Books: Happy Hawkins

R >> Robert Alexander Wason >> Happy Hawkins

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He swore by everything he could remember that it was the solemn
truth, an' then I turned him loose an' I turned myself loose too.
The boys down at Frisco was certainly glad to see me, an' we sure
had a royal good time as long as my money lasted; but when it began
to dry up they seemed to lose interest in me an' had a heap o'
private business to attend to.

One mornin' I noticed that I was dead broke; so I drilled down to
the dock an' sat on a post. Pretty soon along comes a little fat
man, an' he looks me over from nose to toe. I don't know why it is,
but as a rule a city man takes as open-hearted an' disembarrassed an
interest in me as though I was a prize punkin' or the father of a
new breed o' beef cattle. After he had made up his opinion he smiles
into my eyes an' sez, "I like your face."

"You soothe me," sez I. "I was just thinkin' o' havin' it
remodelled; but now I'll leave it just as it is."

Well, he laughs an' slaps me on the back an' sez, "I like your
style. Want to take a ride?"

"What on?" sez I, for he seemed purty blocky an' fat-legged for a
ridin' man.

"On that there sailboat," sez he, pointin' to a thing about the size
of a flat-iron with a knittin'-needle stickin' out of it. I give a
little think, an' I sez: "To tell you the gospel truth, Bud, I ain't
never been on a sailboat in my life; but I'm game to play her one
whirl if you'll just wait until I get my breakfast."

"How long will it take?" sez he. "Deuced if I know," sez I. "I've
been waitin' hereabout two hours already an' the' ain't none showed
up yet."

"Why don't you go to a restaurant?" sez he.

"I thank you kindly for the suggestion," sez I; "but the same
brilliant idee occurred to me a little over two hours ago, an' all
my finger-nails is wore to the quick tryin' to scratch up enough
change."

He studied my face a moment, then he chuckled up a laugh, an'
scooted over to an eatin'-house, comin' back with a lot o' stuff an'
some coffee. Then we got into the boat an' begun to sail. Oh, it
certainly was grand! By the time I had made it up with my stomach we
were out on the Pacific Ocean, an' I felt like Christopher Columbus.

Enjoy myself? Well. I guess I did! I felt like a boy with copper-
toed boots an' a toy balloon. Then things began to churn up wild an'
furious. Fatty said that Pacific meant mild an' peaceful--the
darned, sarcastic, little liar! The storm that was presently
kazooin' along was fierce an' horrible, an' that dinky little soap-
bubble cut up scand'lous.

We went jumpin' an' slidin' ahead, tilted away over on one side, but
Fatty never turned a hair; he said it was nothin' but a capful o'
wind, an' he sat in the back end o' the boat with a little stick in
his hand, hummin' tunes an' havin' the time of his life; but give me
a bunch of blizzard-scared long-horns for mine.

I never knowed a boat was so human. This one bucked an' kicked an'
reared up an' tried to fall over on its back, the same as a mustang;
while I held on with my teeth an' wondered if it was a put-up job.
Then I began to feel as though I had partakin' of a balloon. I
gritted my teeth an' swallered hot water constant; but it wasn't no
use; purty soon that beautiful breakfast began to fight its way to
liberty. Layer after layer, up it came; an' all the while mebbe I
wasn't feelin' like a tender-foot, with that fat little cuss puffin'
his pipe in the back seat, as happy as a toad.

After a bit he looks at me purty sympathetic like, an' sez, "You
seem to have a weak stomach."

"Weak?" I yells. "Weak! why you doggone son of a pirate, it kicks
like a shotgun every time it goes off. Weak!"

We stayed out on our pleasure trip the best part of the day, me
layin' with what used to be my head jammed under the front seat,
while my liver chased my stomach up an' down my backbone, tryin' to
squeeze out a few more crumbs o' that breakfast. You can believe me
or not; but when noon came that double dyed villain got out the grub
an' began to eat--even goin' so far as to ask me to join him. A hog
wouldn't 'a' done it. We came back; about five o'clock, an' by the
time we reached the landin' place I was feelin' fine. An' hungry--
Say!

