Friar Tuck

by Robert Alexander Wason

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS

  Olaf's theories concernin' violence didn't harmonize complete with theFriar's; but his method for discouragin' scandal was thorough to adegree. He silenced the gossipers all right, though so far as I heard,most of 'em recovered; and the outcome was 'at the Friar stood higherafter the scandal 'n he had before.

  The Cross brand outfit was a good deal like a pack o' dogs: they eachsought Ty Jones's favor, and they were all jealous of each other. Olafstood high on account of his mysterious insight; so Badger-face, theforeman, backed up Bud Fisher to devil Olaf as far as possible withoutgivin' Olaf what Ty would judge a fit excuse for unscrewin' the kid'sneck; and from the talk I heard, their outfit trotted along as smoothan' friendly as seven he bears hitched to a freight wagon; but ourtrails didn't cross frequent, so it was all hearsay.

  The winter before had been so fierce 'at a lot o' small outfitscouldn't winter through their stock. Towards spring, ol' Cast Steelhad bought in the Half Moon brand for a hundred an' fifty dollars; andthat summer me an' Spider Kelley put in our spare time huntin' strays.Spider had come back, flat broke and full o' repentance; so after I'dstood him on his head in a buffalo-wallow full o' mud, I forgave himfree and frank, and this summer we rode together most o' the time.

  Ol' Cast Steel was as lucky as a hump-back cat, and this summer thegrass was fatter 'n ever I'd seen it. We rounded up over five hundredhead o' ponies, and over sixty cows, which was just like bein' caughtout in a gold storm without your slicker on; so we didn't sympathizeany with the old man, but prospected around for pleasure whenever wefelt like it.

  One afternoon after the fall round-up, me an' Spider found ourselvesin a mighty rough bit o' country on the north slope o' the Wind Riverrange. We had been herdin' six or eight Half Moon ponies before us forseveral days, devilin' a parcel of Injuns into thinkin' 'at we was outtradin'; but we had got weary o' this, an' were just foolin' aroundand wishin' 'at somethin' would turn up to amuse us.

  "Aw, let's go on back home," sez Spider, not knowin' he was speakin'wisdom. "I'd sooner work at work than work at huntin' up somethin' toamuse myself with."

  "Well," I sez, "we'll finish out this afternoon, an' then if nothin'turns up, we'll go back, draw our pay an' go into Boggs."

  We saw our ponies start around a butte ahead of us an' stop to examinesomethin'. We followed 'em around the butte, and there below us on alittle level, was a bunch of men--seven of 'em. We drew up an' gave'em a look-over.

  "What do you make out?" sez I.

  "Olaf the Swede with a rope around his neck, an' Badger-face Flanniganholdin' the other end o' the rope," sez Spider. "What do you reckonthey're goin' to do to him?"

  "Comb his hair, or fit a new sun-bonnet on him," sez I, sarcastic."What else do they put a man's neck in a noose for? Let's go down an'see what happens."

  "A feller's not sure of a welcome at such times," sez Spider.

  "No," I agreed; "but I want to see Olaf's eyes again, and this may bemy last chance."

  "It may be your last chance to see anything," sez Spider. "The bestthing we can do is just to back-track. We interrupted 'em once before;and I don't want 'em to get the idee that we spend all our timedoggin' their footsteps for a chance to spoil their fun. This ain'tany of our business."

  "We won't spoil their fun," sez I. "If they get suspicious, we cantake a hand in it, an' that will fix it all right. Olaf ain't nothin'to us; and I don't intend to risk my fat for him, just 'cause he's gotcurious eyes."

  "No, I'm not goin'," sez Spider.

  I looked across at the group again, an' there comin' up the trailbehind 'em was Friar Tuck, ridin' a round little pinto, an' leadin' abig bay.

  "Well, you just stay here, an' be damned to you," sez I to Spider."I'm goin' on down." So me an' Spider rode down together, an' arrivedat just the same time as the Friar did.

  Badger-face looked first at us, an' then at the Friar. "What the helldo you fellers want this time?" he sez to us in welcome.

  "We just happened along," sez I. "What's goin' on?"

  "You're goin' on yourselves, first thing," sez Badger-face. "That'swhat's goin' on."

  "I guess 'at you ain't got neither deeds nor lease to this land," sezI. "We haven't any intention of interferin' with you; but we don'tintend to be sent where we don't want to go. We've got business here,huntin' up stray hosses, an' I reckon we'll just stick around."

  "You got business here, too, I suppose?" sez Badger-face, turnin' tothe Friar.

  "Yes," sez the Friar calmly. "I came here entirely by accident; butnow it is my business to inquire into why you have a rope about thisman's neck. You recall havin' put me into a similar perdicament, Mr.Flannigan."

