DOUGH OR DYNAMITE
Me and “Muley” Bowles and “Chuck” Warner are putting a saddle on acolt in the Cross J corral, when “Telescope” Tolliver enters theprecincts of said ranch, and we gets our first glimpse of ArchibaldAmes.
Archibald occupies a seat on the buckboard with Telescope, and theysoon comes over and climbs on top of the corral fence. Archibald’sname fits him—in a way. The length of his first name indicates hisgirth and his last name his height. He’s one of them persons who you’dnever invite to set down, ’cause he don’t seem to require no suchposture.
It takes him quite a long time to negotiate the top-pole of thecorral, and when he does get up there he has to balance—his feet won’treach the next pole. He’s wearing them dinky little pants, with theseat of a shoplifter and the knees of Lord Fauntleroy. His calvesperspire in shiny leggings, and for a hat he wears a libel on the nameof Stetson.
Muley gives him a passing glance, yanks up another notch on the cinch,and grunts—
“What’ll we do with it?”
“Love it to death or render it out,” grunts Chuck. “Looks to me likeone of them playthings for kids that yuh can’t tip over and make itstay down. Let’s give this colt a chance to breathe, while we peers alittle closer at this attraction.”
We ambles over and looks up at the critter’s soles.
“Mister Ames,” orates Telescope, “I’m obliged to make yuh used toMuley Bowles. He’s the sylph-like critter in woolly chaps. That onewith the sad, horse-faced features is Chuck Warner, the anti-GeorgeWashington of Yaller Rock County, and the other person down there isHenry Peck. They’re all harmless.
“Bunch, this is Mister Archibald Ames, who is to be with us for aspell.”
“I’m pleased to meet yuh,” smiles Archie.
“You ought to be,” agrees Muley. “It ain’t often that we shows thismuch interest in a stranger. What seems to bring yuh hither?”
“I brung him,” states Telescope. “Mister Ames is looking for localcolor. Sabe?”
“What’s he done, and is he wanted by Federal, State or county?” asksChuck, serious-like, wiggling his ears.
Chuck can wiggle his ears just like a mule.
“Done what?” grunts Telescope. “Chuck, you boob, don’t yuh know whatlocal color is?”
“I’ll bite,” grins Chuck. “Go ahead and spring it, Telescope.”
Telescope clears his throat, rolls a cigaret and glares at Chuck, whoglares right back, and wiggles his ears.
“Look at them ears!” applauds Archibald. “I’d love to get a close-upof them.”
“Mister,” reproves Chuck, “it ain’t seemly that a stranger should seton top of a corral and make remarks about the physical failings of anative son. Keep on at the pace you’ve started, and that spell thatTelescope spoke about can be spelled in four letters: g-o-n-e. Sabe?”
“You got a lot to say about it, now ain’t yuh?” reproves Telescope.“You ain’t nothing around here but a forty-dollar puncher. You got alot of chance to tell visitors where to head in. Come on, Mister Ames,and we’ll go up and see the man what owns this ranch, and ain’t nomore sense than to pay forty dollars to a runt like that.”
They climbs down and goes up to the ranch-house.
“Haw! Haw! Haw!” whoops Muley, shaking every ounce of his two hundredand forty pounds of bone and lard. “Haw!