted away.
"I'm goin' to sell 'em to Eugene," I calls back over my shoulder, an'then I knew I'd have company.
"I thought you was goin' to Boggs," sez Spider as soon as we hadsettled into a travelin' trot. I allus find that I get along easierwith people if I just leave 'em one or two items to puzzle over.
"Webb Station is closer," sez I; "an' if this deal causes any hardfeelin' it will be just as well not to be mixed up in it ourselves."
"I thought you was goin' to sell these to Eugene?" sez Spider.
"If you'd just go to sleep, Spider," sez I, "it would save your brainthe trouble o' thinkin' up a lot o' thoughts which ain't no useanyhow. I'm goin' to let Shorty take 'em over this evenin' an' sell'em to Eugene."
"How do you know he wants 'em?"
"'Cause I know Eugene," sez I. "I'll fix up Shorty's tale for him."
Well, we explained to Shorty the bettin' principle of guinea-pigs, an'gave him the pigs, tellin' him he could have all he won from Eugene onthe first bet; but to then sell 'em to Eugene without lettin' any o'the other fellers know anything about it, an' to make Eugene thinkthat he had picked 'em up from a train passenger, not from us.
Shorty said that he'd go over that afternoon as soon as the passengerhad gone--Shorty was the telegraph operator--so Spider an' I cameback, he sleepin' all the way.
"Where do we come in on this deal?" sez Spider next day.
"We'll give Eugene a chance to cut their hair a new way, an' thenwe'll go over to Boggs an' line things up."
"I'm beginnin' to see how it could be worked out," sez Spider,grinnin'.
In about a week we went over to Boggs, an' found the town purty welldeserted. We dropped into ol' man Dort's to compliment Columbus somean' sympathize with Ben Butler a little, while tryin' to hear ifEugene had made his play yet. The ol' man was gloatin' over the factthat Eugene wasn't havin' much trade, but he didn't mention anythingabout guinea-pigs.
"You don't seem rushed, yourself," sez I.
"Course I ain't," he flares back. "Most o' the fellers are stillroundin' up, an' the rest are out huntin' for Red Erickson."
"Red been gettin' thoughtless again?" sez I. Red Erickson was a bigDane who had the habit o' runnin off stock an' shootin' any one whodisagreed with him.
The ol' man merely pointed to a paper pinned up on the wall offerin'fifteen hundred dollars for Red, dead or alive. He hadn't beenoperatin' on Diamond Dot stuff, so we hadn't paid much heed to him.
We strolled on over to Eugene's an' found him sittin' down an' talkin'about the peculiar custom o' guinea-pigs; so we knew that he hadswallered the bait; but he didn't offer to bet with us.
Then we went back an' asked ol' man Dort if he believed that aguinea-pig's eyes would fall out if he was held up by the tail.
"It's all rot!" sez the ol' man, indignant. "Any one who sez suchnonsense never studied the way eyes is fastened in. The tail ain't gotnothin' to do with it."
"What kind o' tails has guinea-pigs got?" sez I.
"Why they got--?" sez the ol' man, an' then stopped an' looked blank."What kind o' tails have they got?"
"They haven't got any," sez I. "Now listen; would you be willin' torisk a little money to even up with Eugene?"
"I'd risk every thing I got, down to my very hide," sez the ol' man,earnest to a degree.
"Well, then, you play careful an' we'll provide you with the cards,"sez I. "Eugene has some guinea-pigs, an' he is plannin' to string youon a bet. You come right along just as though you was as ignorant asyou look, have a day fixed to decide the bet, let us know, an' for thesmall sum of fifty dollars we'll provide you with a guinea-pig whichhas a tail."
"I'll make a pauper out of him," sez the ol' man. "I haven't had achance to get a bet on Columbus since I owned him."
"You just land Eugene," sez I, "an' that'll be sport enough for onewhile."
"I got shaved twice to-day," sez the ol' man feelin' his chin, "'causewe got into a discussion about comets; but I reckon I can standanother to-morrow."
The next day the old man asked Eugene what all kind o' game grew inAfrica. "Elephants, hippopotamusses an' guinea-pigs," sez Eugene.
"Guinea-pigs?" sez the ol' man.
"Yes, they're the most curious animals the' is in existence," sezEugene.
"How big are they?" asked ol' man Dort. He hadn't an idea in theworld, an' was beginnin' to think that if they sized up with elephantsan' hippopotamusses, he didn't want to have to lift one by the tail towin his bet.
"They ain't any bigger 'n young rabbits," sez Eugene, stroppin' hisrazor; "but the curious part of 'em is that if you hold up one by thetail, his eyes'll drop out."
"I'll bet a hundred dollars they wouldn't do it," sez the ol' man.
"That's a safe enough bet," sez Eugene, calm an' easy. "They're worthall the way up to five hundred dollars a pair, an' it ain't likelythat a man would invest that amount in something, just to win ahundred-dollar bet."
They sparred back an' forth for a couple o' days until finally Eugenebet nine hundred in cash--all he had in the world--an' his shop an'fixin's, again' eleven hundred dollars, that the old man couldn't lifta guinea-pig by the tail without his eyes fallin' out. If the ol' mandidn't lift one by the tail, he lost the bet. They set the date for aweek ahead, an' the ol' man bet Eugene three hundred dollars that he'dwin the bet, takin' Eugene's promissory agreement for his end of it.
We brought in the freak the day before the contest an' the ol' man'seyes lit up when he see the tail. It wasn't much of a tail at that;but it was a sure enough tail an' plenty long enough to lift him by,an' strong enough too, an' the' was regular bones in it, just like anytail.
The' was only a fair sized crowd of us on hand to see the test; butEugene went through all the preliminaries, an' then took the cover offhis box an' pointed to the guinea-pigs. He had shaved the parts of 'emwhere tails naturally belong, an' when the boys see that they didn'thave no tails, they howled with laughter an' began to hoot ol' manDort; an' Eugene confided to 'em the plans he had for spendin' themoney he'd won.
Ol' man Dort, he walked calmly up to the box, examined theguinea-pigs, an' sez: "These here is not the full-blooded guinea-pigs.The full-blooded ones live in a mountainous? country an' use theirtails to steer with when they jump from rock to rock; while this kindlive in swamps an' the young alligators keep on eatin' off their tailsuntil they don't have any. I'll go get a thoroughbred an' do myliftin' on him."
Well this set 'em back a good ways; an' as the ol' man was walkin' offto get his own speciment, a good many bets was put up, but Eugenedidn't take any.
Purty soon, back come the ol' man; an' hanged if he hadn't clipped thehair off o' his one's tail too. He reached in his hand an' stroked thelong-faced little duffer, an' sez: "Gently, George the Third, gently."Then he put on an anxious look an' picked up the guinea-pig by thetail, holdin' his other hand underneath to catch any eyes whathappened to spill out. They didn't none drop out, an' the crowd give acheer; but Eugene was all in.
He was a bad loser was Eugene, an' he didn't join in the festivitiesany. He just took up his two guineas an' went back to his shop, whilethe rest of us celebrated a few. After a time me an' Spider went toconsole with him a little. He was so infernally down in the mouth thatI began t
o get a little conscience-struck. Eugene said he had beensavin' up his money to pay off the mortgage on his birthplace; an' hemade a purty sad story out of it. Fact was, that he made so sad astory out of it that I decided to get him back his tools and give hima new start.
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