I WAS a bit embarrassed next morning and wondered if I hadn’t overdone
the thing.
I was waited on by a delegation in the crowded office of the Pride of
the Prairie. Mayor David Ware headed the delegation and he introduced
the half-dozen amiable gentlemen as leading members of the Breed City
Chamber of Commerce. Then the mayor pulled me aside.
“You understand that I haven’t whispered a word of what you and I talked
about last night. That’s to be buried between you and me, but there’s
nothing like getting in sneck with the big boys of this town. It’ll
be easier for me when I have to back you up--if it comes to that.
I’ve explained that you’re a friend of mine who is West looking for
prospects.”
“I’m glad to be called a friend of yours--and you told the truth about
my business here, Mr Mayor. We start on a square basis.”
With the mayor, followed by the delegation, I was escorted through
the main street of Breed City It seemed to afford the gentlemen honest
gratification to follow along behind that plug-hat which I had freshly
slicked that morning to the best of my ability. I was lunched at the
Chamber of Commerce--a half-finished board structure; I was dined by
the mayor at his own home; and I returned to the hotel in the evening to
find the judge marooned in the office.
“Please don’t scowl at me that way,” I pleaded, humbly. “I was afraid
you might drop something that would queer the whole proposition. You are
looking over your shoulder as if you expected damnation to jump on to
your back!”
“Damnation _is_ getting ready to jump on to our backs,” growled the old
man. “One of ’em has got here. He came in on the stage to-night.”
“Which one?”
“The scalawag with the flashy clothes.”
I had looked for pretty quick action, but “Peacock” Pratt had got away
sooner than I expected he would. He had been free with his money, I
concluded.
I got down-stairs early the next morning, the judge tagging at my heels.
But we were not ahead of Mr. Pratt. I didn’t have to hunt for him. He
stood out like Jeff Dawlin’s “Peruvian cockatoo” would have shown up in
a flock of crows. He followed us into the diningroom, and sat down at
the same table and scowled at me with ugly fire in his little eyes above
their pouches of flesh. Then he leaned across the table. We three were
alone when the White Ghost had frisked away after our breakfasts.
“I’m here,” said he.
“Glad to see you,” said I.
“You’re a dog-eyed liar! You didn’t expect to see me. You thought you
had the three of us canned till you could put something across here. It
cost me a hundred dollars to grease the lock of that calaboose--and at
that I couldn’t bring out the other two. But they’re coming! You needn’t
worry any about that part, you punk-faced Piute!”
He dove a pudgy hand down into the breast pocket of his vest. He got his
wallet out and banged it down on the table. It was a big wallet and it
was well stuffed. Judge Kingsley gulped when he saw it and his hands
worked like claws.
“That’s how I’m heeled, and I’ll spend it getting you, if it comes to
that.”
He packed the big wallet back into his waistcoat, galloped down his eggs
and bacon, and then banged away from the table. He called back over his
shoulder, “I wish I hadn’t promised that I’d anchor you and wait for
’em, else I’d take you now and settle my breakfast with you.”
“Did you see that money?” gasped the old man. “It’s my money, There’s a
lot of it. My God! I could hardly keep my hands off it.”
“It was a nice, fat wallet, Judge Kingsley. I was glad to see it. It all
looks very encouraging.”
“Encouraging! Where do you see any encouragement? Two more men coming
full of blood and thunder to join him--and you waiting here for them to
get along! Anybody with sense would have that man grabbed by the police
on my charges. I thought you told me you were bringing me out here to
make the complaint? Now you’re only dillydallying. A man with, sense, I
say--”
“Oh, I suppose a man with sense would never have come out here, at all.”
When I went out and stood on the hotel porch, my friend, the
stage-driver, lounged up.
“I’ve knocked off for a few days’ vacation,” he explained, sociably.
“Sent another man for my trip to Royal City yesterday. Mud was getting
on to my nerves. You noticed how it was the day you rode out with me. I
came nigh queering myself with you and spoiling one of the pleasantest
friendships I ever made. I was mighty glad to see the mayor and the boys
taking you around town yesterday.”