Thinkin’, just plain thinkin’, is about the hardest work the’ is; and
for the next several days, we lay around doin’ mighty little else. The
trouble was, ’at we couldn’t devise a way to put Ty Jones out o’
business. He wasn’t an outlaw; fact was, he stood high with the big
cattle men; and we got light headed tryin’ to scare up a plan which
would remove Ty in a decent manner, and leave the Friar free to take
the woman without causin’ him any conscience-pains. We were the
mournfulest lookin’ bunch o’ healthy men ever I saw; and finally I
decided to loaf with Kit and the kid, they not bein’ expected to do
any thinkin’ and therefore havin’ smooth an’ pleasant faces.
Sometimes I wonder if women don’t get along just as well without
thinkin’ as men do with it. I hadn’t talked seven minutes with Kit
before she suggested just what I would have thought up if I’d been
able. She didn’t even know she had suggested it; so I didn’t call her
attention to it for fear it might up-heave her vanity and give Olaf
bother. I had a plan now and it was of such a nature that I was glad
the Friar wasn’t there to mess into it.
I found Promotheus an’ Tank lyin’ on the grass along the crick. They
were back to back, and their faces were so lined with genuwine
thought, that they looked like a pair of overgrown nutmegs. I sat down
beside ’em lookin’ worried.
Presently Tank sez: “What ya thinkin’ about?”
I shook my head, and in about half an hour The asked the same
question. I waited a minute, hove out a sigh, and sez: “Gee, I wish I
was you.”
“Why do you wish you was me?” sez he.
“’Cause,” sez I, “you’ve got a chance to do the biggest deed I know
of.”
“What is it?” sez he, examinin’ my face to see if I was sheepin’ him.
“No,” sez I, shakin’ my head; “I ain’t got any right to even think of
it, let alone hint at it. You might think I was buttin’ into your
affairs, and then again—No, I refuse to suggest it. If it’s your
duty, you’ll see it yourself; but I won’t take the responsibility of
pointin’ it out.”
“What in thunder did you mention it at all for, then?” sez The,
gettin’ curious an’ exasperated.
“And then besides,” sez I to myself, out loud, “there’s Horace. Like
as not he wouldn’t allow you to run your head into danger any more.”
“What!” yelled The. “Didn’t we run our heads into danger all over the
tropics of the Orient, didn’t we goad up danger an’ search for it and
roust it out of its hidin’ places and—Why, confound you—”
In about ten minutes I stopped him, an’ sez in a quiet voice: “Well,
then, if I was you, I’d go on down to Ty Jones’s and take on with him
again.”
We lay on the grass there, along Pearl Crick for some time without
speakin’. Up on the rim, the grass was burned to a crisp; but along
the crick it was still green. Promotheus pulled blade after blade of
it and chewed ’em up in his mouth, while me an’ Tank watched him.
“What you mean, is for me to take on with Ty Jones—and then to act
spy on him. Ain’t that what ya mean?” sez The after a time.
I’d ’a’ sooner he hadn’t put it into words—it did look rather raw
when he stood it up before us naked. “I don’t mean nothin’ in
particular, The,” sez I. “You and I are different, and what I could do
without feelin’—”
“That’s all right,” he broke in. “The’ ain’t any need to treat me like
an infant baby. Come right out with it—What you want me to do is to
play spy, ain’t it?”
“That’s the only way I can see to help the Friar,” sez I; “but he
wouldn’t want you to do anything for him you didn’t feel was right.”
“I know, I know,” he sez, lookin’ down at his hands. “Ty Jones is as
mean as a snake, and I don’t deny it; but he’s been square with me,
and once he saved my life. Then again, the Friar has been square with
every one, and if he hadn’t nursed me night and day, Horace wouldn’t
have had a chance to save my life. If Horace had killed me it would
have spoiled his life; so that the whole thing is held together in a
tangle. I’m willin’ to cash in my life for the Friar—it ain’t
that—but I do hate to turn again’ Ty Jones underhanded.”
“Better just forget I mentioned it,” sez I.
“No,” sez Promotheus, “I intend to lay the plan before Horace, and let
him settle on it.”
“That’s a good scheme, that’s the best way out of it,” sez ol’ Tank,
and I joined in with him.
