CHAPTER XXXSLIM WOLFGANG PLANS
WHEN Cole of Spyglass Mountain made no move to go East, following The Whimperer’s warning, Slim Wolfgang’s indignation rode high. Of course he imagined that the crafty old John Yegg had “played him for a sucker,” and he recounted to Winnie the Weeper all of the terrible things that he meant to do to him if their paths should cross again. Then when his resentment threatened chronic indigestion Slim’s girl overheard Joshua telling the postmaster that he would be leaving for the Atlantic seaboard sometime near the last of April.
Joshua and Shanty Madge had ridden in that evening for the mail and a few supplies. When they entered that part of The Silver Dollar which was devoted to the post office, Winnie the Weeper was standing in the archway between the store and post office and the barroom. Her dark eyes were fixed on Lee Sweet, the cattleman, who was at the bar in a state of imbecile intoxication. When opportunity offered, Winnie the Weeper had been keeping her eyes on Sweet a great deal of late, when he was not in The Golden Eagle in company with Slim. And thus it came about that she was near enough to overhear Joshua’s remark.
She promptly glided away through the barroom, unseen by Madge and Joshua. She snarled at a drunken railroad stiff who grabbed playfully at her in the doorway, slipped out, and hurried down the street to The Golden Eagle.
Ragtown’s liveliest hours were represented in The Golden Eagle. Dozens of men were crowding before the plain pine bar, as many more were dancing with the highly painted, short-skirted girls, and the gambling tables were not idle. In the far end of the place was a lunch counter, before which, on high stools, sat men and girls, and the odor of frying meat filled the room.
Again the girl evaded intoxicated admirers and pushed her way through the throng to the stud game. Here Slim Wolfgang officiated, with a green-celluloid eyeshade pulled low on his forehead, his long, slender fingers deftly manipulating the pasteboards.
He frowned as Winnie leaned over his shoulder and whispered that she had news for him. He glanced at his watch. Then, stating that it was time for him to eat, he turned his chair over to an associate and followed the girl to the lunch counter.
They found two vacant stools and sat side by side, while Winnie repeated in low tones the conversation that she had overheard.
“Well,” said Slim with a sigh, “dat means we gotta get busy, kid. Tony Cole ain’t goin’ East, and dat’s dat. How’s Sweet to-night?”
“Lit to the eyeballs,” Winnie told him.
“Well, den, we’ll eat an’ drift outa here. I’ll go to me tent, an’ youse try an’ steer Sweet in dere as soon as youse can. Get me? We gotta do some talkin’.”
“But what’ll I tell ’im, Slim?”
“Tell um anyt’ing to snare um. Tell um I wanta see um a minute. It won’t do f’r me to be seen shuntin’ um aroun’. Youse gotta do it.”
Winnie’s order of pork chops had been set before her, and she ate nibblingly, silent, her eyes on her plate.
“Slim,” she said at last, “I think it’s about time youwas slippin’ me the dope. I’m off this stuff o’ workin’ in the dark. You promised me there’d be somethin’ big in this deal for me, but you never told me what you was gonta do nor what it’s all about. You wouldn’t trust The Whimperer, and now he’s gone and left you. And you won’t trust me. And I think you’d ought to, Slim. Ain’t I always played square? Then why do you keep me outa the know? I wanta know what I’m up against before I go any farther.”
“Look here, kid,” Slim husked, with a frown of annoyance: “I ain’t de kind dat spills everyt’ing, even to my best girl. When it’s all over, an’ we got de jack, youse’ll know all about it. So what’s de use youse knowin’ now?”
“I want to, anyway; I don’t see why you don’t trust me, Slim.”
“It ain’t dat, Win. I do trust youse. But dat’s a way I got. I keep me mout’ shut—see? I guess I got dat way in de reform school—I know I did. We had a way dere o’ moochin’ ’round like a lotta mice an’ sayin’ nuttin’ about our business, ’cause we never savvied who was gonta squeal on us. So dat’s de way it is wid me, an’—”
“But I don’t work that way,” Winnie the Weeper interrupted. “If you’re gonta lay up with me, Slim, you gotta come across with everything. I don’t keep nothin’ from you, kid—and you gotta do the same with me. And I’m tellin’ you right here that I wanta know what all this funny business is about, or I won’t have anything more to do with it. That’s me, old kid! And you can take it or leave it!”
“Gettin’ funny, ain’t youse?”
“Well, you heard what I said. If you don’t trust me, how’m I gonta trust you? How do I know there’ll be anything in it for me, after I’ve gone along and done what you told me to? How do I know you won’t grab off thejack and leave me somewhere talkin’ to myself? No—nothin’ doin’. It’s time for a showdown.”
