Well, we sure had a hard time gettin’ Horace in the saddle that day.
He was some like a burro, small but strong minded. Finally he agreed
to try it if we would put the saddle-blanket on top the saddle instead
of underneath.
“The hoss don’t need it as bad as I do,” sez he; “’cause he’s covered
all over with hoss-hide an’ has hair for paddin’ besides; and
furthermore, the saddle is lined with sheepskin underneath, while it’s
as hard as iron on top; and I’m just like a boil wherever I touch it.”
We told him that a hard saddle was lots the easiest as soon as a
feller got used to it; but he broke in an’ said he didn’t expect to
live that long, an’ that we could take our choice of leavin’ him, or
puttin’ the saddle-blanket on top. The’s lots of folks with the notion
that a soft saddle or a soft chair or a soft bed is the easiest; an’
it ain’t much use to argue with ’em, though the truth is, that if a
feller lived on goslin’ down, he’d get stuck with a pin feather some
day an’ die o’ loss of blood; while if he lived on jagged stones, he’d
finally wear into ’em until he had a smooth, perfect fittin’ mold for
his body. Still, the truth is only the truth to them ’at can see it;
so we put the blanket on top, an’ perched Horace astride it.
He stood it two hours, an’ then said it was stretchin’ his legs so ’at
he was afeared a sudden jerk would split him to the chin; an’ then we
put the saddle on right, an’ he found it full as easy as it had been
the day before. The best way, an’ the easiest an’ the quickest, to
toughen up, is just to toughen up. The human body can stand almost
anything in the way o’ hardship. After it has sent up word, hour after
hour, that it is bein’ hurt, an’ no attention gets paid to it, why, it
sets to work to remedy things on its own hook. In order to ride
comfortable, a lot of muscles have to loosen an’ stretch. Most o’ the
pain in ridin’ comes from ridin’ with set muscles. A feller can’t
balance easy with set muscles, it’s just one strainin’ jerk after
another, an’ the trick o’ ridin’ is to move with the horse. Just as
soon as ya get to goin’ right along with the hoss, loose an’ rubbery,
you take the strain off o’ both you an’ him; but while you’re bumpin’
again’ him, it’s painful for both.
We rode about forty miles that day; and at the end of it Horace wasn’t
complainin’ any worse ’n at the start. Well, he couldn’t, as far as
that goes; but his body had already begun to find the motion o’ the
hoss. Of course he hadn’t learned to balance, an’ he still rode rigid;
but we had give him an easy-gaited old hammock, an’ when we drew up to
make camp, he sat on his hoss without holdin’ to the horn, an’ said he
was beginnin’ to like it. When Tank lifted him down, though, his legs
wobbled under him like rubber an’ he squashed down in a heap,
groanin’. We let him sleep where he lit while we were gettin’ supper;
’cause we was sure he would need it before mornin’. He wasn’t nervous
any longer; all he wanted was food, sleep, an’ a lung full o’ tobacco
smoke. I felt rather proud o’ my treatment.
Tank had to boot him about purty freely to waken him up enough to take
his vittles; but he took a good lot of ’em, an’ I was glad of it,
’cause this was the night the Injuns were goin’ to attack us, an’ he
wasn’t scheduled to have any more solid nourishment until we got back
to the ranch house. After supper he went to his pipe like a young duck
to a puddle o’ water. He hadn’t learned to handle his moisture while
smokin’ a pipe, an’ when the pipe began to gargle, he muttered a
little cuss-word under his breath. H. Walpole Bradford was comin’ out
wonderful.
The stiffenin’ had all blew out o’ the rim of his hat, givin’ the sun
full swing at him, an’ his nose looked like a weakly tomato flung in a
bed o’ geraniums. He had wrinkled up his face around where his glasses
fit, an’ now with the sun gone down his skin had loosened up again,
showin’ the unburned wrinkles like painted marks. He sure did look
tough! He was wearin’ a gray suit with a belt around the middle an’
canvas leggins.
Along about nine o’clock he nodded over into the fire, right at the
most excitin’ part of an Injun tale which Tank was makin’ up for his
especial benefit. We fished him out an’ shook him awake; but he came
to as cross as a hornet, an’ swore he was goin’ to sleep right where
he was with all his clothes on.
“You’re a wise pigeon to sleep with your clothes on, to-night,” sez
Tank; “’cause this is the Injun country, an’ ya can’t tell what’ll
happen; but the best plan for us to do is to divide up an’ keep watch
durin’ the night.”
“Keep watch!” yells Horace, glarin’ at Tank. “I wouldn’t keep watch
to-night if I was bound to a torture stake. You can keep watch if you
want to—an’ it wouldn’t discommode you no more ’n if you was an owl.
