Books: Happy Hawkins
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Robert Alexander Wason >> Happy Hawkins
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That night after supper she put the kid to bed an' then came down,
an' we went around nailin' the house up. Finally she showed me where
to flop. It was in her husband's cave, I believe she called it--a
little room full o' books an' pipes an' resty-lookin' furniture.
The' was a big leather bunk, an' that was where I was to get mine.
Her room was at the head of the stairs, an' she had a rope goin'
over the transom with a bell hangin' to it, close in front of my
door. The bell was to be my signal if she heard the Chink attack
before I did. Just before she went upstairs she reached into the
bosom of her dress an' fished out a real revolver, about the size of
a watch-charm. She held it in her hand and looked into my eyes with
her lips tight set.
"Are the mosquitoes as bad as that?" sez I.
"I carry this all the time, to defend myself an' child," sez she,
rufflin' up like a hen when you pick up her chicken, an' she was so
earnest about it that I nearly choked, swallerin' a grin; 'cause
honest, I could 'a' snuffed the thing up my nose.
I pulled a long face an' sez to her as solemn as a judge, "Is there
enough food and water in the house to stand a siege, in case the
Chinaman'd pen us up?" Her face grew drawn an' worried until she
caught the twinkle in my eye, an' then she broke into a simile an'
tripped upstairs like a girl. I stood out in the hall a moment
lookin' after her an' I was mighty glad I had come. We was both in
need of company; her mind was a heap easier than it had been that
mornin', an' I felt better than I had for some several days. I
couldn't see where Sandy Fergoson had told me anything that would
get me any nearer what Barbie wanted to know; an' yet I couldn't
keep my mind off studyin' over it, except when I was busy. It was
the same with Bill Andrews, an' I was glad to have some one new to
worry over until I got tuned up again.
As soon as she shut an' locked her door, I backed into my stall an'
looked about. The' was some invitin' lookin' books on the wall, an'
I read over the titles, finally selectin' one called, "The Ten
Years' Conflict." Now, if ever the' was a name framed up to deceive
the innocent, this here was the name. I opened the book with my
mouth waterin', thinkin' I was about to wade through two volumes of
gore; but it started out to tell about the Church of Scotland, an' I
wasn't able to keep awake to even the beginnin' of the scrap; so I
started to prepare myself for the morrow's duties, as the preacher
sez.
After I had opened my roll an' took out my guns, so I could show 'em
to her in the mornin' an' sort o' cheer her up, I shed my boots an'
proceeded to occupy my bunk. Say, it was like floppin' down on a
tubful o' suds. Springs! Well, you should have seen Uncle Happy
bouncin' up an' down. I reckon I went to sleep in mid-air, 'cause I
was too tired to remember whether I was a husky maid or a tender
man.
When I came to, I thought it must sure be the last day, an' that I
had waited for the very last call. The dinner-bell was a-knockin'
all the echoes in the house loose an' they was fallin' on my ear-
drums in bunches. I rushed out into the hall an' grabbed that bell
by the tongue, an' give a yell to let her know that I was ready for
orders. She opened the door an' came to the head of the stairs, an'
sez, "Hush-shh! Don't make any noise."
"Noise!" sez I. "The' ain't any left. You used up all the raw
material. What seems to be wrong?"
"Fido has just been growlin'," sez she, in a low whisper, "an' I
heard a noise out in the bushes."
"What shall I do?" sez I. "Come up there an' toss Fido out into the
bushes, so as to kill two birds with one stone?" "No," sez she. "If
you are willin' to take the risk, I wish that you would go out the
front door an' lock it after you. Then look around careful and see
if he is settin' fire to the house. Take my revolver an' Fido, an'
do be careful not to get hurt--an' don't kill him unless you have
to."
"I won't kill him unless I see him, an' he won't hurt me unless he
sees me first," sez I. "You better keep Fido an' the gun. I don't
want to be bothered with a couple o' noncombatants."
