Going Some | Page 2

de Dios!_ 'The Baggage Car in Front!' T'adora Mora! God
bless 'er!"
During the rendition of this affecting ballad the two cow-men remained
draped uncomfortably over the barbed-wire barrier, lost in rapturous
enjoyment. When the last note had died away, Stover roused himself
reluctantly.
"It's time we was turnin' in." He called softly, "Hey, Mex!"
"_Si, Senor!_"
"Come on, you and Cloudy. _Vamos!_ It's ten o'clock."
He turned his back on the Centipede Ranch that housed the treasure,
and in company with Willie, made his way to the ponies. Two other
figures joined them, one humming in a musical baritone the strains of
the song just ended.

"Cut that out, Mex! They'll hear us," Stover cautioned.
"_Caramba!_ This t'ing is brek my 'eart," said the Mexican, sadly. "It
seem like the Senorita Mora is sing that song to me. Mebbe she knows
I'm set out 'ere on cactus an' listen to her. Ah, I love that Senorita ver'
much."
The little man with the glasses began to swear in his high falsetto. His
ear had caught the phonograph operator in another musical mistake.
"That horn-toad let Mrs. Melby die again to-night," said he. "It's sure
comin' to a runnacaboo between him and me. If somebody don't kill
him pretty soon, he'll wear out that machine before we git it back."
"Humph! It don't look like we'd ever get it back," said Stover.
One of the four sighed audibly, then vaulting into his saddle, went
loping away without waiting for his companions.
"Cloudy's sore because they didn't play _Navajo,"_ said Willie. "Well, I
don't blame 'em none for omittin' that war- dance. It ain't got the class
of them other pieces. While it's devised to suit the intellect of an Injun,
perhaps; it ain't in the runnin' with _The Holy City,_ which tune is the
sweetest and sacredest ever sung."
Carara paused with a hand upon the neck of his cayuse.
"Eet is not so fine as _The Baggage Car in Front,"_ he declared.
"It's got it beat a mile!" Willie flashed back, harshly.
"Here you!" exclaimed Stover, "no arguments. We all have our
favorites, and it ain't up to no individual to force his likes and dislikes
down no other feller's throat." The two men he addressed mounted their
broncos stiffly.
"I repeat," said Willie: "The Holy City, as sung by Mrs. Melby, is the
swellest tune that ever hit these parts."

Carara muttered something in Spanish which the others could not
understand.
"They're all fine pieces," Stover observed, placatingly, when fairly out
of hearing of the ranch-houses. "You boys have each got your
preference. Cloudy, bein' an Injun, has got his, and I rise to state that I
like that monologue, Silas on Fifth Avenoo, better than all of 'em,
which ain't nothin' ag'inst my judgment nor yours. When Silas says,
'The girl opened her valise, took our her purse, closed her valise,
opened her purse, took out a dime, closed her purse, opened her valise,
put in her purse, closed her valise, give the dime to the conductor, got a
nickel in change, then opened her valise, took out her purse, closed her
valise-'" Stover began to rock in his saddle, then burst into a loud
guffaw, followed by his companions. "Gosh! That's awful funny!"
"_Si! si!_" acknowledged Carara, his white teeth showing through the
gloom.
"An' it's just like a fool woman," tittered Willie. "That's sure one
ridic'lous line of talk."
"Still Bill" wiped his eyes with the back of a bony hand. "I know that
hull monologue by heart, but I can't never get past that spot to save my
soul. Right there I bog down, complete." Again he burst into wild
laughter, followed by his companions. "I don't see how folks can be so
dam' funny!" he gasped.
"It's natural to 'em, like warts," said Willie; "they're born with it, the
same as I was born to shoot straight with either hand, and the same as
the Mex was born to throw a rope. He don't know how he does it, and
neither do I. Some folks can say funny things, some can sing, like
Missus Melby; some can run foot- races, like that Centipede cook--"
Carara breathed an eloquent Mexican oath.
"Do you reckon he fixed that race with Humpy Joe?" inquired Stover.
"Name's Skinner," Willie observed. "It sure sounds bad."

"I'm sorry Humpy left us so sudden," said Still Bill. "We'd ought to
have questioned him. If we only had proof that the race was crooked--"
"You can so gamble it was crooked," the little man averred. "Them
Centipede fellers never done nothin' on the square. They got Humpy
Joe, and fixed it for him to lose so they could get that talkin'-machine.
That's why he pulled out."
"I'd hate to think it," said the foreman,