CHAPTER VI. Trials of the Convalescent
The days at the ranch passed in irritating idleness for those whohad obstructed the flight of hostile lead, and worse than any of thepatients was Hopalong, who fretted and fumed at his helplessness, whichretarded his recovery. But at last the day came when he was fit forthe saddle again, and he gave notice of his joy in whoops and forthwithannounced that he was entitled to a holiday; and Buck had not the heartto refuse him.
So he started forth in his quest of peace and pleasure, but instead hadfound only trouble and had been forced to leave his card at almost everyplace he had visited.
There was that affair in Red Hot Gulch, Colorado, where, under pressure,he had invested sundry pieces of lead in the persons of severalobstreperous citizens and then had paced the zealous and excitablesheriff to the state line.
He next was noticed in Cheyenne, where his deformity was vividlydwelt upon, to the extent of six words, by one Tarantula Charley, theaforesaid Charley not being able to proceed to greater length on accountof heart failure. As Charley had been a ubiquitous nuisance, thosepresent availed themselves of the opportunity offered by Hopalong toindulge in a free drink.
Laramie was his next stopping place, and shortly after his arrival hewas requested to sing and dance by a local terror, who informed allpresent that he was the only seventeen-buttoned rattlesnake in the cowcountry. Hopalong, hurt and indignant at being treated like a commontenderfoot, promptly knocked the terror down. After he had irrigatedseveral square feet of parched throats belonging to the audience heagain took up his journey and spent a day at Denver, where he managed toavoid any further trouble.
Santa Fe loomed up before him several days later and he entered itshortly before noon. At this time the old Spanish city was a bundle ofhigh-strung nerves, and certain parts of it were calculated to furnishany and all kinds of excitement except revival meetings and churchfairs. Hopalong straddled a lively nerve before he had been in the cityan hour. Two local bad men, Slim Travennes and Tex Ewalt, desiring toestablish the fact that they were roaring prairie fires, attempted toconsume the placid and innocent stranger as he limped across the plazain search of a game of draw poker at the Black Hills Emporium, with theresult that they needed repairs, to the chagrin and disgust of theirimmediate acquaintances, who endeavored to drown their mortificationand sorrow in rapid but somewhat wild gun play, and soon remembered thatthey had pressing engagements elsewhere.
Hopalong reloaded his guns and proceeded to the Emporium, where he founda game all prepared for him in every sense of the word. On the thirddeal he objected to the way in which the dealer manipulated the cards,and when the smoke cleared away he was the only occupant of the room,except a dog belonging to the bartender that had intercepted a straybullet.
Hunting up the owner of the hound, he apologized for being the indirectcause of the animal's death, deposited a sum of Mexican dollars inthat gentleman's palm and went on his way to Alameda, which he enteredshortly after dark, and where an insult, simmering in its uncalled-forvenom, met him as he limped across the floor of the local dispensary onhis way to the bar. There was no time for verbal argument and precedenthad established the manner of his reply, and his repartee was as quickas light and most effective. Having resented the epithets he gave hisattention to the occupants of the room.
Smoke drifted over the table in an agitated cloud and dribbled lazilyupward from the muzzle of his six-shooter, while he looked searchinglyat those around him. Strained and eager faces peered at his opponent,who was sliding slowly forward in his chair, and for the length of aminute no sound but the guarded breathing of the onlookers could beheard. This was broken by a nervous cough from the rear of the room, andthe faces assumed their ordinary nonchalant expressions, their ruggedlines heavily shadowed in the light of the flickering oil lamps, whilethe shuffling of cards and the clink of silver became audible. HopalongCassidy had objected to insulting remarks about his affliction.
Hopalong was very sensitive about his crippled leg and was alwaysprompt to resent any scorn or curiosity directed at it, especiallywhen emanating from strangers. A young man of twenty-three years, whensurrounded by nearly perfect specimens of physical manhood, is apt tobe painfully self-conscious of any such defect, and it reacted on hisnature at times, even though he was well-known for his happy-go-luckydisposition and playfulness. He consoled himself with the knowledgethat what he lost in symmetry was more than balanced by the celerityand certainty of his gun hand, which was right or left, or both, as theoccasion demanded.
Several hours later, as his luck was vacillating, he felt a heavy handon his shoulder, and was overjoyed at seeing Buck and Red, the lattergrinning as only Red could grin, and he withdrew from the game to enjoyhis good fortune.
While Hopalong had been wandering over the country the two friends hadbeen hunting for him and had traced him successfully, that being dueto the trail he had blazed with his six-shooters. This they hadaccomplished without harm to themselves, as those of whom they inquiredthought that they must want Hopalong "bad," and cheerfully gave theinformation required.
They had started out more for the purpose of accompanying him forpleasure, but that had changed to an urgent necessity in the followingmanner:
While on the way from Denver to Santa Fe they had met Pete Willis of theThree Triangle, a ranch that adjoined their own, and they paused to passthe compliments of the season.
"Purty far from th' grub wagon, Pie," remarked Buck.
"Oh, I'm only goin' to Denver," responded Pie.
"Purty hot," suggested Red.
"She shore is. Seen anybody yu knows?" Pie asked.
"One or two--Billy of th' Star Crescent an' Panhandle Lukins," answeredBuck.
"That so? Panhandle's goin' to punch for us next year. I'll hunt him up.I heard down south of Albuquerque that Thirsty Jones an' his brothersare lookin' for trouble," offered Pie.
"Yah! They ain't lookin' for no trouble--they just goes aroundblowin' off. Trouble? Why, they don't know what she is," remarked Redcontemptuously.
"Well, they's been dodgin' th' sheriff purty lively lately, an' if thatain't trouble I don't know what is," said Pie.
"It shore is, an' hard to dodge," acquiesced Buck.
"Well, I has to amble. Is Panhandle in Denver? Yes? I calculates ashow me an' him'll buck th' tiger for a whirl--he's shore lucky. Well, solong," said Pie as he moved on.
"So long," responded the two.
"Hey, wait a minute," yelled Pie after he had ridden a hundred yards."If yu sees Hopalong yu might tell him that th' Joneses are goin' tohunt him up when they gits to Albuquerque. They's shore sore on him.'Tain't none of my funeral, only they ain't always a-carin' how theygoes after a feller. So long," and soon he was a cloud of dust on thehorizon.
"Trouble!" snorted Red; "well, between dodgin' Harris an' huntin'Hopalong I reckons they'll shore find her." Then to himself he murmured,"Funny how everythin' comes his way."
"That's gospel shore enough, but, as Pie said, they ain't a whole lotparticular as how they deal th' cards. We better get a move on an' findthat ornery little cuss," replied Buck.
"O. K., only I ain't losin' no sleep about Hoppy. His gun's too livelyfor me to do any worryin'," asserted Red.
"They'll get lynched some time, shore," declared Buck.
"Not if they find Hoppy," grimly replied Red.
They tore through Santa Fe, only stopping long enough to wet theirthroats, and after several hours of hard riding entered Alameda, wherethey found Hopalong in the manner narrated.
After some time the three left the room and headed for Albuquerque,twelve miles to the south. At ten o'clock they dismounted before theNugget and Rope, an unpainted wooden building supposed to be aclever combination of barroom, dance and gambling hall and hotel. Thecleverness lay in the man who could find the hotel part.