The Project Gutenberg eBook of With the joker wild

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Title: With the joker wild

Author: W. C. Tuttle

Release date: July 31, 2026 [eBook #79247]

Language: English

Original publication: New York, NY: The Ridgway Company, 1918

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79247

Credits: Prepared by volunteers at BookCove (bookcove.net)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THE JOKER WILD ***

WITH THE JOKER WILD

by W. C. Tuttle

Author of “Hair-Trigger Hollibaugh,” “Mary’s Little Lamb,” etc.

This ain’t no poker story. I ain’t going to try and cold-deck anybody into thinking it is, so I’ll orate right now that she ain’t. I aims to prove uh little moral, and yuh can’t prove no morals in uh poker story, ’cause there ain’t no morals in that game.

All I wants to do is to cinch the fact that honesty is the best policy, and that wisdom ain’t uh better hand than luck. I played in uh poker game once, where the deuces run wild. It wasn’t poker—it was suicide. Over on the coast they sometimes plays with the joker wild. They opens the game with uh silent prayer and deals five cards apiece. Before they discards they wires for the police, coroner, and notifies their families. Then they spends the interim—that word seems to fit exactly, ’cause it looks like interment—trying to find out where the joker fits into uh straight.

Honesty is the best policy. The feller who first uttered them words said more in five movements of his vocal cords than the person did in eight, when “A fool and his money are soon parted” was coined. Magpie Simpkins was uh wise man. I say, “was wise,” because after he got wise to himself he found that he was uh fool—but he’ll never admit it.

Magpie is six feet several inches of wisdom and deduction and so forth and so on. He’s tried every course from hair-oil to hypnotism to make himself admired of everybody, but he still wiggles along, sluicing gravel, herding uh burro and predicting that he’s got Solomon looking half-witted.

Me? I’m Ike Harper, Magpie’s pardner. I wished him on to me one time over in Helena, when he was suffering with uh rash, brought on by trying to convince uh wildcat that the human eye is stronger than four feet full uh claws. Me and that animated fish-pole has seen ups and downs ever since.

We’re living in plenty and more or less peace, when we holds uh meeting or two, together, and decides that there must be gold on Whispering Crick. Whispering Crick has much in common with all other cricks. It rises at its head and flows into uh river. It carries enough water for uh good sluice all the year around, which makes it uh pleasant place to prospect, even if there ain’t no gold.

Me and Magpie pilgrims to Whispering Crick, which is about eighty miles from Piperock, where we live, and in another county.

Magpie always expounded the theory that gold is where yuh find it, and that’s where we found it. Right where the pay streak couldn’t possibly be we found it, and then Magpie sets down and reads me uh lengthy sermon on hunches and wisdom.

Did yuh ever see more than enough gold? That’s how the streak looks to me and Magpie. We strips uh piece uh bedrock, and carries it down to the crick in sacks, and I pans out uh pirate’s hoard, while Magpie pilgrims to town to file the location of the “Golden Hunch.”

We locates the only place on the crick where uh piece uh gold would have uh chance to stop. We got forty acres, with about two hundred feet in the narrowest place, and from that on down, and above, the cañon is so narrow uh goat couldn’t find uh footing. There’s just one difficulty: the crick is lower than the rich ground, and too far away.

Me and Magpie parades around the place like uh pair uh bankers, and then decides that we got to build uh dam, and to build uh dam we got to import uh sawmill. Also we got to hire uh crew uh men, cause we’re too rich to labor.

As Magpie says—

“Why get strong in the muscle and weak in the head?”

We hires uh bunch uh poor men to swamp out uh road for about twenty miles, to the county road, and then Magpie goes out to dicker for uh small mill.

This is the first time that me and Magpie has owned anything better than fifty cents uh pan—every fifty or sixty pans—so we feels like uh bronc in his first bunch-grass.

One afternoon, after we gets our sawmill to running, and has uh force uh men on the dam, uh prospector name uh “Hailstorm” Wilson, drifts in. Hailstorm was born to sorrow. Life to him is just one “can’t” after another, and he ain’t happy unless he brings bad news. Me and Magpie makes him welcome as the flowers in May, and sets down to show him, in figures, just how rich we are.

“Going to build uh big dam, eh?” remarks Hailstorm, sad-like. “Where yuh going to get your timber?”

“Right here on the ground,” says Magpie, taking in uh sweep of the country with his two hands. “We got enough right here to build several dams.”

“Uh-huh,” agrees Hailstorm, nodding his head slowly. “There sure is, but——”

“But what?” I asks.

