Ruggles of Red Gap | Page 9

accountable for
his phrasing, and if I corrected his speech, as of course the tendency is,
our identities might become confused. I hope this will be understood
when I report him as saying things in ways one doesn't word them. I
mean to say that it should not be thought that I would say them in this
way if it chanced that I were saying the same things in my proper
person. I fancy this should now be plain.

"Very well, sir," I said.
"If it was me," he went on, "I wouldn't want you a little bit. But it's Her.
She's got her mind made up to do the right thing and have us all be
somebody, and when she makes her mind up----" He hesitated and
studied the ceiling for some seconds. "Believe me," he continued, "Mrs.
Effie is some wildcat!"
"Yes, sir--some wildcat," I repeated.
"Believe me, Bill," he said again, quaintly addressing me by a name not
my own--"believe me, she'd fight a rattlesnake and give it the first two
bites."
Again let it be recalled that I put down this extraordinary speech
exactly as I heard it. I thought to detect in it that grotesque exaggeration
with which the Americans so distressingly embellish their humour. I
mean to say, it could hardly have been meant in all seriousness. So far
as my researches have extended, the rattlesnake is an invariably
poisonous reptile. Fancy giving one so downright an advantage as the
first two bites, or even one bite, although I believe the thing does not in
fact bite at all, but does one down with its forked tongue, of which
there is an excellent drawing in my little volume, "Inquire Within;
1,000 Useful Facts."
"Yes, sir," I replied, somewhat at a loss; "quite so, sir!"
"I just thought I'd wise you up beforehand."
"Thank you, sir," I said, for his intention beneath the weird jargon was
somehow benevolent. "And if you'll be good enough to wait until I
have taken tea to the Honourable George----"
"How is the Judge this morning?" he broke in.
"The Judge, sir?" I was at a loss, until he gestured toward the room of
the Honourable George.

"The Judge, yes. Ain't he a justice of the peace or something?"
"But no, sir; not at all, sir."
"Then what do you call him 'Honourable' for, if he ain't a judge or
something?"
"Well, sir, it's done, sir," I explained, but I fear he was unable to catch
my meaning, for a moment later (the Honourable George, hearing our
voices, had thrown a boot smartly against the door) he was addressing
him as "Judge" and thereafter continued to do so, nor did the
Honourable George seem to make any moment of being thus miscalled.
I served the Ceylon tea, together with biscuits and marmalade, the
while our caller chatted nervously. He had, it appeared, procured his
own breakfast while on his way to us.
"I got to have my ham and eggs of a morning," he confided. "But she
won't let me have anything at that hotel but a continental breakfast,
which is nothing but coffee and toast and some of that there sauce
you're eating. She says when I'm on the continent I got to eat a
continental breakfast, because that's the smart thing to do, and not stuff
myself like I was on the ranch; but I got that game beat both ways from
the jack. I duck out every morning before she's up. I found a place
where you can get regular ham and eggs."
"Regular ham and eggs?" murmured the Honourable George.
"French ham and eggs is a joke. They put a slice of boiled ham in a
little dish, slosh a couple of eggs on it, and tuck the dish into the oven a
few minutes. Say, they won't ever believe that back in Red Gap when I
tell it. But I found this here little place where they do it right, account
of Americans having made trouble so much over the other way. But,
mind you, don't let on to her," he warned me suddenly.
"Certainly not, sir," I said. "Trust me to be discreet, sir."
"All right, then. Maybe we'll get on better than what I thought we

would. I was looking for trouble with you, the way she's been talking
about what you'd do for me."
"I trust matters will be pleasant, sir," I replied.
"I can be pushed just so far," he curiously warned me, "and no
farther--not by any man that wears hair."
"Yes, sir," I said again, wondering what the wearing of hair might mean
to this process of pushing him, and feeling rather absurdly glad that my
own face is smoothly shaven.
"You'll find Ruggles fairish enough after you've got used to his