Red Saunders\' Pets and Other Critters
H >> Henry Wallace Phillips >> Red Saunders\' Pets and Other Critters[Frontispiece: He was a lovely pet (missing from book)]
Red Saunders' Pets
And Other Critters
By
Henry Wallace Phillips
Author of
Red Saunders and Mr. Scraggs
Illustrated
New York
McClure, Phillips & Co.
Mcmvi
Copyright, 1906, by
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
Published, May, 1906
Second Impression
Copyright, 1902, 1903, 1904, 1905, by The S. S. McClure Company
Copyright, 1902, by The Success Company
Copyright, 1905, by P. F. Collier & Son
CONTENTS
THE PETS
OSCAR'S CHANCE, PER CHARLEY
BILLY THE BUCK
THE DEMON IN THE CANON
THE LITTLE BEAR WHO GREW
IN THE ABSENCE OF RULES
FOR SALE, THE GOLDEN QUEEN
WHERE THE HORSE IS FATE
AGAMEMNON AND THE FALL OF TROY
A TOUCH OF NATURE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
HE WAS A LOVELY PET . . . . . . Frontispiece (missing from book)
WE NEAR LOST TWO PETS
"I WISHT SOMEBODY'D TELEGRAPH THAT SON-OF-A-GUN FOR ME"
BOB 'UD HOP HIM
HIS STYLE OF RIDING ATTRACTED ATTENTION
SEARCHING HIS SOUL FOR SOUNDS TO TELL HOW SCART HE WAS
GET OFF'N ME!
THE AFFAIR WAS AT PRESENT IN THE FORMAL STATE
"A WISE AND SUBTLE PIECE OF STRATEGY"
"AN ACCOUNT OF MY ADVENTURES"
"'HERE'S--YOUR--DEER--KID,' HE GASPED."
"JIMMY-HIT-THE-BOTTLE"
THE PUNCHERS TO THE RESCUE
"HY" SMITH
HE'D COME AROUND WITH HIS PLANS AND SPECIFICATIONS TWICE A DAY
MIGUEL COULD RUN WHEN HE PUT HIS MIND TO IT
"CLEAN WAS NO NAME FOR HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE"
"UP GETS FOXY WITH A SHRIEK AND GALLOPS AROUND THE HOUSE"
"OLD WINDY USED TO TALK TO THE PIG AS THOUGH THEY'D
BEEN RAISED TOGETHER"
"HE'D HUMP UP HIS BACK . . . AND RUB AGAINST YOUR LEGS"
"NO. DIDN'T WANT FOOD. HEART WAS BROKE"
"'HUNGH!' SAYS HE, AND BLINKED HIS EYES SHUT"
"THE DOCTOR GOES SAILING INTO THE DRINK"
"A HA HA! CUT IN TWO IN THE MIDDLE"
"THAT WOOLLY, BLAATIN' FOOL OF A SHEEP"
"CHASES HIMSELF OFF TO THE SKY-LINE FOR ANOTHER TRY"
"THE DURNED RAM WAS PRANCIN' AWAY"
"HE WAS KNOCKED GALLEY-WEST"
"THAT PIG LOOKED UP AND SMILED"
"AND HOLLER! I WISHT YOU COULD HAVE HEARD THAT PIG"
"DONE. EVERLASTINGLY DONE"
THROUGH THE GLASS I GOT A BETTER VIEW OF THE
POOR DEVIL ABOUT TO BE STRUNG
WE CALLED TO HIM TO HALT, AND HE STOPPED,
KIND OF GRINNED AT US AND SAYS: "HELLO!"
YES, SIR; THERE HE SAT, AND HE WAS KNITTIN' A PAIR OF SOCKS!
TWENTY-FIVE FOOT OF A DROP, CLEAR, TO ICE-WATER--WOW!
"WHOOP HER UP, COLIN!" I HOLLERS
Red Saunders' Pets And Other Critters
The Pets
"Of all the worlds I ever broke into, this one's the most curious,"
said Red. "And one of the curiousest things in it is that I think it's
queer. Why should I, now? What put it into our heads that affairs
ought to go so and so and so, when they never do anything of the sort?
