Friar Tuck Part 41

After supper we gathered around the fire in Olaf's settin' room, and the Friar gave us a purty complete account of what had happened. He said that it was his old girl all right; but he said that the' was somethin' the matter with her, that she didn't recognize him even after he had made himself known to her. He said she seemed dazed-like and not to take any interest in anything.

He said they had walked down the ravine together, and she had told him that she was comfortable enough but not happy. That she had lost something which she could not find; but that she was getting stronger since havin' come out to the mountains. He said 'at when Ty Jones saw 'em together, he had carried on somethin' fierce, and had ordered her into the house. Then he had turned on the Friar and told him that he would give him two weeks to leave the state and after that his life wouldn't be safe in it. He said he had tried to reason with Ty; but it wasn't any use; so he had just come away.

"If he had set upon you, would you have shot him?" asked Tank.

"I didn't have anything to shoot him with," sez the Friar. "I was careful to leave my weapons behind."

"Well, you didn't show much judgment in doin' it," sez Tank. "He might have sent a couple o' fellers after ya, and finished you out in the dark somewhere so 'at we never could 'a' proved it on him."

"I did think for a minute that some one was follerin' me," sez the Friar. "I heard a rattle of stones and a cry a few hundred feet behind me in the ravine; but I think it was some animal slippin' down the side."

"Like as not," sez Tank. "If it had been any o' Ty's gang, they wouldn't have give it up so easy; but another time we'll some of us go along with you; so as to get your last words anyhow, if so be 'at you're bent on suicide. What do you intend to do now?"

"That's the worst of it," sez the Friar. "I don't know what to do. She said she did not think she was married; but she was not sure; and Ty refused to give me any satisfaction about it."

"Isn't the' any law out here, at all?" sez Horace. "Seems to me as though there ought to be some way to get at Ty Jones."

"What would you charge him with?" asked the Friar. "She is not being abused or kept a prisoner, she says she is comfortable and gettin'

stronger-I can't think of any way to bring him under the law. If you had not taken the law into your own hands in regard to his two men, we might have made the claim that he was behind them in this; but really, I do not see where we have any just grounds to go to law."

"That little matter o' the Greasers don't hobble us none," sez ol'

Tank. "Don't you get the idee that you're bound in any way by this.

The whole country would uphold us; so if you want to use it as a lever, just make your claims again' Ty to the law officers, and we'll tell 'em 'at the Greasers confessed 'at Ty put 'em up to it."

This seemed to us like sage advice; and we all chipped in and urged the Friar to act on it. Laws are all right, I haven't a word to say again' laws. Fact is, I believe 'at we're better off for havin' a few than not; but after all, laws come under the head of luxuries like diamonds and elevators and steam heat. We all know there is such things, and we haven't any objections to those usin' 'em who can afford it; but most of us have to wear cut-gla.s.s, pack in our own wood, do our climbin' on foot or hossback, and settle our troubles in our own way with as little bother as possible. When you figure it down to the foundation, laws depend on public opinion, not public opinion on laws; and all the public opinion worth takin' into account would have said 'at we had done the right thing with those Greasers. If they'd 'a' tried to law us for a little thing like this, it would have started an upraisin' which would have let the law see how small a shadow it really does throw when it comes to a show-down.

The Friar didn't answer us right away, and when he did, it was in the most discouraged voice I'd ever heard him use. "I'm in the dark, boys," sez he, "I don't know what to do. Even if I could find some way to take her away from Ty Jones, I do not know what to do with her. She is not herself, she needs care and protection-and I am not in a position to supply them. I have an income of three hundred and fifty dollars a year, which is much more than enough for my own needs, for I live mostly upon the hospitality of my friends as you well know"-we also knew 'at he spent most of his money in helpin' those who never saw enough money to get on intimate terms with it; while all they gave him in return was a little meal and bacon for savin' their souls and doctor-bills. "I don't know what I could do for her, even if I had the right to take her away from him," continued the Friar. "My life has been a good deal of a failure; and I-"

"For the love o' common sense, Friar!" broke in Horace. "You don't seem to have the smallest degree o' judgment. You know mighty well 'at I'm bothered to death to know what to do with my money. You get her if you can, send her to any sort of a sanitarium you want to, and I'll foot the bills. Don't you ever sit around and whine about money in my presence again. It worries and disgusts and irritates me-and I came out here for rest. You talk about faith and takin' no heed for the morrow, and such things; but you act as though you were riskin' a man's soul when you gave him a chance to be of some little use in the world."

The Friar was purty well overcome at this; but figure on it the best we were able, we couldn't see just how to get a man's wife away from him without provin' that he had abused her. It was a complication, any way we looked at it; so we all went to bed in the hope that one of us would have a lucky dream.

We didn't have any more idees next mornin' than we'd had the night before; so after breakfast, the Friar took a walk and the rest of us sat around in bunches talkin' it over. About ten o'clock a feller named Joyce who lived about fifteen miles east of Olaf came by on his way for a doctor, his boy havin' been kicked above the knee and his leg broke. The Friar could patch up a human as good as any doctor; so we went after him, knowin' that this would be the best way to take his mind off his own troubles, and the' was a look o' relief in the Friar's face when he rode away with Joyce.

