PICKLES TRIES TO TALK
Mary sat at the window sewing--a continuous performance with her these
days. The sound of a horse approaching caused her to glance up just as
a faint call for "Buck" reached her. One look and the sewing fell to the
floor as she sprang to her feet, crying out for Jake as she ran. With
Swallow nuzzling at her dress, she supported Pickles until Jake came to
aid; he lifted the boy from the saddle and carried him into the house.
Mary hastily got out the whiskey and Pickles gulped down a mouthful
before he realized what it was. He choked, and pushed away the cup.
"Don't want it," he declared, weakly; "ain't never goin' to drink."
"Good boy," encouraged Mary, patting his head. "You stick to that."
"Where 's Buck?" asked Pickles.
"He ain't come back yet," answered Mary.
"Where is he?" insisted Pickles.
"I don't know," was the patient reply.
"I gotta find Buck," the boy declared, starting to rise.
Mary pushed him back. "How can you find him when you don't know where
he is?"
"Ain't he som'er's on th' range?"
"No; him an' Whit rode off Twin River way this mornin' an' they ain't
neither of 'em back yet."
"Well, I gotta find him, an' I gotta find him now," declared Pickles.
"Lemme go."
"What's eatin' you?" demanded Jake. "_You_ ain't fitten to ride _no_
place an' I 'm mortally certain you can't walk."
"Shut yore trap, Woolly-face. What's a sheep like you know, anyhow?
Nothin'! Can't even dig holes less 'n yo 're prodded with lead. Lemme
go."
The whiskey was having an effect on Pickles or he never would have shown
malice like this. Besides, it was not true and Pickles knew it. To all
questions he had but one answer and Mary was in despair when Hopalong
strode into the room. Hoppy wanted to know things--"Where'd you get
that horse?" he asked, sharply.
"Huh?" queried Pickles.
"Where 'd you get that horse--that horse you was ridin'?"
"That's Rose's horse--where 's Buck?"
"Rose who?"
"Huh? French Rose. Say, where's Buck?"
"French Rose, hey? Say, Mary, that's th' horse got away from me with
that cow-killin' screech-owl th' other night."
"That horse? Rose LaFrance's horse? Oh, Billy!"
It seemed that Mary was deeper in Buck's confidence than his old friend
Hopalong, in this matter, at all events.
"Say you, blast you! Where's Buck? Lemme go! What's eatin' you? Ah,
h--l!" Pickles relaxed under the grasp of Jake's hands and limply
essayed to retrieve his reputation. "I asks yore pardon, ma'am. I
promises Buck I won't never swear afore a lady an' here I goes an' does
it, first time I 'm mad."
Hoppy eyed the penitent keenly. "Say, Bud; what's wrong?" he asked,
quietly. "Buck ain't got no better friend than me and I 'll find him
for you; but there ain't no good huntin', less 'n I got somethin' to say
when I get there."
"Will you? Bully for you! Tell Buck th' Dutchman 's goin' to get all
th' money--then Dave 's goin' to get it--it's in th' bank--on'y Schatz
don't know who it is--nobody catches Dave runnin' into a blin' trail
thataway--then Dave takes th' money to th' Dutchman--but right here 's
where he fools him--he don't take it--he keeps it--an' he marries Rose
on th' train to Helena--Rose rides Swaller to Jackson to get th'
train--on'y she has got to get another horse 'cause I rode Swaller here.
D 'you get me?" Pickles stared expectantly at Hopalong, who turned to
Jake.
"Put that horse in th' barn. Saddle Allday. Rope a cayuse an' set that
smoke a-rollin'--take a blanket an' ball th' smoke three times at th'
end o' every minute--go through th' Gut an' up th' north side.
_Pronto!_"
Jake went out of the door on the jump. He moved fast for Buck on
occasion--rare, it is true--but there was a volcanic danger in
Hopalong's eye that put springs in Jake's boot-heels.
"That's th' way to talk," sighed Pickles, happily. Hopalong went to the
rack and took down his rifle. "Reckon yo 're goin' to want that?" asked
Pickles.
"Reckon I might," admitted Hopalong, gravely. "You see, after I find
Buck I 'm a-goin' to look for Dave an' th' Dutchman."
"Jiggers! I shore hopes you find 'em. I 'd sooner you get Dave than
any man I know, 'ceptin' me."
"Well, I sorter count on gettin' Dave. So long, Pickles."
"So long," echoed the boy.
Mary followed her husband outside. "Don't get hurt, Billy-Red," she
warned him.
"That sort o' vermin never hurt me yet, Mary. When th' boys get here
send 'em after me to Wayback. Tell Ned, rifles. Let me have all th'
money you got; if I miss Buck I might want it."
Mary watched him until he rode by on Allday, waving to him from the
corner of the house. Then she went indoors to Pickles.
"That's a bully man, that Hopalong, ain't he?" was his enthusiastic
greeting.
"He shore is; an' you 're a bully boy, Pickles," replied Mary. She took
up her sewing again. The boy watched her curiously and was about to ask
a question, when Sleep floated past and Pickles forgot to ask it.