Take any book you read, or any story a man tells you: it runs along
about how Mr. Smith made up his mind to do this or that, and proceeded
to do it. And that never happened. What Mr. Smith calls making up his
mind is nothing more nor less than Mr. Smith's dodging to cover under
pressure of circumstances. That's straight. Old Lady Luck comes for
Mr. Smith's mind, swinging both hands; she gives it a stem-winder on
the ear; lams it for keeps on the smeller; chugs it one in the short
ribs, drives right and left into its stummick, and Mr. Smith's mind
breaks for cover; then Mr. Smith tells his wife that--he's made up his
mind--_He_, mind you. Wouldn't that stun you?
"Some people would say, 'Mr. Sett and Mr. Burton made up their minds to
start the Big Bend Ranch.' All right; perhaps they did, but let me
give you an inside view of the factory.
"First off, Billy Quinn, Wind-River Smith, and me were putting up hay
at the lake beds. It was a God-forsaken, lonesome job, to say the best
of it, and we took to collecting pets, to make it seem a little more
like home.
"Billy shot a hawk, breaking its wing. That was the first in the
collection. He was a lovely pet. When you gave him a piece of meat he
said 'Cree,' and clawed chunks out of you, but most of the time he sat
in the corner with his chin on his chest, like a broken-down lawyer.
We didn't get the affection we needed out of him. Well, then
Wind-River found a bull-snake asleep and lugged him home, hanging over
his shoulder. We sewed a flannel collar on the snake and picketed him
out until he got used to the place. And around and around and around
squirmed that snake until we near got sick at our stummicks watching
him. All day long, turning and turning and turning.
"'Darn it,' says I, 'I like more variety.' So that day, when I was
cutting close to a timbered slew, out pops an old bob-cat and starts to
open my shirt to see if I am her long-lost brother. By the time I got
her strangled I had parted with most of my complexion. Served me right
for being without a gun. The team run away as soon as I fell off the
seat and I was booked to walk home. I heard a squeal from the bushes,
and here comes a funny little cuss. I liked the look of him from the
jump-off, even if his mother did claw delirious delight out of me. He
balanced himself on his stubby legs and looked me square in the eye,
and he spit and fought as though he weighed a ton when I picked him
up--never had any notion of running away. Well, that was Robert--long
for Bob.
"The style that cat spread on in the matter of growing was simply
astonishing; he grew so's you could notice it overnight. At the end of
two months he was that big he couldn't stand up under our sheet-iron
cook-stove, and this was about the beginning of our family troubles.
Tommy, the snake, was a good deal of a nuisance from the time he
settled down. You'd have a horrible dream in the night--be way down
under something or other, gasping for wind, and, waking up, find Tommy
nicely coiled on your chest. Then you'd slap Tommy on the floor like a
section of large rubber hose. But he bore no malice. Soon's you got
asleep he'd be right back again. When the weather got cool he was
always under foot. He'd roll beneath you and land you on your
scalp-lock, or you'd ketch your toe on him and get a dirty drop. I
don't think I ever laughed more in my life than one day when Billy come
in with an armful of wood, tripped on Tommy, and come down with a
clatter right where Judge Jenkins, the hawk, could reach him. The
Judge fastened one claw in Billy's hair and scratched his whiskers with
the other. Gee! The hair and feathers flew! Bill had a hot temper
and he went for the hawk like it was a man. The first thing he laid
his hand on was Tommy, so he used the poor snake for a club.
Wind-River and me were so weak from laughing that we near lost two pets
before we got strength to interfere."
[Illustration: We near lost two pets]
"But, as I was saying, the cold nights played Keno with our happy home.
Neither Tommy nor Bob dared monkey with the Judge--he was the only
thing on top of the earth the cat was afraid of. Bob used to be very
anxious to sneak a hunk of meat from His Honour at times, yet, when the
Judge stood on one foot, cocked his head sideways, snapped his bill and
said 'Cree,' Robert reconsidered. On the other hand, Tommy and Bob
were forever scrapping. Lively set-tos, I want to tell you. The snake
butted with his head like a young streak of lightning. I've seen him
knock the cat ten foot. And while a cat doesn't grow mouldy in the
process of making a move, yet the snake is there about one
seventeen-hundredth-millionth part of a second sooner. And that's a
good deal where those parties are concerned. Now, on cold nights, they
both liked to get under the stove, where it was warm, and there wasn't
room for more'n one. Hence, trouble; serious trouble. Bob hunted
coyotes on moonlight nights. We threw scraps around the corner of the
house to bait 'em, and Bob would watch there hour on end until one got
within range. It was a dead coyote in ten seconds by the watch, if the
jump landed. If it didn't, Bob had learned there was no use wasting
his young strength trying to ketch him. He used to sit still and gaze
after them flying streaks of hair and bones as though he was thinking
'I wisht somebody'd telegraph that son-of-a-gun for me.'"