“Forest reserve. I reckon, according to what I can find out, you’re entitled to firewood and enough to build uh shack, but when it comes to putting in uh sawmill—well, it can’t be done—legally.”

“Can’t, eh?” yelps Magpie. “Who’s to stop me, eh?”

“Government, Magpie. Suppose uh supervisor comes up here and says—‘Magpie Simpkins and Ike Harper, you’re under arrest for cutting more timber than the law allows.’ What yuh going to do then, eh? What good is uh lot uh gold going to do yuh while yuh languish in durance vile?”

“Well,” grins Magpie, “when uh feller’s got uh lot uh yaller gold he looks good to most everybody, Hailstorm. When I shows that supervisor what uh good feller I can be—well——”

Hailstorm nods and spits at uh lizard:

“Uh-huh. Maybe yuh could if yuh made the price right, Magpie. Yuh can’t pike in uh case like that.”

“Not me,” boasts Magpie, wise-like. “I got too many brains to be uh piker in uh case like that. When it comes to handling delicate situations I’m there like uh coyote at uh carcass—me.”

Hailstorm and his burro pilgrims off into the hills, and we keeps right on sawing timber. I don’t feel safe, and I tells Magpie.

“Gosh a’mighty, Ike!” he snaps. “Quit worrying. We ain’t prospectors no more—we’re financiers. Sabe? As soon as this dam is finished we’ll take out uh million. You quit worrying, and let me handle the brainy end uh this deal. Maybe they won’t never show up, but if they does—you watch Magpie Simpkins.”

“Yes’m,” says I. “I’ll watch yuh all right, old-timer. But what good is gold to me if Uncle Sam is sending meals to me by uh warden? I don’t know what the penalty is, but it’ll be uh plenty.”

Magpie don’t absorb the gloom uh tall, but just sets there and smokes cigarets by the yard and grins under his mustache.

“Ike,” says he, “when we milks this here Whispering Crick dry I’m going to take uh trip to Boston and buy uh set uh books I seen advertised in uh paper. What are yuh going to do with your money?”

“Me?” I asks. “Well, I reckon I’ll take uh trip over to Maine, and buy uh canoe I seen advertised once.”

“Canoe?” he asks. “What in —— will you do with uh canoe, Ike?”

“I’ll bring it up here, Magpie. I’ll stick her in the water, just above that white whirl down there, and when you starts reading out loud to me from one uh them books, I’ll cut the rope and jump in. Maybe I’ll eat uh few dynamite-caps so as to make it uh cinch.”

For the next few weeks we’re some busy. We got uh force uh men on the dam, one on the sluice and another in the mill. As soon as the dam is finished we starts to cleaning uh little bed-rock. We’ve taken out enough to make the golden calf they tells about in the Bible look like an 1876 penny, when this here Hailstorm Wilson pilgrims in once more, and looks us up in our treasury.

“I’m uh friend in need,” he states, nodding sad-like, when we welcomes him in.

“How much do yuh need, Hailstorm?” asks Magpie.

Hailstorm peers off down the road, wipes away uh stray tear, and whispers—

“Supervisor!”

Magpie hitches up his belt and pats himself on the chest.

“Fear not,” says he. “Leave him to me, and all will be well.”

“Two of ’em,” states Hailstorm. “District and State.”

“Two is company,” grins Magpie. “Two is easier to hornswoggle than one.”

“Seen ’em down to Devil’s Turn,” orates Hailstorm. “Uh course it ain’t no funerial uh mine, but I goes plumb out uh my way to inform yuh, Magpie. Things like that grieves me uh heap.”

Magpie separates our treasury from several goodly lumps uh gold as uh present to Hailstorm, and said Hailstorm goes on his way rejoicing. I chides Magpie for his generosity, and then has to listen for an hour to uh sermon on thankfulness.

“What do yuh reckon I ought to do—foller him up and kiss him?” I asks, when Magpie ceases. “You don’t need to chide me, Magpie. Being uh bringer uh bad news is reward enough for Hailstorm. We’re in uh lovely fix, if yuh asks Ike Harper. You’re going to bust your pick when you tries to bribe officials, Magpie.”

“Am, am I?” he snaps. “You watch me, Ike. Every man has his price.”

“Well,” says I, “if you’re buying things today, Mister Simpkins, yuh might make me an offer for half uh the Golden Hunch before them supervisors shows up. I’m having uh sale today—me.”

