The Texan | Page 6

the thick blackness of the
shadows. Before the saloon of the surly proprietor the cowpuncher
brought his big black to a stand and sat contemplating the sorrel that
stood dejectedly with ears adroop and one hind foot resting lightly
upon the toe.
"So that's the cayuse Fatty wanted to trade me for Ace of Spades!" he
snorted. "That dog-legged, pot-gutted, lop-eared patch of red he offers
to trade to me fer Ace of Spades! It's a doggone insult! I didn't know it
at the time, havin' only a couple of drinks, an' too sober to judge a
insult when I seen one. But it's different now, I can see it in the dark.
I'm a-goin' in there an'--an' twist his nose off an' feed it to him. But first
I got to find old Bat. He's an Injun, but he's a good old scout, an' I hate
to think of him walkin' all the way to Montana while some damn
Greaser is spendin' my hard earned samolians that I give him for
carfare. It's a long walk to Montana. Plumb through Colorado an'
Wyomin' an'--an' New Jersey, or somewheres. Mebbe he's in there now.
As they say in the Bible, or somewheres, you got to hunt for a thing
where you find it, or something. Hold still, there you black devil you!
What you want to stand there spinnin' 'round like a top for? You be'n
drinkin', you doggone old ringtail! What was I goin' to do, now. Oh,
yes, twist Patty's nose, an' find Bat an' shoot at his ears a while, an'
make him get his ticket to New Jersey an'----
"This is a blame slow old town, she needs wakin' up, anyhow. If I ride
in that door I'll get scraped off like mud off a boot."
He spurred the black and brought him up with a jerk beside the sorrel
which snorted and reared back, snapping the reins with which he had

been tied, and stood with distended nostrils sniffing inquiringly at Ace
of Spades as the cowpuncher swung to the ground.
"Woke up, didn't you, you old stager? Y'ain't so bad lookin' when
you're alive. Patty'll have to get him a new pair of bridle reins. Mebbe
the whole town'll look better if it's woke up some.
"Y-e-e-e-e-o-w! Cowboys a-comin'!"
A citizen or two paused on the street corner, a few Mexicans grinned as
they drew back to allow the Gringo free access to the saloon, and a
swarthy figure slipped unobserved across the street and blended into
the shadow of the adobe wall.
"O-o-o-o-o-h, the yaller r-o-s-e of Texas!" sang the cowpuncher, with
joyous vehemence. As he stepped into the room, his eyes swept the
faces of the gamblers and again he burst into vociferous song:
"O-o-o-o-o-h, w-h-e-r-e is my wanderin' b-o-y tonight?"
"Hey, you! Whad'ye think this is, a camp meetin'?"
The Texan faced the speaker. "Well, if it ain't my old college chum!
Fatty, I stopped in a purpose to see you. An' besides which, by the
unalien rights of the Constitution an' By-laws of this here United States
of Texas, a man's got a right to sing whatever song suits him
irregardless of sex or opportunity." The other glared malevolently as
the cowpuncher approached the bar with a grin. "Don't bite yourself an'
die of hydrophobia before your eggication is complete, which it ain't till
you've learnt never to insult no Texas man by offerin' to trade no
rat-tailed, ewe-necked old buzzard fodder fer a top Texas horse.
"Drop that mallet! An' don't go reachin-' around in under that bar,
'cause if you find what you're huntin' fer you're a-goin' to see fer
yourself if every cloud's got a silver linin'. 'Tend to business now, an'
set out a bottle of your famous ol' Las Vegas stummick shellac an'
while I'm imbibin' of its umbilical ambrosier, I'll jest onscrew your
nose an' feed it to the cat."

Sweat stood out upon the forehead of the heavy-paunched proprietor as
with a flabby-faced grin he set out the bottle. But the Texan caught the
snake-like flash of the eyes with which the man signalled to the
croupier across the room. Gun in hand, he whirled:
"No, you don't, Toney!" An ugly blue-black automatic dropped to the
floor and the croupier's hands flew ceilingward.
"I never seen such an outfit to be always a-reachin'," grinned the
cowpuncher. "Well, if there ain't the ol' eagle-bird wheel! Give her a
spin, Toney! They say you can't hit an eagle on the fly with a six-gun,
but I'm willin' to try! Spin her good, 'cause I don't want no onfair
advantage of that there noble bird. Stand back, Greasers, so you don't
get nicked!"
As the croupier spun the wheel, three shots rang in an almost
continuous explosion and