  "Yes, an' the only thing I regret is, that I was interrupted," growlsBadger-face. "But this time, the' ain't any chance to change theprogramme, so you might just as well poke on into some one else'saffairs."

  "What's the matter, Olaf?" asked the Friar.

  Before Olaf could reply, Badger-face gave a jerk on the rope. "Youshut up," sez he.

  "Surely you will give the man a chance to speak," cried the Friar,indignant.

  "It won't do him no good to speak," sez Badger-face. "He's committed amurder, but of course he denies it. Now, get out o' here, all three ofya."

  "Listen," sez the Friar, as steady an' strong as the sweep of a deepriver, "I care more for justice 'n I do for law. I know that hangin' aman has never done any good; but it is usually regarded as a legalform of punishment, and the prejudice in its favor is still too strongfor one man to overcome. If you convince me that this man would behung by a court, why, I shall never say a word about it; but if you donot convince me, I shall stir up all the trouble I can. I have quite anumber of friends, Mr. Flannigan."

  Badger-face studied over this a moment; and he saw it had sense. "Allright," sez he, "we'll try him fair an' square; and then you threewill have to help string him, an' I guess that'll keep your mouthsshut."

  "Tell your story, Olaf," sez the Friar.

  "Well," sez Olaf, "we came up short on the round-up, an' the old manraised Cain about it, an' sent us out to hunt for strays. Badger-facesplit us into pairs, an' made me an' Bud Fisher work together. We sawsome cows up on a ledge where we couldn't ride to; so we left thehosses below, an' climbed to see if they had our brand. If they had,we intended to ride around and get 'em. If not it would save half aday. Bud Fisher had a rifle along, hopin' to get a mountain sheep, an'he insisted on takin' it with him. He climbed up on a ledge, an' Ipassed up the rifle to him. It was a long stretch, an' I passed itmuzzle first. The hammer caught on a point of rock, an' shot himthrough the stomach. I didn't bear him any ill will any more--I randown to the hosses, an' brought up the saddle-blankets an' theslickers, an' made him as comfortable as I could. Then I hunted upBadger-face an' told him. When we got back he was dead. This is thetruth."

  "I think it is," sez the Friar.

  "Aw rot!" sez Badger-face. "Come on, now, an' finish it. Every oneknows how they hated each other; and it's plain enough that when theSwede here got the chance, he just put Bud out o' the way, an' Bud wasone o' the finest boys the' ever was in the world--always full o' funan' frolic; while Olaf has allus been sour an' gloomy."

  Most men are as sappy as green grain, an' they bow whichever way thewind blows. The Cross brand punchers all looked extremely sad whenBadger-face spoke o' what a royal good feller Bud Fisher had been, an'when he stopped, they all glared at Olaf as friendly as wolves,especially a skinny feller by the name of Dixon, who had the neck anddisposition of a snake.

  "If you thought 'at Olaf an' Fisher hated each other, why did you make'em work together?" asked the Friar; and the Cross brand puncherspricked up their ears an' looked pointedly at Badger-face.

  "I thought they had made it up," sez Badger-face, surprised intotakin' the defensive.

  "I have noticed that you are likely to jump hasty at conclusions," sezthe Friar, speakin' with tantalizin' slowness. He was a fisher of men,all right, the
Friar was; and just then he was fishin' for those Crossbrand punchers. "Did Bud speak before he died, Olaf?" he askedimpartially.

  Olaf hung his head: "All he said was, that she hadn't never cared forhim, an' that he didn't know one thing again' her," said Olaf.

  "Aw, what's the use o' stringin' it out," sez Badger-face. "Let's hanghim and have it over with."

  "Hanging a fellow-bein' is a serious matter, Mr. Flannigan," sez theFriar. "I am a party to this now, and shall have to assume my share ofthe responsibility. I shall never consent to swingin' a man on suchevidence as this. Let us go and examine the spot. The hammer may haveleft a scratch, or something. If you convince me that Olaf committedthe murder, I pledge to assist in hangin' him. That's certainly fair,men," he sez to the Cross-branders, an' they nodded their heads thatit was.

  So we clumb up to the spot where Olaf claimed to have handed the gun;but the' wasn't any scratch on the rock. "Did he fall from the ledgewhen he was shot?" asked the Friar.

  "No," sez one o' the punchers. "He fell on the edge an' hung on."

  "Did the bullet go clean through him?" asked the Friar.

  "Yes, it went clear through," sez the feller.

  "Point with your finger just where it went in, an' just where it cameout," sez the Friar.