I never knew any feller yet who didn't spend a lot o' time wis.h.i.+n' he had a chance to loaf all the laziness out of his system; but the fact of the matter is, that work gives us more satisfaction than anything else. A wild animal's life is one long stretch after enough to eat; but he's full o' health an' joy an' beauty. On the other hand, put one in a cage and feed it regular and it turns sick immediate. What we need is plenty o' the kind o' work we are fitted for-this is the answer to all our discontented feelin'; and what the Friar was best fitted for, was to help others.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

A CROSS FOR EVERY MAN

Thinkin', just plain thinkin', is about the hardest work the' is; and for the next several days, we lay around doin' mighty little else. The trouble was, 'at we couldn't devise a way to put Ty Jones out o'

business. He wasn't an outlaw; fact was, he stood high with the big cattle men; and we got light headed tryin' to scare up a plan which would remove Ty in a decent manner, and leave the Friar free to take the woman without causin' him any conscience-pains. We were the mournfulest lookin' bunch o' healthy men ever I saw; and finally I decided to loaf with Kit and the kid, they not bein' expected to do any thinkin' and therefore havin' smooth an' pleasant faces.

Sometimes I wonder if women don't get along just as well without thinkin' as men do with it. I hadn't talked seven minutes with Kit before she suggested just what I would have thought up if I'd been able. She didn't even know she had suggested it; so I didn't call her attention to it for fear it might up-heave her vanity and give Olaf bother. I had a plan now and it was of such a nature that I was glad the Friar wasn't there to mess into it.

I found Promotheus an' Tank lyin' on the gra.s.s along the crick. They were back to back, and their faces were so lined with genuwine thought, that they looked like a pair of overgrown nutmegs. I sat down beside 'em lookin' worried.

Presently Tank sez: "What ya thinkin' about?"

I shook my head, and in about half an hour The asked the same question. I waited a minute, hove out a sigh, and sez: "Gee, I wish I was you."

"Why do you wish you was me?" sez he.

"'Cause," sez I, "you've got a chance to do the biggest deed I know of."

"What is it?" sez he, examinin' my face to see if I was sheepin' him.

"No," sez I, shakin' my head; "I ain't got any right to even think of it, let alone hint at it. You might think I was b.u.t.tin' into your affairs, and then again-No, I refuse to suggest it. If it's your duty, you'll see it yourself; but I won't take the responsibility of pointin' it out."

"What in thunder did you mention it at all for, then?" sez The, gettin' curious an' exasperated.

"And then besides," sez I to myself, out loud, "there's Horace. Like as not he wouldn't allow you to run your head into danger any more."

"What!" yelled The. "Didn't we run our heads into danger all over the tropics of the Orient, didn't we goad up danger an' search for it and roust it out of its hidin' places and-Why, confound you-"

In about ten minutes I stopped him, an' sez in a quiet voice: "Well, then, if I was you, I'd go on down to Ty Jones's and take on with him again."

We lay on the gra.s.s there, along Pearl Crick for some time without speakin'. Up on the rim, the gra.s.s was burned to a crisp; but along the crick it was still green. Promotheus pulled blade after blade of it and chewed 'em up in his mouth, while me an' Tank watched him.

"What you mean, is for me to take on with Ty Jones-and then to act spy on him. Ain't that what ya mean?" sez The after a time.

I'd 'a' sooner he hadn't put it into words-it did look rather raw when he stood it up before us naked. "I don't mean nothin' in particular, The," sez I. "You and I are different, and what I could do without feelin'-"

"That's all right," he broke in. "The' ain't any need to treat me like an infant baby. Come right out with it-What you want me to do is to play spy, ain't it?"

"That's the only way I can see to help the Friar," sez I; "but he wouldn't want you to do anything for him you didn't feel was right."

"I know, I know," he sez, lookin' down at his hands. "Ty Jones is as mean as a snake, and I don't deny it; but he's been square with me, and once he saved my life. Then again, the Friar has been square with every one, and if he hadn't nursed me night and day, Horace wouldn't have had a chance to save my life. If Horace had killed me it would have spoiled his life; so that the whole thing is held together in a tangle. I'm willin' to cash in my life for the Friar-it ain't that-but I do hate to turn again' Ty Jones underhanded."

"Better just forget I mentioned it," sez I.

"No," sez Promotheus, "I intend to lay the plan before Horace, and let him settle on it."

"That's a good scheme, that's the best way out of it," sez ol' Tank, and I joined in with him.

We sat there on the bank a long time, thinkin' the thing over, and finally just before supper, Horace hove in sight and started to josh us; but when he saw how sober we were, he settled down, and asked us what was up.

"Horace," sez The, "what would you think of my takin' on with Ty Jones, and playin' the spy on him?"

"That would be madness!" exclaimed Horace. "He'd see through it and kill you first pop. I don't know though-you might fix up a tale-but then it would be too infernal risky. Nope, don't you try it."

"If it could be done," persisted The, "what would you think of it?"

"Oh, it would be a great thing for the Friar," sez Horace; "but, Promotheus, I don't like to have you take the risk."