_Pistol Plays_
I has fully half an hour to wait and I puts it in going over the
program, as it has already done been mapped out, just to make absolute
sure nothing ain't been left out. There's one switch in the plans, which
I decides to make it right at the last minute, mighty near it. This here
decision is that I'll shove things along powerful brisk once we gets
going good and under way; which naturally this means I've got to change
my Riverside Drive system. But circumstances alters cases and what's
side-meat for one is cold poison for another. The way I looks at it, it
all depends on the anigosity[4] of the occasion.
Now, with the lady, the best scheme, seemed like to me, was not to crowd
the mourners, as the saying is, but just to lazy along in a weaving way,
letting the specifications sink into her one by one and thereby thus
giving her time to brood over each separate point as it come forth. But
with him I figures the best plan is the quick-rushing plan. I figures
I've got to take him short from the go-off and keep on shocking him so
fast and so hard with promises of devastations that he won't have time
to catch up with his thinking, and then at the proper time dash the
mainest jolt of all right _bang_ in his face.
But before that proper minute comes he's got to be rightly prepared in
his mind for it. He's got to be hearing mournful music and muffled drums
beating in his ears. He's got to feel an icy cold breath blowing on his
overhet temples. He's got to have a raging fever in his forehead, but a
heavy frost congealing his feet. And most of all he's got to have a sad
picture dancing before his eyes of from six to twelve of his most
intimate friends getting measured for white gloves. Just let them things
come to pass, sort of simultaneous, and it's sure going to be a case of
Sukey, bar the door, with our gentleman friend!
Leastwise, that is the way I organizes it in my head whilst I'm setting
in that there little hall of ours waiting watchfully. Before a great
while I hears one of the elevators stopping at our floor and I hears
slinky kitty-cat steps coming along towards our door. So I knows that
must be him and I gets back and sort of squats in the side passage
leading off into the service wing, so I can come slipping out like as if
I was in a hurry to meet him as he come in, but had been detained.
The door opens right easy and in slides Mr. Raynor, same as a mouse into
a trap. I can almost see his nose wrinkling up like he's smelling of the
cheese and craving to start nibbling at it. He looks round him and sees
me and he gives me a meaning wink. I makes motions to him to be quiet,
which that ain't necessary but it helps the play along for me to be
plenty warnful in my manners; and then I tiptoes on up the hall towards
the setting-room, leading the way for him; and he takes the hint and
tiptoes along behind me. But at the setting-room door I slows up and
steps to one side to let him pass on in first and that gives me a chance
to spring the catch-bolt on the door behind us, unbeknownst to him. I
takes his hat and coat, all the time rolling my eyes round on every side
like I'm apprehentious somebody else might be breaking in on us from the
back part of the apartment, and then I says to him in a kind of a
significating whisper, I says:
"Oh, Mr. Raynor, I been truly oneasy in my mind 'bout you--I'm mouty
sorry 'at you come!"
"Sorry?" he says, sort of startled. "Why, you telephoned me yourself."
"Yas, suh, I knows I did," I says; "but I wuz only obeyin' awders--an'
anyways 'at wuz befo' things begun to tek the more serious turn w'ich
they has took. I'd a-halted you at the front do' yonder an' turned you
back ef I could've, but I wuz delayed back in the boss' baid-room tryin'
to argue him out of his notion an' tha's how come I didn't git thar to
give you the warnin' word. Or," I says, "ef they'd a-been time an' I'd
a-got the chance--both of w'ich I had neither--I'd a-ketched you on the
telephone an' stopped you befo' ever you started up-town frum the
office. So this move--tollin' you in yere an' fortifyin' you up,
suh,--is the onliest other one I could think of," I says; "an' so, no
matter how it may turn out," I says, "I want you to carry wid you the
'membrunces 'at I done the level best I could fur you."
"Say," he says, "what's all this palaver about?" He's speaking quite
bluffy, but even so I can tell that the uneasiness is beginning to seep
into his ankles. "Why shouldn't I come here? I was sent for, wasn't I?
