“You darned ole fool!” chuckled California Bill, slapping the cowman on the back. “C’mon over to Th’ Dollar now, an’ try an’ get on yer feet. These here folks ain’t botherin’ ye, Lee. Why,—why, I’m jest naturally surprised at ye, ol’-timer! Here’s you, th’ king o’ the mountains, ye might say, tryin’ to start a quarrel with these here people on th’ public highway. Le’s you’n’me go h’ist a couple f’r ole-times’ sake, Lee!”
The big fellow looked into Bill’s genial face for a moment or two, and then an expression came over his own that twisted his features as if he had tasted alum water. His bearded lips trembled, and began working spasmodically, like the lips of a burro sorting bunchgrass from a nest of spiny cactus. And behold, two great tears streamed down into his beard, and his voice broke into a tremulous boo-hooing that brought a fit of laughter from Shanty Madge.
“There, there!” soothed California Bill, winking at his friends and boyishly holding back his laughter with a broad hand placed across his mouth. “There, there, ol’-timer! Ye didn’t mean what ye was sayin’ a-tall, Lee—jes’ th’ ole licker talkin’, eh? And ye’re sorry an’ all, and these here folks forgive ye ’cause they understand. Now le’s you’n’me go over to Th’ Silver Dollar and study our blame’ old nerves. C’mon, Lee—that’s th’ hi-yu skookum thing for us to do.”
And sobbing and sniffling, the brawny cowman allowed himself to be led across the street by the stocky freighter, whose head came below the giant’s shoulders. Bill looked back as he guided his charge along and winked mischievously, and once more placed his unoccupied hand across his lips like a boy who laughs at his elders behind their backs.
“Can you beat that?” came slangily from Shanty Madge. “I wonder if that’s the way California Bill took men to the penitentiary when he was deputy sheriff up in Chaparral?”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Joshua, at last able to lead the thirsting shavetails to the trough. “But I didn’t know we’d created any enmity. I’m sorry this occurred, but it’s just as well that we know how matters stand.”
California Bill came rolling across the street before Joshua had mounted to his wagon seat.
“Hello, there, folks!” he cried, shaking hands all around, the crow’s-feet dancing under the thick patches of coal-black hair above his eyes. “Seems like for once I was Johnny-on-th’-spot. He’d ’a’ fought ye, Tony, all right, but they ain’t any harm in ’im when he’s sober. Jes’ a big blusterer, an’ ye don’t wanta pay any attention to ’im a-tall. He’ll rave an’ faunch about ye’re bein’ th’ one to start th’ raid on his grazin’, but he’s harmless. He’s weepin’ over th’ bar now, an’ don’t know I’ve left ’im—seems. An’ so ye’re on yer way to Spyglass Mountain at last, eh? I gets in last night, an’ was wonderin’ about ye. An’, Tony, ye sure taught yer grandmother to suck eggs when ye sat down on that slide, didn’t ye? Ye’re th’ most talked-of hombre south o’ th’ Tehachapi right now. Five thousan’ bucks, eh? C’n ye believe it? I can’t. I never saw that much money in my life.”
“Here’s that forty that you saw not long ago and then lost track of, anyway,” laughed Joshua, tendering bills to the amount that his friend had loaned him.
“Well, I’ll take ’er—seein’s it’s you, Tony. An’ look at our new saddle an’ bridle, will ye? Say, Tony—them are hi-yu skookum an’ no mis-take. That’ll make ye a character—that an’ yer doin’s on Spyglass Mountain. I been spreadin’ that name broadcast from here to Spur, an’ ag’in th’ trains begin tootin’ on th’ new railroad, they’ll be runnin’ excursions up here to see Cole o’ Spyglass Mountain. Ye got a heap o’ taste, my son—a rarin’ hi-yu skookum taste, I’ll say! Now, them’ll make ye unique, Tony—an’ that’s what ye want. An’ ye jes’ wanta ride into Ragtown on that rarin’ gray I picked fer ye, with this here lovely outfit on ’im, get off seriouslike an’ walk into th’ post office, with yer head down an’ lookin’ neither to th’ right ner left, get yer mail, tell th’ storekeep to give ye a big two-bit Havana seegar in a low, quiet tone, light up, take a couple puffs, an’ then go out an’ fork th’ gray ag’in an’ ride off slowlike, with yer head still down an’ yer thoughts on Mars, never sayin’ a word to nobody.”