arizona nights(亚利桑那之夜)-第16章
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lolled in their saddles； shouting conversation to each other； relaxing after
the day's work； through the clouds strong shafts of light belittled the living
creatures； threw into proportion the vastness of the desert。
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CHAPTER SEVEN A CORNER IN
HORSES
It was dark night。 The stay…herd bellowed frantically from one of the
big corrals； the cow…and…calf…herd from a second。 Already the remuda；
driven in from the open plains； scattered about the thousand acres of
pasture。 Away from the conveniences of fence and corral； men would
have had to patrol all night。 Now； however； everyone was gathered about
the camp fire。 Probably forty cowboys were in the group；
representing all types； from old John； who had been in the business forty
years； and had punched from the Rio Grande to the Pacific； to the Kid；
who would have given his chance of salvation if he could have been taken
for ten years older than he was。 At the moment Jed Parker was holding
forth to his friend Johnny Stone in reference to another old crony who had
that evening joined the round…up。 〃Johnny；〃 inquired Jed with
elaborate gravity； and entirely ignoring the presence of the subject of
conversation； 〃what is that thing just beyond the fire； and where did it
come from？〃 Johnny Stone squinted to make sure。
〃That？〃 he replied。 〃Oh； this evenin' the dogs see something run
down a hole； and they dug it out； and that's what they got。〃
The newcomer grinned。
〃The trouble with you fellows；〃 he proffered 〃is that you're so plumb
alkalied you don't know the real thing when you see it。〃
〃That's right；〃 supplemented Windy Bill drily。 〃HE come from New
York。〃 〃No！〃 cried Jed。 〃You don't say so？ Did he come in one box
or in two？〃 Under cover of the laugh； the newcomer made a raid on
the dutch ovens and pails。 Having filled his plate； he squatted on his
heels and fell to his belated meal。 He was a tall； slab…sided individual；
with a lean； leathery face； a sweeping white moustache； and a grave and
sardonic eye。 His leather chaps were plain and worn； and his hat had
been fashioned by time and wear into much individuality。 I was not
surprised to hear him nicknamed Sacatone Bill。
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〃Just ask him how he got that game foot；〃 suggested Johnny Stone to
me in an undertone； so； of course； I did not。 Later someone told me that
the lameness resulted from his refusal of an urgent invitation to return
across a river。 Mr。 Sacatone Bill happened not to be riding his own horse
at the time。 The Cattleman dropped down beside me a moment later。
〃I wish；〃 said he in a low voice； 〃we could get that fellow talking。 He is
a queer one。 Pretty well educated apparently。 Claims to be writing a
book of memoirs。 Sometimes he will open up in good shape； and
sometimes he will not。 It does no good to ask him direct； and he is as shy
as an old crow when you try to lead him up to a subject。 We must just lie
low and trust to Providence。〃 A man was playing on the mouth
organ。 He played excellently well； with all sorts of variations and frills。
We smoked in silence。 The deep rumble of the cattle filled the air with
its diapason。 Always the shrill coyotes raved out in the mesquite。
Sacatone Bill had finished his meal； and had gone to sit by Jed Parker； his
old friend。 They talked together low…voiced。 The evening grew； and the
eastern sky silvered over the mountains in anticipation of the moon。
Sacatone Bill suddenly threw back his head and laughed。 〃Reminds
me f the time I went to Colorado！〃 he cried。 〃He's off！〃 whispered
the Cattleman。
A dead silence fell on the circle。 Everybody shifted position the
better to listen to the story of Sacatone Bill。
About ten year ago I got plumb sick of punchin' cows around my part
of the country。 She hadn't rained since Noah； and I'd forgot what water
outside a pail or a trough looked like。 So I scouted around inside of me
to see what part of the world I'd jump to； and as I seemed to know as little
of Colorado and minin' as anything else； I made up the pint of bean soup I
call my brains to go there。 So I catches me a buyer at Henson and turns
over my pore little bunch of cattle and prepared to fly。 The last day I
hauled up about twenty good buckets of water and threw her up against