“Ike,” Magpie puts uh quart uh tears in his voice, and lays his hand on my shoulder. “Ike, have no fear. Remember you got uh resourceful pardner in me. You keep in the background, and don’t have nothing to say. Be sort of uh silent pardner. Sabe? Just leave it all to little Magpie, and I’ll make yuh proud to know me.”

“I’ll keep in the background, all right, Magpie. Silent? Say, old-timer, any time I’m in the shadow of the law I’m so silent that you could hear uh clam, under sixteen feet uh Missouri mud, calling to its mate.”

Long in the afternoon uh livery rig drives in from Devil’s Turn and unloads uh couple uh men, and then leaves. Magpie don’t waste no time in getting acquainted and extending uh welcome. One is uh tall, dark hombre and the other is shorter and runs uh little to gray on top. They both wears store clothes and boiled collars, and they each got uh valise, which Magpie packs up to our wickiup and places under our bunks.

“We’re mighty glad to see yuh,” orates Magpie, bowing each of ’em to uh chair, the same uh which makes me set on the steps.

“Quite some camp yuh got here,” remarks the short feller. “Must be money here, eh?”

“Uh-huh,” agrees Magpie. “Yuh might say there is. Would you like to look over the works?”

“I wouldn’t—” I starts to cut in, but Magpie shuts me right up.

“Ike, you better get back on the job,” he states. “I got company to entertain, and you got work to do. I can’t pay my hired help for loafing. Sabe?”

That makes me so mad that I goes down and sets on the dam, and wishes I had that canoe right now. After a while I sees Magpie and them two supervisors emerge from the cabin and wander down to where some men are cleaning some bed-rock.

They each got uh gold pan, and after they had been down there for uh while I wanders down. Them two hombres are some enthusiastic, believe me, and they’re panning dirt like they was doing it for uh living.

“Look!” yelps the tall feller, poking around in his pan. I sees Magpie wink at Swede Carlson, who is bossing the gang, and the Swede grins.

“Let me get yuh uh pan uh dirt,” says Magpie. Him and Swede takes that pan and fills it with jewelry. When they’re cleaning bed-rock they finds nuggets in the deep crevices, which they digs out and stacks in little heaps.

I reckon that feller’s pan would run about fifty dollars, and he waits with us. Then Magpie and Swede does the same to the other feller’s pan. It’s just like letting uh man dig down into your pockets on pay-day. It ain’t no hard job to swipe uh hundred or two in uh case like that, but it ain’t my place to act as lookout in uh game like that. I estimates how much ham and aigs I could buy with what we’ll lose, and the figures brings tears to my eyes.

Don’t get the idea that Ike Harper is stingy. He ain’t. When they starts out on more pans of the same stuff my eyes gets so full uh tears that I can’t see, so I goes out into the timber and weeps alone. After the irrigation season is over I goes back to the cabin, and finds them in there weighing the gold.

“Yours weighs twenty ounces,” announces Magpie to the tall Jasper. “And the other gentleman gets twenty-three.”

Magpie talks like uh referee at uh raffle, and I wonders where I laid my gun.

“Wonderful ground!” exclaims the oldest one. “Isn’t it great to pan out real money like that! The feel of it makes me wish it all belonged to me.”

“It does,” states Magpie. “Do yuh think I took yuh down there to pan out gold for me? Not any. You fellers can split them forty-three ounces as uh present from the Golden Hunch. Sabe?”

“What’s the main idea?” asks the tall one, looking at Magpie in uh queer way.

“Listen; did yuh ever hear of the virtue of blindness?”

“Uh-huh,” agrees the tall one, with uh slow grin. “I have, but not in just that way.”

“Well,” says Magpie, “uh man’s duty is sacred, but he can always go deaf, dumb and blind and not hurt nobody. Sabe? Sometimes it pays to be near-sighted.”

Them two supervisors looks at each other for uh few seconds and then at the gold, and they both nods. The tall one gets up and stretches his frame.

“Under them circumstances we sabe your proposition,” says he. “I’d like to have uh little talk with my friend, so if yuh don’t mind we’ll take uh little walk over the works.”

“She’s yours,” says Magpie. “Go right ahead and take your own time. If yuh see anything you want, take it. The keys of the Golden Hunch are yours.”

We sees ’em wander right up to our dam, and set down on uh pile uh new lumber.

“Well,” says I, “they’ve found it, Magpie. They got about eight hundred of our money and you ain’t even got uh receipt. Why didn’t yuh wait until they puts uh price on themselves?”