[Illustration: "I wisht somebody'd telegraph that son-of-a-gun for me."]
"Well, then he'd be chilly and reckon he'd climb under the stove. But
Thomas 'ud be there.
"'H-h-h-h-hhhh!' says Tom, in a whisper.
"'Er-raow-pht!" says Robert. 'Mmmmm-mm--errrrr--pht!' And so on for
some time, the talk growing louder, then, with a yell that would stand
up every hair on your head, Bob 'ud hop him. Over goes the cook-stove.
Away rolls the hot coals on the floor. Down comes the stove-pipe and
the frying-pans and the rest of the truck, whilst the old Judge in the
corner hollered decisions, heart-broke because he was tied by the leg
and could not get a claw into the dispute.
[Illustration: Bob 'ud hop him.]
"By the time we had 'em separated--Bob headed up in his barrel and Tom
tied up in his sack--put the fire out, and fixed things generally,
there wasn't a great deal left of that night's rest.
"But children will be children. We swore awful, still we wouldn't have
missed their company for a fair-sized farm.
"And now comes in the first little twist of the Big Bend Ranch,
proper--all these things I'm telling you were the eggs. Here's where
the critter pipped.
"'Twas November, and such a November as you don't get outside of Old
Dakota, a regular mint-julep of a month, with a dash of summer, a sprig
of spring, a touch of fall, and a sniff or two of winter to liven you
up. If you'd formed a committee to furnish weather for a month, and
they'd turned out a month like that, not even their best friends would
have kicked. And here we'd been makin' hay, and makin' hay, the ranch
people thanking Providence that prairie grass cures on the stem, while
we cussed, for we were sick of the sight of hay. I got so the rattle
of a mower give me hysterics. We were picked because we were steady
and reliable, but one day we bunched the job. Says I, 'Here; we've cut
grass for four solid months, includin' Sundays and legal holidays,
although the Lord knows where they come in, for I haven't the least
suspicion what day of the month it may be, but anyhow, let's knock off
one round.'
"So we did. I sat outside in the afternoon, while the other two boys
and the rest of the family took a snooze. Here comes a man across the
south flat a-horseback.
"I watched him, much interested: first place, he was the first strange
human animal we'd laid eye on for six weeks; next place, his style of
riding attracted attention. I thought at the time he must have
invented it, him being the kind of man that hated horses, and wanted to
keep as far away from them as possible, yet forced by circumstances to
climb upon their backs."
[Illustration: His style of riding attracted attention.]
"His mount was a big American horse, full sixteen hand high, trotting
in twenty-foot jumps. If I had anything against a person, just short
of killing, I'd tie him on the back of a horse trotting like that.
It's a great gait to sit out. Howsomever, this man didn't sit it out;
what he wanted of a saddle beyond the stirrups was a mystery, for he
never touched it. He stood up on his stirrups, bent forward like he
was going to bite the horse in the ear, soon's the strain got
unendurable.
"Well, here he come, straight for us. I'd a mind to wake the other
boys up, to let 'em see something new in the way of mishandling a
horse, but they snored so peaceful. I refrained.
"'How-de-do?' says he.
"I said I was worrying along, and sized him up, on the quiet. He was a
queer pet. Not a bad set-up man, and rather good looking in the face.
Light yellow hair, little yellow moustache, light blue eyes. And
clean! Say, I never saw anybody that looked so aggravating clean in
all my life. It seemed kind of wrong for him to be outdoors; all the
prairie and the cabin and everything looked mussed up beside him.
"As soon as he opened up, I noticed he had a little habit of speaking
in streaks, that bothered me. I missed the sense of his remarks.
