“All right, General,” said he, “but I calculate we ain’t quite ready
yet. The gentlemen, my predecessors, what stood in that thar canister,
didn’t volunteer for the office—not much! And I guess there was some
ornamental tyin’ up before the big stroke was made. I want to go into
this thing fair and square, so I must get fixed up proper first. I dare
say this old galoot can rise some string and tie me up accordin’ to
sample?”
This was said interrogatively to the old custodian, but the latter, who
understood the drift of his speech, though perhaps not appreciating to
the full the niceties of dialect and imagery, shook his head. His
protest was, however, only formal and made to be overcome. The American
thrust a gold piece into his hand, saying: “Take it, pard! it’s your
pot; and don’t be skeer’d. This ain’t no necktie party that you’re
asked to assist in!” He produced some thin frayed rope and proceeded to
bind our companion with sufficient strictness for the purpose. When the
upper part of his body was bound, Hutcheson said:
“Hold on a moment, Judge. Guess I’m too heavy for you to tote into the
canister. You jest let me walk in, and then you can wash up regardin’
my legs!”
Whilst speaking he had backed himself into the opening which was just
enough to hold him. It was a close fit and no mistake. Amelia looked on
with fear in her eyes, but she evidently did not like to say anything.
Then the custodian completed his task by tying the American’s feet
together so that he was now absolutely helpless and fixed in his
voluntary prison. He seemed to really enjoy it, and the incipient smile
which was habitual to his face blossomed into actuality as he said:
“Guess this here Eve was made out of the rib of a dwarf! There ain’t
much room for a full-grown citizen of the United States to hustle. We
uster make our coffins more roomier in Idaho territory. Now, Judge, you
jest begin to let this door down, slow, on to me. I want to feel the
same pleasure as the other jays had when those spikes began to move
toward their eyes!”
“Oh no! no! no!” broke in Amelia hysterically. “It is too terrible! I
can’t bear to see it!—I can’t! I can’t!” But the American was obdurate.
“Say, Colonel,” said he, “why not take Madame for a little promenade? I
wouldn’t hurt her feelin’s for the world; but now that I am here,
havin’ kem eight thousand miles, wouldn’t it be too hard to give up the
very experience I’ve been pinin’ an’ pantin’ fur? A man can’t get to
feel like canned goods every time! Me and the Judge here’ll fix up this
thing in no time, an’ then you’ll come back, an’ we’ll all laugh
together!”
Once more the resolution that is born of curiosity triumphed, and
Amelia stayed holding tight to my arm and shivering whilst the
custodian began to slacken slowly inch by inch the rope that held back
the iron door. Hutcheson’s face was positively radiant as his eyes
followed the first movement of the spikes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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