CHAPTER FOUR
TY JONES
Ty stood in his door as the Friar rode up, and he recognized him fromthe description Badger-face had turned in. Badger-face had been purtyfreely tongue-handled for not havin' lynched the Friar, and Ty Joneswas disposed to tilt his welcome even farther back than usual; so heset his pack on the Friar. He had six dogs at this time, mastiffs witha wolf-cross in 'em which about filled out his notion o' what a dogought to be.
The Friar had noticed the dogs, but he didn't have an idee that anyman would set such creatures on another man; so he had dismounted toget a drink o' water from the crick, it havin' been a hot ride. Thepack came surgin' down on him while he was lyin' flat an' drinkin' outo' the crick. His ponies were grazin' close by, and as soon as he saw'at the dogs meant business, he vaulted into the saddle just in timeto escape 'em.
They leaped at him as fast as they came up, and he hit 'em with theloaded end of his quirt as thorough as was possible. He was ridin' aline buckskin with a nervous disposition, and the pony kicked one ortwo on his own hook; but as the Friar leaned over in puttin' down thefifth, the sixth jumped from the opposite side, got a holt on his armjust at the shoulder, an' upset him out of the saddle. In the fall thedog's grip was broke an' he and the Friar faced each other for amoment, the Friar squattin' on one knee with his fists close to histhroat, the dog crouchin' an' snarlin'.
As the dog sprang, the Friar upper-cut him in the throat with his lefthand and when he straightened up, hit him over the heart with hisright. He says that a dog's heart is poorly protected. Anything 'atdidn't have steel over it was poorly protected when the Friar struckwith his right in earnest. The dog was killed. One o' the dogs thepony had kicked was also killed, but the other four was able to get upand crawl away.
The Friar shook himself and went on to where Ty Jones and a few of hismen were standin'. "That's a nice lively bunch o' dogs you have," sezhe, smilin' as pleasant as usual; "but they need trainin'."
"They suit me all right," growls Ty, "except that they're too blameclumsy."
The Friar looked at him a minute, and then said drily, "Yes, that'swhat I said; they need trainin'."
Ty Jones scowled: "They don't get practice enough," sez he. "It's mostgenerally known that I ain't a-hankerin' for company; so folks don'tusually come here, unless they're sure of a welcome."
"I can well believe you," said the Friar, laughin', "and I hope thenext time I come I'll be sure of a welcome."
"It's not likely," sez Ty shortly.
The Friar just stood and looked at him curiously. He didn't believethat Ty could really mean it. The' wasn't a streak of anything in hisown make-up to throw light on a human actin' the way 'at Ty Jonesacted; so he just stood and examined him. Ty stared back with a sneeron his face, and I'm sorry I couldn't have been there to see 'emeyein' each other.
"Do you really mean," sez the Friar at last, "that you hate yourfellow humans so, that you'd drive a perfect stranger away from yourdoor?"
"I haven't any use for hoss-thieves," sez Ty.
The Friars face lighted. "Oh, that's all right," sez he in a relievedtone. "As long as you have a special grievance again' me, why, it'sperfectly natural for you to act up to it. It wouldn't be natural formost men to act up to it in just this way, but still it's normal;while for a man to set his dogs on a total stranger would bemonstrous. I'm glad to know 'at you had some excuse; but as far ashoss-stealin' goes, that roan is back with your band again. I saw himas I came along."
Ty was somewhat flabbergasted. He wasn't used to havin' folks try outhis conduct and comment on it right to his face; and especially was heshocked to have his morals praised by a preacher. He knew 'at such areception as had just been handed to the Friar would have taken thestarch out o' most men an' filled 'em with a desire for revenge everafter; but he could see that the Friar was not thinkin' of what hadbeen handed to him, he was actually interested in himself, Ty Jones,and was honestly tryin' to see how it was possible for such acondition to exist; and this set Ty Jones back on his haunches fortrue.
"For all time to come," he sez slow and raspy, "I want you to leave mystuff alone. If you ever catch up and ride one of my hosses again,I'll get your hide; and I don't even want you on my land."
Then the Friar stiffened up; any one in the world, or any thing, hadthe right to impose upon the Friar as a man; but when they tried tointerfere with what he spoke of as his callin', why, he swelled upnoticeable. The Friar's humility was genuine, all right; but it wasabout four times stiffer an' spikier than any pride I've ever met upwith yet.
"I shall not ride your hosses," sez he, scornful, "nor shall I treadupon your land, nor shall I breathe your air, nor drink your water;but in the future, as in the past, I shall use for the Lord only thosethings which belong to the Lord. The things which are the Lord's wereHis from the beginning, the things which you call yours are merelyentrusted to your care for a day or an hour or a moment. I do notcovet your paltry treasures, I covet your soul and I intend to fightyou for it from this day forward."
The Friar spoke in a low, earnest tone; and Ty Jones stared at him. Yaknow how earnest an insane man gets? Well, the' was something o' thisin the Friar when he was talkin' business. You felt that he believedthat what he was sayin' was the truth, and you felt that if it was thetruth, it was mighty well worth heedin', and you also felt that inspite of its bein' so everlastin' different from the usual view o'things, it might actually be the truth after all and a risky thing topass up careless.
After waitin' a minute without gettin' a reply, the Friar turned onhis heel to walk away, stumbled, and slipped to the ground, and thenthey noticed a pool of blood which had dripped from him as he stood.He had forgotten that the dog had torn him, an' the men had lookedinto his eyes, as men always did when he talked, and they had forgotit, too. Now, when he fell, Olaf the Swede stepped forward to help himup.