"'Would you mind walking over that trail again?' I asked him. 'I do
most of my thinking at a foot-step and your ideas is over the hill and
far away before I can recognise the cut of their scalp-lock.'
"'Haw!' says he and stared at me. I was just on the point of askin'
him if red hair was a new thing to him, when all of a sudden he begun
to laugh, 'Haw-haw-haw!' says he; 'not bad at all, ye know.'
"'Of course not,' says I. 'Why should it be?'
"This got him going. I saw him figuring away to himself, and then I
had to smile so you could hear it.
"'Well,' says I, better humoured, 'tell us it again--I caught the word
sheep in the hurricane.'
"So he went over it, talking slow. I listened with one ear, for he had
a white bulldog with him; a husky, bandy-legged brute with a black eye,
and he was sniffing, dog fashion, around the door, while I blocked him
out with my legs. Doggy was in a frame of mind, puzzling out
bull-snake trail, and hawk trail, and bob-cat trail. He foresaw much
that was entertaining the other side of the door, and wanted it,
powerful.
"'Here,' says I, 'call your dog. I can't pay attention to both of you.'
"'He won't hurt anything, you know,' says the man.
"'Well, we've got a cat in there that'll hurt _him_,' I says. 'You'd
better whistle him off before old Bob wakes up and scatters him around
the front yard.'
"Gee! That man sat up straight on his horse! Cat hurt that dog?
Nonsense! Of course, he wouldn't let the dog hurt the cat, and as long
as I was afraid----
"I looked into that peaceful cabin. Billy was lying on his back, his
fine manly nose vibrating with melody; Wind-River was cooing in a
gentle, choked-to-death sort of fashion, on the second bunk; Tom was
coiled in the corner, the size of half a barrel; the Judge slept on his
perch; Robert reposed under the cook-stove with just a front paw
sticking out. It was one of them restful scenes our friends the poets
sing about. It did appear wicked to disturb it but----
"'Will you risk your dog?' I asked that man very softly and politely.
"'Certainly!' says he.
"Says I, 'His blood be on your shirtfront,' and I moved my leg.
"Well, sir, Billy landed on the grocery shelf. Wind-River grabbed his
gun and sat up paralysed. It really was a most surprising noise. I've
had hard luck in my life, but all the things that ever happened to me
would seem like a recess to that bulldog. Our domestic difficulties
was forgotten. 'United We Stand,' waved the motto of the lake-bed
cabin. Jerusalem! That dog was snake-bit, and
hawk-scratched-and-bit-and-clawed, and
bobcat-scratched-and-bit-and-clawed, till you could not see a cussed
thing in that cabin but blur. And of all the hissing and squawking and
screeching and yelling and snapping and roaring and growling you or any
other man ever heard, that was the darndest. I took a look at the
visitor. He'd got off his horse and was standing in the doorway with
his hands spread out. His face expressed nothing at all, very
forcible. Meanwhile, things were boilin' for fair; cook-stove,
frying-pans, stools, boxes, saddles, tin cans, bull-snakes, hawks,
bob-cats, and bulldogs simply floated in the air.
"'I wish you'd tell me what has busted loose, Red Saunders!' howls old
Wind-River in an injured tone of voice; 'and whether I shell shoot or
sha'n't I?'
"There come a second's lull. I see Judge Jenkins on the dog's back,
his talents sunk to the hock, whilst he had hold of an ear with his
bill, pullin' manfully. Tommy had swallered the dog's stumpy tail, and
Bob was dragging hair out of the enemy like an Injun dressing hides.
"A bulldog is like an Irishman; he's brave because he don't know any
better, and you can't get any braver than that, but there's a limit,
even to lunk-headedness. It bored through that dog's thick skull that
he had butted into a little bit the darndest hardest streak of
petrified luck that anything on legs could meet with.
"'By-by,' says he to himself. 'Out doors will do for me!' And here he
come! Neither the visitor nor me was expecting him. He blocked the
feet out from under us and sat his master on top. We got up in time to
see a winged bulldog, with a tail ten foot long, bounding merrily over
the turf, searching his soul for sounds to tell how scart he was,
whilst a desperate bob-cat, spitting fire and brimstone, threw dirt
fifty foot in the air trying to lay claws on him."