We sat there on the bank a long time, thinkin’ the thing over, and
finally just before supper, Horace hove in sight and started to josh
us; but when he saw how sober we were, he settled down, and asked us
what was up.
“Horace,” sez The, “what would you think of my takin’ on with Ty
Jones, and playin’ the spy on him?”
“That would be madness!” exclaimed Horace. “He’d see through it and
kill you first pop. I don’t know though—you might fix up a tale—but
then it would be too infernal risky. Nope, don’t you try it.”
“If it could be done,” persisted The, “what would you think of it?”
“Oh, it would be a great thing for the Friar,” sez Horace; “but,
Promotheus, I don’t like to have you take the risk.”
“It ain’t the risk I’m fussin’ about,” sez The. “Ty was square to me
in his own way. The Friar has been square to me also, and I know ’at
his way is the best; but at the same time—don’t you think it would be
downright snakish for me to go back to Ty, tell him some excuse for my
stayin’ away, and then plot again’ him while I’m eatin’ his vittles?”
It didn’t sound good to us when Promotheus came out with it so
everlastin’ unpolluted; but he had worked up a sense of honesty since
bein’ with Horace, which wouldn’t let him do any pertendin’. Horace
didn’t answer, and he went on after waitin’ a minute: “I haven’t any
prejudices again’ fightin’ him in the open; but it does go again’ my
grain to wear a dog hide when I’m playin’ wolf, and Ty Jones was
square to me.”
“Well,” sez Horace, “I haven’t the heart to advise you to do this,
Promotheus. We’ll sure be able to find some other way, and as long as
it goes again’ your grain the way it does, I don’t want you to do it.”
“Would you think any the less of me if I did?” asked The, his eyes
takin’ on a sad, hungry look, like a dog’s eyes get when he’s worried
over what his master’ll say about some trick he’s been up to.
“Course I wouldn’t think any less of ya,” sez Horace without
hesitatin’; “but hang it, I’m afraid somethin’ ’ll happen to ya.”
“Would the Friar think any the less of me?” sez The.
“If the Friar heard about it, he wouldn’t let ya go,” sez Horace.
“I’ve puzzled more about the Friar ’n about airy other man I ever
saw,” sez The, thoughtful. “I wanted to lynch Olaf that time, guilty
or not guilty; but the Friar straightened things out by riskin’ his
own soul. He hates lynchin’, it goes square again’ his grain; but he
made a bet with us to help stretch Olaf if we could prove him guilty;
and this has stuck with me. This was a big thing to do, and I’d like
to do somethin’ big for the Friar—But I swear it would hurt me to spy
on Ty Jones!”
We didn’t have anything to say on the subject; so we just sat and
chewed grass.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that old Greek feller, ’at you named me
after,” sez Promotheus at last. “He didn’t ask no one else to take the
responsibility of tellin’ him what to do. He just decided what was
right, and then did it. If I go to Ty Jones, and he treats me right,
my own thoughts’ll tear at me like vultures; but this here other
Promotheus, he stood it, ’cause it was for man’s good; and I’m game to
do the same.
“I don’t intend to be any more sneakier ’n I have to be. All I intend
to do is to find out what I can about the woman, and, if Ty ain’t
treatin’ her right, to help get her away from him; but I want it
understood right now that I’m not goin’ to work any tricks on Ty to
get him into the law for what he’s done in bygone days. Now then, I
take all the blame on my own shoulders; but we’ll have to fix up a
tale to fool a wise one, ’cause Ty won’t be took in by chaff.”
We talked things over a long time; but it seemed mighty unreasonable
for Promotheus to have pulled out without sayin’ a word, and then to
come back without writin’ in the meantime; and we couldn’t quite hit
on it. Finally the idee came to me.
“They’re goin’ to graze the grass down to the roots, this summer,” sez
I; “but still, the’ won’t be enough to go around. A lot o’ cattle will
have to be sold off early, and some will be trailed up into Montana,
and cow-punchers are goin’ to be in demand. Ty is long on cattle and
short on grass, and he’ll be glad to have extra help he can trust; so
he won’t question ya too close. You tell him ’at Horace here was a
government agent, and that he arrested you as a deserter, and took you
to prison where you was given a life sentence; that you broke out a
couple o’ months ago, and have been workin’ your way back as cautious
as you could.”
“My Lord, I hate to tell him that!” sez The. “It’s too infernal much
like what I told him the first time.”