Fido was a little black woolly-faced dog, an' he didn't impress me
as bein' no old Injun-fighter. I went out an' chased a cat out o'
the bushes; but didn't flush up a single thing wantin' to disturb
the peace, except the goat. He was the most frolicsome goat I ever
see, an' he about got my tag before I heard him comin'. I rummaged
the place purty thorough, an' after tellin' her that all was well, I
folded my wings an' went to roost on the leather bunk again.
Twice more that night the clanging bell summoned me to go forth an'
chase imaginary Chinamen, an' then my patience begun to get baggy at
the knees. I wanted to be up in time to gather the milk before the
heat of the day, an' I was a couple o' nights shy on my sleep
already. The last time I took Fido along an' dropped him into the
feed-bin, where he could hunt Chinamen to his heart's content 'thout
disturbin' my beauty sleep.
Our days flowed along smooth an' peaceful; but most o' the nights I
put in huntin' Chinamen. No, I wouldn't have killed one if I could
have found him--well, not all at once. I got so I could churn an'
dust an' do fancy cookin', until if they'd been any men in that
locality, I reckon one would have chose me to be his wife--an' then
came the cousin.
She'd been tellin' me all about him--it's miraculous the way a
woman's talk'll flow after it's been dammed up a spell. He was from
Virginie an' was goin' to college to study chemistry, whatever that
is; an' he was an athlete an' a quarter-back an' a coxswain--oh, he
was the whole herd, the cousin was. I begun to feel shy whenever I
thought of him. I feared he might arrive when I was peelin' spuds
with my apron on, an' he might choose to kiss me.
I drove to the station after him; but nobody got off the train
except a nice lookin' boy with outlandish clothes, an' a couple o'
trunks. After the train had pulled out, he sez to me, "Can you tell
me the way to Mrs. B. A. Cameron's?"
"I can sight you purty close," sez I. "That's my present
headquarters. You--you ain't Ralph Chester Stuart, are ya?"
"You win," sez he, as though we had made mud-pies together. "Come
on, let's load the trunks an' trip toward where ther's a noise like
food. I'm troubled with what they call a famine."
We drove along, an' he was as merry as a bug an' talked a langwidge
the like of nothin' that I had ever met up with before; but I was
tryin' to fit his real size with my idea of it. I had been lookin'
for a six-footer with bulgy muscles an' a grippy jaw. This pink-
cheeked boy didn't look like no athlete to me. He was so cute an'
sweet that I felt like hangin' a string o' coral beads around his
neck an' savin' him for my adopted daughter. I had just concluded to
hand over the dish-washin' right at the start, when he fished up a
pipe out of a case, filled it, an' begun to puff like a grown-up,
an' then I savvied that dish-washin' wasn't one of his hobbies. "Any
sport here?" sez he.
"If you're good at dreamin," sez I, "you can have the time of your
life huntin' Chinamen. I never see a place yet where the huntin' was
so plentiful an' the game so scarce."
He got interested in a minute an' told me he had a shotgun, a rifle,
an' three revolvers.
"I wish I could write Chinese," sez I.
"What for?" sez he.
"So I could put up a sign warnin' him away," sez I. "Why, if we'd
all three get a chance at that Chinaman, it'd take me a solid week
to clean him off the lawn."
Ches an' me got along fine. He was a game little rooster, an' his
college stories used to tickle me half to death. I never would have
believed that a little feller could 'a' been a college athlete; but
Ches had got his pictures in the papers, time an' again. At college
they race in a boat about the size an' shape of a telegraph pole,
eight of 'em rowin' an' the coxswain perched tip behind, pickin' out
the path an' tellin' the rowers not to think of their future, but to
kill theirselves right then if it will win the race. Ches sez that
the coxswain is the most important man in the boat. He had a good
deal the same views about the quarter-back, in fact he took what
they call a purely personal estimate of life.
