Humorous stories; Washington (State) -- Fiction; Western stories
Then he come up to ask me once more if he couldn't take some mules off
my hands. He found out quick and short that he couldn't. Still he hung
round, talking nonsense as far as I could make out, because I hadn't
yet been let in on the new elephant proposition. He says he hears I'm
taking up a new line of stock, the same not being whales nor anything
that swims, and if it's more than I can swing by myself, why, he's a good
neighbour of long standing, and able in a pinch, mebbe, to scrape up a
few thousand dollars, or even more if it's a sure cinch, and how about
it, and from one old friend to another just what is this new line?
Being busy I acted short. I said I was sticking to cattle in spite of the
infamous gossip against 'em, and all reports to the contrary was mere
society chatter. Still he acted like I was trying to fool him. He went
out saying if I changed my mind any time I was to let him know, and he'd
be over again soon to talk mules at least, if nothing else, and anything
he could do for me any time, just say the word, and try some of this gum,
and so forth. I was right puzzled by these here refined civilities of his
until Pete comes in and tells me how the boys have stocked the old ranch
with elephants and how Safety has tried to get him to tell the secret. I
tell Pete he's done right to keep still, and then I go down to the bunk
house and hear the whole thing.
By this time they're shipping thousands of steer elephants at top prices;
they catch 'em up off soft feed and fatten 'em on popcorn and peanuts,
and every Thanksgiving they send a nice fat calf down to the White House,
for no one looks at turkey any more. Sandy is now telling what a snap it
will be to ride herd on elephants.
"You pick out a big one," he says, "and you build a little cupalo up on
top of him and climb up into it by means of a ladder, and set there in
this little furnished room with a good book, and smoke and pass the time
away while your good old saddle elephant does the work. All you got to do
is lean out of the front window now and then and jab him in the forehead
with an ice pick, whichever way you want him to turn."
I said trust a cow-puncher to think up some way where he'd have to do as
little work with his hands as he does with his head. But I admitted they
seemed to have landed on old Timmins for once, because he had tried to
get Pete to betray the secret and then come wheedling round to me about
it. I said I could talk more intelligently next time, and he would sure
come again because he had lavished two sticks of gum on me, which was an
incredible performance and could not have been done except for an evil
purpose.
"Now say," says Sandy, "that does look like we got him believing. I was
going to kid him along about once more, then spring elephants on him, and
we'd all have a good laugh at the old wolf. But it looks to me like a
chance for better than a laugh; it looks to me like we might commit a
real crime against him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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