When we got upon the platform an' started to walk up-town Fatty sez
to me, "What are you goin' to do to kill time now?"

"Time?" sez I. "Well, now, I dunno as I feel any inborn hankerin' to
slaughter time; but if the game laws ain't in force I wouldn't mind
flushin' up a covey of fat young ham sandwidges."

"You're a funny cuss," sez he.

"I am," sez I; "an' I hope I won't come sudden in front of a
lookin'-glass. A good hearty laugh just now would be purty apt to
puncture my stomach--it's jammed up so tight again my backbone."

"You don't seem to like this community," sez he.

"I don't know," sez I. "It's been a mighty long time since I tasted
it; but I have an idy that I'd enjoy some served hot with a couple
o' porterhouse steaks smothered in cornbeef hash an' about three
pints o' coffee."

He chuckled up another laugh, an sez, "If you had a good job here
would you be apt to settle?"

"Settle?" sez I. "You needn't worry much about that; I'm no tight-
wad. When it comes my turn to settle I generally fish up a handful
an' say, 'Here, take it out o' that an' keep the change.'"

He looked at me a minute without speakin', an' then he said, as
though he was thinkin' aloud, "You seem to be mighty well set up."

I was hurt at this. "Your ticket entitles you to one more guess,"
sez I. "Any time anybody got set up in my company since I struck
town the bartender allus managed to sneak me the checks without
gettin' caught at it. The' must 'a' been a cold snap here, an' all
the easy spenders got froze up."

"No, I mean you're wonderful well built," sez he. "Kin you ride a
hoss?"

"I can," sez I, "if he's kind an' gentle, an' I manage to get a good
grip on the saddle horn, an' he don't start to lopin' or somethin'
like that."

"Do you know what a knight is?" sez he.

"Yes," sez I, "I do when I'm home; but since I've been here I ain't
wasted none of 'em in sleep, so I ain't right certain."

"No, I don't mean that kind," sez he. "I mean the soldiers of long
ago who used to wear steel armor an' fight with spears an' rescue
maidens an' so forth. I believe I can get you a job at it for a
month or so, at three dollars a day."

"Now look here, Bud," sez I, "them three dollars look mighty
enticin' to me, an' I ain't no objection to rescuin' the maidens;
but I move we cut out the steel armor an' the spears. If the' 's any
great amount o' maidens in need o' rescuin', I could do the job a
heap quicker with my six-shooters."

"Oh, I don't mean to be a real knight," sez he. "I want you to
advertise tobacco."

"Say," sez I, "perhaps you never noticed it; but after you've been
livin' on air for some time you get so you can't tell whether it's
yourself or the other feller what's crazy. I came down to this town
because my appetite was clogged up an' wouldn't work; but I'm cured.
I'm the most infernally cured individual you ever set eyes on, an'
I'm goin' back where food ain't too blame proud to be seen in
company with a poor man."

Well, I broke through his crust that time, an' we sidled into a
feed-joint, where I pried my ribs apart while he un folded his plot.
It seemed the' was a brand of chewin' tobacco what had one o' these
here knights on the tag, an' I was to dress up like the picture an'
advertise it. The man who was to do it had sprained his ankle, an'
Fatty's brother was huntin' up a new man. Fatty said he'd get me the
job.

Well, he did, an' next mornin' I started out in a tin suit with a
sort of kettle turned upside down an' covered with feathers for a
sky-piece. I certainly made an imposin' sight, an' all I had to do
was to ride around an' fling little plugs o' tobacco out o' my
saddle-bags. But the' was draw-backs. The' generally is.

