“What did that title cost you, Unlimited?”
“The complete instructions, et cettery, cost me one hundred dollars.”
“How do yuh reckon you’re going to get even?”
“Even! Say, Ike, it’s the biggest proposition you ever seen. Come on
down to the cabin and I’ll explain. I figure you in on this, old-timer,
and I excuse you for making me hit you with that pitcher.”
“You’re welcome, but don’t figure me, Magpie. I’ll go down to the cabin
and move out my other overalls and boots. I’m all through, finished and
done. _Sabe?_”
“Not after you sees into the scheme, Ike. She’s a mint.”
“Scenery” Sims is there at the cabin and him and Magpie goes through
them motions with their fingers.
“What’s his title?” I asks.
“Scenery is the Grand Imperial Chancellor of the Temple.”
“Any more titled snake-hunters around here?”
“We’re the only two,” squeaks Scenery. “We’re om-nippy-tent, ain’t we,
Magpie?”
“Yea. We are the forerunners of a great enterprise, Scenery.”
“You’re a pair of half-witted woodchucks,” says I, hunting for my extra
pair of boots. “What is the big idea?”
“Never mind them old boots,” says Magpie. “Set down here at the table
and let me explain it to you. Now, Ike, I asks you to tell me how many
Piperockers has shuffled off this mortal coil in the last two years.”
“Why ask me about death?” I asks.
“None,” squeaks Scenery like he’d discovered a new island.
“Some danged close calls,” says I.
“Close don’t count in nothing but pitching horse-shoes,” says Magpie.
“Here is the idea: The Loyal Legion of Lizards is what is knowed as a
benevolent order. It means life insurance, Ike. Me and Scenery has
figured it all out. We paid a hundred dollars for the charter and
business, and the benevolent part is all our own doings. I got the
blanks printed at Silver Bend.
“A feller comes to us and says, ‘I am wishful to become a Lizard.’ He
gets examined by Doc Milliken, who looks him over for symptoms of
spavin, et cettery, and if he passes we initiates him into the order.
“Then he pays us five dollars a month and we agrees to pay him, at
the time of his demise, five hundred dollars in a lump. We has plans
to give Thatcher’s orchestra a membership free, which don’t insure
them, and also a free membership to the Cross J quartet. By so doing
we has our music furnished free, and we sure has a quartet which can
sing at funerals.”
“Not at mine,” says I. “I want a quiet funeral, without no casualties
but me.”
“Ain’t she some scheme, Ike?” asks Magpie. “Suppose we gets a hundred
men to join. That’s five hundred a month, ain’t it? Ain’t that six
thousand per year?”
“Where do I come in, Magpie?” I asks.
“You’ve got three hundred in the bank, ain’t you? We’ll give you a title
and let you in on a third interest. _Sabe?_”
“Not with my money, Magpie! Not a chance in the world. That little
old grubstake stays right there. _Sabe?_ You’ve got a siren’s voice,
but this time my ears are full of alkali dust. My _manitou_ says for
me to hang on to what I’ve got, and my medicine is good. This is one
time that Ike Harper don’t assay a trace of affection for your nice
little scheme.”
Magpie gets up and leans across the table.
“Ike, do you mean to set there and tell me that you refuse riches?
“Ain’t you got foresight enough to see yourself setting on a plush
chair while the money rolls in? Think, you ---- fool! Me and you has
been pardners in misery so long that I’d almost go down on my knees
and beg you to come in with us, but I won’t do it, Ike. Nope. No, I
won’t go down on my knees to you, you ossified hoot-owl. Do you know
what I am going to do, Ike?”
“Yes,” says I, “I know. What is my position in the scheme?”
“Now, that’s talking sense, Ike. You’ll be engaged in going out among
’em, and talking ’em into the fold. You will describe the beauties of
the Legion until they begs to be let in.”
“In plain United States, I pays three hundred for a pedler’s license,
eh? How many members has you got already?”
“None. The field is virgin, brother. We’ll open for business in the Mint
Hall tonight; so go ye out and gather them in.”
“Is anybody barred?”
“Not to begin with. We may find flaws in their title later on.”
“You’ve wished wealth upon yourself,” squeaks Scenery.
“Yeah, that may be,” says I, “but I won’t live to enjoy it.”
“Write yourself a policy,” advises Scenery, but I slammed the door
and went towards town. I ain’t been in Piperock for two months, but
she ain’t changed none. I thinks over my three hundred dollars, and
looks at the bunch of application blanks in my hand. I figures that
a life-insurance agent in Piperock has got about much chance as a
jassack has in the Suburban Handicap.
* * * * *
Piperock looks as peaceful as a dove. In fact, she looks too peaceful.
She looked natural when I was there a few hours before, but right now
she’s unnatural. In the middle of the street lays a stiff-brim Stetson
hat, and it spins and rolls in the wind like a roulette wheel on a
busted spindle.
Comes the snap of a gun and the hat hops high and lights flat on the
brim, like it defied anybody to move it again. From the entrance of
the Mint Hall comes the wailing yell:
“You hit that hat again and I’ll massacree yuh! I resign! Dang it, I
tell yuh I resign!”
_Bang! Bang! Bang!_
Three bullets cuts splinters out of Buck’s door.
_Bang! Bang!_