Slim idled with his knife, the frown still covering his brow. “Well,” he announced suddenly, “let’s finish eatin’ an’ den we’ll go to de tent an’ I’ll tell youse all about it. Maybe youse’re right, kid, but I always like to keep me dope to meself.”
“That’s all right when you’re workin’ alone,” Winnie conceded. “But when you’ve got a pal in on the deal with you, you oughta come clean. I’ll admit I don’t trust you—and that’s been just the reason.”
“Why, kid, I wouldn’t toin youse down. Youse know youse’re de only jane on de line dat’s got me goat.”
“That’s what they all say,” sniffed Winnie.
“Well, I’ll prove it, den—I’ll slip youse de dope.”
“All right,” Winnie said demurely, and her dark eyes sparkled over her conquest.
A little later they sat together in the tent, one on either side of the rickety table, with a candle flickering between them. Slim sat thoughtfully silent for a little, his brown-paper cigarette pasted with saliva to his lower lip and hanging lifelessly. His pale-blue eyes stared into space. The affected huskiness was gone from his voice when he began to speak, for, being a practiced habit, it deserted him in his more serious moments.
“Well, here she is,” he started in, “an’ I ain’t keepin’ nuttin’ back. An’ youse’ll say it’s good, w’en youse know dere’s gonta be twenty-five t’ousan’ to split between us. Does dat sound good, kid?”
“Uh-huh,” murmured the girl, edging her chair closer to the table and resting her round, smooth chin in both hands. “Go on, Slim. Spill it.”
“Well, it begun jes’ a little w’ile after dey sprung me from de House of Refuge—see? I’m runnin’ de pool tablesin Carlo’s Place, down on Nort’ Street, in Hat’away. Youse savvy de dump.”
“Uh-huh—sure I do.”
“Well, one afternoon a plug drifts in an’ watches de games a little, den w’en I’m settin’ up de balls after a couple o’ guys gets t’rough playin’, dis boid sidles over an’ braces me. He asts me if I don’t want a drink an’ a lotta bunk like dat, an’ I’m on right away he’s got sumpin’ on his chest. He’s wearin’ de rags—see?—an’ he looks like money. So I drift wid um, an’ we go to De White House Saloon an’ set in a boot’.
“Well, finally he springs it dat he savvies who I am—see? An’ he knows I jes’ was sprung from de House of Refuge. An’ he asts me if I ain’t de guy dat Number Fifty-six thoity-five had a scrap wid dere. Dat’s Tony, youse know—dat was his number. I tell um yes.
“Den he monkeys aroun’ a little, not sayin’ much of anyt’ing, an’ finally he comes across wid de dope dat he’s Tony’s ole man. His name’s John Cole—see?—an’ I’ll tell de worl’ he’s some interested in his kid!
“An’ finally we get down to business, an’ he springs de dope. An’ it’s like dis here:
“W’en Tony’s mudder croaked dey let Tony go home from de House of Refuge. An’ w’ile he was dere he meets an’ ole uncle he’s never seen before. He’s his mudder’s brudder—see? Dis ole boid’s got a lotta jack. An’ de family dat Tony’s mudder belonged to wouldn’t have nuttin’ to do wid her w’ile she’s alive because she hooked up wid dis Cole. He’s a sport an’ a gambler, it looks like, an’ dey’re off um f’r life. But w’en Tony’s mudder croaked dey all come to de funeral an’ was nice as pie. An’ dis ole uncle comes an’ takes a shine to Tony.
“But he’s a funny ole gink—half nuts, I got it—an’ he goes away all of a sudden, an’ don’t say nuttin’ to nobody.He was gonta get Tony outa de House of Refuge, an’ dis an’ dat an’ de udder t’ing, an’ jes’ raise hell generally. But he seems to ferget all about it, an’ beats it widout even tellin’ Tony good-by.
“Well, Tony goes back to de House of Refuge an’ fergets all about um, I guess. But before Tony gets sprung dis ole guy gets sick an’ t’inks he’s gonta croak. He’s got a lotta jack, an’ w’en he makes out his will he leaves a hundred an’ fifty thou’ to Tony, an’ Tony was to get it w’en he got to be twenty-one.
