The Long Dim Trail Part 17

Bronco looked nonplussed, then a.s.serted, "Roarer took 'em away from us before the job was done, and then he disremembered whar he'd put 'em.

Limber had to go to town with one side his hair cut and Dunning finished up the job."

Limber appeared with the whitewash brush, and at his heels came Roarer dragging two sacks of flour.

"This is all I kin find," said Roarer. "Reckon it will be enough?"

Bronco was non-committal, "I'll use it up and see how fur it'll go."

"Say, Roarer, you got to find the scissors. You was the last one that had 'em. Where are they?" called Holy accusingly.

Roarer stared blankly, then whirled out the door. Holy sat swearing until Roarer re-appeared and exhibited the lost shears, explaining, "I just happened to think that I couldn't find the wire-nippers that day when you was cuttin' Limber's hair, and that was why I got 'em from you.

I left 'em in the blacksmith shop, but I disremembered it till you spoke about 'em. They may cut paper, but they ain't no good for cuttin' wire."

He handed the badly damaged shears to Holy who seated himself on the floor. Selecting a roll of paper from the pile before him, Holy opened and contemplated it in perplexity, finally appealing to Bronco:

"Say, Bronc, there's two white edges. Shall I trim 'em both?"

Bronco stood gazing down at the paper. "Durned if I know," he confessed.

"But thar ain't no use s.h.i.+rkin' the job since we tackled it. Pitch in, Holy. Let 'er go, and cut 'em both off," he directed recklessly before he was attracted by the struggles of Roarer and Limber, who dragged in a galvanized tub.

Behind them came Fong, protesting wildly, "No clatchee more flouler. No makee biscuits tomollow."

"Well, give us crackers," commanded Bronco. "This year room has got to be papered today. Go chase yourself, Fong."

The Chinaman disappeared jabbering and shaking his head, but no one paid attention to Fong's worries. Each was immersed in his own troubles.

Holy struggled heroically with spirals of paper, and volcanic outbursts of his pet expressions floated from his part of the room as he endeavoured to extricate himself from the enveloping coils. Bronco hovered over the tub, directing Limber and Roarer, who dumped a sack and a half of flour into it.

"You gotter put salt in, next," said Bronco, and the two cowpunchers darted to a cupboard where each captured a small bag of salt.

"What next?" they demanded, becoming imbued with enthusiasm as the salt mingled with the tub of flour.

"And--er--and--" floundered Bronco hopelessly. "There's something else.

What the devil is it?" he implored the others.

"Water," prompted Holy from his corner, his head and arms protruding from the paper making him resemble a huge turtle. "I knowed you'd forget that."

Bronco's ire found vent in a few words borrowed from Holy's vocabulary, and Limber, mounted on a box, turned from inspecting the cupboard to say: "If we're goin' to paper this room, you two quit sc.r.a.pin' and get down to business. If you ain't, jest say so, and I'll set Manuel to whitewas.h.i.+n' it."

His threat had the desired effect. Bronco appealed to Limber, "Larry told me to mix it like biscuit dough and thin it out with water. There was somethin' else but I've plumb forgot it, Limber."

"Well, try lard, then," suggested Limber, poking his head back in the cupboard and scanning the contents hoping to find the missing article, even though it were necessary to add everything on the shelves. "How about some n.i.g.g.e.rfoot mola.s.ses?"

"Lard's all right," replied Bronco, "but n.i.g.g.e.rfoot don't go in biscuits."

"Well, it goes on top of 'em pretty slick, and it's good and sticky, so it oughter be a good thing to put in," persisted Limber, holding out the can. "Mebbe Larry forgot to tell you to use it."

"Jest a leetle bit," conceded Bronco, wis.h.i.+ng heartily that Limber would insist upon whitewas.h.i.+ng the room; but not brave enough to suggest it himself. It had taken him two years to live down the episode of the buckskin cow, and he knew that Holy and Roarer would make life a burden if he confessed his inability to finish the work he had so recklessly undertaken.

He watched the black mola.s.ses trickle into the contents of the tub until the last drop had fallen. Limber ascended the box again.

"Thar's another can of n.i.g.g.e.rfoot. Don't be stingy with it Bronc,"

admonished Limber.

Bronco had not the courage to negative any suggestion, but he groped mentally, "It was a short word," he told Limber with a faint gleam of hope.

"Dam!" exploded Holy. "Jest look at this dod-ratted, twistin' paper, will you? Talk about your Hopi snake-dancers, they ain't in it with me!