He showed me how to play football. It's pleasant pastime, but too
excitin' for a frail thing like me. He gave me his cap to carry, an'
told me to back off about twenty feet, an' try to run over him, or
stick my stiff-arm in his face or dodge him--any way at all to get
by. I backed off an' then I looked at him. He looked about as hard
to get by as a toadstool.
"Now, Ches, I don't want to have your blood on my head," I sez, "an
if you've just been jokin', why say so." But no, nothin' would do
but I must run him down. I never won much of a reputation for bein'
slow, an' I weigh one ninety when I'm ganted down to workin' trim. I
took a full breath an' sailed into him. I intended to give a jump
just before I reached him an' go clear over his head, but I lacked
the time. Just as I took my jump he gave a lunge, wrapped himself
about my lower extremities, an' we sailed up among the tree-tops.
All the way up I was tryin' to figure out how it happened; but when
we struck the earth again, I didn't care. I knew it would never
happen again. I'd shoot first.
We lit on top of my face an' whirled around a few times an' then
sort o' crumbled up in a heap, with him still shuttin' off the
circulation in my legs. "Down!" sez he. "an' now the ball is dead."
"I can't answer for the ball," sez I, "but I'm about as near bein'
in the coffin mood myself as I ever get at this season of the year.
What game did you say we was indulgin' in?"
"This is football," sez he.
"I'm glad to know it," sez I, "so that in the future when any one
issues an invitation for me to play football I can make arrangements
for provin' an alibi. If I HAD to play a game like this I should
choose to be the ball."
He was full o' little ways like this an' entertained me fine; but it
was mighty hard to wring any useful work out of him. He used to
prune the rose vines, and now and again he'd do a little dustin';
but once when I had to bake sourdough bread, I pointed out that the
garden needed weedin', an' explained to him just what effect weedin'
had on garden truck. He sez to me, "My motto is, `Competition
results in the survival of the fittest.' I ain't no Socialist." When
I asked him what this bunch of words meant, he told me that he
didn't know of any exercise 'at would do me so much good as learnin'
to think for myself; an' that's all the satisfaction I could get out
of him. He was some like other edicated persons I've met up with:
when you tried to get him to do something useful, he'd fall back on
his book knowledge, roll out a string of high steppin' words, an'
then look prepossessed.
He was good about one thing, though: he just about took the night
trick off my hands, so that I begun catchin' up with my sleep again.
He used to load himself down with firearms an' he and Fido would
hunt Chinamen two or three hours every night, but he never had no
luck. Several times the neighbors rode by an' they told us that the'
was a gang breakin' into houses an' stealin', but they couldn't seem
to get any track of 'em.
One mornin' I was tryin' to find out what made the sewin' machine
drop stitches, when he came runnin' in with his eyes stickin' out
like a toad's.
"He's been sleepin' in the barn," sez he.
"Who--the horse?" sez I, thinkin' it was one of his jokes.
"No," sez he, "the Chinaman."
Well, I looked at him, an' he explained how his suspicions had been
aroused, an' that he had made a practice of stirrin' up the straw
each evenin', an' then each mornin' would find the print of a man's
body but that he had put tar on the ladder without gettin' any
evidence.
I pricked up my ears at this, an' turned the machine out on pasture
for a while. We went to the barn, an' there, sure enough, was the
print of a man's body. Then we adjourned to the shade to hatch up a
sub-tile plot. We smoked an' hatched until it was time for me to go
in an' help with dinner. We was both thinkin' hard, an' finally I
sez, "Now, Ches, the craftiest thing for us to do, is for me to
cover up in the straw, an' when he lays down, explode my gun against
his ribs." He had pestered me a mighty sight, an' I never was
partial to 'em nohow. Ches never made any reply; he was what you
call engrossed. All of a sudden he leaps to his feet an' slaps me on
the shoulder.
"Happy," sez he, "are ya game?"