“Ike, you’re uh silent pardner in this. Sabe? We ain’t going to go to no jail. You don’t sabe political finance, Ike, and therefore you’re uh step behind the progress uh civilization. I knows how to handle ’em. Them fellers has got to figure out how much it’s worth to them.”

“What are they going to do? Give us back some change?” I asks.

“Eight hundred ain’t much in uh case like this, Ike.”

“Ain’t, eh?” I retorts. “Before we locates this mine, Magpie, eight dollars would have seemed uh lot if the case was first-degree murder. You ain’t going to give ’em more, are yuh?”

“Ike, yuh can’t be uh piker in uh case like this.”

“Santa Claus,” says I, “you can give ’em your immortal soul and honor, but I’ll be danged if you gives ’em any more uh that jewelry gravel—not while Ike Harper lives.”

I goes down and sets on the bank the rest of the day, but they don’t show up again.

I’m so mad that I don’t eat with them at supper. Later on I goes up to the shack, and finds Magpie on the steps smoking uh cigaret.

“Well, Andrew Rockefeller, you got rid of all your filthy money?” I asks. “I just happens to think that them Boston books will be fine to stock some uh them libraries you’re giving away today.”

“Go take uh ride in your little canoe, Ike,” he grins. “Things is coming our way, just like I said. They may leave tomorrow.”

“Yes?” says I. “I’d leave, too, if I had eight hundred dollars. What right they got to all that money, Magpie?”

“Ike, yuh got to pay for them things. Them two supervisors comes up here to wish us into the pen. They comes with malice in their hearts, and I meets ’em like they was potentates.

“They sizes up things, and from the way I treats ’em they begins to think: ‘Well, this here Simpkins person ain’t no bad hombre. He’s big-hearted and open-handed. He’s real folks. He treats us like we was royalty, and we ain’t got the heart to yell about uh few feet uh timber. Uh course we got to be paid expenses for the trip.’

“Now, ain’t that deduction, Ike?”

“Yes,” says I. “Your reasoning is as wise as the wau-wau of an owl, which consists uh hoots. You sure treats ’em royal, Magpie. I don’t know what it costs to travel, but two broncs and uh buckboard over forty miles uh passable road is well paid at eight hundred dollars. Dog-gone it, Magpie, I’d inch that distance on my back for that money.”

Magpie smokes away on his cigaret for uh while and then opines:

“You’d lose money and skin, Ike. You couldn’t average more than two inches at uh wiggle, could yuh? Well, you never could wiggle the last ten miles. Now thirty miles would mean one million, nine hundred thousand, eight hundred inches, which would mean nine hundred and fifty thousand, four hundred wiggles. Figuring an average of ten wiggles to the minute—yuh can’t figure more than that on account of meals and so forth, Ike, you——”

“Magpie,” says I, “you said that every man had uh price. What’s yours?”

“Huh! What yuh want to know for?”

“I wants to see if I got enough to buy you, Magpie. If I got enough I’ll take yuh, old-timer, cause the law gives uh man the right to kill anything he buys.”

Just then them two supervisors shows up, and sets down with us.

“We must find uh place to sleep tonight,” states the tall one, and Magpie immediate and soon gets generous again.

“Take our beds,” says he. “Right inside is two fine bunks, and I’d deem it uh favor to the Golden Hunch if you’d accept. You’d have the seclusion that should be accorded to honored guests.”

“Pshaw!” exclaims the tall one. “We don’t like to deprive you gents of your beds thataway.”

“No depredation uh tall,” says Magpie. “You fellers go right in and go to bed. I’ll tell the cook to have uh good breakfast for yuh. Don’t hurry, ’cause he works all day.”

“Magpie,” says I, after they shuts the door. “Do you know what mesika hyas pelton means?”

“No,” says he.

“Well, in the Chinook jargon it means that you’re uh danged fool. The word hyas may be used for any adjective yuh feels like. If yuh can think of anything real nasty and expressive yuh can tack it on in place of the word danged that I used. I’d love you, Magpie—if you was dead! You gives up our good beds to them gol-blasted officials—dang your string-bean carcass to thunder!”

“We’ll sleep in the bunk-house, Ike. There’s an empty bunk.”

“Yes!” I snorts. “We’ll sleep in the bunk-house and get lousy. Aw, don’t tell me that there ain’t no itch-bugs in there, Magpie. I seen them six hombres from Cinnamon Crick scratching each other like uh bunch uh monkeys. I hope you gets ’em in your mustache and has to shave it off.”

“Don’t get sore, Ike,” says he, soothing like. “After tomorrow these forest officials will be gone, and life will be one pleasure after another.”

