"You're a-skeerin' my hoss," I yells back.
"Pull t' one side," he answers. "I want to git by."
But Maud wouldn't pull. And everywheres Simpson was, she was just in
front, actin' as if she was scairt plumb outen her seven senses. The
worse she acted, a-course, the madder _I_ got! Fin'lly, just as Mister
Doc was managin' to pass, I got _turrible_ mad, and, cussin' blue
blazes, I took out my forty-five and let her fly.
One of them hind tires popped like the evenin' gun at Fort Wingate. Same
minute, that hidebound rig-a-ma-jig took a shy and come nigh buttin' her
fool nose agin a fence-post. But Simpson, he geed her quick and started
on. I put a hole in the other hind tire. She shied again--opp'site
_di_rection--snortin' like she was wind-broke. He hawed her back.
Then he went a-kitin' on, leavin' me a-eatin' his dust.
But I wasn't _done_ with him, no, ma'am.
Right there the road make a kinda horse-shoe turn--like this, y'
savvy--to git 'round a fence corner. I'd cal'lated on that. I just
give Maud a lick 'longside the haid, jumped her over the fence, quirted
her a-flyin' acrosst that bend, took the other fence, and landed about
a hunderd feet in front of him.
When he seen me through his goggles, he come on full-steam. I set Maud
a-runnin' the same _di_rection--and took up my little rope.
About two shakes of a lamb's tail, and it happened. He got nose and nose
with me. I throwed, ketchin' him low--'round his chest and arms. Maud
come short.
Say! talk about you' _flyin'_-machines! Simpson let go his holt and
took to the air, sailin' up right easy fer a spell, flappin' his wings
all the time; then, doublin' back somethin' amazin', and fin'lly
comin' down t' light.
And that gasoline bronc of hisn--minute she got the bit, she acted
plumb loco. She shassayed sideways fer a rod, buckin' at ev'ry jump.
Pretty soon, they was a turn, but she didn't see it. She left the
road and run agin the fence, cuttin' the wires as clean in two as a
pliers-man. Then, outen pure cussedness, seems like, she made towards a
cottonwood, riz up on her hind laigs, clumb it a ways, knocked her
wind out, pitched oncet 'r twicet, tumbled over on to her quarters, and
begun t' kick up her heels.
[Illustration: "_He lay the kid lookin' up and put his finger into
her mouth_"]
I looked at Simpson. He'd been settin' on the ground; but now he gits
up, pullin' at the rope gentle, like a lazy sucker. Say! but his face
was ornamented!
I give him a nod. "Wal, Young-Man-That-Flies-Like-A-Bird?" I says,
inquirin'.
He began to paw up the road like a mad bull. "I'll make you pay fer
this!" he bellered.
"You cain't git blood outen a turnip," I answers, sweet as sugar; and
Maud backed a step 'r two, so's the rope wouldn't slack.
"How _dast_ you do such a' in_fame_ous thing!" he goes on.
"You gasoline gents got t' have a lesson," I answers; "you let the
stuff go t' you' haids. Why, a _hired man_ ain't got a chanst fer his
life when you happen t' be travellin'."
He begun t' wiggle his arms. "You lemme go," he says.
"Go where?" I ast.
"T' my machine."
I looked over at her. She was quiet now, but sweatin' oil somethin'
awful. "How long'll it take you t' git her on to her laigs?" I ast.
"She's ruined!" he says, like he was goin' to bawl. "And I meant
t' go down to Goldstone t'night."
"That duck-wing lady'll have t' wait fer the train," I says. "But
never mind. I'll tell Rose Andrews you got the _en_gagement." Then
Maud slacked the rope and I rode up t' him, so's to let him loose. "So
long," I says.
"I ain't done with you!" he answers, gittin' purple; "I ain't done
with you!"
"Wal, you know where I live," I says, and loped off, hummin' the tune
the ole cow died on.
When I rid up to the Bar Y ranch-house, here was Billy, gittin' offen
that little bi_cy_cle of hisn.
"Cupid," he says, and he was whiter'n chalk-rock, "is the baby worse?
And Rose----"
I pulled him up on to the porch. "Now's you' chanst, Billy," I
answers. "_Do you' darnedest!_"
Rose opened the door, and her face was as white as hisn. "Aw, Billy!"
was all she says.
