BILL ATTENDS THE PICNIC
The picnic aroused quite a stir for so frivolous a thing. When Blake
read Mrs. Shields' invitation to the outfit they acted like schoolboys
dismissed for a vacation. Grins of delight were the style on the Star
C, and the overflow of bubbling happiness took the form of practical
joking against Humble, whose life suddenly held much anxiety. In Ford's
Station there was an air of expectancy, and Bill spent all of Saturday
morning from daylight until time to start in cleaning his stage and
grooming the horses, whose astonishment quickly passed into prohibitive
indignation. After narrowly escaping broken bones and chewed arms Bill
decided that the sextet could go as it was.
"Serves 'em right!" he yelled to his friendly enemy, the clerk, after he
had barely dodged a vicious kick, wildly waving a curry comb. "Let the
ignoramuses go like they are! Let 'em show how cheap and common they are!
They never was any good for anything, anyhow, eating their heads off and
kicking their best friend!"
"How about the time they beat out them Apaches?" asked the clerk, settling
back comfortably against the coach.
"You get out!" yelled Bill pugnaciously. "Who asked you for talk, hey? And
get away from that coach, you idiot, you'll dirty it all up!"
"Sic 'em, Tige!" jeered the clerk pleasantly. "Chew 'em up!"
"What!" yelled Bill, swiftly grabbing up the pail of water which stood
near him. "Sic 'em, is it!" he cried, running forward. "Chew 'em up,
hey!" he continued, heaving the contents of the pail at the clerk, who
nimbly sprang inside the vehicle and slammed the door shut behind him as
the water struck it. He leaped out of the other door and was safely away
before Bill realized what had happened. Then the driver said things when
he saw the mess he had made of the coach, upon which he had spent two
hard hours in polishing.
"Suffering dogs!" he shouted, dancing first on one foot and then on the
other. "Now look what you've done! You're a h--l of a feller, you are!
After me rubbing the skin off'n my hands and breaking my arms a-polishing
it up! You good for nothing, mangy half-breed! Wait till I get a hold of
you, you long pair of legs, you! Just wait! I'll show you, all right!"
The clerk twiddled his fingers from afar and jeered in his laughter:
"Serves you right! Sic 'em, Towser! Eat 'em up, Fido! Sic 'em, sic 'em!"
he shouted joyously, and forthwith ran for his life.
Bill returned to the coach and worked like mad to undo the evil effects
he had wrought and finally succeeded in bringing a phantom glow to the
time-battered wood. Then he hitched up and drove to the sheriff's house,
where he saw huge baskets on the porch.
"Good morning, Mrs. Shields," he said as he stamped to the door. "Good
morning, ladies."
"Good morning William," replied the sheriff's wife as she hurried to
collect shawls and blankets. "Will you mind putting those baskets on
the coach, William? We will soon be ready."
"Why, certainly not, ma'am," he answered, recklessly grabbing up the two
largest. "Jimminee!" he exulted. "These are shore heavy, all right, all
right! Must be plumb full of good things! To-day is where your Uncle
Bill Halloway gets square for the dinner the company froze him out of.
Wonder if there's apricot pie in this one?" he mused curiously. He
gingerly raised the cover and a grin distorted his face. "Must be six,
yes, eight--mebby ten!" he soliloquized as he placed it on the stage.
"Hullo, bottles of some kind," he whispered as he picked up another
basket. "Hear the little devils clink, eh? Must be coffee and tea, hey?
Yes, shore enough it is. Good Lord, how hungry I am--wish I had eaten that
breakfast this morning--how in thunder did I know we was going to be so
late? I'll be the strong man at this picnic, all right!"
"Here are some blankets, William," called Mrs. Shields. "Helen, would you
mind showing him how to carry that box?--he's sure to turn it upside down
if you don't."
"Next!" he cried, returning from the trip with the blankets. "I put them
blankets up on top, Mrs. Shields, is it all right? How do you do, Miss
Helen, any more freight?"
"How do you do," she replied. "This box is to go, please. Now, do be very
careful not to turn it up, or jar it!" she warned. "And put it on the seat
inside the coach where we can steady it."
"Gee, what's in it?" asked Bill, nearly dying from his curiosity. "Must
be the joker of the feast, eh?"
"Three layer cakes," she laughingly replied. "Chocolate, cocoanut and
lemon."
"Um!" he said. "I'll carry this one high up, it deserves it."
"Oh, do be careful!" she cried as he swooped it up to his shoulder. "Oh!"
she screamed as it thumped against the top of the door frame.
"Whoa! Back up!" cried Bill, executing the order. "Easy, boy--all right,
off we go!"
"Grace, Mary," cried Helen, "we are all ready to go!"
"Ain't there any more boxes?" asked Bill from the coach.
"Come, girls," cried Mrs. Shields as she stepped into the coach. "Close
the door after you, and lock it, dear."
Bill gallantly helped the ladies into the coach, grinned at the cake box
and started toward the front wheel when he was called back.