“One grayback after another,” says I. “Some day, Magpie, I’ll trust your judgment too far, and have to kill you to protect my life. I hope them fellers don’t get to monkeying with my new pearl-handled six-gun. It’s on my bunk, and she’s mighty easy on the trigger.”

“How much did that gun cost yuh, Ike?” he asks.

“I didn’t buy it. Weinie Lopp gave it to me for my birthday. It’s the only birthday present I ever had, and I thinks uh heap of it.”

“Pshaw! That’s too bad, Ike.”

“What’s too bad?” I asks.

“Well, yuh see it was laying around there, and this tall supervisor seen it, and went plumb crazy over the hang of the barrel. Well, I——”

“You gave it to him, Magpie?”

It ain’t often that I gets mad. Paw always told me to count to uh hundred when I felt my gorge arising.

Twice I felt her rise, and got licked before I counted to fifteen, but this time I forgets paw’s teachings, and me and Magpie goes into the dirt.

We does uh double flip-flop off the steps, and out comes this tall pistol coveter to try and act as peacemaker.

Uh Canuck, from over in the Bitter Roots, showed me one day how to kick from uh reclining position, and when that lanky person opines to break my clinch I drove my boot against the waistband of his pants in front so hard that it scraped the label off the tobacco sack in his hip-pocket.

I’m riled. I bounces Magpie’s head on the ground uh couple uh times, ties his mustache behind his ears, and pilgrims right into that shack to get my gun. I has to step right over the one I kicked. He looks up at me, sort uh vacant-like, and mumbles something about the Milky Way, but I don’t sabe astronomy, so I don’t argue with him over it.

I goes down to the bunk-house and crawls into that vacant bunk, and in about an hour Magpie shows up. He bears testimony to the fact that the Harper tribe is rowdyish at times, but he don’t say much.

“Some folks is born without tact,” says Magpie, sort uh melancholy, after uh while. “Now, that gun never cost uh cent over thirty-five dollars, and I has to pay that person about ten times that much to keep him in good humor. It was like taking candy from an urchin before, but when uh bull gets into uh chiny shop it sure costs uh lot for repairs, if yuh asks me.”

“Magpie, did you pay him for that kick I landed?” I asks.

“The almighty dollar cureth all ills,” says he. “Enough of it is uh balm for aching feelings.”

“I’ll take uh million,” says I. “I’ve got ills and aching feelings. If them two Jaspers don’t pack their little satchels and pilgrim tomorrow I’m going down and give myself up. I feels suspicious. They ain’t said what their price is yet, have they, Magpie?”

“Well—not exactly.”

“What do yuh mean?”

“Well, Ike, I showed ’em that bunch of twenty-two hundred in selected nuggets, and the tall one grins uh heap, and says—‘Uh man could forget honor and duty to own uh bunch like that,’ and the other feller nods uh heap. Now, if that ain’t uh tip, what is?”

“And you would give them that bunch, Magpie?” I asks.

“Ike, you can’t—simply can’t seem to understand the gravity of this business. Why, uh feller can’t be small in uh case like this one. You almost made that feller sore at us when you kicked him.”

“Gosh, he must be touchy,” says I. “Some folks carries their feelings on their sleeves thataway. I got uh good notion to go up there and kick ’em both out and take our own bed. It’s pleasant to know that you’re bedded down with uh crazy man and uh blanket full uh bugs. I always knowed that you was crazy, Magpie, but I never thought you’d be crazy enough to give away uh thousand. They ain’t never introduced themselves nor made any threats. Seems to me that you’re buying something you don’t have to.”

“Names don’t count in uh transaction like this. The less said the better. Sabe? We’re in just as bad as they are if anybody should happen to ask yuh, Ike. Bribery is uh crime.”

“It is,” I agrees. “It should be abolished. It should be abolished or confined to your own home. It is as criminal to give as to receive, and I’m in favor uh hanging all three of yuh, Magpie.”

The next morning we sure got up early. I was right when I said that them fellers wasn’t scratching for fun. Me and Magpie itched ’fore breakfast and itched after breakfast. I didn’t see them supervisors at breakfast, so, between itches, I asks Magpie where they are.

“I—er—sent their breakfast up to the shack. They’re likely tired out, and in uh case like this yuh got to be considerate, Ike.”

“I suppose yuh showed ’em where the hooch bottle was, too, didn’t yuh?”

“My gosh, Ike!” he snaps. “Ain’t you got no hospitality in your system? You makes me tired. Here I been tasking my brains to get us out of uh mess, and all you do is to act as an anchor.”