[Illustration: Searching soul for sounds to tell how scart he was]
"As they disappeared over the first rise I rolls me a cigarette and
lights it slowly.
"'Just by way of curiosity,' says I; 'how much will you take for your
dog?'
"'My Heavens!' says he, recovering the power of speech. 'What kind of
animal was that?'
"'Come in,' says I, 'and take a drink--you need it.'
"So we gathered up the ruins and tidied things some, while the new man
sipped his whiskey.
"'My!' says he, of a sudden. 'I must go after my poor dog.'
"I sort of warmed to him at that. 'Dog's all right,' says I. 'He'll
shake 'em loose and be home in no time. Now you tell me about them
sheep.'
"'Sheep?' says he, putting his hand to his head. 'What was it about
sheep?'
"'Hello in the house!' sings out Billy. 'The children's comin' home!'
"We tumbled out. Sure enough, the warriors was returning. First come
the Judge, tougher than rawhide, half walking and half flying, his
wings spread out, 'cree-ing' to himself about bulldogs and their ways;
next come Bobby, still sputtering and swearing, and behind ambled
Thomas at a lively wriggle, a coy, large smile upon his face.
"'Ur-r-roup! Roup!' sounds from the top of the rise. The family
halted and turned around, expectin' more pleasure, for there on the top
of the hill stood the terrible scart but still faithful bulldog calling
for his master to come away from that place quick, before he got
killed. But he had one eye open for safety, and when the family
stopped, he ducked down behind the hill surprisin'.
"'Well, I must be going,' says the visitor. 'My name's Sett--Algernon
Alfred Sett--and I shall be over next week to talk to you about those
sheep.'
"'Any time,' says I. 'We'll be here till we have to shovel snow to get
at the hay, from the look of things.'
"'Well, I'm very anxious to have a good long talk with you about
sheep,' says he. 'I've been informed that you had a long experience in
that line in--er--Nevverdah----'
"'Nevverdah?' says I. 'Oh!--Nevada. I beg your pardon--I've got in
the habit of pronouncing in that way. It wasn't Nevada, by the way--it
was Texas--but that's only a matter of a Europe or so. Yes, I met a
sheep or two in that country, I'm sorry to say.'
"'I--er--think of engaging in the business, dontcher know,' says he,
relaxing into his first method of speech; 'and should like to consult
you professionally.'
"'All right, sir!' says I. 'I'm one of the easiest men to consult west
of any place east. Can't you stay now and get the load off your mind?'
"'Well--_no_,' he says to me very confidentially. 'You see, that dog
is a great pet of my wife's, and I'm also afraid she will be a little
worried by my long absence, so----'
"'I see, sir--I see,' I answered him. 'Well, come around again and
we'll talk sheep.'
"'Thank you--thank you _so_ much,' says he, and pops up on his horse.
Then again, without any warning, he broke into a haw-haw-haw! as he
threw a glance at the family, who sat around eyeing him. 'You were
quite right about that _cat_, you know,' says he. 'Capital! Capital!
But a _little_ rough on the dog.' And off he goes, bobbity-bob,
bobbity-bob.
"'Where'd you tag that critter, Red?' says Wind-River. 'My mind's
wanderin'.'
"'He comes down the draw much the graceful way he's going up it,' says
I. 'From where, and why how, I dunno. But I kind of like him against
my better instincts, Windy.'
"Windy spit thoughtfully at a fly fifteen foot away. 'I shouldn't have
time to hate him much myself,' says he.
"And there you are. That's how I met Brother Sett, and the Big Bend
Ranch stuck her head out of the shell."
Oscar's Chance, per Charley
"Bhooooooorrr! Bhooooooooooooooorrrrr!" It was the hollow,
melancholy, wild beast-howl of a fog-horn. We were drifting upon a
tragic coast, where the great waves slipped up the cliffs noiselessly,
to disappear upon the other side. At the time, I was talking to a
person who had just been a sort of composite of several of my friends,
but was now a gaunt bay mule. "Isn't it co-o-ld?" I said to him, and
shivered. He looked me sternly in the eye. "Get up!" said he. The
vessel struck a rock and trembled violently. "Get up!" repeated the
mule, and there was a menace in his voice now. "Bhooooooooooorrrrr!"
moaned the fog-horn. This was dreadful. But worse followed. The
waters gathered themselves and rose into a peak, the mule sliding
swiftly to the apex, still holding me with his uncanny eyes. There
came a shock, and Oscar said, "For the Lord's sake, kid! They've been
braying away on that breakfast horn for the last five minutes. Hustle!"
