When East met West

by W. C. Tuttle

“Just a short moment,” says I. “Nobody asked us. When I ride, I choose a horse; sabe? I ain’t no elephant scratcher.”

“Ain’t yuh?” asks Yuma. “You swore to do what Miss Greenbaum asked yuh to, Ike. She asks yuh to ride the elephant.”

“But what for?” I asks.

By golly, I ain’t got no idea what it’s all about. I can hear folks yellin’ out in the street, and when they start to yellin’ in Piperock, I don’t wish to be there.

“Here’s what yuh got to do,” says Yuma. “You two ride down the street. About in front of Wick’s store yuh will meet old Chief Cod Liver Oil and old Runnin’ Dog. They’ll have on their war-bonnets, et cettery, and they know what to do. They represent the old West; sabe?

“They give yuh the peace-sign, and it seems like yo’re all talkin’. That’s the part of it which is knowed as the West meetin’ the East. Then comes Pete in an old covered wagon. That is the comin’ of the white man. The Injuns act surprized. Behind his wagon comes Scenery Sims’ autymobeel, which has been made into a float, and on it is the three figures, which represent Victory and the Progress of Piperock; sabe?

“Then that’s about all, I reckon. I dunno what else there’s to be done, Ike. Magpie explains that much to me. Thatcher’s orchestra will be playin’ all the time, I reckon. Anyway, it’ll be good. Hassayampa, you and Half Mile help Ike up on Gunga Din.”

“It’ll be good all right,” grunts Mighty. “Cod Liver Oil and Runnin’ Dog done split a quart of lemon extract and a bottle of perfume between ’em.”

I let ’em put me up on the back of that India-rubber ox, which ain’t wearin’ saddle nor bridle. Behind my animal is Dirty Shirt, settin’ on the hump of Sahara, his face twisted kinda funny. He’s got a pair of reins to hang on to.

Just then Gunga Din starts ahead. There ain’t nothin’ I can do but set there and let things go. We went surgin’ around the corner and into the main street. Yaller Rock County sure was there. Every hitchrack is packed with horses, and between the racks and the middle of the street stands the population of a county, waitin’ for us to show up.