Take the real native-son brand of Friscoite, an' he'll tell you 'at
Frisco an' Paradise are sunonomous. I used to like to argue 'em out
about it. One day I had a thirty-third degree one pointin' his
finger in my eye an' beatin' his palm with his fist, an' spreadin'
himself somethin' gorgeous. He never curbed his jubilization nor
altered the heavy seriousness of his expression; but in the most
matter-of-fact way in the world he backs over to the door-jamb an'
begins to polish it up with his spinal column. If ya'll notice
you'll find most o' the coats in that locality has curious little
streaks up the back--but it ain't polite to ask questions about 'em.

"Look here, Bud," sez I, interruptin', "I know all about your golden
gates an' sea lions an' cosmopopilic civilization; but how about
your fleas?"

"Fleas!" sez he. "Hang the fleas! I'll tell you about them. The
devil He tried an experiment; he wanted a place so fine to live in
that man wouldn't have no inducement to try to get to heaven; so he
studied all the cities an' the towns--an' then he made Frisco. The
experiment worked to perfection; everybody what lived there was
perfectly satisfied, an' the preachers couldn't make 'em believe 'at
any place could be any better. But the good Lord, he was powerful
fond o' the Friscoites, so he finally figgered out the little red
flea--an' then even Frisco had a drawback; not enough to give the
town anything of a black eye; just enough to leave one little
talkin'-point in favor of everlastin' bliss."

Well, these here fleas was consid'able of a talkin'-point with me
all right when I was takin' the part of a canned knight. They used
to congregate together in the valley between my shoulder-blades, an'
I'd get off an' back up again a lamp-post, but it wa'n't no use. I
couldn't reach 'em, an' the' ain't no way on earth to scare 'em.
Finally I hit upon a plan of wearin' a couple o' feet o' chain down
the back o' my neck an' givin' it a jerk now an' again. It was only
just moderately comfortable; but I had the satisfaction of knowin'
that it was more of a bother to them than it was to me. A suit of
armor ain't no tenement house, it's only meant for one. But when
they got on my face they had me beat. I'd forget all about bein'
sealed up, an' I'd take a smash at one an' bat the kettle over again
my forehead until I had both eyebrows knocked out o' line.

I carried a spear with a little flag on it, an' rode a hoss built
like a barrel. He had been in the brewery business all his life an'
looked the part. About the only item in the whole parade that put me
in mind of myself was my lariat. I smuggled that along for company,
an' so I'd have somethin' to work with, provided anything turned up.

Fatty had give me a book called "Ivanhoe" the night before I started
out, an' it was full o' pictures about knights knockin' each other
about with spears; an' I bet a hat it was fun to be a real one an'
not have no tobacco to advertise, but just nothin' to do except jab
each other with spears. I reckon a corkin' good one like Ivanhoe
himself or the Black Knight got more 'an three a day for it too; but
the one best bet is, that the vigilance committee those days didn't
take on much superfluous fat.

I enjoyed myself first rate, an' upset a couple o' delivery wagons
because they wouldn't make way for me, roped a runaway steer 'at had
the whole town scared, an' chased a flat-head clear into the Palace
Hotel for throwin' a pear at me. Fatty's brother confided to him
that I was the best advertisement they'd ever had.

Still I allus get weary o' doin' the same sort o' thing day after
day. That's what gets me about livin' in town; it's so blame
monotonous. Out on the range now a feller can allus be expectin' a
little excitement even if he ain't enjoyin' it right at the time;
but in town it's just the same thing over an' over again. It's bad
enough at any time; but if you want to soak yourself plumb full o'
the horrors of a great city you want to wear a tin suit with an iron
kettle strapped on your head that you can't take off without help. I
got so blame disgusted drinkin' steam beer through a straw that if
any one would 'a' dared me I'd 'a' signed the pledge.

If it hadn't been for the children I'd probably got hysterical an'
been voted into the uncurable ward; but they thought I was the
finest thing out, an' I used to give 'em little plugs o' tobacco for
souvynears. I used to read "Ivanhoe" at night an' tell stories to
the kids the next day. Some o' them thought I was a fairy godmother;
an' I generally had such a gang troopin' after me that we looked
like an orphan asylum out for an airin'. I allus did like children.