“You got to make up a good story, or else give up your plan,” sez I.
“Yes, that’s so,” he agreed. “Ty’d believe that, too. What prison had
I better say I’ve been in?”
“Which one was you in?” sez I.
“I never was in any government prison,” sez he. “I was in a state
prison.”
“Have ya ever seen a government prison?” sez I.
“Yes, I’ve seen two, one in Kansas, and one in Frisco,” sez he.
“Which would be the hardest to get out of?” sez I.
“The one in Frisco; it’s on an island,” sez he.
“Choose that one,” sez I; “and make up your escape just as it might
have happened.”
“Ty won’t haggle me with questions,” sez The sadly. “He’ll just
believe me, an’ this’ll make it ten times as hard.”
“You ought to be paler an’ more haggard,” sez I; “but I doubt if the’s
a way to do it.”
“Keep soakin’ his face in hot towels for a few days,” sez Horace.
“That’ll bleach him out.”
“Are ya goin’ foot or hossback?” sez I.
“I stole a hoss down in Texas the last time I came,” sez he, “and
traded him off when he got footsore.”
“We got some hosses with a Nevada brand, over at the Dot,” sez I.
“I’ll slip over an’ get one while you’re havin’ your complexion
bleached off. They broke out an’ got with the herd before we finished
brandin’ ’em, and we just let it go. The chances are they haven’t been
rebranded yet.”
“All right,” sez The. “If I’m to do it at all, I want it to go
through; but I have an idee ’at those vultures pickin’ at my liver are
goin’ to be mighty unpleasant company.”
Me an’ Spider Kelley, Tillte Dutch an’ Mexican Slim rode over to the
Dot and found two o’ those Nevada hosses, still rangin’ with their old
brands untouched; so we roped one, and came back with it, without
havin’ word with any of the outfit. The Diamond Dot range was the best
of any we rode over, and they had put up a lot o’ hay that summer; but
still I felt sure ’at they would have to cut down purty close, though
I knew ’at Jabez would hold as many as he could for a high price the
followin’ year.
We found The’s complexion purty well stewed out and haggard, Kit
havin’ put soda in the hot water; so I told him to play sick, and loaf
around the house as long as possible. He agreed to it; but the’ was a
settled look o’ regret in his face which was a heap different from the
one he had wore when he dismounted from the stage at Bosco.
“Night and day,” sez I, “the’ll be at least two of us at the look-out,
and you come up with any news you have. Get into the habit of
whistlin’ Horace’s tune; so that if ever you’d want to warn us to
vamose rapid, you can whistle it. You might ride that way with some o’
Ty’s outfit, or somethin’.”
“It’s not likely,” sez he. “The’s no range up that way, and no trail
leadin’ near it; but you fellers want to scatter your tracks all you
can, so as not to make a path.”
We made plans for all the unexpected details we could think up; and
then he started forth one night, meanin’ to circle to the southwest,
and come in from that direction. He wore a red handkerchief under his
nose as if to shut out the dust; but shaved clean, and pale as he was,
mighty few would have recognized him either as Badger-face, or as the
feller what had come in with us a few weeks before. We all shook hands
solemn when he left, and promised to be at the look-out the followin’
night, and to be there steady from that on.
“What makes you fellers trust me?” sez he just as he started. “I came
down here to put Olaf out o’ business, and then I turned over to your
side. Now I’m goin’ back to Ty’s. What makes you think I won’t turn
again’ ya, if I get into a tight place?”
Horace went over and took his hand. “Promotheus,” sez he, “I’ve been
with you through hot days and cold nights, I’ve been with you through
hunger and thirst and danger; and I’d trust you as long as I’d trust
myself. You’re not goin’ to Ty’s because you’re a traitor. You’re
goin’ because you’re a changed man, and the new man you’ve become is
willin’ to risk his life for what he thinks is right. No matter what
happens, I’ll trust ya; so take that along to think over.”
Promotheus winked his eyes purty fast, then he gave a sigh and rode
off into the night. The’ wasn’t the hint of a smile about his lips,
nor a glint o’ gladness in his eyes; but somethin’ in the straight way
’at he held his back let ya know ’at the inside man of him was finally
at peace with what the outside man was doin’—and if ya don’t know
what that means, the’s no way to tell ya.