What can yuh do with uh hombre like that? I goes out and sets on uh stump and offers up thanksgiving that I was born without any brains. Magpie goes whistling and scratching up to our shack, and after uh while he sticks out his head and yells for me to come up. I spins the cylinder of my gun, and enters the place.

“Ike,” says he, “I wants yuh to witness uh bill uh sale.”

“Bill uh sale?” I asks. “What yuh selling?”

“One pack outfit, consisting of four burros, saddles, pack-sacks, ropes and so forth and so forth.”

“So? Who’s buying said outfit?”

“These gentlemen,” says he, indicating the two supervisors.

“Yuh see,” he explains, “They desires to penetrate the interior, and there ain’t nothing better than uh burro when it comes to uh pilgrimage. Being as I don’t need said animiles I’m turning same over to said gentlemen. Sabe?”

“Mighty kind and thoughtful uh you, I’m sure,” states the older one. “You sure are uh white man, and I hopes yuh do well.”

“He will,” says I, signing the bill uh sale.

I figures that Magpie held ’em up for uh good price on them mules, and we don’t need ’em much.

“Now,” says I, “if there’s anything more I can do before I loses my mind, Magpie, stack me up against it.”

“Thanks, Mister Harper,” says Magpie. “Everything is satisfactory. I’ll get you gents uh bunch uh grub out of the storehouse pretty soon and then you’ll be in shape to travel.”

Them two hombres goes out with Magpie, so I unearths the hooch bottle. There ain’t enough left to moisten uh wood-tick’s right front leg. Them forest officials sure are intemperate.

Magpie comes in after uh while, and sprawls on the bunk. He’s got uh satisfied look on his face, and he pats himself on the chest.

“Ike,” says he, “this sure is one brainy task. Nothing to fear from now on. We can strip this here Whispering Crick bare and cut all the timber we need, ’cause these supervisors ain’t going to bother us none in the future. They got theirs.”

“And mine and yours,” says I. “You ain’t got no sense, Magpie. There’s just as much difference between brains and sense as there is between generosity and insanity. You think you got any real brains, Magpie? You’re wrong if yuh do.”

“Well,” says he, twisting his long mustache, “I sure handled uh delicate situation in uh way that would appear that I got uh little gray matter under my hat.”

“Did you give them that bunch uh nuggets?” I yelps, when I sees that empty pan on the table. “My ——! Magpie, you didn’t—”

“I did,” says he. “Freedom from worry is worth it, Ike. We’ll get uh lot more.”

“Well, of all the easily bled, insane—say, Magpie, how much did yuh get for them burros and grub?”

“I threw that in, Ike.”

I don’t say uh word for some time. I’m all choked up with emotion over it. I tell yuh it’s great to have uh pardner who has uh heart like that. Think of the things uh man like that can do for yuh—and to yuh. After uh while I picks my old war-sack from behind my bunk, and begins to stuff it with old socks and so forth. And all this time I’m counting: “eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety——”

“You got that many pairs uh socks?” asks Magpie, and I realizes that I been counting out loud.

So as not to make any mistake, I starts in at fifty again. I don’t want to disregard my old paw’s advice, and I sure can feel that gorge rising.

“What yuh doing now, Ike? Counting thataway.”

“Counting graybacks, you long, limber-jointed horn-uh-plenty!” I snaps, and keeps on filling the sack.

“What yuh aiming to do, Ike?” he asks.

“Me?” I stops work, and looks him square in the eyes. “Me? I’m going away—me! I don’t hanker to have riches, Mister Simpkins. I’m an ordinary old pelican, and I don’t appreciate brains. I’m going to drag the prize nut out of the first lunatic asylum I comes to. Sabe? What am I going to do that for? Well, I’m going to form uh pardnership with said nut, go away out on the desert where there never was nor never will be any gold, and starve to death with him. He ain’t got no brains, and if I talks real nice to him he’ll let me die in peace.”

“Aw, yuh can’t do that, Ike,” he protests. “Don’t get sore at me ’cause you ain’t got no sabe for finance. You and me is in shape to take out uh fortune right now. Ike, old-timer, we’ve seen uh lot of ups and downs together—mostly downs, so let’s stick together and see if they won’t be all ups now.”

“Like uh little balloon, Magpie,” says I. “Just like uh balloon.

“After we gets up just so high you has to puncture the bag with your generosity and—brains, and down we comes. You sure are one cheerful little giver. Give ’em all the gold we got, give ’em mules to carry it away with and grub to eat on the way. Why, Magpie, you ain’t even honest in your gifts. It was plain bribery.”

