“Tut-testament,” he quavers. “I—I’m sorry I ch-choked you.”
“Take a front seat, brother,” says Testament. “All sinners are welcome.”
“Five minutes are up,” states Wick Smith’s voice.
“Go to thunder!” yells Magpie. “Everybody’s all right. There ain’t no tiger in here.”
I felt sorry for that poor bronc, so I goes over, untangles the reins from its feet and led it out of the door. The crowd splits to let us out and just as we gets out of the door somebody yells.
I whirled and looked back. From the saddle-horn runs a rope back into the saloon and she sure is pulled tight. Somebody slaps the bronc and Cleopatra came among us. I reckon she must ’a’ been behind the bar. She came out of the door, ducked behind the crowd like a flash and the next second about thirty citizens of Cowland are tangled with our tiger.
I slipped the rope off the horn and let nature take her course while I took mine—around back to the remnants of our circus. Bosco is there. Some of that gang must ’a’ lost a quart of hooch, ’cause I finds Bosco trying to reach a point where he can see snakes that he don’t have to eat. I takes it away from him and charms a few for myself.
There’s a lot of noise around on the street but I ain’t curious. Alcibiades stands there like a rubber statue. He sure was about the laziest elephant on earth. Then cometh more noise and here comes the mob, Magpie in the lead, and around his neck is a rope.
I starts to explain things to ’em and I got a rope too. Bosco tried to hide but they roped him from several directions to once.
“Rope the elephant and you’ll have the whole works,” says I.