THE TRUTH ABOUT CROWLEY
There remained little to do at the ranch which had formerly been the home of the Cross and Circle outfit, and this little was soon done. Several of the Bar O men were left to look after the stock and keep guard. Injun's pinto was found tied in the corral; and both owner and horse gave every evidence of delight at their reunion. Much to the regret of the boys of the Bar O, the Sheriff decided to escort the prisoners to the jail himself rather than have the ranchers escort them to "some place;" and, therefore, the trees on the way to the Bar O did not bear any "fruit" as the result of the contemplated "neck-tie party."
It was found that "One-Card" Tucker's wound was a severe one, and he was given surgical attention by Bill Jordan, who allowed as how, "When a pizen critter is shore destined to be hung, 'tain't right t' cheat th' gallus an' let him croak natcheral!"
On the way home Whitey, who had commandeered one of the horses of the Cross and Circle, rode up beside Bill Jordan and Mr. Sherwood, followed of course, by Injun.
"Mr. Jordan," began Whitey, "won't you tell us why you let that man Crowley go? I'm mighty glad you did, for he certainly saved my life!"
Jordan smiled. "Mebbe," he said, "that was partly the reason."
"That may have had something to do with it," said Whitey, "but I know there was some other reason, too."
"Well," said Bill, after a pause, "now 't we're here together, I'll tell yo' all. 'Bout five six years ago I was down to Juarez, an' I gits into more kinds o' trouble than Carter's got pills. I'd bin down into Mexico, an' I was headed back fer God's country, an' I jes' drops off'n the train t' watch them skates out t' the merry-go-round they calls a 'race-track,' an' mebbe pick up a bet er two. 'Bout the fourth race I cum t' the conclusion I wa'n't no jedge o' hoss-flesh—not them kind o' hosses, anyhow—an' I lays out t' beat it away from there an' get a train. 'Fore I c'd git off'n the track—they must 'a' seen I was a hick—some dip lifted what was left o' the roll, not fergittin' t' incude my watch an' railroad ticket in the deal!" Bill laughed as he thought of it, and the others laughed with him.
"Funny, ain't it?" said Bill, grinning. "But 't wa'n't so funny then! They shore picked me cleaner 'n a col'-storage chicken, an' when I give my jeans a frisk, I found I was exactly fourteen dollars shy o' havin' a nickel! I bet I walked nine mile 'round thet town, thet evenin', an' never seen a friendly face! An' me hungry 'nuff t' eat raw dog; but I never run acrosst no dog—not no four-legged one, anyway, less'n yo' call them hairless kind dogs—the kind thet looks like a rat on stilts. Fin'ly I strays into this here Silver-Dollar Joe's place—so called on account o' him havin' a bunch of 'em riveted into th' floor an' such. The' was a bald-headed hombrey dealin' faro-bank, an' I stands around watchin' the game, hopin' somebody 'd drop a quarter er somethin'—but nobody done nuthin' like thet—not onto th' floor, 't least. I think I'd of give 'em a battle fer it ef they had! Bimeby the' was a tall guy gits up from the table an' hands out th' most artistic line o' cussin' I'd heard in some time. When a gent kin manhandle language an' discuss his luck like he done, it's a gift! He cum over towards me, an' I reckon I must 'a' looked like a picture o' hard luck, too; an' he says, stopping an' givin' me the once-over, 'Yo' don't look yo' had no rabbit's foot workin' over-time fer yo', neither,' he says.
"'Correct," I says. "As fur 's luck's concerned, it's a case o' horse-an'-horse—only mebbe mine's a mite worse 'n your'n.'
"'I kin lick any man thet says his luck is worse 'n mine!' he says.
"'Commence!' I says, squarin' off.
"He looked me over, an' 'n he says, 'Mebbe we better have somethin' first?' he says.
"'Yo' 're on!' I says, linkin' my arm into his'n so 't he couldn't git away an' change his mind.
"Well, we had one an' then another, him doin' the payin', me havin' declared myself insolvent. We stood leanin' agin' th' bar, me havin' visions that mebbe he'd say somethin' 'bout a san'wich. But seems he had other idees. He fin'ly digs up a ten-dollar gold-piece an' twirls it on the bar careless—an' me meditatin' robbery from the person when I seen it. In a minute I was glad to kep' control o' my yearnin's.
"'This here's the last o' th' Mohigans,' he says. It ain't no good t' me,' he says, 'an' mebbe, ef you'd take it an' set into thet game, yo' might make her run. The's them thet says thet two neg'tives makes a affidavit, er somethin', an' combinin' yo'r luck an' mine mebbe 'll start somethin'. Want t' take a chanct?'
"Did I want t' take a chanct! I did so! Tho' I was some tempted t' buy ten dollars wu'th o' ham an' eggs with th' hull of it.
"Well, I set in, an' my friend went to sleep pronto. Pretty soon luck begin t' cum my way an' I win a bet now an' then. After a spell I had seventy dollars in silver in front o' me, an' my friend woke up. He cum over back o' my chair an' he says, 'How much yo' got?' 'Seventy dollars,' I says. 'Don't make no more bets,' he says, kinder loud, 'thet bald-headed pirate is dealin' seconds an' settin' up splits.'
"Right there's where she started. I managed t' git the money into my jeans before the worst cum, an' the' was considerable fire-works an' breakage took place. I dunno jes' what happened, but I seen my friend wa'n't no slouch an' took quite a hand in th' festivities, an' the' wa'n't much left o' the place when the smoke cleared. I seen my friend make a get-away, an' I follered as soon 's I could. But though I put in all nex' day lookin' fer him to give him his forty dollars, I never saw him agin till to-night!"
Bill rode along in silence for a moment; then he said, reminiscently, "His name wasn't Crowley, then—somethin' a heap more stylisher! Seems t' me 't was some such name as Smith—er, mebbe, Jones. Whatever 't was, I consider he had mebbe a little more'n forty dollars comin' to him from me—after what he done to me thet night in Juarez."