the cabin。 My buyer was settin' his hoss waitin' for me to get ready。 He
didn't say nothin' until we'd got down about ten mile or so。
〃Mr。 Hicks；〃 says he； hesitatin' like； 〃I find it a good rule in this
country not to overlook other folks' plays； but I'd take it mighty kind if
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you'd explain those actions of yours with the pails of water。〃
〃Mr。 Jones；〃 says I； 〃it's very simple。 I built that shack five year
ago；and it's never rained since。 I just wanted to settle in my mind
whether or not that damn roof leaked。〃 So I quit Arizona； and in
about a week I see my reflection in the winders of a little place called
Cyanide in the Colorado mountains。 Fellows； she was a bird。
They wasn't a pony in sight； nor a squar' foot of land that wasn't either
street or straight up。 It made me plumb lonesome for a country where
you could see a long ways even if you didn't see much。 And this early in
the evenin' they wasn't hardly anybody in the streets at all。 I took a
look at them dark； gloomy； old mountains； and a sniff at a breeze that
would have frozen the whiskers of hope； and I made a dive for the nearest
lit winder。 They was a sign over it that just said：
THIS IS A SALOON
I was glad they labelled her。 I'd never have known it。 They had a
fifteen…year old kid tendin' bar； no games goin'； and not a soul in the place。
〃Sorry to disturb your repose； bub；〃 says I； 〃but see if you can sort out any
rye among them collections of sassapariller of yours。〃 I took a drink；
and then another to keep it companyI was beginnin' to sympathise with
anythin' lonesome。 Then I kind of sauntered out to the back room where
the hurdy…gurdy ought to be。
Sure enough； there was a girl settin' on the pianner stool； another in a
chair； and a nice shiny Jew drummer danglin' his feet from a table。 They
looked up when they see me come in； and went right on talkin'。
〃Hello； girls！〃 says I。 At that they stopped talkin' complete。
〃How's tricks？〃 says I。 〃Who's your woolly friend？〃 the shiny Jew
asks of the girls。 I looked at him a minute； but I see he'd been raised
a pet； and then； too； I was so hungry for sassiety I was willin' to pass a bet
or two。 〃Don't you ADMIRE these cow gents？〃 snickers one of the
girls。 〃Play somethin'； sister；〃 says I to the one at the pianner。
She just grinned at me。
〃Interdooce me；〃 says the drummer in a kind of a way that made them
all laugh a heap。 〃Give us a tune；〃 I begs； tryin' to be jolly； too。
〃She don't know any pieces；〃 says the Jew。 〃Don't you？〃 I asks
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pretty sharp。 〃No；〃 says she。 〃Well； I do；〃 says I。 I
walked up to her； jerked out my guns； and reached around both sides of
her to the pianner。 I run the muzzles up and down the keyboard two or
three times； and then shot out half a dozen keys。 〃That's the piece I
know；〃 says I。 But the other girl and the Jew drummer had punched
the breeze。 The girl at the pianner just grinned； and pointed to the
winder where they was some ragged glass hangin'。 She was dead game。
〃Say； Susie；〃 says I； 〃you're all right； but your friends is tur'ble。 I
may be rough； and I ain't never been curried below the knees； but I'm
better to tie to than them sons of guns。〃
〃I believe it；〃 says she。
So we had a drink at the bar； and started out to investigate the wonders
of Cyanide。
Say； that night was a wonder。 Susie faded after about three drinks；
but I didn't seem to mind that。 I hooked up to another saloon kept by a
thin Dutchman。 A fat Dutchman is stupid； but a thin one is all right。
In ten minutes I had more friends in Cyanide than they is fiddlers in hell。
I begun to conclude Cyanide wasn't so lonesome。 About four o'clock in
comes a little Irishman about four foot high； with more upper lip than a
muley cow；and enough red hair to make an artificial aurorer borealis。 He
had big red hands with freckles pasted onto them； and stiff red hairs
standin' up separate and lonesome like signal stations。 Also his legs was
bowed。
He gets a drink at the bar； and stands back and yells： 〃God bless
the Irish and let the Dutch rustle！〃
Now； this was none of my town； so I just stepped back of the end of
the bar quick where I wouldn't stop no lead。 The shootin' didn't begin。
〃Probably Dutchy didn't take no note of what the locoed little dogie DID
say；〃 thinks I to myself。 The Irishman bellied up to the b