Well, one day I was out at the foot o' the hill neighbor-hood on
Sutter Street. A lot o' cars was blockaded, an' a herd o' kids stood
lookin' on. I stopped an' talked to 'em, an' the' was one little
girl, just for all the world like another little girl I used to
know, away back yonder in Indiana. She had the same confidin' smile
an' the same big, wide open eyes; an' I felt a sort o' lump in my
throat when she looked at me. She had that same queer little look
that Barbie'd had when she was a child too. Her mother was named
Maggie, which also happened to be the name o' the little girl I had
known clear away back when I'd been a school-boy. All of a sudden I
felt lonesome again; so I give the kids the slip an' skirted the
car.

I started to ride up the Hyde Street hill on the other side, an'
say, it was a hill! Steep? Well, it was about all Mr. Hoss could do
to climb it. While I was wonderin' if I hadn't better let that part
o' town go unadvertised I heard a rumble, looked up, an' saw comin'
over the square o' the next street a big wagon loaded with lumber
an' runnin' towards me down the hill. The' wasn't no hosses hitched
to it, an' the tongue stuck straight out in front. It was comin'
like a steam-engine, an' like a flash I remembered Maggie on the
other side o' the car. That wagon would 'a' weighed six tons, an'
any fool could see what would happen when it struck that street car.

For a second--for just one second, which seemed to last a thousand
years--I was turned to stone. I could hear the crash; I could hear
the screams; I could feel the horrid scrunch as car, wagon, an' all
ground over poor little Maggie; and then everything cleared up, an'
I could think ninety times a minute.

I turned my rope loose an' backed ol' Mr. Barrel up on the sidewalk
in the wink of a hair trigger. I looked down at the hoss, an' he
would have weighed a full ton himself; but I knew that he wouldn't
have sense enough to brace himself when the jerk came. It was
comical the way thoughts kept flashin' through my head--everything I
had done, an' everything I might have done, an' a heap more beside;
but the thing that worried me most was the thought that a mighty
good story was about to happen, an' the chances were that I wouldn't
be the one to do the tellin' of it afterward. I can talk about it
easy now,: but I wasn't BREATHIN' then.

On came the wagon, an' it looked as though nothin' under heaven
could stop it. A strange feelin' o' weakness swept over me for a
minute, and--and--darned if I didn't pray, right then. The pressure
lifted like a fog, an' I sat there as cool an' still as though I was
Ivanhoe, darin' the whole blame outfit to come at me in a bunch; an'
I was some pleased to notice that a little group had gathered to see
the outcome. My knees dug into the hoss's ribs as I circled the rope
around my head, an' then at just the right instant I gave the
foreleg throw. Well, it landed--everything landed. As soon as the
noose caught the tip o' the tongue I yanked back on the brewer until
he must 'a' thought his lower jaw had dissolved partnership.

The' never was any neater work--never. The noose tightened well out
on the tongue, an' when the strain came the wagon turned in toward
the sidewalk, runnin' in a big circle on the outside wheels. The
jerk had lifted ol' Uncle Brewer, who didn't have gumption enough to
squat, plumb out in the middle o' the street, an' just as the wagon
climbed the curb an' dove into the basement office of a Jew doctor
the rope tightened up with me an' the brewer square behind. It
didn't last long; the' was only one cinch to the saddle, an' the
first jerk had purty well discouraged that; the brewer had grew
suspicious an' all four of his feet was dug into the cobble stones;
the wagon was lopin' along about ninety miles a second, an' when the
tug came me an' the saddle an' the tinware an' about four thousand
plugs o' tobacco made a half-circle in the air an' plunged through
the first story winder onto the dinin'-table--an' the family was at
dinner.

Nobody was hurt; but I wish you could have seen the eyes o' that
family--an' their hands--yes, an' their tonsils too. They didn't
seem fully prepared. After a time the doctor got his heart to
pumpin' again, an' he roars out, "Vat are you doin'--vat are you
doin'?"