"Now, William," cautioned Mrs. Shields, laughing. "We will not be pursued
by Apaches to-day, and this cake must not be shaken!"
"You won't know you're riding, ma'am, you shore won't," he assured her as
he danced toward the front wheel again.
"Wake up there, you!" he yelled from the box. "Come on, Jerry, think
you're glued to the earth? Come on, Tom! Easy there, you fool jackrabbit!
--haven't you learned that you can't reach this high!"
When they had arrived at the A-Y the baskets were carried into the
ranch-house and the women became very busy getting things ready for the
feast. Bill took care of his team and then carried the blankets to the
grove.
While the picnic was being prepared there arose a series of blood-curdling
whoops off to the south where the outfit of the Star C made the air
blue with powder smoke. As they came nearer something peculiar was
noticed by Helen. It appeared to be a sort of drag drawn by a horse and
supported by two long, springy poles, one end of which rested on the
ground, and the other fastened to the saddle. While she wondered Bill
came up and she turned to him for light.
"What have they got fastened to that horse?" she asked him.
He looked and then smiled: "Why, it is a travois," he said. "But what
under the sun have they got on it? They must be bringing their own grub!"
The travois dragged and bumped over the uneven plain and soon came near
enough for its burden to be made out. A man and a dog were strapped to it.
At this point Blake joined Helen and Bill, and as he did so he espied the
travois.
"Thunder!" he cried, running forward. "Somebody is hurt! What's the
matter, Silent?" he shouted.
"Matter?" asked Silent, in surprise as the outfit drew near. "There ain't
nothing the matter. Why?"
"What's that travois doing with you, then?" Blake demanded.
Silent's face was as grave as that of an owl. "Travois?" he asked.
Then his face cleared: "Oh, yes--I near forgot about it," he added,
apologetically. "You see, Humble he shore wanted his dog to come to the
picnic, so we reckoned we'd let it come along. Bud and Jim was for
slinging it at the end of a rope and dragging it over, but I said no.
We ain't got any ropes to have all frayed out and cut a-dragging dogs
to picnics, and I said so, too. So we built the travois and strapped
Lightning to it. When Humble saw what we had done he acted real unpolite.
He said as how he wasn't going to have no dog of his'n toted twenty
miles in a fool travois. Said that he'd make it stay home first, which
was some mean after inviting the dog to come along. He said that he'd
go in a travois himself first before he'd let the setter be made a fool
of. Well, we simply had to subdue him, and he got so unreasonable that we
just had to tie him with his dog. He shore does get awful pig-headed at
times."
"Take off the gag, Jim," requested Silent, turning to the grinning
cow-puncher. "Let him loose now, we've arrived."
Jim leaned over and whispered in Humble's ear, the information being that
there were ladies about, and that all swearing must be thought and not
yelled. Then he slipped the gag, and untied the ropes. Gales of laughter
met the angry and indignant puncher when he had leaped to his feet, and
he flashed one quick glance at the women and then, boiling with wrath
and suppressed profanity, fled toward the corrals as swiftly as cramped
muscles would allow. The dog snarled at its tormentors and then set
off in hot pursuit of its discomfited master, whose waving arms kept
time with his speeding legs.
"That's all the thanks we get," grumbled Bud, "but then, he don't know
any better anyhow."
Blake laughed and regarded his grinning and expectant outfit, and the
longer he looked at them the more he laughed. They had paid their respects
to the women while Silent explained about the travois and now they cast
many longing glances at the blankets and cloths spread out on the grass
and at the baskets which Bill was busy over. They had tried to coax the
driver to them to give information as to what they might expect in the
way of edibles, but he had haughtily and disdainfully refused to enlighten
them, taking care, however, to arouse their curiosity by looking fondly
at the box and the baskets and even showed his elation by taking several
fancy steps for their benefit.
"Well, get rid of the cayuses," said Blake, "and square things with
Humble. Bring him back with you or you don't get any pie. You're such a
darn fool crowd that I can't get mad this time, but don't ever drag a
man in a travois again."
"Did he come, or was he kidnapped?" murmured Bud. "What we did once we can
do again, and Humble will be on hand when the feast begins."
Jim had been scowling at Bill, whose manners were most aggravating. "You
just wait, you heathen," threatened Jim. "You're ace high with the grub,
all right, but just you wait 'til we get you alone!"
"Yah!" laughed the driver. "I shore can handle the best cow-wrastler that
ever lived."
"Bill seems to be running this here festival," Bud complained to Helen.
"Oh, he is our right-hand man," she replied with enthusiasm. "We couldn't
possibly get along without him, now. He has charge of the pie and cake."
Bill's chest expanded: "I'm foreman of the pie and cake herd," he
exclaimed proudly. "You can't get ahead of me."
Bud looked at the driver and then significantly waved his hand at the
travois: "And you'll shore travel in style, just like a real pie foreman,
too, when we gets a chance to honor you like we wants to."
"You'll get no pie if you acts smart, little boy," retorted the driver.
