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Page 39
Holly stepped upon the hub of a hind wheel of the grub wagon and hung
the hat upon a limb of a live-oak. Scarcely had his foot touched the
ground when the crash of a dozen six-shooters split the air, and the hat
fell to the ground riddled with bullets.
A hissing noise was heard as if from a score of rattlesnakes, and now
the cow-punchers emerged on all sides from the darkness, stepping high,
with ludicrously exaggerated caution, and "hist"-ing to one another to
observe the utmost prudence in approaching. They formed a solemn, wide
circle about the hat, gazing at it in manifest alarm, and seized every
few moments by little stampedes of panicky flight.
"It's the varmint," said one in awed tones, "that flits up and down in
the low grounds at night, saying, `Willie-wallo!'"
"It's the venomous Kypootum," proclaimed another. "It stings after it's
dead, and hollers after it's buried."
"It's the chief of the hairy tribe," said Phonograph Davis. "But it's
stone dead, now, boys."
"Don't you believe it," demurred Dry-Creek. "It's only 'possumin'.' It's
the dreaded Highgollacum fantod from the forest. There's only one way to
destroy its life."
He led forward Old Taller, the 240-pound cow-puncher. Old Taller placed
the hat upright on the ground and solemnly sat upon it, crushing it as
flat as a pancake.
Hackett had viewed these proceedings with wide-open eyes. Sam Holly saw
that his anger was rising and said to him:
"Here's where you win or lose, Judge. There are sixty votes on the
Diamond Cross. The boys are trying your mettle. Take it as a joke, and I
don't think you'll regret it." And Hackett saw the point and rose to the
occasion.
Advancing to where the slayers of the wild beast were standing above its
remains and declaring it to be at last defunct, he said, with deep
earnestness:
"Boys, I must thank you for this gallant rescue. While driving through
the arroyo that cruel monster that you have so fearlessly and repeatedly
slaughtered sprang upon us from the tree tops. To you I shall consider
that I owe my life, and also, I hope, reelection to the office for which
I am again a candidate. Allow me to hand you my card."
The cow-punchers, always so sober-faced while engaged in their
monkey-shines, relaxed into a grin of approval.
But Phonograph Davis, his appetite for fun not yet appeased, had
something more up his sleeve.
"Pardner," he said, addressing Hackett with grave severity, "many a camp
would be down on you for turnin' loose a pernicious varmint like that in
it; but, bein' as we all escaped without loss of life, we'll overlook
it. You can play square with us if you'll do it."
"How's that?" asked Hackett suspiciously.
"You're authorized to perform the sacred rights and lefts of mattermony,
air you not?"
"Well, yes," replied Hackett. "A marriage ceremony conducted by me would
be legal."
"A wrong air to be righted in this here camp," said Phonograpby,
virtuously. "A a-ristocrat have slighted a 'umble but beautchoos female
wat's pinin' for his affections. It's the jooty of the camp to drag
forth the haughty descendant of a hundred--or maybe a hundred and
twenty-five--earls, even so at the p'int of a lariat, and jine him to
the weepin' lady. Fellows! roundup Miss Sally and the Marquis, there's
goin' to be a weddin'."
This whim of Phonograph's was received with whoops of appreciation. The
cow-punchers started to apprehend the principals of the proposed
ceremony.
"Kindly prompt me," said Hackett, wiping his forehead, though the night
was cool, "how far this thing is to be carried. And might I expect any
further portions of my raiment to be mistaken for wild animals and
killed?"
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