"I'm advertisin' tobacco," sez I, tryin' to cut the kettle off my
head with a fruit-knife.

Then he did the wind-mill act with his hands an' rolled up his eyes
an' sez, "Vell, mine Cott, man, dis iss no vay to atfertice
dobaggo!"

"Mebbe not, ol' sport," sez I, thinkin' o' the way that wagon had
dove into his office, an' takin' a general survey o' the dinner
table; "but if you're game at all you got to own up it makes a
strong impression."

He was a comical little cuss, an' it amused me a heap to see how
excited he was. He splutered an' fizzed away like a leaky sody
fountain, while the rest o' the tribe kept up a most infernal
squawkin'.

By the time I had the tobacco an' the balance o' the trimmin's
picked up an' got back to the street again I found the rest o' the
population gathered together to see who was holdin' the celebration;
an' from that on my stay in the city was a nightmare. The passengers
in the car gave me gold watches an' champagne suppers, the Jew
doctor wore himself to a bone tryin' to find out whether it was me,
the lumber company, or the tobacco firm which had to pay the piper;
while the newspaper reporters pumped me as dry as the desert. The
tobacco company kept me on double pay, because when it came to what
they call a publicity agent I had played every winnin' number open
an' coppered all the ones that lost.

That car had been loaded with a group o' the real, genuine gold-
sweaters, an' they entered into a fierce competition to see which
could load me down with the finest watch an' load me up with the
finest champagne. They got me to make 'em after-dinner speeches an'
do fancy stunts with my raw-hide--ropin' wine bottles off the
waiters' trays an' such--until we got as friendly as a herd of
tramps. They even got me into a long-tailed coat an' a bullfrog
vest; but I didn't take kindly to that, 'count o' there not bein'
any handy place to tote a gun except the tail pocket, which I never
could have got at in case the trouble was to slop over.

I kept lookin' for little Maggie, an' one day I found her. I bought
her a couple o' pounds o' candy an' a lot o' new dresses; an' I took
her out to her home in a carriage. Well, this home o' hers was a
thing to wring the heart of an ossi-fied toad. It was up near the
Barbery coast, where they kill folks for exercise. She an' her
mother was livin' in two miserable rooms, her mother doin' washin'
an' Maggie runnin' errands; but they was as near respectable as
half-fed people ever was in the world, an' it made 'em hustle to
even keep half fed, too, 'cause they was in competition with the
Chinks, who don't have to eat at all--that is, not regular food.

An' would you believe it, her mother was the little Maggie I used to
know away back yonder in the kid days when all the world was just
like a big, bulgey Christmas-stocking. She had married a good man,
an' had come out to the coast with him on account of his health, an'
he had flickered out without leavin' her much but a stack o'
doctor's bills an' little Maggie. She had struggled along ever
since, an' it made my heart ache like a tooth to see the sweetness
an' the beauty o' the little girl I used to know come to the eyes o'
this poor tired woman an' smile--smile the same old smile like what
she used to when I'd given her an apple, or when she'd written me a
little note an' sneaked it across the aisle.

Well, I didn't stay long. I had a special swell function to attend
that night, but next mornin', when the Turkish-bath man was willin'
to risk the peace o' that locality by turnin' me loose, I gathered
up a peck or so o' watches an' cashed 'em in. I reckon I got beat
some; but anyhow, I drew down somethin' over sixteen hundred in
yeller money; an' I took them two Maggies down to the train an'
shipped 'em back where the little one would have a chance to grow up
like a flower, with plenty o' green grass an' sunshine about her,
an' the mother could put on a clean dress afternoons an' visit
'round a little with the friends o' long ago.

