Badger-face was all cut an’ scarred when we stripped him; but he looked as tough an’ gnarly as an oak tree, an’ the Friar said he had one chance in a hundred to pull through. He didn’t speak to us until after the Friar had finished with him. Then he said in a low, snarly voice: “I don’t much expect to get over this; but before I slip off, I wish you’d tell me who the little cuss who got me really is, an’ what’s his game.”
We didn’t hardly know what to say; but finally Tank sez: “We don’t feel free to tell you who he is, Badger-face; but I’ll say this much, he ain’t no officer of the law.”
I thought it would be the quickest way to straighten Horace up, so I told him ’at Badger-face wanted to talk to him. Sure enough, Horace took a deep breath an’ stiffened his upper lip. Then he walked over to the bed. “How do ya feel, Badger-face?” sez he.
“Oh, I been shot before,” sez Badger; “but it burns worse ’n usual this time, an’ I reckon you’ve got me. It grinds me all up to think ’at a little runt like you did it, an’ it would soothe me to know ’at you had some sort of a record.”
Horace looked thoughtful: he wanted to comfort the man he was responsible for havin’ put out o’ the game; but he could see that the whole truth wouldn’t in no wise do, so he put on a foxy look an’ sez: “I never worked around these parts none; but if you’ve ever heard o’ Dinky Bradford, why, that’s me. I know just how you feel. You feel as much put out at bein’ bested by a small-like man, as I would at havin’ a big feller get ahead o’ me; but you needn’t fret yourself. There’s fellers right in this room who have seen me go four days without food an’ then do a stunt which beat anything they’d ever seen. Don’t you worry none. Now that you’re down an’ out, we all wish ya the best o’ luck.”
Me an’ Spider an’ Tank had to grin at this; but it was just what Badger needed to quiet him, an’ his face lit up when he asked Horace how he had managed to shoot him.
“I used my auxilary armyment,” sez Horace, but that’s all the explanation he’d make. I found out afterward that he had a thing called a derringer, a two-barreled pistol, forty-one caliber, which he carried in his vest pocket. I told him ’at this sneaky sort of a weapon would give him a bad name if it was found out on him; but he said ’at he shot from necessity, not choice, and that when it came to gettin’ shot, he couldn’t see why the victim should be so blame particular what was used—which is sensible enough when you come to think it over, though I wouldn’t pack one o’ those guns, myself.
Badger-face was out of his head next day, and for two weeks followin’. The Friar an’ Kit an’ Horace took turns nursin’ him, an’ they did an able job of it. Water, plain water an’ wind, was about all the Friar used in treatin’ him. Kit wanted to give him soup an’ other sorts o’ funnel food; but the Friar said ’at a man could live for weeks on what was stored up in him; an’ Horace backed him up. Kit used to shake her head at this, an’ I know mighty well that down deep in her heart, she thought they would starve him to death before her very eyes.
We tore up the old shack on the hill, snaked the poles down with Olaf’s work team, an’ set it up in the Spread; so ’at we’d be handy in case we was needed. A couple o’ the Cross-branders drifted by, an’ we gave ’em the news about Badger-face an’ Dinky Bradford havin’ come together an’ Badger havin’ got some the worst of it; but they wouldn’t go in to see him, an’ they quit wanderin’ by; so ’at we didn’t hardly know what to expect.
We had hard work thawin’ out the clay for chinkin’, an’ we didn’t get the cabin as tight as we’d ’a’ liked; but we had plenty o’ wood, so it didn’t much matter as far as warmth was concerned; but we had the blamedest time with a pack-rat I ever did have.