Then up come that ole fool paw of hern, totin' the kid. "What's
this?" he ast, mad as a hornet. "And where's Doc Simpson?"
It was me that spoke. "Doc Simpson's had a turrible accident," I
answers. "His gasoline plug got to misbehavin' down the road a piece,
and plumb tore her insides out. He got awful shook up, and couldn't
come no further, so--knowin' the baby was so sick--I went fer Bill."
"Bill!" says the ole man, disgusted. "_Thun-deration!_"
But Billy had his tools out a'ready and was a-reachin' fer the kid.
Sewell let him have her--cussin' like a mule-skinner.
"That's right," he says to Rose; "that's right,--let him massacree
her!"
Rose didn't take no notice. "Aw, Billy!" she kept sayin', and "Aw,
baby!"
Billy got to doin' things. He picked somethin' shiny outen his kit and
slipped it into a pocket. Next, he lay the kid lookin' up and put his
finger into her mouth.
"See here," he says to me.
I peeked in where he pointed and seen a reg'lar little hawg-back of gum,
red on the two slopes, but whitish in four spots along the ridge, like
they'd been a snowfall. Billy grinned, took out that shiny instrument,
and give each of them pore little gum buttes the double cross--zip-_zip,_
zip-_zip,_ zip-_zip,_ zip-_zip_. And, jumpin' buffaloes! _out pops
four of the prettiest teeth a man ever seen!_
Bugs?--rats!
"Now, a little Bella Donnie," says Bill, "and the baby'll be O. K."
"O. K.!" says Rose. "Aw, Billy!" And _such_ a kissin'!--the baby,
a-_course_.
Ole man Sewell stopped swearin' a minute. "What's the matter?" he ast.
"Teeth," says Billy.
Think of that! Why, the trouble was so clost to Simpson that if it'd
been a rattler, it'd 'a' bit him!
"_Teeth!_" says the ole man, like he didn't believe it.
"Come look," says Billy.
Sewell, he walked over to the baby and stooped down. Then all of a
suddent, I seen his jaw go open, and his eyes stick out so far you
could 'a' knocked 'em off with a stick. Then, he got red as a turkey
gobbler--and let out a reg'lar war-whoop.
"_Look_ at 'em!" he yelped. "Rose! Rose!--_look_ at 'em! Four all
to oncet!" And he give the doc such a wallop on the back that it come
nigh to knockin' him down.
"I know," I says sarcastic, "but, shucks! a baby ain't _all_ teeth.
This is a mighty puzzlin' case, and Simpson----"
"Close you' fly-trap," says the ole man, "and look at them teeth!
Four of a kind--can y' beat it?"
"Wa-a-al," I says, sniffin', "they's so, so, I reckon, but any
kid----"
"_Any_ kid!" yells the ole man, plumb aggervated. And he was just
turnin' round to give _me_ one when--in limps Simpson!
"Mister Sewell," he says, "I come to make a complaint"--he shook his
fist at me--"agin this here ruffian. He----"
"Wow!" roars Sewell. "Don't you trouble to make no complaints in
_this_ house. Here you been a-treatin' this baby fer bugs when it was
just teeth. Say! you ain't got sense enough to come in when it rains!"
That plumb rattled Simpson. He was gittin' a _re_ception he didn't
reckon on. But he tried t' keep up his game.
"This cow-boy here is _re_sponsible fer damages to my auto," he says.
"The dashboard's smashed into matches, the tumblin'-rods is broke,
the spark-condenser's kaflummuxed, and the hull blamed business is
skew-gee. This man was actin' in you' behalf, and if he don't pay,
I'll sue _you._"
"Sue?" says Sewell; "_sue?_ You go guess again! You send in you'
bill, that's what _you_ do. You ain't earned nothin'--but, by jingo,
it's worth money just to git shet of such a dog-goned shyster as you.
_Git._"
And with that, out goes Mister Bugs.
Then, grandpaw, he turns round to the baby again, plumb took up with
them four new nippers. "Cluck, cluck," he says like a chicken, and
pokes the kid under the chin. Over one shoulder, he says to Billy, "And,
Trowbridge, you can make out _you'_ bill, too."
Billy didn't answer nothin'. Just went over to a table, pulled out a
piece of paper and a pencil, and begun t' write. Pretty soon, he got
up and come back.
"Here, Mister Sewell," he says.