“You don’t need to yell it from the tops,” he reminds me. “You’re part owner—remember that, Ike? I’m going down to see that they gets away in good shape.”

After he’s gone uh while, somebody knocks on the door. I walks over and admits Swede. He looks as solemn as an undertaker and wads up his dirty hat in his hands.

“Aye yust come up to tell you maybe dot paystreak ain’t bane vid us no more,” he states.

“What?” I yelps. “What did you say?”

“Val, aye ain’t sure. You see, ve strip oll dot bed-rock above und below where ve get der rich streak, but she don’t go much better as two-bits uh pan. Aye tank maybe she’s uh pocket. But den of course ve maybe find anodder pocket—maybe.”

“Yes, in your pants!” I yowls. “Do you mean to tell me that the paystreak is only twenty feet long?”

“Yust fine color above und below. Maybe if ve cut furder up——”

“My ——!” says I. “The balloon is leaking already.”

I sets there on uh box and tries to remember how it feels to be broke again, when I happens to see the end of uh valise under my bunk.

“Well,” says I to myself. “I wonder if them supervisors is forgetting their property?”

I hauls out the two valises, and looks out the window. Them two hombres are each on a burro, and they got the other two plumb loaded down with stuff that cost us five cents uh pound to get hauled in.

I grabs them valises and pilgrims right down toward them two departing pirates. Magpie sees me coming and meets me half way.

“Where yuh going, Ike?” he asks, but I don’t heed him none, and goes straight for the supervisors.

“Hey! Ike,” yells Magpie, from my rear. “Take them valises back to the shack. They’re going to leave ’em with us until they returns. Sabe?”

“I will like ——!” I yells. “Since when did the Golden Hunch turn into uh storage warehouse? There ain’t going to be no reason for them two to ever come back here, Magpie.”

“Have uh little sense, Ike,” wails Magpie, in my ear. “Don’t do or say anything to disturb the serenity of their departure.”

He grabs me by the arm and swings me around.

“Bing!”

I hits him square in the head with uh valise, as I pivots on one heel, and I puts uh lot uh animation in the punch. I hears one of them supervisors yip as I enters their midst over Magpie’s recumbent form, and then I’m among them.

The tall one makes uh swipe at me with the rope, as his burro crow-hops past me, but he misses and I comes up with uh pickhandle in my paws. Uh burro ain’t exactly what you’d designate as uh getaway animile, being of an inquiring disposition, and this one is no exception. It whirls after uh couple uh bucks and comes right back past me.

I don’t propose to be the pivot to no merry-go-round, so I simply sticks that pick-handle between its front legs as it goes past, and that tall supervisor skates off down the hard trail on his face, with the burro setting on his legs.

The other supervisor is having one hy-iu time trying to get his beast uh burden into uh lope, so I gallops right along in his wake, and catches him inside two hundred yards. I gets that burro by the tail long enough to slam it in the ribs a couple uh times with that pick-handle, and then I embraces uh tree to keep from going on down hill.

Yuh can’t fool uh burro. That dun-colored, overgrown jack-rabbit knowed just exactly what I wanted done, and went right ahead and did it. The trail ain’t wide enough for classy work, so it leaves the trail and carves uh future for itself right down through the brush and over slide-rock.

That supervisor rode well, I’ll say that much for him, but flesh and blood can only stand so much. As they fades out of the picture, I sees the supervisor’s heels go up and forward and there comes daylight between man and beast. I removes my hat and orates to whom it may concern—

“Well done thou good and faithful jackass.”

I’m feeling vivacious and whistles like uh medder lark as I pilgrims back toward the bunk-house, and meets some more of the parade.

Here comes the tall feller, walking like uh man in uh dream. He’s got his arm twined lovingly around the neck of one uh them pack-burros, and the other is poking along in the rear, and here they comes, man weaving and burros wondering.

I passes the time uh day with them all, but the burros seems to be the only ones to pay any attention. I steps up on the uphill side and walks along with ’em for uh few steps, but that tall hombre don’t seem to even see me.

I reckon that when the burro turns up flip-flop that supervisor must uh sprained his whole system from his heels to his hair, ’cause he walks like uh man in uh dream. He don’t even bat an eye when I speaks—just walks along with them burros, like uh toy what has been wound up and has got to run down.

“Well,” says I out loud, “Far be it from Ike Harper to interrupt uh loving scene like that, but—”

So I takes my pocket-knife out and cuts swing-rope and cinch, and they pilgrims right along down the trail minus the packs. The supervisor didn’t seem to mind and I know the other two jacks didn’t.

