Chapter II: Part 2

About four hundred yards above my camp is a big grove of cottonwood trees, and here we go up there: me in the lead, forking that scared-to-death ram, while strung out behind me in the dust comes the rest of the procession, blatting their fool heads off. I can’t stop that fool sheep, and I can’t afford to get off, so we parades right into that clump of trees, and I gets another shock.

There’s a camp there, Hank, and that fool sheep takes me right between two ladies setting there on a log and two more setting on a grub-box. Like a fool I grabs that ram by the horns and tries to turn him like you would a bicycle, but instead of turning the blame thing stopped.

I suppose if I knowed more about sheep I’d a knowed how to start it going again, but I don’t, so there ain’t no argument. Hank, when them women gets a good look they all screeches like a flock of cougars with green-apple cramps, the same of which causes that he-sheep to jump right out from under me, and I lands on my head, with my feet across the tongue of a wagon.

When I gets up, Hank, I got a horse collar around my neck, but I don’t stop to take it off. I ain’t no thief, Hank, and it don’t run in our fambly to take things what don’t concern them, but what can a feller do in a case like that?

Say, Hank, did you hear about Windy and Hondo? They escaped from the jail. The sheriff didn’t tell me how they got away. He just said that they busted some bars off a window.

Well, as I said before, I don’t lose no time. I ducks down on my hands and knees and tries to hide behind a tree what ain’t bigger than a fish-pole. I feels fairly safe, ’cause a hysterical woman don’t never see nothing noway. She’s like a runaway horse.

“My ——, Annie!” I hears one yelp. “Did you see that?”

Annie answers by running the scale with her voice, and then somebody squeaks—

“It must be a wild man!”

* * * * *

Just then I shifts a little, Hank, and gets one knee in a cactus, and that woman ain’t so far wrong at that. They do guess right at times. I rolls over to get a little further away, and just then I hears one of them screeching females yelp:

“Thank heaven! Help is at hand!”

“One letter too much in the word ‘help,’” says I to myself, when I peeks out and sees Blazer and Sleepy ride into the clearing.

“The police are here!” exclaims a woman, and Hank, I has to grin to myself until I gets a look at the stars on the bosom of them hombres.

“Ma’am,” says Sleepy, “what seems to be the matter? We comes to offer succor.”

That was some conversation, Hank. Every one of them scared females tells him her life history from the cradle to the grave, and all at the same time. Taking out a few words that showed up plain between the volleys, I’m informed that the menfolks are all away hunting for sage hens, and that a wild something that was part sheep and part man had come into camp and attacked them. They finally beats it off.

“We’re deputy sheriffs, ma’am,” states Blazer. “We’re part of a posse, and we’re sure a pair of grand little protectors. Which way did it go?”

None of them seemed to know, Hank, which shows that they runs true to the species. Them fellers dismounts, and sort of mills around, looking for signs, while I hugs the ground, and wishes that I hadn’t ate nothing for a week so I could lay flatter.

Blazer remarks something about sanitation around camps, and then he picks up a bucket of dirty water, and throws same all over me. Of course, he don’t know I’m there, but that don’t help none. Them cactus spines begins to itch, and I suffers a lot.

Pretty soon Blazer picks up a empty tomato can, and hits me right on the head with it, and then him and Sleepy states that while they ain’t got much to do they’ll clean up camp. Hank, them fellers sure did bombard me with all the refuse around that camp. With all the other directions to throw at, Hank, of course they has to pitch it all right at me, just because I happens to be laying behind a fringe of brush. It’s human nature to throw rubbish out of sight.

“We’re looking for a pair of escaped criminals, ma’am,” states Sleepy, “they was bosom friends of a crazy shepherd out here, and we thought maybe they came out here to hive up with him.”

“Desper-ah-does?” asks a female, and Hank, I has to laugh when Blazer says: “Of the most malignant type, ma’am. The shepherd is likely the worst one of the three, but there ain’t no use arresting him ’cause the lunatic asylum is too crowded now.”