Where am I at?" he demanded from a labyrinth of paper coils.

Bronco was glad of the chance to a.s.sume knowledge that he did not possess, much as a small boy bolsters up his ebbing courage in a dark lane by whistling loudly.

"I told you to cut the edges straight," he announced oracularly, "and these year look like a cross-eyed maverick had been usin' a circular saw to cut wall-paper for a merry-go-round. Why that paper would give a minister a jag to look at it!"

"If one of you fellers would hog-tie that end whilst I get a diamond-hitch on this'n, I mought have some show," defended Holy feebly.

Roarer went to the rescue and gripped one end of a roll while Holy conscientiously proceeded to mutilate the edges and succeeded in making the scallops a trifle smaller. Limber and Bronco resumed their consultation.

"I bet it was yeast," jubilated Limber. "We all forgot about that, and it's a short word, sure enough."

"I guess you're right," Bronco agreed with desperate haste, and without delay he dumped a large can of baking powder into the tub. "Now, all we got to do is thin her out and then she's ready to start work."

Limber helped him carry the tub into the front room, escorted by Roarer and Holy, who trailed yards of paper which had escaped from their encircling arms.

"We need a board and two saw-horses to stand on," said Bronco cheerfully, believing the worst of the trouble was over. "Holy, you and Roarer paste the paper with the whitewash brush, whilst Limber helps me stic'er up. We got to have system if we want to get anything done right."

The first strip was duly prepared, and they viewed it with feelings akin to the emotions of Columbus and his crew when they sighted land. Bronco climbed on the plank that rested on the saw-horses. As he reached down for the wet strip which Limber held up to him, the board tipped suddenly. Bronco slid, clawing wildly at s.p.a.ce until he enveloped Limber in a pasty embrace. The impact caused them both to fall across Holy and Roarer who were engaged in spreading paste on another strip. The latter proved no obstacle in the mad career of Limber and Bronco, which ended ignominiously in a sea of paste from the overturned tub.

When the confusion had subsided sufficiently, the men surveyed the wreck with voiceless disgust, until Holy spoke sarcastically.

"I suppose you'll say this belongs in the deal, Bronc. What's next?

You sure seem to be the movin' spirit. But, one thing I'm stackin' my chips on, is that I'll know better the next time I start to paper a room and won't do it."

"You can quit if you want to. I ain't no quitter. Thar's half a sack of flour left," Bronco challenged over his shoulder as he started for the door to the back porch where he had deposited the surplus flour. The half-sack of flour had disappeared.

"I bet that c.h.i.n.k got it," a.s.serted Bronco wrathfully, but there was no sign of Fong in answer to their calls. Then Limber pointed to a couple of burros that were demolis.h.i.+ng the last shreds of a flour sack.

"That settles it," grunted Bronco, blissfully ignorant that while they had been occupied, Fong had slipped slyly through the screen door of the porch, clutched the half sack of flour, retreated successfully and after dumping the contents of the sack into another sack, which had been washed, the Chinaman with a leer of triumph, tossed the original sack to the burros. Then, complacently he began mixing the dough for the next day's baking; but at intervals he peered at the fast vanis.h.i.+ng flour sack, and saw that his ruse was successful when the cowboys discovered the two burros.

"Gosh, all we got to show is a nice mess that's got to be cleaned up, and a bill down to the Headquarters for paper with pink roses. Ain't it a shame? Just when we was getting along so fine, too." Bronco's tones were lugubrious, and they all looked regretfully at the coils of paper that c.u.mbered the room. Like mourners at a funeral they gathered around the coils. The pink roses grew more alluring. Bronco lifted one strip and held it against the wall.

"Whitewash makes me sick," he affirmed.

"Suppose I go over to Eureka and ask Mrs. Burns to lend us enough flour to finish up the job?" Limber made the suggestion and the idea was accepted enthusiastically.

While he was gone the others sc.r.a.ped up the paste and collected the scattered rolls of paper, then went to the bunkhouse and waited Limber's return, unaware that almost half a sack of flour reposed in a corner of Fong's tin trunk, while a batch of bread was rising beautifully in the dishpan hidden beneath Fong's bed. Had any of the boys suspicioned the true facts there would have been a badly-frightened Chinaman in Arizona.

When Limber returned he was accompanied by Mrs. Burns in her buggy, while Peanut, Limber's pony, trotted at the back of the rig, hitched to the axle.