“Gittin’ my hands on it ain’t much inducement, but if I can keep my
hands on it—shoot.”
We climbs off our broncs, and gathers around Polecat, while Chuck tells
him all about it. Polecat chaws slow-like and listens closely.
“All you’ve to do is to be Archibald,” says Chuck.
“I ain’t kickin’ about the name, but I sure hates to part with ten
thousand good dollars fer nothin’.”
“You stingy old whangdoodle!” explodes Telescope. “We’re goin’ to make a
million for you, and you hollers about a measly ten thousand. You’re
about as grateful as a sidewinder.”
“I could go alone and get it all,” grins Polecat.
“You could start, you mean,” says Chuck, “but you’d die about three
miles from Paradise. You’ve lived with skunks so long that your morals
are plumb furred.”
“I’ll go if it don’t cost me nothin’,” says Polecat. “I won’t spend a
cent. _Sabe?_ Do we go on a steam train?”
“It’s near Chicago,” says Muley.
“Chicago? Seems like I’ve heard of that place. When do we go?”
“Tomorrow,” says Chuck. “You’ve got to get some clothes, ’cause they
won’t let you on a train thataway. Take a bath, too. Take several baths.
Be there before noon.”
“What fer do I take a bath?”
“Go and have the horse-doctor examine your nose,” says Muley.
“My nose is all right,” declares Polecat. “I sure smell.”
“Let’s go before we say something mean,” says Muley.
* * * * *
“Vacation?” gasps Jay Bird. “Va—uh—my gosh!”
“Yes’m,” says Chuck, “we need one—bad.”
“Will we get our jobs back when we return?” asks Muley.
“I suppose so. I’ve got to have cowpunchers to make this look like a
cow-ranch, and you fellers are no worse than the rest.”
“We may not come back,” states Telescope.
“Well,” says Jay Bird, “I won’t cheer until I know for sure.”
Them tickets cost us seventy-five dollars per each. We dug up three
hundred and seventy-five good dollars. And that wasn’t round-trip
tickets, either.
Man, I’d say that Polecat was a changed man. He comes out of the general
store, as we walks up. His old dog, Shylock, which has been waiting
outside, takes one look at Polecat and then went kihooting off up the
street. Polecat looks at us and grins. He’s got on a new black suit,
which was built for a man about as tall as Telescope. The sleeves comes
to the ends of his fingers, and the pants wrinkle all the way down to
where they drag around the soles of his boots.
He’s got a pink shirt, a green vest and no collar nor tie, and on his
head is a gray derby hat, which is about seven and five-eighths, while
Polecat’s head is about a six and three-eighths.
“I feel like a danged dude,” says he, foolish-like. “Spelled f—o—o—l,”
said Telescope. “Where in —— did you get that bunch of misfits?”
“They’re jist comfortable,” says Polecat. “He, he, he! You fellers owe
me forty-seven dollars and six bits.”
“Owe you?” says I. “What for?”
“Clothes. I ain’t spendin’ my own money, y’betcha.”
“What was the six bits for?” asks Muley, looking at Polecat from a rear
view.
“Three baths.”
“Well, we ain’t dressin’ yuh, Polecat,” declares Telescope.
“Then I don’t go. Anyway, I don’t like trains.”
“If—if we pays for the clothes, will you pay for the baths?” asks Chuck.
“Never! I won’t pay fer nothin’ I don’t need. I’ll take these clothes
right back. _Sabe?_ This ain’t no funeral of mine, gents. Do I get my
money back?”
He did. Then we went to the train. Four of us has our war-sacks along,
but Polecat brought two big sacks and one small one.
“You need a pack-horse, Polecat,” says Telescope. “What in —— have you
got in all them sacks?”
“I’ve got my blankets, some grub, a fry-pan and a coffee-pot, and in
this here sack I’ve got some danged fancy samples of galena ore. I’m
hooked up fer a stay.”
“Abo-o-o-o-a-rd!” yells the conductor, and we climbs on.
The conductor looks us over and sort of blocks us from the door.
“You’ll have to get rid of them guns,” says he. “We don’t allow nobody
to pack guns on the train.”
“Man,” wails Polecat, “I’d feel plumb naked without mine.”
“Don’t you pack one?” asks Telescope of the conductor.