For that matter, why shouldn't I come without being sent for? I'm not
worried about my position in this row--I'm safe."
"_Sh-h-h!_" I says, "please, suh, _sh-h-h!_ Keep yore voice down," I
says, "whutever else you may do. This ain't no time to be talkin' loud,"
I says.
"I'll swear I don't get you," he says. But he's took heed and now his
notes is low and more worried-like. "I'm asked to come up here on a
matter of business, as I suppose. I gather from your hints over the
telephone you think you've found out something which I might be willing
to give money for, as an exclusive advance tip. So far, so good; I'm
always open to reason. Then I get here and you behave as mysteriously as
a ghost and go _sh-h-hing_ about as though somebody was dead on the
premises. What's the----"
"Oh, Mr. Raynor," I says, "don't speak of nobody bein' daid on these
premises. It sounds too much lak a dreadin' perdiction. Mr. Raynor," I
says, "fur the sakes of all, please lis'sen an' lemme say my say whilst
they's yit time!"
"All right," he says; "go ahead. I won't interrupt again, although I
still don't see why you should take the matter so seriously." But in
spite of the fact that when he says this he's grinning at me I judges
that by now the uneasiness has started crawling up his legs. It's one of
them sickly, pestered grins.
"Well, suh," I says, "all last night an' th'ough the early parts of this
mawnin' Mr. Dallas is been carryin' on lak he was mouty nigh
distracted. Frum words w'ich he lets fall, partly to me an' partly w'en
he's tawkin' to hisse'f, I meks out 'at the trouble is on 'count of
bus'ness dealin's 'twixt you an' him, an' also 'at he's harborin' a
'special pet gredge ag'in you on 'count of somethin' or other. Fur a
spell he tawked right smart 'bout a compermise settlemint an' 'at wuz
whut I wanted to tell you pussonally in privit--'at the idee of a
compermise settlemint wuz floatin' in his mind. He didn't sleep none
las' night but he walked the floor stiddy till pas' daylight; an' all
th'ough these mawnin' hours, seemed lak to me, he's been gittin' mo' an'
mo' antagonized ez the time went by. Frum the symptoms I should a-knowed
whut wuz brewin'. But I reckin I must a-been blinded, whut wid things
bein' so out of kelter round the 'partmint. W'en he bidden me fur to
call you up an' invite yore presence yere right away I still didn't
'spicion the true facts. But right after I'd got th'ough telephonin'
down to the office I went back to his room to say you'd be cumin'
shortly an' ez I stepped in the do' an' seen him fumblin' in 'at
dressin'-table drawer an' seen the rampagious look w'ich wuz on his
face--oh, Mr. Raynor, suh, right 'en wuz w'en my heart upset itse'f
insides my chist!
"'Cause I done seen 'at look on his face befo' now; I seen it fo' yeahs
ago, the time w'en 'at electioneerin' fuss of his wid the late Mr. Dave
Townsend come up. At leas' once't I seen it on his paw's face an' I seen
it mo' times 'en once't on the face of his uncle, Mr. Z. T. Pulliam,
w'ich they called him Hell-Roarin' Zack fur short. It runs in the blood
an' it ripens in the breedin'--'at look do. You don't never want to
tamper wid a Pulliam--they comes untamped too easy! They goes 'long jest
ez peaceable an' quiet ez a onborn lamb up to a suttin p'int an' 'en 'at
look comes over 'em an' the by-standers starts removin' theyselves to a
place of safety. They calls it the deadly sign of the Pulliam fambly
down our way 'cause they knows whut it means--they's seen it loomin'
th'ough the pistol-smoke too of'en. An' so----"
"What sort of a bluff is this you're trying to hand me?" he says. But
his face all of a sudden has turned just the color of chalk and his
voice is quivering so the words comes forth from between his lips all
sort of broken up. The man's looks don't match his language. "Are you
trying to tell me there's gun-play threatening around here? Well, that's
not done any more!"