I watches ’em off down to the bottom of the trail, and then I pilgrims on up to the bunk-house, where I finds Magpie setting on the ground with one foot inside uh valise, and uh mad look on his face.

“Now look what you’ve done!” he wails. “Dog-gone, I’ll bet you’ve hurt their feelings again, Ike Harper. You ain’t got uh trace uh finess in your system.”

“Finess?”

“Yes, finess!” he snaps. “If you had any brains you’d know what that means.”

“If I had any brains I wouldn’t be your pardner,” I retorts. “You’ve give away about all the money we got and Swede just informs me that our paystreak was only uh pocket.”

He looks at me, with his mouth working like uh fish out uh water.

“My ——!” he howls. “We ain’t got nothing left.”

“Nothing,” I agrees. “Not even our honor.”

Just then Swede comes around the corner.

“Hey! Mister Simpkins. Two yentlemen comes to see you. Aye’ll bring dem up.”

“Who are they, Swede?” I asks, thinking maybe them two is back.

“Val, von is de sheriff, and aye ain’t sure about de odder. Aye tank he bane forest ranger.”

Magpie and me looks at each other, sort uh sad like. I feels like the feller did who fought fire for an hour to keep from burning to death, and then got drowned when his hose busted.

“What will we do?” wails Magpie.

“Finess,” says I. “Give ’em the mill.”

Around the corner comes two men, and me and Magpie shrinks like uh woolen sock in boiling water.

“Howdy,” says the tall, hairy one. “Are you the owner uh this property?”

Magpie swallers hard and looks at me, but I says:

“He is. I’m just uh hired hindrance.”

Magpie looks at me, with his mouth open like uh winded duck, and his Adam’s apple hops up and down his long neck.

“I’m Bill Blewett, sheriff uh this here county,” states the person who opened the conversation. “This here gent with me is Mister Walden, the forest ranger. We’re looking for information. Sabe?”

“Yes’m,” says I. “That’s about all that’s left. How’ll yuh have it?”

“I’m looking for uh tall hombre, dark complected, and his pardner, who is short and uh bit gray on the hair. Couple uh tin-horns. Sabe? Specialize on cleaning up camps after payday. Got uh little roulette wheel.

“The tall one got previous with uh gun down at Devil’s Turn, and we wants to ask him uh few questions. Just dropped in, thinking they might uh stopped, being as your payday is about due.”

“You’re uh forest ranger?” I asks, looking at the sheriff’s companion, and he nods.

“Uh-huh,” says he. “I just rode in with the sheriff. Uh course this ain’t reserve land, but I likes to keep posted on mining operations this near my district.”

“You ever have visits from supervisors?” I asks, offhand like.

“Sure. Two of ’em visited me this week. Left yesterday.”

They thanks us and rides away.

“Magpie,” says I. “It’s uh wonder you wouldn’t stand up when yuh receives company.”

“I—I—I know it ain’t dignified, Ike, but every time I moves it hurts me like blazes.”

He struggles to uh standing position, and something unhooks from the seat of his pants and spins on the ground.

“Roulette wheel!” he yelps. “Baby roulette wheel, and I impales my carcass on the spindle—dang it!” He takes it and throws it as far as he can.

“All is lost!” he wails, rubbing his rear exposure. “They comes as strangers——”

“And they took you in, Magpie,” I finishes. “If I’d uh had any brains and them burros had any sense we’d uh been broke. Down the trail uh ways you’ll find them two packs with our money in ’em. Sabe? The money you been trying to give away. Next time you wants to impersonate uh wise man bringing gifts try and get the right address. Sabe? You tries to plate uh couple uh tin-horns with gold, and it fills you with wonderment to think they didn’t look uh gift jackass in the face, you long-nosed, animated Christmas tree—you!”

“My soul wallers in the depths uh remorse, Ike,” he sobs. “It’s uh good thing that we wasn’t both born with brains. I was wise, but——”

“Ike Harper was uh danged fool,” I finishes for him again. “Uh danged fool and his money is sometimes hard to part, Magpie. Them four burros didn’t—say, Magpie, it was uh case uh three of uh kind trying to beat four jacks and the joker.”

“Five jacks, Ike,” corrects Magpie. “The joker was wild.”

All of which shows—well, why preach?

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

This story appeared in Adventure Magazine, March 18, 1918. It is believed to be in the public domain in the United States; copyright status may differ in other countries.

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