“I do not.”
“Then you hadn’t ought to talk like that to men what does. Move over.”
“I’ll stop the train and have you put off!” he yelps.
“We’ve got tickets,” says Telescope, “and if you put us off this train
you’ll never see it start again.” And we files inside, with Polecat in
the lead, draggin’ his outfit. We staggers down that car, and into
another, and are almost through that one when Polecat yelps:
“Whoa! We’re on the back porch.”
Just then we hit a curve and almost lost Polecat. He fell over a little
camp-stool and pitched plumb over the porch, but Telescope got him by
the slack of his pants and hauled him back.
“Hellity blip!” gasps Polecat. “Do yuh reckon this here thing is safe?”
_Rur-r-rip!_ we roars across a bridge. Polecat grabs his sacks and
pitched ’em back through the door, and then makes a grab for the door.
“I’m goin’ back!” he yelps.
Just then a man in a blue uniform staggers out of the door, and stands
there rubbing his forehead.
“Who threw that sack of rocks?” he wails.
“Rocks, ——!” croaks Polecat. “Them is samples of galena ore, you
tenderfoot.”
The feller stands there a while, caressing his face, and then he says,
“Tickets.”
Chuck hands him all five of ’em.
“Pullman tickets,” he demands sort of mean-like.
“We ain’t goin’ to Pullman,” says Chuck.
“These the only tickets you’ve got?”
“My gosh, ain’t them enough?” asks Telescope. “Can you see more than
five of us?”
“You’ll have to pay extra to ride here.”
“Where are these tickets good for—in the engine?” asks Muley.
“Day coach—six cars ahead!” he snaps.
“Day coach?” asks Muley.
“Smoker, too.”
“Cigarets,” admits Muley. “Any law against it?”
“You just can’t ride here, that’s all,” says he.
“We’re havin’ a lovely walk,” murmurs Chuck.
“You don’t understand me,” says he. “These are sleepers.”
“You know what he means, Muley?” asks Telescope.
“He just said we didn’t; why dispute the gent?”
The feller turns around and goes back inside, talking to himself.
“Boss,” says a voice, and here is a colored feller, with a white coat
on, leaning out of the door. “Boss, is you-all connected in any way with
de li’l feller whut wears de fancy vest?”
“Why?” asks Telescope.
“You-all betta come and git him, dasall. He’s sort of jammed in the
corrido’ ’tween his sacks, and he says he’s gwine scalp anybody whut
teches him. Nobody kin go in no’ out.”
We picks up our sacks and weaves down that car. Polecat is in that
narrow chute at the end of the car, and he’s plumb mad. Muley gets
against him and manages to shove him to where the car gets wider.
“Too much speed,” complains Polecat. “Got surrounded with my plunder and
couldn’t get loose. If this danged thing ever slows down I’m goin’ to
camp. How much further do we have to go?”
“About two days and nights,” says Chuck.
“My Gawd! We’ll be in Yurrup or our graves! Gimme a burro, man! Gimme a
burro! I ain’t in no hurry a-tall.”
Then we starts out to find the car where our tickets are honored.
Polecat has a sack under each arm and his hat in one hand. The conductor
gets in front of Polecat, and Polecat, like a danged fool, pulled his
gun. The conductor ducked into a little room at the end of the car, and
let the pe-rade past. We went through some more cars and after while we
comes to a place where some men are smoking.
“Looky!” gasps Polecat, holding out his hat.
“Where’d yuh get the watch?” asks Muley.
“Feller put it in my hat. He tried to put some money in it, too, but
Telescope shoved me ahead and it fell on the floor. Never seen him
before in my life.”
“He—he seen the gun in your hand, you danged fool!” wails Chuck.
“Telescope shoved me,” complains Polecat. “It was real money.”
“You held him up,” croaks Telescope. “You had that gun in your hand,
Polecat.”
“I didn’t hold him up,” whines Polecat. “Gun in my hand don’t make me a
robber. I’ve got warts on my hands, but that don’t make me a frog, does
it?”
“Tickets.”
It’s the conductor again. He punches our ticket, and looks kinda funny
at us.
“If you fellers wasn’t so darned ignorant I’d put you off,” says he.
“If we wasn’t so darned ignorant we wouldn’t be on here,” replies Muley.