  The feller pointed with one finger in front, an' one behind. The Friartook a rope an' had me hold it behind the feller at just the level ofthat finger an' then he made Spider stretch the rope so that it passedon a line with the finger in front. The whole crowd was interested bythis time. "Now, then," sez the Friar, "where could Olaf have stood toshoot such a line as that. He could not have shot while he wasclimbin' up, nor he couldn't have reached high enough while standin'below."

  "He could, too," sez Badger-face, "for Bud would have been leanin'over, reachin' for the gun."

  "If he had been shot while he was reachin' over, he would have fallenfrom the ledge," flashed the Friar.

  "Maybe he did," snapped Badger-face, just as quick. "Olaf here is asstrong as a horse, an' maybe he put him back on the ledge. He hadblood on his hands an' you can still see it on his shirt. A man don'tbleed much when shot in the belly."

  Olaf's queer blue eyes turned from one to the other, but his facedidn't change expression much. He had about give up hope in the firstplace, an' his face had the look of a hoss, after he's been throwedfour or five times an' just keels over on his side an' sez to himself:"Well, they've put the kibosh on me, an' I don't intend to make a foolof myself any more by tryin' to break loose." The rest of us was moreexcited about it than Olaf was himself.

  "Which one of us is the nearest size to Bud Fisher?" asked the Friar.

  They all agreed that Spider Kelley was; so the Friar had him coon upon the ledge. Then he had Olaf take the empty rifle just as he hadheld it when he passed it up; but made him give it to Badger-facehimself to pass up. Badger-face passed it up, Spider Kelley reachedfor it, took it, and started to straighten up--The hammer caught onthe precise knob that Olaf had said it had, an' snapped hard enough toset off a cartridge. "There," sez the Friar, sweepin' his hands wide.We could all see that the bullet would 'a' gone through just where itdid go.

  "Hand back the rifle, an' I'll show ya how he passed it up," saidBadger-face. Spider passed it down, an' we all watched intent. It hadbecome like a real court o' law; we had forgot what the case wasabout, we was so interested in seein' the scrap the lawyers wereputtin' up.

  Badger-face cocked the rifle so slick we didn't see him, called out toSpider to catch it, an' tossed it up to him. It came just short o'Spider's hand; and without thinkin' o' what he was doin', Spiderreached for the gun. This brought him squattin' just the time the gundropped back into Badger's hands, and quick as a wink, he pulled thetrigger--and hanged if that bullet wouldn't have traveled through thesame hole the first one had made.

  I never saw circumstantial evidence give such a work-out before. If wehad all been fair-minded, it would have puzzled us; but as it was, wesided accordin' to our prejudices; an' the Cross brand fellers choseBadger-face to Olaf, Badger-face bein' foreman. The Friar saw he wasstumped.

  "Are there any marks up there?" he asked of Spider.

  "There's some blood streaks on a stone," sez Spider.

  "Did you notice 'em?" asked the Friar of Badger-face.

  "Yes," sez he; "but they don't mean nothin'."

  "Let's go up an' look at 'em," sez the Friar, so we all clumb up.

  They pointed out just where Bud Fisher had laid when they found him;and close beside him was a smooth white stone with blood marks on it.The Friar examined the lay o' the ledge; but it didn't tell nothin',so finally he got down on his knees an' studied the blood-stainedstone.

  Presently he nodded his head and straightened up. "Examine thatstone," he said, pointin' with his fingers. We all crowded about an'studied it. The' was finger an' thumb prints all over it; but if youlooked close, you could make out the rude image of a man pullin' up agun which had exploded on the edge of a ledge. It was a smudgey,shakey affair, but if ya looked just right you could make it out. Yet,even this didn't floor Badger-face.

  "The Swede there did that himself," he growled; "and this makes himout sneakier 'n we thought him. Let's hang him, and get rid o' thisfoolishness."

  "Flannigan," sez the Friar in cold, hard tones, "you have gone too farthis time. If you had hung Olaf at first, you might have done it froma proverted sense o' justice; but to do it now would be murder; andyour own men wouldn't help. Do any of you men chew tobacco?"

  If he had asked for a can o' face-paint, we wouldn't 'a' been moresurprised; but to show the hold the Friar had gained over that crowd,every feller there but Badger-face held out his plug to him.

  "Make some tobacco juice, Olaf," he said.

  Olaf bit off a hunk the size of a walnut from his own piece, an'proceeded to make juice, as though his life depended upon the amountof it. "Wet your thumb and fingers with it, and make marks on thewhite stone," commanded the Friar.

  Olaf did so; and when we saw the difference in size and shape, wesavvied the game.

  "Olaf took Bud's hand and made the marks with Bud's own blood," sezBadger-face.

  "Did any one here ever try to handle a dead man's hand?" asked theFriar; and that settled it. We all nodded our heads, exceptBadger-face, an' he had sense enough to see 'at he had lost the deal,so he didn't say nothin'.