After they was gone everything seemed mighty gloomy an' damp an'
lonesome, an' I entered into the social festivities most
enthusiastic. The' was somethin' about both these two Maggies that
kept bringin' Barbie before me, an' what I felt most like doin' was
to bolster up my forgetfulness. It wasn't very long, however, before
I noticed that my quiet an' simple life hadn't in nowise fitted me
for refined society, an' I made my plans to bid it a fond farewell.
I'm just as cordial a friend as whiskey ever had; but my con science
rebels at floodin' my vital organs with seventeen different colored
wines at one meal. I've been infested with pink elephants an' green
dragons an' I never com plained none; but hang me if I can get any
comfort out of a striped yellow spider ten feet high on horrid hairy
legs.

I was sittin' in the Palace lobby one mornin' wonderin' if I'd bump
my head should I happen to sneeze, when in come one o' my pals. His
face lit up when he see me an' he came over holdin' out his hand. I
held out my own hearty enough; but I sez in a warnin' voice, "Now,
before you ask me the customary question I want to inform you that I
positively don't want a drink, neither now nor this evenin', nor
never again." "Pshaw," sez he, "I'm goin' to pull out for home to
day, an' I don't want to go without a farewell libation to the good
times we've been havin'."

"I'm goin' to pull out, myself," sez I, "but I went on my farewell
libation last night. Where might your home be?"

"Texas," sez he. I straightened up.

"Know the governor?" sez I.

"Some," sez he, his eyes twinklin'; "he was my sister's youngest
brother."

"Your sister's youngest brother?" sez I, an' then I tumbled. "Say,"
I yelled, jumpin' to my feet, "you don't mean that you're it
yourself?"

"That's the history," sez he; "but if it's just the same to you, I'd
rather you didn't work up much of a story about the way I've handled
this town since you saved that car."

"Do you really think 'at I saved your life?" sez I.

"Why," sez he, "if that wagon had ever hit the car the' wouldn't 'a'
been anything left but my teeth to identify me by, an' I ain't never
had one filled yet."

Well, I took one drink with him an' I told him the straight o' that
cattle ring an' how Jim Jimison had surrendered on account o' the
best little girl that walked, an' that he was the all around
squarest boy the' was. I didn't cork up any natural eloquence I
happened to have, an' I was some sorry 'at ol' Hammy couldn't have
heard that plea. It was dramatic, an' I'll bet money on it. The
outcome was, that he swore he'd have Jim out o' the pen as soon as
he could get back an' do the signin'. He was a big man with steel
gray eyes, an' by jing I felt good over it; but I stuck to the one
drink proposition.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE CREOLE BELLE

Well, now, mebbe I didn't feel fine! I'd have a real man for Barbie
to marry purty soon, an' it was a good job o' work to send that
washy-eyed Englishman back to his one-hoss ranch to learn hove to
act grown-up. I was all squared around now. Up to that mornin' I
couldn't tell where on the face I did want to head for; but now I
knew. I wanted to bee-line straight for the Diamond Dot an' light
the joy-lamps in Barbie's eyes again. When I had given my life to
her the' wasn't no strings to the gift. I hadn't said that my
happiness was to be considered at all, nor the happiness of any one
else on the whole earth except just her own, an' I was wild to be
back.

I was makin' up my mind to sneak away without seein' any o' the glad
band--those Frisco fellers are terrors when they take a fancy to ya-
-I mean the thoroughbreds, the toppy lad with rolls 'at a ten-year-
old boy couldn't up-end without strainin' himself. I hated to do it;
but I'm only human, an' when I'm in earnest about bein' delivered
from evil I allus get up early in the dawn an' get a good start
while temptation is still enjoyin' its beauty sleep.

I had just got my will power properly stiffened up, when lo an'
behold, I was slapped on the back an' a merry voice exclaimed,
"Happy Hawkins, by the Chinese Devil!"

I glanced up into a bearded face with two twinklin' eyes an' an
outdoor look about it. I recognized the eyes all right, but I knew I
hadn't never seen 'em in that sort o' trimmin' before; so I sez in a
dignified manner, "I'm exceeding glad to see ya, but who the 'll are
ya?"

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