The idea of calling Windy and Hondo desperate men, Hank. Well, just then I hears voices, and into camp comes them four sage hen hunters. It sort of attracts everybody’s attention, and the way I had of getting out from them tin cans, et cettry, and leaving there wasn’t no trouble at all.

Hank, you know how fast I can run, and that I can just about beat anybody on earth, but you can cut my time half in two and get some idea of the speed I can show, when I ain’t got nothing on to impede my progress, and when I got some place to go to quick.

I sails down a washout, which runs past my camp, and when I gets in behind my tent I takes a look but there ain’t nobody coming, so I climbs out. I yawns and then walks, bold-like, around to the front of my tent, and Hank, I got another shock. Right there at the door of my tent, setting on a box, is Aunt Phoebe.

Down in the bottom stands Uncle Gabe’s camp-supply wagon, and I can hear voices talking some place. Aunt Phoebe is hard of eyesight, and the first thing she does is to go after her specs.

Hank, you know me, and you know that I think quick, so when she tries to draw her specs on me I uses my brains like lightning. There’s a hole about two feet square in my tent, about half-way up to the top, and I takes one long, handsome hop, and drops into that hole like a prairie-dog going home. My one aim in life is to get hold of a blanket.

Hank, this life of ours is full of mistakes, and a lot of them are things we can’t help, like getting married before you find out all about her folks and so forth. I goes out of sight in that tent, about up to my waist, and lights with my legs around something what sure wasn’t in that tent when I left it, and then one of the most blood-curdling yelps you ever heard comes forth.

I reaches outside and grabs the ridge-pole of that tent, and then I sees Emmeline go galloping off across the hills like a scared deer. Every time she hits the ground she lets out a whoop, and right behind her goes Aunt Phoebe. Auntie ain’t built for speed, Hank, but she does well at that. She runs heavy like a draft horse.

I’m glad I wasn’t riding for a prize, Hank, ’cause that thing what I’m setting on rises right up and gives a sudden heave, and stands me on my head outside. I’m getting so used to shocks that it don’t faze me. You know I think awful quick, Hank, and my feet hadn’t hit the dirt yet when I has my whole plan of operation layed out. Think I to myself—

“Whoever that was will come around to the hole side of the tent, so I’ll go the other.”

Wasn’t that quick work, Hank? It sure takes brains to figure all that out so quick. The only trouble with it was the fact that I was figuring on what a normal man would do. It takes so many kinds of folks to make a world, Hank, that no matter how much brains you got you can’t get your shot inside the black spot all the time.

Well, I hops up and lopes around the tent, and meets Uncle Gabe. He’s loping, too, and he’s got a ax in his hand, and all that ever saved my life was a guy-rope that tripped me, and I rammed my head into his stummick so hard that I has to take two steps back to get my hair out of his ribs. He was loping with his head turned around, so he never knew what hit him.

As I said before, Hank, a man ought to know more about his wife’s relatives before he marries her. If I knowed how her uncle would behave under the circumstances I might stay there, but as it is I don’t dare. I could have got his gun and stood him off, Hank, but he’s just crazy enough to cause a scene, and make me kill him, and that would cause a fambly scandal and a row.

I ducks into that tent, grabs a red blanket and a rope, and away I goes again. I ain’t got no place to go to, Hank, but this ain’t no time to plan things out. I tell you again like I did before, it ain’t the blatting what makes them go crazy—it’s the shocks. If I hadn’t been a brainy, well-balanced person I’d have likely gone crazy like a coyote and hunted for a moon to howl at. I went off up that gulch, with that red blanket tied around me like a apron, and Hank, I’m almost to the point where I talk to myself.

Hank, you say in your letter that you didn’t understand what I meant about needing money. You must have skipped a lot of reading matter. I hope to be back there some fine day, and if you’ve still got them letters I’ll set down with you and explain the points what you need cleared up for you. Maybe I used too big words for you, Hank.