I looked at him a while, an' then I sez gently, "Now look here,
Mister, I ain't no hero, an' if you happen to have any more college
festivities to introduce, why I'll own up to a yellow streak a foot
wide; but I don't recollect just what day it was that any livin' man
accused me of bein' down-right pale-blooded. If you got any hair-
raisin' projec' in your head, don't bother to break it gentle. Just
tell it right out, an' I'll lean up against this tree, so as not to
hurt myself should I faint."
"Well," sez he, chucklin' like a prairie-dog. "I propose we paint up
the goat with phosphorus, put him in the barn, an' me an' you get up
in the trees to watch."
"What's the goat done?" sez I.
"The goat ain't done nothin'," sez he, "but he'll scare the Chink to
death, an' when he comes out we can shoot him in the leg or
something."
"No," sez I, "it won't work. The Chink knows the goat better'n we
do; an' it'll be the goat that'll come out an' get shot in the leg,
while the Chink'll get away."
"Oh, rats!" sez Ches. "He won't even know it's a goat. Can't you see
that?" "Why won't he know it's a goat?" I sez, gettin' impatient. "A
Chinaman's got just as much sense as a human being, an' you'll find
it out sometime too."
"Yes, but didn't I tell you I was goin' to paint him with
phosphorus?" sez Ches, all het up.
"I don't know what phosphorus is," sez I, "but you'll have to do a
master job of painting to make that William goat look like a
pinchin'-bug. Still, this is your projec' an' if you want to play
the wheel one whirl, why I'll help stick up the stake."
I was busy about the house all afternoon, an' Ches kept himself
penned up in his labatory. He had brought out a lot of stuff in cans
an' bottles, had turned the woodshed into what he called a labatory,
an' spent a good part of his time there, mixin' up peculiar
stenches. They used to smell something frightful; but they only
exploded about half the time. No matter what they did do, he always
claimed that it was just exactly what he intended; but his hands was
colored up constant like a fried egg, an' I never took much joy in
loafin' about the woodshed.
That night as soon as I had my dishes washed an' the kitchen red up,
we caught the goat an' took him to the barn. He was considerable of
a goat, this one was, with horns on him a foot long an' a fright of
a temper. He was one o' these fellers what is always out o' humor,
only sometimes farther out than common. Still, me with my rope, an'
Ches with his football habits, was one too many for Mr. Goat; an' we
soon had him up in the haymow. Then I passed up the can o' paint,
an' took a stroll around to see that no one had been givin' us the
look-over.
The can o' paint did have a pretty fierce smell, but I didn't put
much faith in it. I'd been in opium joints, an' I knew that a
Chinaman would FATTEN on a smell 'at would suffocate a goat; an'
when it comes to vigorous an' able-bodied odors, a billy-goat ain't
no tenderfoot himself.
After a time Ches came down with a heavenly smile on his face, so I
knew the goat hadn't smothered yet; an' then we went into the house
an' handled the lights in just the regular way; but when the time
came, instead of goin' to bed, we went out an' cooned up a big tree,
about on a level with the mow-window. Ches had nailed up a kind of
platform, which was rickety enough to keep a sensible man on the
watch; but first I knew he was wakin' me up. He had his hand over my
mouth, an' whispered, "He's in the yard now."
I ain't one o' them what yawns an' grunts an' stretches; I wake up
like an antelope--all in a bunch.
The' was a little rustlin' back in some bushes over by the fence.
Then, after a pause, we heard a queer scratchin' noise. He was
climbin' up a tree at the back o' the barn so as to get in through a
scuttle in the roof. 'T was gettin' interestin', an' I got out my
guns an' held 'em ready. Ches had a whole arsenal spread out around
him, an' I could easy see a week's work ahead of me, a-policin' up
the premises.
The sky was just literally soggy with stars, an' you could see the
outline of things purty plain. It was one o' those nights when
everything is so still that you hear with the inside of your head,
an' any little real noise fair puts a crimp in ya.