Your dog-gone, doubly condemned nerves won’t let you nor any one else
sleep—but I’m goin’ to get some rest if I die for it.”
“You’re a nice one, you are!” sez Tank. “This here expedition was got
up just on account o’ your nerves, an’ now that we’ve come to the most
important point of all, why, you flam out an’ put all the risk on us.”
“You make me tired,” sez Horace, scowlin’ at Tank as fierce as a
cornered mouse. “If you’re so everlastin’ feared o’ the Injuns—what
ya got this bloomin’ fire for?”
“We don’t intend to sleep near the fire, Mr. Bradford,” sez I,
soothin’. “We intend to roll up our beds like as if we was in ’em an’
then sneak off into the bushes an’ sleep. We don’t want any trouble if
we can avoid it. If you’ll notice, you’ll see we haven’t turned the
hosses out to-night.”
“These here Injuns is livin’ on a reservation,” sez he, “an’ I don’t
believe ’at they’d dare outrage us.”
I was indignant with the little cuss for not bein’ afeared of Injuns.
My theory was, ’at nerves was a lot like hosses: keep a hoss shut up
an’ he’ll get bad an’ kick an’ raise Cain; but take him out an’ ride
his hide loose, an’ he’ll simmer down consid’able. I wanted to give
Horace’s nerves such a complete stringin’ out that they wouldn’t worry
him any more for a year; an’ here he was, not carin’ a hang for
Injuns. “Beliefs is all right to the believers,” sez I, stiffenin’ up;
“but facts is facts whether you believe in ’em or not. Every Injun
outrage since the Civil War was planned on a reservation, an’ we can’t
take no chances.”
While he was studyin’ over this with a pouty look on his face, Tank
sez: “It’s time we fixed up an’ moved out into the dark”; so we put
rolls o’ brush in the beds, an’ went on up the side o’ the rise where
the’ was a level spot I knew of, Horace stumblin’ an’ grumblin’ every
step o’ the way. We were about two hundred yards from the fire an’ it
looked cozy an’ cheerful, dancin’ away beside the tarps. I was half a
mind to join in with Horace, an’ go on back; but our plans were all
laid, an’ besides, I had a little bet up with Spider Kelley, that I’d
return Horace in such fine condition that he’d be willin’ to drink
blood or milk a cow calf-fashion.
“You go to sleep first,” sez Tank to Horace; “I’ll watch till I get
sleepy an’ then I’ll call Happy, he’ll watch two hours, an’ if it
ain’t dawn by that time, he’ll call you. I may not get sleepy at all,
but you know how nerves is. I stayed awake ninety-six hours once, an’
couldn’t get a speck sleepy. Then I decided to stay out the even
hundred an’ see how far I could jump after stayin’ awake a hundred
hours. I went to sleep in ten minutes an’ didn’t wake up for two
days—so I’m liable to be took sleepy to-night.”
We had brought the slickers up, an’ Horace rolled up in one, under a
low evergreen, and began to snore in half a minute. As soon as he had
got to wrastlin’ with his breath in earnest, I went to the head o’ the
trail an’ whistled for Spider Kelley. He an’ four others were there,
an’ I told ’em it was all right to start in an hour, an’ then I came
back to Horace chucklin’. Spider enjoyed anything like this, an’ he
had fixed up the boys with feathers an’ fringe an’ smears o’ chalk an’
raspberry jam, till they looked as evil-minded as any Injuns I’d ever
seen.
We set Horace’s watch ahead five hours. Tank curled up an’ went to
sleep, an’ then I started to wake Horace up. It took so long; to get
him to consciousness that I feared the hour would be up; but he
finally got so he remembered what he was, an’ then I told him not to
make any fuss if he saw any Injuns, but to just wake us up. I tried to
get him to take one o’ my guns, but I didn’t wear triggers on ’em an’
he didn’t savvy snap-shootin’, so he took a club in his hand an’
started to parade.
He looked at his watch while I was stretchin’ out in his warm spot,
an’ he looked at it again before I was through loosenin’ up my
muscles. It beats the world how slow time crawls to a man on watch. I
was sleepy myself, but I’d have bit out my tongue before I’d have give
in. I lay half on my right side with my hat drawn down, watchin’
Horace. After about ten minutes, he pulled out his watch again an’
looked at it. He pulled out the snap to set it ahead, in order to fool
us, but he was troubled with too much morality, so he snapped it shut
an’ spoke to himself between his set teeth for several moments.
I reckon he must have kept on his feet for twenty minutes, an’ then he
settled down with his face to the fire, which I had fed up on my way
back from seein’ Spider, an’ said loud enough for me to hear: “This is
all damn foolishness.”
He said it so slow an’ solemn an’ earnest, that I purt nigh choked;
but I kept still, he kept still, an’ the fire kept dancin’ before him.