"Run along and play till lunch is ready, and don't dirty your hands and
face."
"Well, we've got fine memories," Bud suggested as he led the way to the
corrals, where he found The Orphan.
"Hullo, Orphan!" he cried enthusiastically as he gripped the outstretched
hand. "Plumb glad to see you. How's things?"
"Glad to see you, boys," cried the temporary foreman, who was all smiles.
"One at a time!" he laughed as they crowded about him. "Make yourselves
right at home--that smallest corral is for your cayuses. And you'll find
plenty of soap and water and towels by the bunk-house, and there's a box
of good cigars, a tin of tobacco, and a jug on the table inside. Help
yourself to anything you want, the place is all yours."
"Gee, this is a good game, all right," Bud laughed as he turned to put
his horse in the corral. "The sheriff shore knows how to deal."
"Leave a cigar for me, Silent," jokingly warned Jim as his friend turned
toward the bunk-house. "Too many smokes will make you sick."
"Well, you've got a gall, all right!" retorted Silent. "You better let me
bring yours out to you and keep away from the box, for I'm always plumb
suspicious of these goody-goody, it's-for-your-own-good people."
A crafty look came to Jack Lawson's face and he turned to The Orphan: "Has
Bill Howland got his cigars yet?" he asked, winking at his friends.
"Why, I don't know whether he has or not," replied The Orphan. "But I
don't believe that he has been out of sight of the pies since he came.
They've got him in a trance."
"Guess I'll take him one," continued Jack, grinning broadly. "He likes to
smoke."
"Shore enough, go ahead," endorsed the foreman of the A-Y as he turned
toward the grove. Then he stopped, and with a knowing look added: "If you
want to see Humble, he just went in the bunk-house."
A yell of dismay arose as the outfit started pell-mell for the house.
Silent entered it first and his profanity informed his companions that
their fears were well grounded. Neither Humble, cigars, tobacco nor jug
were to be seen, and a search was forthwith instituted. Jack looked at
a distant corral and saw Lightning as the dog disappeared from sight into
it.
"Hey!" he cried. "He's in the big corral--I just saw his dog go in, and
it was wagging its tail a whole lot. Come on, we'll surround it and show
that frisky gent a thing or two!"
No more words were wasted, and in a very short time figures were creeping
around the corral. Then there was a scramble as most of the searchers
scaled the wall at different points while two of them ran in through
the gate. The first thing they saw was the dog, and his tail was still
wagging as he curiously followed, nose to the ground, a huge horned toad.
He looked up at the sudden disturbance and backed off suspiciously,
looking for a way to escape.
"---- ----!" chorused the fooled punchers, who discovered that deductions
don't always deduct, and then they returned to the bunk-house to "slick
up." When finally satisfied about their appearance they made their way
to the grove and the sight which greeted their eyes as they entered it
almost made them drop in their tracks.
Humble and Bill sat cross-legged on a blanket, which was surrounded with
guns. The jug, tobacco and cigars were flanked by pies and a cake, while
each of the conspirators held a lighted cigar in one hand while they took
turns at the jug. A huge piece of pie rested in a plate at Humble's side,
while Bill's knee held a piece of cake.
"Hands up!" shouted Humble, grabbing a gun. "Don't you dare to raid the
gallery! You stay right where you are!"
Bill's blacksnake whip leaped from point to point experimentally, picking
up twigs and leaves with disturbing accuracy.
The invaders halted just beyond the range of the whip and consulted
uneasily, not noticing that the driver had shortened his weapon by twice
the length of its handle. Finally Jim and Docile ran back toward the
corral while their friends waited impatiently for their return, grinning
at the enemy with an I-told-you-so air.
Bill suddenly leaned forward, the whip slid down into his hand to the end
of the handle and cracked viciously. Joe Haines, who had grown a little
careless, leaped into the air and yelled, grabbing at his leg.
"Keep your distance, you!" warned the driver, trying to look ferocious.
"Twenty feet is the dead-line, children."
Jim and Docile returned apace and brought with them half a dozen lariats,
which ranged in length from thirty to forty feet.
"Hey, you!" cried Humble in alarm. "That ain't fair!"
Grim silence was the only reply as the invaders each took his rope and
surrounded the two. Then, suddenly, the air was full of darting ropes
and in less time than it takes to tell of it the pair were hopelessly
and helplessly trussed. Silent ran in and hurled the whip away and then
squatted before the prisoners, throwing their cigars after the whip as
he took up the pie and cake, which he tantalizingly munched before their
eyes.
"I like a hog, all right, but you suit me too blamed well!" asserted Bud,
grabbing at Silent's pie.
"Gimme some of that," demanded Jim, trying for the cake. And when the
disturbance had ceased there were no signs of either pie or cake.
"It's the travois for you, Humble dear!" softly hummed Charley Bailey.
"And to the ranch, by the way of town!"
"And Bill will be pleased to explore the Limping Water on the bottom,"
amended Jim. "One of us can drive the women home!"