In Self Defense
“Prohibition,” remarked Ike Harper, loosening up a notch in his beltand rolling a fresh smoke, “is goin’ to make two roses bloom in thiscountry where only one bloomed before. ’Cause why? One drink uhbootleg hooch will bring blossoms to th’ face of uh wooden Injun,and also it’s goin’ to work uh hardship on real old maids and homelyfemales of all descriptions. Lissen, and I’ll orate how I knows.”
Ren Merton was uh trouble-huntin’ fool of uh puncher, and Sig Watsonwas his first assistant. I might say that Sig was his aid-de-camp,secretary and treasurer. Them two hombres punched cows fer uh livin’and hunted trouble fer pastime.
If th’ combined brains of th’ two was turned to powder and put intouh .22 ca’tridge shell it wouldn’t blow th’ bullet out of uhsix-inch pistol barrel, and if it was black powder it wouldn’t foulth’ shell.
They punched fer th’ Triangle outfit all one summer, and thendecides to go into th’ cattle business fer themselves. Not havin’saved enough between ’em to buy uh green hide, they decides to gointo th’ business anyway.
Magpie Simpkins was th’ sheriff at th’ time and, havin’ uh realfriendly feelin’ fer th’ boys, he don’t arrest ’em a-tall. He jistshoots th’ hot cinch ring out of Ren’s hand, cuts th’ heifer looseand fergets th’ whole affair.
They rides back to town, where Ren gits prodigal with his six-gunammunition, with th’ result that th’ atmosphere gits too warm fercomfort, and they grabs their hosses and fogs off to th’ Seven Aranch and go to work again.
Well, fer th’ next month they behaves fine—said month bein’ spent onth’ roundup out in th’ Sweetgrass hills, so far from town that ittakes two days hard ridin’ to find anything except personalanimosities, which ain’t sufficient.
Th’ nearest town is Piperock. Piperock ain’t what you’d call uhthrivin’ city—not havin’ uh Chamber of Commerce or an Ad Club, butshe manages to angle along anyway. It contains about uh hundredhuman beings and a Greaser settlement.
Well, as I said before, Ren and Sig works steady fer uh while andthen collects their stipend, rolls their war-sacks and moseys totown to revel amid th’ bright lights and enjoy th’ fruits of theirlabor.
They says “Klahowya” to Buck Masterson, th’ saloon keeper, andproceeds to pay rent on th’ saloon fixtures.
“Boys,” says Buck, “curb yore feelin’s fer this time. There’s uhheap uh sentiment agin’ yuh both here, and if yuh behave it’s boundto die out in uh little while. That Chink is still in th’ hospitalat Helena.”
“Pshaw!” exclaims Ren. “That’s too danged bad. But I asks yuh, Buck,how was I to know that th’ Chink was behind that box, too? ThatGreaser ducks behind it and I never once thinks that there’s roomfer two people. It surprises me so I lets th’ Greaser git away.”
“I allus told yuh,” stated Sig, “that you depends too much on th’jump of that ol’ .41. Now, uh .45 is heavy enough that she don’tjump. To illustrate my point clearly——”
Right then Buck cuts in and talks ’em out of it. Uh six-gundemonstration ain’t no pink tea, especially when th’ demonstratorhas about six scoops uh hooch under his belt.
They has a few more drinks and then decides to eat, so they amblesacross th’ street to Jimmy Peyton’s Boston Chop House, th’ onlyeatin’ place in th’ town. There ain’t nobody in sight, so Ren yells—