Author of “The Color of His Boots,” “Assisting Ananias,” etc.
In the middle of the cabin stood Magpie Simpkins, my pardner, and
facing him is a fat _hombre_, dressed like a cross between a short-card
artist and a perfume pedler. They don’t see me. From the expression on
their faces, I’d say that their minds are null and void as far as I’m
concerned.
Magpie ain’t got no gun on his hip, which is unusual, and I can see by
the expression in his eyes that he’s laboring under a heavy strain.
The fat feller lifts one hand above his head, spreads the fingers and
then shuts all but two. Magpie gazes upon that hand with awe in his
eyes, and then up goes the fat feller’s other hand with the first and
second fingers crossed. Then the fat man drops his right hand and rubs
his finger across his nose.
Magpie’s eyes are as wide as saucers and the perspiration seems to
gather on his noble brow. Then Magpie lifts his right hand even with
his ear, sticks his thumb in said ear and wiggles his fingers.
All to once I gets the solution of the mystery. This fat feller is one
of them hypnotist _hombres_, and he’s got poor Magpie into a spell.
With the Harper tribe, to think is to act so I bent my gun over the
hypnotist’s head. He slumps to the floor and Magpie stares at me,
leaning on our table to support his wobbly legs.
“As soon as he gets rational I’ll have him snap his fingers and bring
you back,” says I, rolling a smoke.
Magpie stares at me.
“Yeah?” says he foolish-like. “Bring me back?”
“Uh-huh. Just take it easy, old-timer. You likely think you’re Napoleon
Bonaparte or Paul Revere right now, so I won’t start no arguments. Just
hang on to yourself and I’ll hoodle this here brain-mixer into bringing
you up to date. _Sabe?_”
I don’t know yet what Magpie hit me with, but I suspicion the sirup
pitcher, it being the only thing of that weight on the table. I fell
plumb out into the yard and retaliates by heezing three .44’s through
the closed door. I felt insulted a lot. I went up to see Doc Milliken,
the horse doctor, and he takes three stitches in my alabaster brow with
a sack-needle and binding-twine.