We was leanin' on the rail of Ches's platform, when all of a sudden
we hear the greatest jabberin' ever a human man heard. A goat an' a
Chinaman speaks the same langwidge, an' goodness only knows what
Billy Buck was a-tellin' him but the tone was insistent an' the
effect was most exhilaratin'. I had my ears stretched out to catch
every sound--an' sounds wasn't nowise scarce just then. Squeals an'
groans, an' wrastlin' an' blows, kept a feller all keyed up, an' we
was bitin' our lips to keep from laughin'--an' then it happened!
The door o' that mow flew open as though it was struck by eleven
engines, a dark form shot out, followed by two more--an' then the
devil, himself, poked his head out through that haymow window. Talk
about faces--Lord! I attended a ghost dance over in the Sioux
country oncet; but it was a Sunday-school picnic alongside the face
that poked its way out of that door.
The' was rings of fire around the eyes, nose, an' mouth, the
whiskers was one long waverin', ghastly flame, an' the horns was two
others. The' was a blue gritchety sort o' smoke curlin' up around
the face, an' my heart laid right down in its tracks an' rolled over
on its back. I only saw that face a second, but I can shut my eyes
an' see it right now. Gosh!
I ain't much superstiticus, 'cept when I'm gamblin', but of course I
know the' 's such things as ghosts an' devils an' sich, an' I don't
take no liberties with 'em. I screeched out, a "Great Scott! what's
that?" My hands shut up voluntary, both my guns went off in the air,
the rail broke, an' me an' Ches sort o' chuck-lucked to the ground.
We didn't miss any limbs on the way down, nor the guns didn't
neither. Every time they bumped a limb, they went off, an' it
sounded like Custer's last stand.
We weren't hurt none, an' scrambled to our feet in a second. The'
was an awful squawkin' goin' on under the haymow window, an' that
horrible, fire-faced devil seemed to be eatin' the heads off the
Chinamen. I got a better view of it this time, an' I see it was one
o' the dragons they worship. It made me feel a little better, 'cause
I didn't see why he'd have any grudge against a Christian. Still, I
wasn't takin' no chances, so I grabbed Ches by the arm an' headed
for the kitchen--him stickin' his heels in the ground an' callin' me
coward. I thought he had lost his mind, so I didn't pay any heed to
him.
We threw ourselves against the kitchen door, an' I hammered on it
with my knuckles, while Ches kicked me on the shins an' tried to get
away. Finally Mrs. Cameron raised an upstairs window an' began
shootin' with her bean-blower. I've no idy what she was shootin' at;
but she hit me twice in the boot-leg, an' blame if it didn't sting
like a whip.
Ches jerked loose while I was rubbin' the sore spot, an' as I
glanced up I saw the three dark forms comin' after us followed
closer by the devil-dragon, his face fairly drippin' with liquid
fire. The whole bunch of 'em looked outrageous big, an' I felt about
as massive an' forceful as an angle-worm; but at that, I managed to
open the celler door, an' tried to get Ches to come in too. "Ches,"
I whispered, for I hadn't strength enough to yell, "Ches, come on in
an' save yourself;" but he never gave no heed. He just stood
crouching over in the shadow while they headed for him, devil-dragon
an' all.
I wanted to crawl into the cellar alone, but I lacked just one grain
of havin' moral courage enough, so I stood still with my knees
beatin' together, watchin' 'em come. My heart ached to think that he
was out of his head an' fairly throwin' himself away, an' then all
of a sudden, it flashed upon me that the blame fool was playin'
football. On they charged like a stampeded herd, a-screechin' like a
run-away freight wagon with dry axles, while that pink-checked
tenderfoot stood in his tracks, as calm an' cool as the North Star,
until they arrived at the proper distance, an' then he sorted out
the big one in the center an' dove for his legs.