I was right byside the ole man, and--couldn't help it--I stretched to
read what Billy'd writ. And this was what it was:
"Mister Zach Sewell, debtor to W. A. Trowbridge, fer medical
services--the hand of one Rose Andrews in marriage."
Sewell, he read the paper over and over, turnin' all kinds of colours.
And Silly and me come blamed nigh chokin' from holdin' our breaths.
Rose was lookin' up at us, and at her paw, too, turrible anxious. As fer
that kid, it was a-kickin' its laigs into the air and gurglin' like a
bottle.
Fin'lly, the ole man handed the paper back. "Doc," he says, "Rose is
past twenty-one, and not a' idjit. Also, the kid is hern. So, bein'
this bill reads the way it does, mebbe you'd better hand it t' her.
If she don't think it's too steep a figger----"
Billy took the paper and give it over to Rose. When she read it, her face
got all blushy; and happy, too, I could see _that_.
"_Rose!_" says Billy, holdin' out his two arms to her.
I took a squint through the winda at the scenery--and heerd a sound like
a cow pullin' its foot outen the mud.
"Rose," goes on Billy, "I'll be as good as I know how to you."
When I turned round again, here was ole man Sewell standin' in the
middle of the floor, lookin' back and forth from Rose and Billy to
the kid--like it'd just struck him that he was goin' t' lose his gal
and the baby and all them teeth. And if ever a man showed that he was
helpless and jealous and plumb hurt, why, that was him. Next, here he
was a-gazin' at me with a queer shine in his eyes--almost savage. And
say! it got me some nervous.
"Seems Mister Cupid Lloyd is a-runnin' things 'round this here
ranch-house," he begun slow, like he was holdin' in his mad.
I--wal, I just kinda stood there, and swallered oncet 'r twicet, and
tried t' grin. (Didn't know nothin' t' say, y' savvy, that'd be
likely t' hit him just right.)
"So Cupid's gone and done it again!" he goes on. "How accommodatin'!
Haw!" And he give one of them short, sarcastic laughs.
"Wal, just let me tell you," he _con_tinues, steppin' closter, "that
I, fer one, ain't got _no_ use fer a feller that's allus a-stickin' in
his lip."
"Sewell," I says, "no feller _likes_ to--that's a cinch. But oncet
in a while it's plumb needful."
"It is, is it? And I s'pose _this_ is one of them cases. Wal, Mister
Cupid, all I can say is this: The feller that sticks in his lip _allus
gits into trouble._"
Sometimes, them words of hisn come back to me. Mebbe I'll be feelin'
awful good-natured, and be a-laughin' and talkin'. Of a suddent, up
them words'll pop, and the way he said 'em, and all. And even if
it's right warm weather, why, I _shiver,_ yas, ma'am. _The fetter
that sticks in his lip allus gits into trouble_--nothin' was ever said
truer'n that!
"And," the ole man goes on again, a little bit hoarse by now, "I can
feel you' trouble a-comin'. So far, you been lucky. But it cain't
last--it cain't last. You know what it says in the Bible? (Mebbe it
ain't in the Bible, but that don't matter.) It says, 'Give a fool a
rope and he'll hang hisself.' And one of these times you'll play Cupid
just oncet too many. What's more, the smarty that can allus bring other
folks t'gether cain't never manage t' hitch hisself."
I'd been keepin' still 'cause I didn't want they should be no hard
feelin's 'twixt us. But that last _re_mark of hisn kinda got my dander
up.
"Aw, I don't know," I answers; "when it comes my own time, I don't
figger t' have much trouble."
Wal, sir, the old man flew right up. His face got the colour of
sand-paper, and he brung his two hands t'gether clinched, so's
I thought he'd plumb crack the bones. "Haw!" (That laugh
again--bitter'n gall.) "Mister Cupid Lloyd, _you just wait._" And
out he goes.
"Cupid," says Billy, "I'm _turrible_ sorry. Seems, somehow, that
you've got Sewell down on y' account of me----"
"That's all right, Doc," I answers; "_I_ don't keer. It mocks nix
oudt, as Dutchy 'd say." And I shook hands with him and Rose, and
kissed the baby.
It mocks nix oudt--that's what I said. Wal, how was I t' know then,
that I'd made a' enemy of the _one_ man that, later on, I'd be
willin' t' give my _life_ t' please, almost?--_how_ was I t' know?