Olaf was the best man 'at Ty Jones had, from Ty's own standpoint. Tyhad happened to be over at Skelty's one night when Skelty was givin' adance. Skelty had six girls at this time, an' he used to give a danceabout once a week. Along about midnight, they got to be purty livelyaffairs. This night Skelty had bragged what a fine shot he was, an'the boys were kiddin' him about it, because Skelty wasn't no shot atall as a rule. It was a moonlight night, and while they was sheepin'Skelty about his shootin', two strangers rode up, tied their hosses tothe corral, an' started up the path toward the door.
Skelty looked at 'em an' sez, "Why, if I had a mind to, I could pickone o' those fellers off with this gun as easy as I could scratch mynose." He pulled his gun and held it over his shoulder.
All the boys fair hooted, an' Skelty dropped his gun an' shot one o'the strangers dead in his tracks. The other came along on the run withSkelty shootin' at him as fast as he could pop; but he only shot himonce, through the leg, and he limped in an' made for Skelty with hisbare hands. Skelty hit him in the forehead, knocked him down an'jumped on him. He kept on beatin' him over the head until the strangermanaged to get a grip on his wrists. He held one hand still, an'puttin' the other into his mouth, bit off the thumb.
The's somethin' about bein' bit on the thumb which melts a man'snerve; and in about five minutes, the stranger had Skelty's headbetween his knees, and was makin' him eat his own gun. It must havebeen a hideous sight! Some say that he actually did make Skelty eatit, and some say that he only tore through the throat; but anyway,Skelty didn't quite survive it, and Ty Jones hired the stranger, whichwas Olaf the Swede.
Olaf was one o' those Swedes which seem a mite too big for theirskins. The bones in his head stuck out, his jaws stuck out prodigious,his shoulders stuck out, his hands stuck out--he fair loomed up andseemed to crowd the landscape, and he was stouter 'n a bull. When helet himself go he allus broke somethin'; but he had a soft streak inhim for animals, an' Ty never could break him from bein' gentle withhosses, nor keep him from pettin' the dogs once in a while. Olafhadn't no more morals 'n a snake at this time, an' when it came todealin' with humans, he suited Ty to th
e minute; but he just simplywouldn't torture an animal, and that was the end of it. Olaf wasn't atalkin' man; he never used a word where a grunt would do, and he wasmiserly about them; but he certainly was set in his ways.
The Friar hadn't fainted, he had just gone dizzy; so when Olaf gavehim a lift he got to his feet and walked to his horse. He alluscarried some liniment an' such in his saddle bags, an' he pulled offhis shirt and cleaned out the wound and tied it up, with Olaf standin'by and tryin' to help. Now, it made something of a murmur, when theFriar took off his shirt. In the first place, the dog had give him anawful tear, and for the rest, the Friar was a wonderful sight tobehold. He was as strong as Olaf without bein' bulgey, and his skinwas as white and smooth as ivory. He was all curves and tapers withmedium small hands and feet, and a throat clean cut and shapely likethe throat of a high-bred mare. Olaf looked at him, and nodded hishead solemnly. Badger-face hated Olaf, because Olaf had a curious wayof estimatin' things and havin' 'em turn out to be so, which made TyJones put faith in what Olaf said, over and above what any one elsesaid.
As soon as the Friar had finished tyin' up the wound, he turned andwalked up to Ty Jones. "Friend," he said, "I don't bear you a grain o'malice, and nothing you can ever do to me will make me bear you agrain o' malice. I know a lot about medicine, and perhaps I can helpyou that way sometime. I want to get a start with you some way; I wantto be welcome here, and I wish 'at you'd give me a chance."
"Oh, hell!" sneered Ty Jones. "Do you think you can soft-soap me aseasy as you did the boys? You're not welcome here now, and you neverwill be. I've heard all this religious chatter, and there's nothin' init. The world was always held by the strong, by the men who hatedtheir enemies and stamped them out as fast as they got a chance; andit always will be held by the strong. Your religion is only forweaklings and hypocrits."
The Friar's face lighted. "Will you discuss these things with me?" heasked. "I shall not eat until this scratch is healed, I have my ownbed and will not bother you; won't you just be decent enough to inviteme to camp here, give me free use of water, and grass for my hosses,while you and I discuss these things fully?"
"I told you I didn't want you about, and I don't," sez Ty. "The'snothin' on earth so useless as a preacher, and I can't stand 'em."
"Let me work for you," persisted the Friar. "All I ask is a chance toshow 'at I'm able to do a man's work, and all the pay I ask is achance to hold service here on Sundays. If I don't do my work well,then you can make me the laughin' stock o' the country; but I tell youright now that if you turn me away without a show, it will do you alot more harm than it will me."
Ty thought 'at probably the Friar had got wind o' some of hisdevilment, and was hintin' that his own neck depended on his menkeepin' faith with him; so he stared at the Friar to see if it was athreat.
The Friar looked back into his eyes with hope beamin' in his own; butafter a time Ty Jones scowled down his brows an' pointed the way 'atthe Friar had come. "Go," sez he, stiff as ever. "The' ain't any roomfor you on the Cross brand range; and if ya try anything underhanded,I'll hunt ya down and put ya plumb out o' the way."
So the Friar he caught his ponies and hit the back trail; but still ithad been purty much of a drawn battle, for Ty Jones's men had usedtheir eyes and their ears, and they had to give in to themselves 'atthe preacher had measured big any way ya looked at him; while theirown boss had dogged it in the manger to a higher degree 'n even theycould take glory in.
As the Friar rode away, he sagged in his saddle with his head bentover; and they thought him faint from his wound; but the truth was,that he was only a little sad to think 'at he had lost. He was human,the Friar was; he used to chide himself for presumptin' to beimpatient; but at the same time he used to fidget like a nervous hosswhen things seemed to stick in the sand; and he didn't sing a note aslong as he was on the Cross brand range--which same was an uncommonstate for the Friar to be in, him generally marchin' to music.