They went up in the air, like a long-horn foolin' with the leg-throw
for the first time, the other two bumped into them, the fire-faced
devil-dragon slipped through, caught me full in the pantry, an' we
all avalanched into the celler in one mixed up tangle. I can't
describe it to you. I saw a photograph oncet of the bottomless pit
at a revival meeting, and this lay-out was a card out of the same
deck. I ain't stuck-up nor exclusive; but hang me if I ever want to
get into such a mixed crowd again. We bit an' kicked an' hammered
each other till I felt like quartz at a stamp-mill. The only light
we had, came from the Chinese devil'-an' I 'd a heap sooner had
none.
Finally I got hold of two cues, an' it give me a logical purpose. I
simply took a short hold on those cues an' bumped the heads they
belonged to, together, until that dragon caught sight of me an' hit
me a thump in the back that loosened all my teeth. Something began
to make an awful bawling sound, an' it scared the life out of me
until I see the Chinese devil go up the stairs leaving a trail of
flame behind him; an' then I knew that one of our own Medicines had
arrived.
This was some the worst roar I ever heard. It would start in with a
lot of foreign words an' end up with Rah! Rah Rah! The voice sounded
something like Chess; but when I called him he didn't answer, an' I
feared it was his spirit.
The' didn't seem to be any use in bumpin' my two heads together any
more, so purty soon I dropped 'em, an' straightened up. The' wasn't
a sound, an' it was enough sight scarier than the noise had been. I
looked around in the dark, an' the' was ghastly waverin' flames all
over an' I could see hideous faces grinnin' at me.
I scuttled out o' that cellar like a homin' rabbit, an' ran around
to the side door. Mrs. Cameron put her head out after a bit, an'
when she found out who I was, she let her lantern down to me on a
string, an' I screwed up my courage an' went back to the cellar. I
listened a moment, an' it was quiet as a grave--it was too much like
a grave to suit me. I needed the touch of an old friend, so I went
back an' hunted up one of my guns, loaded it, an' went down into
that cellar--an' I never want my nerves stretched no tighter than
the' were right at that minute. I see three Chinamen an' Ches
stretched out in a heap, Ches still huggin' the big one he had
picked out first.
I carried the two of 'em upstairs still locked together, an' laid
'em on the porch. As I did so, Ches opened his eyes an' smiled
weakly, ail sez to me most beseechful, "Gi' me the ball, gi' me the
ball, an' let Hodge an' Roger throw me over the line. It's no use
tryin' to buck through." The doggone loon still thought the was
playin' football, I don't reckon a railroad wreck would give one o'
them football players a single new sensation.
He jumps up after a minute, shakes himself, an' seems as good as
new. I was for lettin' the Chinks go, an' gettin' indoors; but not
for him, so we ties 'em; but I ain't a mite easy in my mind. I was
still lookin' for old Mister Devil-Dragon to come chargin' back with
his Fourth o' July face, an' put an' everlastin' crimp in us. His
man had a cut in the back of the head, while my two was merely
softened up a little; an' as soon as we got 'em in the kitchen an'
threw some water in their faces, they revived out of it an' began to
jabber enough to give a steam whistle the headache.
"I'd better go an' let my cousin know we're all right," sez Ches.
"Yes, we'll both go," sez I, quickly.
"You'd better stay an' keep guard," sez Ches.
"The door's locked an' they're tied," sez I.
We went together, an' Mrs. Cameron laughed an' wept an' made a great
fuss. When we came back, the Chinks were gone.
"I told you to stay on guard," yells Ches.
"Well, I'm mighty glad I didn't," sez I.
"What do you mean?" sez he.
"Can't you see what happened?" sez I. "Their blamed fire-faced
dragon came back an' took 'em off, an' if I'd been here, like as
not, he'd have taken me too. He'd 'a' taken 'em down cellar; but
your Good Medicine came an' gave a shriek an' scared him away."
Ches stood an' looked at me. "If you are really crazy, I don't mind
your talkin' this way;" he sez finally, "but if you have a grain of
sense left, tell me what you mean."
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