Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1912-Jan 1913)

84 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE "I guess it was Providence had helped to hitch Texas' pony in front of Jake's saloon — there he was, chewing contentedly on a hitching-post — for it gave me time to think and to cool down a peg. "I cant swear jest what would 'a' happened if I'd run into Texas sudden, but there I was runnin' my hands along th' nasty rowel scars on his pony's side, when he came out and seen me. " 'I'll sell yuh that hoss cheap,' he sang out. 'Yuh can see for yourself he's a cribber.' " 'I dont want yore animal, Mr. Morris,' I said, cool-like; 'first, bekase he's wind-broken, and second, bekase his spirrut is clean gone, from them Mexican rowels.' " 'I guess yuh think I dont understan' a hoss,' he said, drawin' close. " 'Yuh make it out exactly,' I says. 'Too much quirt will ruin a hoss — and a woman.' ' ' ' Whatcher mean ? ' says he, showing his lips, like a coyote. " 'I aint got no time now to eddieate yuh,' says I, stoppin' in th' door, ' but th ' letters yuh was branded with aint goin ' to grow out in a hurry. ' "He stooped to pick suthin' up — I couldn't catch just what — an' I went inside, to stan' an' drink, an' drink some more, with every mother's son in Jocko that thought he had a thirst to stack up to mine." Triggerless paused to fill his pipe, and to balance an ember adroitly on its bowl. I had time to notice that the moon now rode above the valley and swathed the old ranch house in pale silver light, before he resumed. "That was th' last time I ever set eyes on Texas, and, from what happened, he figured purty exactly that it was th' last time he was to run across my trail. " 'Long toward sun-up, I left a few survivors singin' a doleful ditty in Jake's place, an' swung onto my pony, who natch 'ly started down th' road to Morris's. But I swung him off across the sage-brush, and picked out a place to lie down and think, lookin' up at the stars. "I woke up with a start — th' sun, high up, workin' into my hot eyes. " 'Son,' says I, to the croppin' pony, speakin ' of myself, ' yuh 've been drinkin' licker — like a fish.' And I sprang up to catch a last look of th' ranch house where she lived, before pulling out for th' settlements. "Out on the road to Jocko I could hear th' punch of hosses' feet on an easy lope, and purty soon they all stopped and held some sort of a powwow. Then the sounds started ag'in, thru the brush this time, and I felt, somehow, that they were follerin' my pony's tracks, and lookin' for me. "Th' day was as still and clear as a Sunday in Kansas, and, from 'most a mile off, I heard th' sheriff's call to his boys to spread out and beat th' brush. "Purty soon I could see th' spots on his pinto, and stood up an' waved to him. He pulled up his pony, and acted surprised at first ; then, they all came down to me with a rush. " 'Hand over yuh gun, Jim,' said th ' sheriff. ' Yuh shore do act strange, with th' Ole Man's place a gunshot away. ' " 'I aint punchin' for him no more,' says I, fierce-like. Th' Jocko boys all looked at each other as if I was gone plumb loco. " 'Come on, Jim,' says th' sheriff, 'quit foolin', an' catch yore hoss; it's a long ride to Missoula.' " 'Missoula!' I says, took all of a heap, 'how'd yuh know I was goin' there?' "He looked purty surprised for a spell, too, then he says: 'Jim, after Texas came in, an' tole us about Ole Man Clayton lyin' there in his cottonwoods, I reckon yuh have thought some of Missoula. ' " 'I 'low to quit th' valley — what then ? ' I asked, sore puzzled. " 'Come along, Jim,' said th' sheriff, sharp. 'I got to rope yuh — if I didn't, th' Ole Man would rise in his tracks and curse me thru them bulletholes o' yourn.' "I went, as dumb as a sheep, after that, and on the dusty forty miles to Missoula, and the calaboose waitin'