Lovely Lucas was as good as his word. He came back to Turquoise City with Horse-Collar Fields, who came willingly. It was not often that Horse-Collar left the Stumbling K. He was a small, thin person, about fifty years of age, as bald as the proverbial billiard-ball. He had a slight cast in his left eye. He did the cooking for the Stumbling K.Just now he wore a pair of misfit chaps. They belonged to Wind River Jim, whose waist measure was several inches larger than that which Horse-Collar boasted. He also wore a cartridge-belt and a holstered gun. Lovely led the way to the Ranger Saloon, with Horse-Collar swaggering along behind him.“Hello, Horse-Collar,” grinned the bartender, a short, fat person, with a moonlike face and a damp curl of hair gracing his expansive brow.“Boy, howdy,” said Horse-Collar seriously. “How’s chances to git drunk?”“Best you ever seen. Ain’t seen you in a long time.”“No, and you wouldn’t see me now, if it wasn’t that I’m needed here. Cities don’t appeal to me. I jist feel all cramped up in a city. What’ll you have, Lovely?”“Some of that there corrosive sublimate which is designated as liquor. But before we salivate our lungs, liver and lights, I want to explain to you ag’in, for about the seventh time, Horse-Collar—we ain’t goin’ to git drunk.”“And for seven times I replies to same,” said Horse-Collar. “When I takes the law in my two hands, I’m goin’ to have m’ stummick in shape to handle m’ brains. Gimme that bottle!”“You takin’ the law?” asked the bartender.Horse-Collar cocked one eye wisely, as he poured out a big drink.“Right by the slack of the pants,” he declared. “They’ve got Jimmy Moran in jail, ain’t they? Here’s how. Well, well, well! ’F here ain’t one of them officers of the law!”Wind River Jim had come in and was standing near the bar, considering them gravely.“What about Jimmy Moran bein’ in jail?” asked Wind River.“That’s what we’re here to find out,” grunted Lovely.“Grab a glass,” invited Horse-Collar.“I’m purchasin’.”“I hadn’t ort to,” said Wind River sadly. “I’m deputy sheriff, you know.”“What difference does that make?”“Well, I might gargle one with you, boys.” But they didn’t stop at one drink.Lovely bought the next one, the bartender stood a treat and then it was Wind River’s turn. By this time Horse-Collar was in the right mood to buy again, which caused the others to treat in turn. Eight drinks of Ranger whisky were guaranteed to either bring out all the latent forces within a human being, or to put him flat on his back.Horse-Collar surveyed the world through rose-colored glasses; he essayed a song.“Don’t shing,” advised Lovely.“Tha’s the worsht of friends,” sighed Horse-Collar. “They try to run your business. What’ll you do if I try to shing?”“I’m shorry, but if you shing I mus’ has’en your demise. Know what a demise is, Horsh-Collar? Tha’s the end of you.”“Whish end?”“Now, don’ drink no more, Horsh-Collar. Ain’t that verdict, Wind River? Horsh-Collar mus’ not drink no more. We’ve got p’tic’lar work to do. Win’ River’s goin’ help us, Horsh-Collar. We’re goin’ down and deman’ releash of Jimmy. Whoo-ee-e-e!”Lovely cuffed his hat off his head and laughed deliriously.“Thish is a lovely day,” he declared. “Win’ River Jim, yo’re triplets! H’rah, f’r your fambly. Let’s go up to the s’preme palace of vice and visit our old friend English Ed.”“He—he’ll mashacree you,” choked Wind River.Horse-Collar shook his head so violently that he fell against the bar and sat down heavily on the bar-rail.“Havin’ a chill?” queried Lovely. “My Lord, you shore can shake. Havin’ fits, Horsh-Collar?”“Ain’t nobody goin’ mashacree nobody,” declared Horse-Collar. “Let’s go and fin’ Jimmy. Poor old Jimmy. Oh, poor old Jimmy!”“Can yuh beat that?” demanded Lovely. “Cryin’!”“Git up,” begged Wind River. “You make me shick. Let’s have one more drink, and then we’ll go down and have it out with Roarin’ Rigby. C’mon, Horsh-Collar. A-a-a-aw, dry up!”“You fellers start monkeyin’ with the law, and you’ll get hurt,” said the bartender.“Will, eh?” grunted Wind River. “Well, I’m about half of the law around here, and I know what I can do.”