I found myself upon my hands and knees; in a cabin, all right, but the
cabin was on the prairie. I looked around, stupid with sleep. The
familiar sights met my eye--Oscar tiptoeing about, bow-legged, arms
spread like wings, drawing his breath through his teeth, after the
fashion of half-frozen people. Old Charley sat humped up in the
corner, sucking his cob pipe. The stove was giving forth a smell of
hot iron, and no heat, as usual. On it rested a wash-basin, wherein
some snow was melting for the morning ablutions. A candle projected a
sort of palpable yellow gloom into the grey icy morning air. I dressed
rapidly. As I slept in overcoat and cap, this was no great matter. A
pair of German socks and arctics completed my attire. Evidently I had
been put upon the floor by the hand of Oscar. For this, when Oscar
stretched his nether garment tight, in the act of washing his face, I
smote him upon the fulness thereof with a long plug of chewing tobacco.
"Aow!" he yelled, recurving like a bow and putting his hands to his
wound. Promptly we clinched and fell upon old Charley. To the floor
the three went, amid a shower of sparks from the cob pipe. "You dam
pesky kids!" said the angry voice of Charles (the timbre of that voice,
after travelling through four inches of nose, is beyond imitation).
"Get off'n me! Quit now! Stop yer blame foolin'!"
[Illustration: Get off'n me!]
Oscar and I swallowed our giggles and rolled all over Charley.
"_Well_, by Jeeroosha!" came from the bottom of the heap in the tone of
one who has reached the breaking point of astonished fury. "I'm goin'
to do some shootin' when this is over--yes, sir, I won't hold back no
more--ef you boys don't git off'n me this minit, so help me Bob! I'll
bite yer!"
This was a real danger, and we skipped off him briskly. "Why,
Charley," explained Oscar, "you see, we got so excited that we didn't
notice----"
"There's Steve now," interrupted Charley, pointing with a long crooked
forefinger to the doorway. "Well, Steve! I'm glad you come. I just
want you to see the kind of goin's on there is here." Charles cleared
his throat and stuck his thumb in his vest. "F'r instance, this
mornin', I sittin' right there in that corner, not troublin' nobody,
when up gets that splay-footed, sprawlin', lumberin' bull-calf of an
Oscar, an' that mischievious, sawed-off little monkey of a Harry, and
they goes to pullin' and tusslin', and they jes' walks up and down on
me, same's if I was a flight of steps. Now, you know, Steve, I'm a man
of sagassity an' _ex_periunce, an' I ain't goin' to stand fur no such
dograsslin'. I felt like doin' them boys ser'us damage, but they're
young, and life spreads green and promisin' befo' 'em, like a banana
tree; consequently I prefer jus' to tell you my time is handed in."
Charley was proudly erect. His arms stretched aloft. His one yellow
tooth rested on his lower lip; his face, the thickness and texture of a
much-worn leather pocketbook, showed a tinge of colour as the words
went to his head like wine.
Steve looked at the floor. "Too bad, Charley; too bad," he said in
grave sympathy. "But probably we can fix it up. Now, as we have
company, would you mind hitting the breakfast trail?"
"After I've made a few remarks," returned Charles haughtily.
Steve dropped on a stool. "Sick your pup on," he said. Charley leaped
at the opportunity.
"There _are_ some things I sh'd like to mention," said he. We noted
with pleasure that he wore his sarcastic manner. "F'r instance, you
doubtless behold them small piles of snow on the floo', which has come
in through certain an' sundry holes in the wall that orter been chinked
last fall. Is it _my_ place to chink them holes? The oldes' an' mose
_ex_periunced man in the hull cat-hop? I reckon otherwise. Then why
didn't they git chinked? Why is it that the snows and winds of an
outraged and jus'ly indignant Providence is allowed to introdoose
theirselves into this company unrebuked?