His breathin’ grew deep an’ steady, his nerves was all coiled up
comfortable; and tired muscles don’t make a feller wakeful. Purty soon
Horace began to gargle his palate, an’ then I was ready for Spider
Kelley.
The plan was for him to come up close so as to entertain Horace while
his braves sneaked on to the dummies in the tarps; but the’ was no
occasion for sneakin’. Horace had turned over the camp to fate, an’ he
wasn’t worryin’ his head about what was goin’ to happen to it.
Finally, Spider got disgusted an’ he went down an’ joined the others,
an’ they sure raised a riot; but all the time, Horace slumbered on.
Spider caught up our hosses, put our saddles an’ packs on ’em, threw
some pieces of old canvas he brought along on the fire; and he an’ the
rest raised a wild warwhoop and galloped away; but Horace was too busy
to pay any attention. Spider an’ the boys had to work next day, an’
they was some put out not to have a little more fun for their trouble.
It was all Spider could do to keep ’em from sneakin’ back an’
kidnappin’ Horace, but this was liable to give the whole thing away,
so he talked ’em out of it. As soon as the noise had died down, I set
Horace’s watch back five hours, an’ then I went to sleep myself. It
was purty chilly, and I wasn’t quite sure who the joke was on.
When Tank woke up, he started in on Horace; but his noise wakened me
up first. When Horace saw what had happened to the camp, he was about
wordless; but after we had called him down about it for five or ten
minutes, he flared up an’ talked back as harsh as we did. He said ’at
he had kept guard for over three hours, fightin’ off sleep by walkin’
back an’ forth; and hadn’t sat down until it had started to lighten in
the sky. He stuck to this tale, and I’m sure he believed it himself.
He’d been so sleepy the night before that he couldn’t have told a
dream from an actual happenin’, so when he began to get excited, we
dropped it.
“All right,” sez Tank at last; “you’ve put us into a nice fix, but
the’ ain’t no use tryin’ to pickle yesterday. What we’ve got to do is
to hoof it back, an’ we might as well begin. We’re in a nice fix:
nothin’ to eat, not a single cabin on the road back, an’ for all we
know the’s a pack of Injuns watchin’ us this blessid moment.”
“How do ya know it was Injuns?” sez Horace.
“Look there, an’ there, an’ there,” sez Tank, pointin’ at moccasin
prints an’ feathers. “Then besides, no white men would ’a’ burned up
the tarps.”
“Do you mean to say ’at we got to walk all the way back?” sez Horace.
“All the way, an’ without no grub,” sez Tank.
Horace sat down on the end of a charred log. “Well, I’ll die right
here,” sez he. “This spot suits me as well as any other.”
“You don’t have to die at all,” sez I. “A body can go forty days
without food, an’ it does more good than harm.” Friar Tuck had told me
a lot about fastin’, an’ I was keen to try it out on Horace. From all
I could see from the theory o’ fastin’, it was just what was needed
for Horace’s nerves.
“Look at me,” sez Horace, pullin’ at the waist of his clothes. “I bet
I’ve lost twenty pounds already, on this fool trip. Twenty pounds more
would make me a corpse, an’ I’d just as soon be made one here as
anywhere. As soon as I rest up a little, I’m goin’ to begin to yell
until I draw those blame Injuns back, an’ have ’em finish the job in
short order.”
He wasn’t bluffin’, he was simply desp’rit. “You’ll have to walk with
us,” sez I; “come on.”
Tank took one arm, an’ I took the other, an’ we started forth. For the
first hour he hung back, and then he began to step out on his own
hook. When we rested at noon, he was the freshest one of us. Tank an’
I had ridin’ boots, an’ ridin’ muscles; while he had walkin’ shoes,
an’ no muscles at all worth mentionin’. “I can play at this game as
well as any one,” sez Horace, chewin’ a blade o’ grass, an’ lookin’
proud of himself.
Tank was purty well fussed up; he wasn’t workin’ out any theories, he
had just come along to help pester Horace an’ have a little amusement;
but it began to appear to him that his fun was comin’ high-priced.
By nightfall we was all tol’able hungry; but Horace was so set up over
bein’ able to put over a full day’s walk on nothin’ to eat that he was
purty speechy, an’ it was nine o’clock before he went to sleep. As
soon as he had dropped off, I went down to meet Spider Kelley an’ get
the grub he had brought out for me ’n’ Tank. He said ’at the other
boys wasn’t braggin’ none about their trip the night before; but they
were all ready to roast me an’ Tank as soon as we got in. We’d had it
fixed that Spider an’ the rest was to take turns worryin’ Horace on
the back trip; but Spider said that it looked to him as if I’d win the
bet anyway, so he intended to play neutral from that on. As soon as me
an’ Tank had eaten, we turned in, an’ all of us slept like logs.