Cowboys -- Fiction; Montana -- Fiction; Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
"Happy looks like he was out for a rep," bantered Pink. "He makes me
think uh the Bad Man in a Western play. All he needs is his hat turned
up in front and his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, like he was
killing hogs. Happy would make a dandy-looking outlaw, with that gun
and that face uh his."
"Say, by golly, I bet that's what he's figurin' on doing. He ain't
going to punch cows no more--I bet he's thinking about turning out."
"Well, when I do, you'll be the first fellow I lay for," retorted
Happy, with labored wit.
"You never'd get a rep shooting at a target the size uh Slim," dimpled
Pink. "Is that toy cannon loaded, Happy?"
"I betche yuh dassen't walk off ten paces and let me show yuh,"
growled Happy.
Pink made as if to rise, then settled back with a sigh. "Ten paces is
farther than you could drive me from this fire with a club," he said.
"And you couldn't see me, in this fog."
"Say, it _is_ pretty solid," said Weary, looking around him at the
blank, gray wall. "A fellow could sit right here and be a lot ignorant
of what's going on around him. A fellow could--"
"When I was riding down in the San Simon basin," spoke up Andy,
rolling his second cigarette daintily between his finger-tips, "I had
a kinda queer experience in a fog, once. It was thick as this one, and
it rolled down just about as sudden and unexpected. That's a plenty
wild patch uh country--or it was when I was there. I was riding for a
Spanish gent that kept white men as a luxury and let the greasers do
about all the rough work--such as killing off superfluous neighbors,
and running brands artistic, and the like. Oh, he was a gay mark, all
right.
"But about this other deal: I was out riding alone after a little
bunch uh hosses, one day in the fall. I packed my gun and a pair uh
field glasses, and every time I rode up onto a mesa I'd take a long
look at all the lower country to save riding it. I guess I'd
prognosticated around like that for two or three hours, when I come
out on a little pinnacle that slopes down gradual toward a neighbor's
home ranch--only the ranch itself was quite a ride back up the basin.
"I got off my horse and set down on a rock to build me a smoke, and
was gazing off over the country idle, when I seen a rider come up out
of a little draw and gallop along quartering-like, to pass my pinnacle
on the left. You know how a man out alone like that will watch
anything, from a chicken hawk up in the air to a band uh sheep,
without any interest in either one, but just to have your eyes on
something that's alive and moves.
"So I watched him, idle, while I smoked. Pretty soon I seen another
fellow ride out into sight where the first one had, and hit her up
lively down the trail. I didn't do no wondering--I just sat and
watched 'em both for want uh something better to do."
"Finding them strays wasn't important, I s'pose?" Happy Jack
insinuated.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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