  "What I can't see is, why he didn't write," sez the Friar.

  "He couldn't write," chirps up two punchers at once, an' then theytook the rope off Olaf's neck.

  They talked it over and decided that the best thing to do was to buryBud Fisher right there in the canyon. The' was a little cave on theledge back o' where we were standin' so two o' the punchers went downwhere they had him laid out under the slickers, an' brought him up. Wehad to hoist him on ropes, an' the Friar looked a long time into hisface.

  It was just a lad's face: not bad nor hardened; just the face of amischievous boy, weary after a day's sport. We all took a look, an'then put him in the little cave an' heaped clods over him an' piledstones on until the door was blocked shut again' varmints.

  The Friar sat down on a big rock--he had worked as hard as any ofus--and sat thinkin' with his chin in his hand. The Cross brandfellers muttered among themselves for a moment, an' then one of 'emtook off his hat, an' sez, "Don't ya think ya'd ought to speaksomethin' over him, parson?"

  "Do you want me to?" asked the Friar. And they all nodded their heads.

  So the Friar, he took off his battered hat and stood up before us an'spoke a sermon, while we took off our hats, an' sat around on stonesto listen.

  I'm convinced 'at the Friar's long suit lay in the fact 'at he alluspreached at himself. Most preachers have already divided the sheepfrom the goats; and they allus herd off contented with the sheep ongreen pastures, and preach down at the goats on the barren rocks; butif the Friar made any division at all, he classed himself in with thegoats.

  You see, in agreein' to help string Olaf should he be convicted,
theFriar had bet his soul on the outcome; and this braced him up in thatcrowd as nothin' else would; for they knew that if he had lost, he'dhave pulled harder on the rope 'n any one else.

  It's child's play to put out a funeral talk over some old lady who hashelped the neighbors for seventy or eighty years; but to preach theneed of repentance to the livin', and then to smooth things out for'em after they've died in their sins, in such a way as it will jollyup the survivors and give 'em nerve to carve cheerful tidings on thetombstone, is enough to make a discriminatin' man sweat his hair out.

  The Friar stood with his hands clasped in front of him, and his eyesfixed sort o' dreamy-like on the distance. It was a perfect day, oneo' those days 'at can't happen anywhere except in our mountains in thefall o' the year, and my mind drifted off to some lines the Friar wasfond of rehearsin', "Where every prospect pleases, an' only man isvile." Then I saw a change come to the Friar's face, and he began tochant the one which begins: "Lord, let me know mine end, and thenumber of my days."

  He chanted slow, and the words didn't mean much to us; but the solemnvoice of him dragged across our hearts like a chain. One line of ithas haunted me ever since. It seems to suggest a hundred thoughtswhich I can't quite lay my hand on, and every time I get sad ordiscouraged, it begins to boom inside me until I see 'at my lot ain'tso much different from the rest; and I buck up and get back in thegame again: "For I am a stranger with Thee and a sojourner as all myfathers were."

  The Friar didn't preach us a long talk, and most of it circled abouthis favorite text, that a man's real children were those who inheritedhis character, rather than those who inherited his blood. Once heraised his finger and pointed it at us and sez: "You were fond o' thisboy; but did you love him for his good, or did you love him for yourown selfishness? I knew him not save through the dark glass ofreputation; yet after looking into his dead features, to-day, I thinkI know him well. Death tells, sometimes, what Life has hid away. I didnot see in his face the hard, deep lines of stealthy sin; I saw theopen face of a child, tired out after a day wasted in thoughtless andimpulsive play; but comin' home at nightfall to have his small caresrubbed away by a lovin' hand--and then, to fall asleep."

  O' course, the Friar landed on us good and plenty; but this was thepart of his talk which stuck to us after the scoldin' part was allforgotten. When he was through he said a short prayer, and sang in alow tone the one beginnin', "One sweetly solemn thought." His eyeswere glistenin' through a mist when he finished this, and he climbeddown from the ledge, hurried over to his pinto, and rode off withoutsayin' another word.

  We all sat silent for quite a spell, and then Spider and I got up andnodded good day to 'em. The Cross-branders also got up and shook'emselves, and started down with us--all except Olaf. He sat there ona stone with his fingers run into his hair, and his face hid in hishands. Olaf had had regular religion when he was a child; and it hadcome back to him up there on the ledge. They say it's worse 'n arelapse o' the typhoid fever when it hits ya that way. I know thismuch, Olaf was doubled up worse 'n if he'd had the colic; and fromthat time on, the Ty Jones outfit looked mighty worldly to him.

  Even Spider Kelley was savin' of his nonsense until we got in sight ofthe Diamond Dot again.