Laughing Bill Hyde | Page 7

the little Doc will settle."
"Dat's good yob for me, all right. Vot mak' you tank she'll come? Aye
ask her plenty tams, but she ant like me."
"You slip her this billy-ducks and she'll come."
Petersen pocketed the letter which Bill handed him; his eyes brightened;
the flush in his face deepened. "You bet your gum boots Aye bring her.
She's svell, ant she, Bill? She's yust some svell like white voman."
"Who's this?" queried one of Petersen's companions.
"Ponatah. She's jung sqvaw. Aye got eyes on dat chicken long tam
now." The burly mail-man laughed loudly and slapped his friend on the
shoulder.
Mr. Hyde appeared to share in the general good nature. Carelessly,

smilingly he picked up Petersen's dog-whip, which lay coiled on the bar;
thoughtfully he weighed it. The lash was long, but the handle was short
and thick, and its butt was loaded with shot; it had much the balance of
a black-jack--a weapon not unknown to Mr. Hyde.
"Pretty soft for you mail-men." The former speaker grinned.
"Ja! Pretty soft. Aye bet Aye have good tam dis trip. Yust vait. You
don't know how purty is Ponatah. She--"
Petersen's listeners waited. They are waiting yet, for the mail-man
never completed his admiring recital of the Indian girl's charms, owing
to the fact that the genial Mr. Hyde without warning tapped his late
friend's round head with the leather butt of the dog-whip. Had it not
been for the Norseman's otter cap it is probable that a new mail-carrier
would have taken the St. Michaels run.
Petersen sat down upon his heels, and rested his forehead against the
cool brass foot-rail; the subsequent proceedings interested him not at all.
Those proceedings were varied and sudden, for the nearest and dearest
of Petersen's friends rushed upon Mr. Hyde with a roar. Him, too, Bill
eliminated from consideration with the loaded whip handle. But, this
done, Bill found himself hugged in the arms of the other man, as in the
embrace of a bereaved she-grizzly. Now even at his best the laughing
Mr. Hyde was no hand at rough-and-tumble, it being his opinion that
fisticuffs was a peculiarly indecisive and exhausting way of settling a
dispute. He possessed a vile temper, moreover, and once aroused half
measures failed to satisfy it.
After Mr. Hyde's admirable beginning those neutrals who had seen the
start of the affray were prepared to witness an ending equally quick and
conclusive. They were surprised, therefore, to note that Bill put up a
very weak struggle, once he had come to close quarters. He made only
the feeblest resistance, before permitting himself to be borne backward
to the floor, and then as he lay pinned beneath his opponent he did not
even try to guard the blows that rained upon him; as a matter of fact, he
continued to laugh as if the experience were highly diverting.

Seeing that the fight was one-sided, the bartender hastened from his
retreat, dragged Petersen's champion to his feet, and flung him back
into the arms of the onlookers, after which he stooped to aid the loser.
His hands were actually upon Bill before he understood the meaning of
that peculiar laughter, and saw in Mr. Hyde's shaking fingers that
which caused him to drop the prostrate victim as if he were a
rattlesnake.
"God'l'mighty!" exclaimed the rescuer. He retreated hurriedly whence
he had come.
Bill rose and dusted himself off, then he bent over Petersen, who was
stirring.
"Just give her that billy-ducks and tell her it's all right. Tell her I say
you won't hurt her none." Then, still chuckling, he slipped into the
crowd and out of the Last Chance. As he went he coughed and spat a
mouthful of blood.
Once the mail-carrier had been apprised of the amazing incidents which
had occurred during his temporary inattention, he vowed vengeance in
a mighty voice, and his threats found echo in the throats of his two
companions. But the bartender took them aside and spoke guardedly:
"You better lay off of that guy, or he'll fatten the graveyard with all
three of you. I didn't 'make' him at first, but I got him now, all right."
"What d'you mean? Who is he?"
"His name's Hyde, 'Laughing Bill.'"
"'Laughing Bill' Hyde!" One of Petersen's friends, he who had come
last into the encounter, turned yellow and leaned hard against the bar. A
sudden nausea assailed him and he laid tender hands upon his abdomen.
"'Laughing Bill' Hyde! That's why he went down so easy! Why, he
killed a feller I knew--ribboned him up from underneath, just that
way--and the jury called it self-defense." A shudder racked the
speaker's frame.

"Sure! He's a cutter--a reg'lar gent's cutter and fitter. He'd 'a' had you all
over the floor in another