“We had an ole nut in de House of Refuge named Beaver Clegg. He’s de boid dat put dis star-gazin’ racket in Tony’s head. Him an’ Tony was t’ick as mud all de time Tony was dere, before Clegg bumped off. Well, it seems dis ole Clegg had went to dis ole Peter Henry Florence—dat was de name of Tony’s uncle—an’ tol’ um wot a fine boid dis big Tony was. Tol’ um he was studyin’ dis big astronomy, or wotever youse call it, an’ tol’ um Tony was gonta make a good one some day. An’ he hands de ole uncle a lotta bunk like dat, an’ de ole plug falls for it w’en Clegg tells us Tony’ll need money to keep up dis star-gazin’ w’en dey spring um from de kid-pen. An’ de ole man makes a will leavin’ Tony a hundred an’ fifty thousan’ cold, but he can’t get it till he’s twenty-one. An’ dey say dey’ll keep it dark from Tony f’r fear he’ll lay back an’ rest pretty till he gets his mitts on dat coin. An’ if Tony dies before he’s twenty-one, de jack goes to de younger brudder dat dey calls Lester. He done dat because he’s sorry he’d treated his sister like he’d done all dose years, an’ wanted to do sumpin’ for her kids.
“Well, somehow Tony an’ Lester’s dad gets onta de deal. He hates Tony, an’ knows if Tony gets de jack he won’t see a cent of it. But de kid brudder is diff’rent. Ole Man Cole knows he c’n win’ Lester aroun’ his finger an’ take decoin away from um, like he done wid his mudder. So he tells Lester about it, an’ tells um to give Tony de merry ha-ha w’en dey spring um. An’ de ole man plans to put Tony outa business someway until Lester c’n get de jack.
“An’ so Tony’s jes’ come out w’en Ole Man Cole comes to me, an’ Lester’s give um de cold shoulder. An’ Tony tells Lester he’s goin’ West dat very night. Tony ain’t of age yet, an’ Ole Man Cole wants to know w’ere he is every moment o’ de time; so Tony’s gotta get lost someway, or else somebody’s gotta bump um off.
“Well, Ole Man Cole ain’t any too keen f’r bumpin’ off his own kid, but I guess he’d woik umself up to it if de woist come to de woist, ’cause he was ’way in de hole from playin’ de ponies an’ chasin’ ’round wid wil’ women. But everyt’ing looks jake w’en Tony says he’s gonta beat it West. Jes’ de same, Ole Man Cole wants somebody on his trail until he’s of age, to see dat he don’t flop up in Hat’away again an’ spill de beans. So he says he’s hoid about me in de reports he got from de House of Refuge—dey tol’ about Tony an’ me’s scrap an’ all—an’ he’s looked me up since dey sprung me an’ savvies I’m a crook. An’ he says I’m jes’ de guy to keep after Tony an’ see dat he don’t come back to Hat’away, an’ he’ll gi’me five thou’ to see dat Tony don’t show up until after he’s twenty-one.
“Well, w’en dere’s a hundred an’ fifty thousan’ comin’ tohim, youse c’n bet yer sweet life he can’t talk to Slim Wolfgang about any five thousan’. So we go down in a clinch, an’ w’en we come up he’s offered me fifteen thousan’ if I’ll guarantee to keep Tony away. An’ we settle on dat basis, an’ he slips me a piece o’ jack in advance an’ tells me Tony’s beatin’ it dat night, an’ for me to get after um right away.
“So I get into me road clothes an’ shadow Tony from hisbrudder’s room w’en he starts out wid dat dam’-fool telescope over his shoulder. De nut! An’ I gets De Whimperer to help me w’en I meets um on de road, an’ we gets along well until dat bum spills de beans by swipin’ Tony’s telescope an’ beatin’ it. An’ den I lose Tony on account o’ dat, an’ I beat it back to Hat’away.
“An’ Ole Man Cole is mighty sore, an’ says he won’t pungle up anudder cent—’cause he ain’t got it, for one t’ing,—until it toins out dat Tony don’t come back before he’s twenty-one.
“Den one day de old uncle comes to Hat’away an’ fin’s out dat Tony’s been sprung an’ hit de trail. An’ it’s only a few days before Tony’s twenty-first birthday—see? An’ Ole Man Cole’s all swelled up, t’inkin’ dat now Lester’ll get de jack—w’ich means dathe’llget it umself finally—an’ den de ole uncle gives um de udder barrel. He says he’s goin’ to his lawyers an’ change de will so dat it gives Tony de jack if he’s found before Lester’s twenty-first birthday. If not, den de jack goes to Lester, like de foist will read.
