Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Short stories; West (U.S.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Western stories
PARDNERS
by
REX E. BEACH
Author of "The Barrier," "The Spoilers"
Illustrated
1904
CONTENTS
PARDNERS
THE MULE DRIVER, AND THE GARRULOUS MUTE
THE COLONEL AND THE HORSE-THIEF
THE THAW AT SLISCO'S
BITTER ROOT BILLINGS, ARBITER
THE SHYNESS OF SHORTY
THE TEST
NORTH OF FIFTY-THREE
WHERE NORTHERN LIGHTS COME DOWN O' NIGHTS
THE SCOURGE
PARDNERS
"Most all the old quotations need fixing," said Joyce in tones
forbidding dispute. "For instance, the guy that alluded to marriages
germinating in heaven certainly got off on the wrong foot. He meant
pardnerships. The same works ain't got capacity for both, no more'n
you can build a split-second stop-watch in a stone quarry. No, sir!
A true pardnership is the sanctifiedest relation that grows, is, and
has its beans, while any two folks of opposite sect can marry and peg
the game out some way. Of course, all pardnerships ain't divine. To
every one that's heaven borned there's a thousand made in ----.
There goes them cussed dogs again!"
He dove abruptly at the tent flap, disappearing like a palmed coin,
while our canvas structure reeled drunkenly at his impact. The
sounds of strife without rose shrilly into blended agony, and the
yelps of Keno melted away down the gulch in a rapid and rabid
diminuendo.
Inasmuch as I had just packed out from camp in a loose pair of rubber
boots, and was nursing two gall blisters, I did not feel called upon
to emulate this energy of arbitration, particularly in bare feet.
"That black malamoot is a walking delegate for strife," he remarked,
returning. "Sometime I'll lose my temper--and that's the kind of
pardners me and Justus Morrow was."
Never more do I interrupt the allegory of my mate, no matter how
startling its structure. He adventures orally when and in the manner
the spirit calls, without rote, form, or tone production. Therefore
I kicked my blistered heels in the air and grunted aimless
encouragement.
"I was prospectin' a claim on Caribou Creek, and had her punched as
full of holes as a sponge cake, when the necessity of a change
appealed to me. I was out of everything more nourishing than hope
and one slab of pay-streaked bacon, when two tenderfeet 'mushed' up
the gulch, and invited themselves into my cabin to watch me pan.
It's the simplest thing known to science to salt a tenderfoot, so I
didn't have no trouble in selling out for three thousand dollars.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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