Well, I went on up that gulch for miles, and after a while I sees a little cabin in a clump of trees. I’ve been wearing that blanket so long that I sort of takes up the habits of a Indian. There ain’t a sign of anybody around there, so I pushes the door open and goes inside. There’s a few things in there, Hank, and somebody has cooked a onion in there lately, ’cause I can smell same. I picks out a few of my choice cactus and then sets down to try on a pair of old boots, which are on the floor. I gets them on, Hank, but my feet swells right away. I hobbles around there hunting for something more to wear, when I hears voices outside.

* * * * *

I don’t know who it is, so I ducks down and crawls under a low bunk. Pretty soon the door opens, and in comes Windy and Hondo first and behind them comes Blazer and Sleepy. I can see that Windy and Hondo ain’t got no guns, and they seem sort of anxious to please. Sleepy comes over and lays a couple of rifles on the bunk over my head, and they all sets down.

“You fellers ain’t got no howl coming,” states Blazer. “If it was some of them other officers they’d prod you all the way to jail, and then you’d spend about fifteen years breaking up rocks.”

“You sure can paint a glowing future,” agrees Windy. “It sure don’t appeal to me none, but I reckon it’s the best we can do, eh, Hondo?”

“You gets plumb away,” says Sleepy, “we splits the money four ways and reports that you ain’t in this country. Leave that to me and Blazer, and rejoice that we ain’t man-hunting for love or glory.”

Hank, them feet of mine are killing me by this time.

“Show us the cache, and we’ll settle this up now,” says Blazer.

“Sure,” says Windy. “She’s under that left-hand bunk. You won’t need a ax, ’cause the floor is all loose, anyway.”

Hank, I’m under that left bunk. Know what I done? All to once I rolls out from under there and right among them, and grabs a rifle before anybody can say a word, and covers the bunch.

Hank, they acts like they’d seen a ghost. Blazer is leaning against the table, and his hand slips off and he falls flat on his face. Windy sets down on the floor from his chair, and jars the whole cabin. Hondo seems to be the only one to control his feelings, and he says:

“My ——! Darwin was wrong—it’s the other way around!”

Hank, I sure had that bunch buffaloed. They just gasps at me and don’t argue when I takes their guns. Windy is about my size, so I requests the loan of his clothes, and there ain’t no argument. I lays five six-shooters on the table beside me, and them rifles on the floor, and them four pelicans sets there on a bunk while I dress. I can wear all of Windy’s clothes except his boots, and maybe they’ll fit but I can’t get mine off.

Then I makes them all lay down on the floor, while I ties their feet together with a rope. Then I ties one end of the rope to the post of a bunk, and the other end to a log on the corner of the cabin. I searches them for knives, and then leaves them tied up tight. I digs up the money, as I figures to take it to Antelope, and notify the sheriff where he can get the outlaws. I don’t figure that Blazer and Sleepy are a bit better than Windy and Hondo, and I sure wants that sheriff to see what he hired.

I gets on one horse and tries to lead the other three, but two of them gets away and I decides to just take the two. I’m all dressed up with cartridge belts et cettery, and I got that money in the saddle-bags. Also, Hank, I got misery in my feet. Them boots seems to shrink a inch at a time, and each and every boot has nails that seem to stick me plumb to the ankle bone.

I goes along across country, peaceful-like, and I feels uplifted in spite of my misery. Dobie Dalton is going to be a hero and show up Emmeline’s fambly to a fare-thee-well. I tops a ridge, and my hat flips off. Sudden-like, she strikes me that there ain’t no wind, and then I hears the spat of a rifle, and I sees some men cutting across in front of me.

Another shot seems to sort of aggravate my lead horse, and causes him to sort of ball things up. Another bullet sticks into the dirt in front of me, and fills my horse’s eyes with sand.

You know I am awful strong in the arms, Hank, and no horse can get his head when I’m riding same, but you can’t do nothing, when you got a punk headstall, and she busts the first time you pull hard, and the bridle all comes off.

Hank, that horse would win a prize most any place as a bucker, and the other one seems to get the habit, too, and we sure done a double sunfish off into the Mesquite, with me riding without no spurs to help out with and numb feet to brace with. If I’d ’a’ had some spurs to take the buck out of that son-of-a-gun’s head I might a done some good for myself, but as it was, Hank, I reaches for the horn and got my hands full of grass, and then I don’t know nothing.