“Well, Ole Man Cole’s scared stiff again dat Tony’ll show up some day before Lester’s twenty-one. An’ de guys dat he owes money to are after um hot an’ heavy. An’ neider of us savvies w’ere Tony is. An’ den old Peter Henry Florence he croaks, an’ everyt’ing’s in de han’s of his executors. An’ den one day Lester gets a letter from Tony tellin’ um dat he’s in Ragtown, out here in Cal, an’ askin’ um to send his books an’ t’ings to um by express.
“So now Ole Man Cole an’ me know w’ere Tony is, an’ everyt’ing’s jake again, ’cause ole Florence is dead an’ de will can’t be changed. An’ I make Cole promise to cough up twenty-five thousan’ if I’ll go to Ragtown an’ see dat Tony stays dere. So I look up De Whimperer an’ we beat it out. An’—well, Tony’s still here, an’ his brudder’s twenty-first birt’day is de fifteent’ of next June. We gottastay till den, kid, or we won’t get de jack. An’ now Tony’s t’inkin’ he’ll go back to Hat’away, is he? Well, he won’t—take it from me! Nuttin’ doin’, if I have to— Well, youse savvy wot happened once, Win, w’en youse got to beefin’ about stayin’ in Ragtown any longer.”
“Slim, did you shoot Tony to—to kill him, so that we could go East?” asked Winnie the Weeper in a low, strained voice.
“Well, youse’re claimin’ I don’t love youse, ain’t youse? Youse wanted to go East, an’ dere wasn’t any udder way dat I could beat it wid youse, was dere? Dat’s love, ain’t it, kid? I don’t wanta croak a guy any more dan youse do. But I wasn’t gonta lose dat big money if I could help it. Anyway, de dam’ fool didn’t croak, so I hadta talk youse into stickin’ again by promisin’ youse half o’ dis big money w’en I got it. An’ youse fell for it—an’ now youse’ve got all de dope. But Tony’s goin’ East, he says, an’ in two mont’s de time’ll be up an’ he’ll lose de money. Lord, I was scared w’en he begun to have t’ings printed in dese here nut magazines. I t’ought sure ole Peter Henry’s lawyers would see his name an’ fin’ out w’ere he was. But dey didn’t—I guess nobody but nuts reads dem magazines. But if Tony’s name ever gets in de newspoipers—good night!”
“And how’re you gonta keep him here till the fifteenth of June?” asked Winnie. “What’s to keep ’im from beatin’ it the last o’ this month, like he said he was gonta do?”
“I got a frien’ dat’s gonta do dat little t’ing for me,” Slim assured her. “Go make goo-goo eyes at Lee Sweet an’ steer um in here, Win. He’s de boid dat’ll do our woik for us. I been pretty good to um ever since I knew he was sore at Tony on account o’ dat big homestead racket. I been tellin’ um all about Tony’s bein’ in de House ofRefuge, an’ a bad acter an’ all—but a coward—see? An’ he gets to t’inkin’, every time he gets drunk, dat it’s his dooty to de community to run Tony out. I’ll tell um dat if he puts de skids under Tony, de rest o’ de homesteaders will get scared an’ beat it. Lee’s got a bunch o’ cowpunchers dat’ll get a big kick outa tryin’ to t’row a scare into Tony—dey’re a wil’ bunch. Tony won’t scare, but dey don’t know dat. Get me? Let de udder fella woik f’r youse, kid, ever’ time youse get a chance.”
“But we don’t want Tony run out,” protested the girl. “Then he’d sure go East, wouldn’t he?”
“Say, youse don’t get de big idea at all, kid. Youse don’t know Tony Cole like I do. Jes’ start to run dat boid anywhere an’ watch um stick! De harder youse fight dat boid, de harder he fights back. An’ he’s stuck on dat homestead an’ his ole fool mountain, ain’t he? If he lets Sweet run um out, he loses de land, don’t he? Let Sweet get after um once an’ try to give um de run, an’ watch dat Tony stick an’ fight um! Somebody may get croaked, but it won’t be me! Now get me right, kid—I ain’t got no use for dis here Tony Cole. But dere’s jes’ one t’ing I’ll say for um—he’s a fightin’ fool.”
“Slim,” said the girl, “I got an idea that’ll let us go East right now, and make more money besides. Double-cross Cole’s father and tell Tony all about it—but first make Tony promise to give you fifty thousand, and—”
“An’ youse’ve got anudder guess comin’, Win. De Whimperer woulda done jes’ dat, if I’d tol’ um all I knew. D’youse see, now, w’y I keep me mout’ shut?”
“But you—”
“Listen, kid,” the gambler interrupted, “I wouldn’t let Fifty-six thoity-five get dat jack forhalf. I hate um like a terrier hates a rat—an’ now’s me chance to get um! Get me, kid?”