Sundown Slim | Page 7

nothin' wrong!' And after the coffee, things ain't so bad."
"Huh! Sounds all right for a starter. Ladies and them as came with you,
I will now spiel the next section."
"The wind is makin' my bed for me, Smoothin' the grass where I'm
goin' to flop, When the quails roost up in the live-oak tree, And my legs
feel like as they want to stop. Pal or no pal, it's about the same, For
nobody knows how you feel inside. Hittin' the grit is a lonesome
game,-- But quit it? No matter how hard I tried. But mebby I will when
that inside song Stops a-buzzin' like bees that's mad, Grumblin' together:
'There's nothin' wrong!' And--after the coffee things ain't so bad."
"Bees ain't so darned happy, either. They're too busy. Guess it's a good
thing I went back to me grasshopper in the last verse. And now, ladies
and gents, this is posituvely the last appearance of the noted
electrocutionist, Sundown Slim; so, listen."
"Ladies, I've beat it from Los to Maine. And, gents, not knowin' jest
what to do, I turned and slippered it back again, Wantin' to see, jest the
same as you. Ridin' rods and a-dodgin' flies; Eatin' at times when me
luck was good. Spielin' the con to the easy guys, But never jest makin'
it understood, Even to me, why that inside song Kep' a-handin' me out
the glad, Like the grasshopper singin': 'There's nothin' wrong!'
And--after the coffee things ain't so bad."
Sundown grinned with unalloyed pleasure. His mythical audience
seemed to await a few words, so he rose stiffly, and struck an attitude
somewhat akin to that of Henry Irving standing beside a milk-can and
contemplating the village pump. "It gives me great pleasure to inform
you"--he hesitated and cleared his throat--"that them there words of
mine was expired by half a rabbit--small--and two cans of coffee. Had I
been fed up like youse"--and he bowed grandly--"there's no tellin' what

I might 'a' writ. Thankin' you for the box-office receipts, I am yours to
demand, Sundown Slim, of Outdoors, Anywhere, till further notice."
Then he marched histrionically to the ranchhouse and made a fire in the
rusted stove.
CHAPTER III
THIRTY MILES TO THE CONCHO
John Corliss rode up to the water-hole, dismounted, and pushed
through the gate. His horse "Chinook" watched him with gently
inquisitive eyes. Chinook was not accustomed to inattention when he
was thirsty. He had covered the thirty miles from the Concho Ranch in
five long, dry, and dusty hours. He nickered. "In a minute," said Corliss.
Then he knocked at the ranch-house door. Riders of the Concho usually
strode jingling into the ranch-house without formality. Corliss, however,
had been gazing at the lean stovepipe for hours before he finally
decided that there was smoke rising from it. He knocked a second time.
"She ain't locked," came in a rusty, smothered voice.
Corliss shoved the door open with his knee. The interior was heavy
with smoke. Near the stove knelt Sundown trying to encourage the
smoke to more perpendicular behavior. He coughed. "She ain't good in
her intentions, this here stove. One time she goes and the next time she
stays and takes a smoke. Her innards is out of gear. Whew!"
"The damper has slipped down," said Corliss.
"Her little ole chest-pertector is kind o' worked down toward her
stummick. There, now she feels better a'ready."
"Cooking chuck?" queried Corliss, glancing round the bare room.
"Rabbit," replied Sundown. "When I hit this here hotel I was hungry. I
seen a rabbit--not this here one, but the other one. This one was settin'
in a bunch of-brush on me right-of-way. I was behind and runnin' to

make up time. I kind o' seen the leetle prairie-dog give me the red to
slow down, but it was too late. Hit his cyclone cellar with me right
driver, and got wrecked. This here leetle wad o' cotton was under me
steam-chest. No other passengers hurt, except the engineer."
Corliss laughed. "You're a railroad man, I take it. Belong in this
country?"
Sundown rose from his knees and backed away from the stove. "Nope.
Don't belong anywhere, I guess. My address when I'm to home is
Sundown Slim, Outdoors, Anywhere, speakin' general."
"Come in afoot?"
"Uhuh. Kind o' thought I'd get a job. Fellas at Antelope told me they
wanted a cook at this hotel. I reckon they do--and some boarders and
somethin' to cook."
"That's one of their jokes. Pretty stiff joke, sending you in here afoot."
"Oh, I ain't sore, mister. They stole me nanny, all right, but I feel jest as
good here as anywhere."
Corliss led Chinook to the water-hole. Sundown followed.
"Ever think how many kinds of water they was?" queried Sundown.
"Some is jest water; then