When I comes to I’m setting with my back against a tree, and a rope around my neck, and a lot of folks are discussing my past.

“Them is my two horses what was stole,” says somebody. “We got the deadwood on this Jasper, and I argues that we better let human nature take its course.”

“Might so well,” agrees somebody. “He’s plumb guilty, and also he’s carrying that stolen money from Mesquite. He sure was heeled to resist arrest.”

“Must be circumstantial,” states a voice, and I recognizes Uncle Gabriel’s voice. “This feller is my nephew by marriage, and while I ain’t defending him for that reason, I don’t think he’s clever enough to do all this, and besides he’s herding sheep for me, when these horses was stole. I moves that we wait until he wakes up so he can say something, or until the sheriff——”

“What about the sheriff?” asks a voice, and there sets the sheriff on his horse, and he’s got them four fellers with him, linked together with a rope.

The crowd sort of loses interest in me, and goes over to the later attraction. There sure is some talk going on. Pretty soon I hears the sheriff say:

“Caught them making a sneak out of that old cabin up here a ways. Reckon they was taking a snooze, ’cause one of them had his boots in his hand.”

I stands up and looks them over. Windy has got on some old clothes and when he sees me he puts his thumb to his nose at me. I says to the sheriff—

“You got two of your own posse, sheriff.”

He looks at me and grins:

“Them two? Posse ——! There’s a thousand dollars reward per each for them hombres. They’re wanted down in Plains County. Stars ain’t hard to get.”

The feller what claimed I stole his animols turns to me and says—

“Where did you find that stolen money, young man?”

“You might ask them,” says I, pointing at them four bad men.

“Crazy from sheep,” says Windy. “None of us have seen him for a week.”

“Sheep does strange things to folks,” says the sheriff, and Hank, I don’t care to argue with them. It ain’t the sheep, it’s shocks.

“You might as well take that rope off his neck,” says the sheriff, and I says—

“If you’re going to pass your generosity around in big gobs that way, you might take these boots off first—the rope don’t hurt me none.”

Well, Hank, I hobbles away with Uncle Gabe to where the supply wagon is, and climbs on the seat beside of Emmeline. I sure am a weary person, Hank.

“Dobie,” says Emmeline, “you simply can’t keep out of trouble, can you?”

Hank there ain’t no use arguing with a woman, so I ignores her, and pretty soon she says:

“Anyway, Dobie, I’m glad you’re going out with us, ’cause I’d worry about you now. There’s a crazy man or something around that camp. It jumped right in the tent, and chased auntie and me away over the hills. And then it knocked uncle down and hung a horse collar around his neck.”

Uncle Gabe looks at me, kind of queer-like, Hank, and I wouldn’t swear to it, but it looked like a wink, so I said—

“Better turn around and take me back to the sheep camp.”

“No,” says he, “I made this trip out here to take you back. I’ve sold out all my sheep.”

Well, Hank, I ain’t got no more job than a jackrabbit, so I’m writing to you, not for money, ’cause you can’t understand that kind of talk, but I want you to go to the old man and say to him—

“Dobie Dalton is a danged good puncher and a upright honorable sort of a person, and he’d come back to the Lazy Y in a minute.”

You know how to say it, Hank. Also you might say to him like this—

“Dobie is domesticated now.”

Just tell it to him, offhand like, Hank. That ain’t no lie—I am. I looks it up in a dictionary, and she says like this: Domesticate, to tame. That’s me, Hank.

Well, there wasn’t no news to write, Hank, but I just wanted you to know I’d come back there if they want me to. I got enough to take me and Emmeline back there if you don’t waste too much time.

Yours very truly and sincerely,

DOBIE DALTON.

P. S. Hank, there wasn’t no reward for the return of that money, but that blasted sheriff got three thousand for them four, and I could ’a’ had it all if I hadn’t made one little mistake. When you rope a man by the feet, Hank, you better take his boots off first.

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in Adventure Magazine, October 3, 1918. It is believed to be in the public domain in the United States; copyright status may differ in other countries.]