[CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR—NIGHT-PROWLERS]
Whenever the’s anything on my mind I sleep purty light; an’ the whole Cross brand outfit was on my mind that night; so it’s not surprisin’ that I woke up after a bit. The moon had climbed consid’able, an’ the stars told me it was about two. I had been sleepin’ alone; Horace havin’ decided to crawl in with the Friar so they could quarrel at short range.
The Friar’s tarp was next to mine, an’ I raised myself on my elbow an’ looked at it. I could hear him breathin’ natural, an’ the bulk of him was so large that Horace wouldn’t have made much of a mound anyway; so at first I couldn’t tell whether he was there or not. I crept out till I could sit up an’ get a clear view; but Horace wasn’t there, so I put on my boots as quick as ever.
I sneaked over to the Friar’s tarp; but Horace’s hat was gone, so I knew he was up to some mischief, an’ started for the corral to see if he had taken a hoss. What I feared was, that he had got to thinkin’ about what a super-wonderful flame he had, and had decided to give it a fair work-out by sneakin’ down to Ty Jones’s on his own hook. I was worried about this because I knew they’d do for him in a minute, if they’d catch him where they could hide all traces.
Olaf had built a large square corral an’ a smaller round one, to do his ropin’ in; and when I reached the near side o’ the square one, I heard a slight noise near the gate of the round one. I peered through the poles of the corral, but the dividin’ fence got in the road so ’at I couldn’t see, an’ I started to prowl around. All of a sudden, Horace’s squeaky tenor piped out: “Halt”; an’ I flattened out on the ground, thinkin’ he had spotted me; but just then the’ was a smothered curse from the round corral, an’ when I started to get up I saw Badger-face vault over the fence in the direction of Horace’s voice.
Then I saw Horace standin’ behind a clump with his gun on Badger-face. “Put up your hands,” sez Horace.
Badger was runnin’ straight for him; but he put up his hands at this order, and came to a slow stop about five feet from Horace. The square corral was still between me an’ them, an’ I drew my right gun an’ started around, keepin’ my eye on ’em as much as I could through the poles.
“I reckon I got ya this time,” sez Horace, just as I reached the corner.
“I reckon you have,” sez Badger in a give-up voice; but at the same moment he took a step forward, threw his body back, an’ kicked the gun out of Horace’s hand. Then he lunged forward an’ got Horace by the throat, flung him on his back an’ straddled him—an’ I broke for ’em on the run. Just before I reached ’em, the’ came a heavy, muffled report, an’ Badger-face fell on his side an’ rolled over on his back, clutchin’ at his breast.
Horace rose to his feet, holdin’ a toy pistol, put his hands on his hips, looked down at Badger-face, an’ sez: “If you’d ’a’ just asked Olaf what kind of a light I give out, you’d ’a’ stayed at home an’ saved your life.” That’s how nervous Horace was.