"You's right!" I says. "Wid the Pulliamses, after the fust shot, it
ain't necessary fur it to be done any mo'--jest once't is ample! They
lets go frum the hip an' they don't rarely nor never miss--I reckin it
comes natchel to 'em. Oh, Mr. Raynor, I knows whut the danger is
better'n you possibly kin! An' oh, Mr. Raynor, I's so skeered on yore
'count--you havin' been alluz mouty friendly to me an' you still so
young, too! An' I's skeered on Mr. Dallases' 'count lakwise, 'cause
these cotehouse folks up yere they prob'ly won't 'preciate whut is the
custom of our locality fur the settlin' of privit misunderstandin's
betwixt gen'elmen. I'm most crazy in my mind, ez you kin see! Ef only I
could a-got him cooled off an' ca'mmed down befo' you got yere! I tried
an' I tried but 'twuzn't no use--it never is no use tryin', wid a
Pulliam. An' even now ef only we could onduce him to hole off an'
lis'sen to reasonable argumints frum you befo' he cuts loose! Oh, Mr.
Raynor, I do hope an' pray he see fit to give you a chanc't to 'splain
'way the diffe'nces! But, oh, I dreads the wust! 'Cause he's crouchin'
back yonder waitin', wid his trigger-finger twitchin', an' w'en he sees
you----"
"Let me out of here!" he says. And though he says it kind of
half-whispering yet he says it kind of half-screeching, too.
And with that he makes a break for the door behind him, aiming to bust
out down the hall. But it's locked.
And with that, likewise I turns over a little centre-table and it goes
down on its side with a bang, which that is the ordained signal agreed
on previous, and I lets a yell out of me.
"Oh, Lawsy," I yells, "it's too late--yere he is now!"
And then Mr. Raynor ceases from pawing at the latch and spins round and
plasters himself flat against the door-panels like he was pinned there,
with his arms stretched wide and his fingers clawing at the wood-work.
And here, in through the curtains of the library door comes Mr. Dallas,
that's all, stepping light on the balls of his feet, with his eyes
blazing and his hair all mussed-up, and down at his right side, it
swinging loose and free, he's carrying that three-pound chunk of
Snake-Eye Jamison's shootlery. I don't know whether it's the excitement,
or the spell of the play-acting on him, or the righteous mad which is in
him, but he looks so perilous I'm mighty near scared of him my own self.
And even though he ain't never toted no pistol before in his life he's
handling this here big blue borrowed smoke-wagon like he'd cut his
milk-teeth on one. And I'm mighty glad she ain't loaded, neither; else
he might start living up to the reputation I've done endowed him with.
That's all, but that's plenty! As Mr. H. C. Raynor's knees begins giving
way under him he starts in to pleading at the top of his voice. You
could a-heard him plumb down in the street I reckon.
"For God's sake," he begs, "don't shoot! For God's sake, don't shoot
yet! Give me a minute--give me time to explain! I'll do anything you
say, Pulliam--we can square this thing! Only, for God's sake, don't
shoot!"
By the time he's got this much out of him he's setting down flat against
the door, with his legs stretched out straight in front of him and his
feet kind of dancing on the floor so that his heels makes little
knocking sounds. He looks like he's fixing to faint away. Maybe he did
faint, but if he did, I know the faintfulness didn't get no higher up
than his throat, because the last thing I heard as I went on out from
there through the library, was him still babbling away.
Up till the time I left, Mr. Dallas hadn't spoke nary word--just stood
there wagging that there chunk of hardware in the general direction of
Mr. Raynor and licking at his lips with his tongue, sort of eager-like.
Well, thus far, it hadn't been necessary for him to say nothing--Mr.
Raynor was doing enough talking for any number you might care to name,
up to half a dozen.
FOOTNOTE:
[4] Note.--The word is believed to be one of Jeff's own coinage. It is
left as written. Its meaning may be doubtful but who will deny that it
is a good word?