The Jimmyjohn Boss | Page 5

liddle joke about somebody killing you. Was you
thinking maybe old Max not care what happen to you?"
A moment of silence passed before the answer came: "Suppose we talk
business?"
"Very well, very well. Only notice this thing. When oder peoples talk
oop to me like you haf done many times, it is not they who does the
getting hot. It is me--old Max. Und when old Max gets hot he slings
them out of his road anywheres. Some haf been very sorry they get so
slung. You invite me to buy some oder fool? Oh, my boy, I will buy no
oder fool except you, for that was just like me when I was yoong Max!"
Again the ruddy and grizzled magnate put his hand on the shoulder of
the boy, who stood looking away at the bottles, at the railroad track, at
anything save his employer.

The employer proceeded: "I was afraid of nobody und noding in those
days. You are afraid of nobody and noding. But those days was
different. No Pullman sleepers, no railroad at all. We come oop the
Columbia in the steamboat, we travel hoonderts of miles by team, we
sleep, we eat nowheres in particular mit many unexpected interooptions.
There was Indians, there was offle bad white men, und if you was not
offle yourself you vanished quickly. Therefore in those days was Max
Vogel hell und repeat."
The magnate smiled a broad fond smile over the past which he had
kicked, driven, shot, bled, and battled through to present power; and the
boy winked up at him again now.
"I don't propose to vanish, myself," said he.
"Ah-ha! you was no longer mad mit der old Max! Of coorse I care what
happens to you. I was alone in the world myself in those lofely wicked
days."
Reserve again made flinty the boy's face.
"Neider did I talk about my feelings," continued Max Vogel, "but I
nefer show them too quick. If I was injured I wait, and I strike to kill.
We all paddles our own dugout, eh? We ask no favors from nobody; we
must win our spurs! Not so? Now I talk business with you where you
interroopt me. If cow-boys was not so offle scarce in the country, I
would long ago haf bounce the lot of those drunken fellows. But they
cannot be spared; we must get along so. I cannot send Brock, he is
needed at Harper's. The dumb fellow at Alvord Lake is too dumb; he is
not quickly courageous. They would play high jinks mit him. Therefore
I send you. Brock he say to me you haf joodgement. I watch, and I say
to myself also, this boy haf goot joodgement. And when you look at
your pistol so quick, I tell you quick I don't send you to kill men when
they are so scarce already! My boy, it is ever the moral, the say-noding
strength what gets there--mit always the liddle pistol behind, in
case--joost in case. Haf you understand? I ask you to shoot. I see you
know how, as Brock told me. I recommend you to let them see that
aggomplishment in a friendly way. Maybe a shooting-match mit

prizes--I pay for them--pretty soon after you come. Und
joodgement--und joodgement. Here comes that train. Haf you well
understand?"
Upon this the two shook hands, looking square friendship in each
other's eyes. The east-bound, long quiet and dark beneath its flowing
clots of smoke, slowed to a halt. A few valises and legs descended,
ascended, herding and hurrying; a few trunks were thrown
resoundingly in and out of the train; a woolly, crooked old man came
with a box and a bandanna bundle from the second-class car; the
travellers of a thousand miles looked torpidly at him through the dim,
dusty windows of their Pullman, and settled again for a thousand miles
more. Then the east-bound, shooting heavier clots of smoke laboriously
into the air, drew its slow length out of Nampa, and away.
"Where's that stage?" shrilled the woolly old man. "That's what I'm
after."
"Why, hello!" shouted Vogel. "Hello, Uncle Pasco! I heard you was
dead."
Uncle Pasco blinked his small eyes to see who hailed him. "Oh!" said
he, in his light, crusty voice. "Dutchy Vogel. No, I ain't dead. You
guessed wrong. Not dead. Help me up, Dutchy."
A tolerant smile broadened Vogel's face. "It was ten years since I see
you," said he, carrying the old man's box.
"Shouldn't wonder. Maybe it'll be another ten till you see me next." He
stopped by the stage step, and wheeling nimbly, surveyed his old-time
acquaintance, noting the good hat, the prosperous watch-chain, the big,
well-blacked boots. "Not seen me for ten years. Hee-hee! No. Usen't to
have a cent