Lovely Lucas was as good as his word. He came back to Turquoise City with Horse-Collar Fields, who came willingly. It was not often that Horse-Collar left the Stumbling K. He was a small, thin person, about fifty years of age, as bald as the proverbial billiard-ball. He had a slight cast in his left eye. He did the cooking for the Stumbling K.
Just now he wore a pair of misfit chaps. They belonged to Wind River Jim, whose waist measure was several inches larger than that which Horse-Collar boasted. He also wore a cartridge-belt and a holstered gun. Lovely led the way to the Ranger Saloon, with Horse-Collar swaggering along behind him.
“Hello, Horse-Collar,” grinned the bartender, a short, fat person, with a moonlike face and a damp curl of hair gracing his expansive brow.
“Boy, howdy,” said Horse-Collar seriously. “How’s chances to git drunk?”
“Best you ever seen. Ain’t seen you in a long time.”
“No, and you wouldn’t see me now, if it wasn’t that I’m needed here. Cities don’t appeal to me. I jist feel all cramped up in a city. What’ll you have, Lovely?”
“Some of that there corrosive sublimate which is designated as liquor. But before we salivate our lungs, liver and lights, I want to explain to you ag’in, for about the seventh time, Horse-Collar—we ain’t goin’ to git drunk.”
“And for seven times I replies to same,” said Horse-Collar. “When I takes the law in my two hands, I’m goin’ to have m’ stummick in shape to handle m’ brains. Gimme that bottle!”
“You takin’ the law?” asked the bartender.
Horse-Collar cocked one eye wisely, as he poured out a big drink.
“Right by the slack of the pants,” he declared. “They’ve got Jimmy Moran in jail, ain’t they? Here’s how. Well, well, well! ’F here ain’t one of them officers of the law!”
Wind River Jim had come in and was standing near the bar, considering them gravely.
“What about Jimmy Moran bein’ in jail?” asked Wind River.
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” grunted Lovely.
“Grab a glass,” invited Horse-Collar.
“I’m purchasin’.”
“I hadn’t ort to,” said Wind River sadly. “I’m deputy sheriff, you know.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Well, I might gargle one with you, boys.” But they didn’t stop at one drink.
Lovely bought the next one, the bartender stood a treat and then it was Wind River’s turn. By this time Horse-Collar was in the right mood to buy again, which caused the others to treat in turn. Eight drinks of Ranger whisky were guaranteed to either bring out all the latent forces within a human being, or to put him flat on his back.
Horse-Collar surveyed the world through rose-colored glasses; he essayed a song.
“Don’t shing,” advised Lovely.
“Tha’s the worsht of friends,” sighed Horse-Collar. “They try to run your business. What’ll you do if I try to shing?”
“I’m shorry, but if you shing I mus’ has’en your demise. Know what a demise is, Horsh-Collar? Tha’s the end of you.”
“Whish end?”
“Now, don’ drink no more, Horsh-Collar. Ain’t that verdict, Wind River? Horsh-Collar mus’ not drink no more. We’ve got p’tic’lar work to do. Win’ River’s goin’ help us, Horsh-Collar. We’re goin’ down and deman’ releash of Jimmy. Whoo-ee-e-e!”
Lovely cuffed his hat off his head and laughed deliriously.
“Thish is a lovely day,” he declared. “Win’ River Jim, yo’re triplets! H’rah, f’r your fambly. Let’s go up to the s’preme palace of vice and visit our old friend English Ed.”
“He—he’ll mashacree you,” choked Wind River.
Horse-Collar shook his head so violently that he fell against the bar and sat down heavily on the bar-rail.
“Havin’ a chill?” queried Lovely. “My Lord, you shore can shake. Havin’ fits, Horsh-Collar?”
“Ain’t nobody goin’ mashacree nobody,” declared Horse-Collar. “Let’s go and fin’ Jimmy. Poor old Jimmy. Oh, poor old Jimmy!”
“Can yuh beat that?” demanded Lovely. “Cryin’!”
“Git up,” begged Wind River. “You make me shick. Let’s have one more drink, and then we’ll go down and have it out with Roarin’ Rigby. C’mon, Horsh-Collar. A-a-a-aw, dry up!”
“You fellers start monkeyin’ with the law, and you’ll get hurt,” said the bartender.
“Will, eh?” grunted Wind River. “Well, I’m about half of the law around here, and I know what I can do.”