You Bet Bob from Cross Crick — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ed won’t dt et. When ¢ d that is thi“ thar is only one thing more 4is hat and wavin’ ther bottle in’ at me, | fer yer dead, and that is this ‘eller Guns nsight, hyer’s ‘to yer health!” ll on that. jat, he ups with ther bottle and ‘S$ in t’ sr gurgle. € was never goin’ ter stop. ’ I hollered. -to and righted ther bottle. Ss ther matter?’ he asked, won- mn sartain b, furder. ved with o warm ther } git corned,” said I. -no doubt hidn’t wonder a bit ef I did,” at home as er that wager mustn’t till ther fun is over,” , 1 reckon. Hand me that bottle.’ or true, th€you’ll go and git corned,” said ss, but we ater one than both ov us, don’t aire out ao?” in a Warn a-gimblin’ and a-bobbin’ over coffin in a way that threatened | more tol man most desprut. -d, ‘You lsook me and turned to ther ick, and Cnd ter save me I couldn’t git out (rer. We héoap pox—not even ter git holt a tor ee I couldn’t! in’ fer ye f galoots!” he said again; “a is now ayould say somethin’ about ashes lasphands/and dust to dust, or somethin’ pledge ye t; but I say speerut to speerut, take keer me!” Vv anybodyed and gurgled again. City. You/almcst wild, ter see how reck- n this yervyas. Ther bottle was more than ht John, yty! lefinite peehe had done gurglin’ he righted marcy on je again, and he looked out over his hat wk crowd, steady as he could, and and shook bn he spoke again. feller galoots, aS Mayor ov yer od and yat’ ther time bein’, it is in my ; and I clé Omder what is ter. my mind best nterests ov all consarned. This f good enogram is about drawin’ to a ne yet. R XV. 3 goin’ ter say,” he continnered, R CLIMAX,’ Would be right and proper, be- ar, was BePart with him ferever, ter give id a-looki#imct a drink. He will be a long d, et is most probable, and a he was 1¢Me before he will git a show ter P wasne, by ther way he wob- ick me at} Whistle again. What do yer r bottle t har crowd was jist in ther hu- e thet thet. box that |that thar is a good idee!” cried hat was jit. opped inte et is!’ said another. ‘“‘ We must White thing by Gunsight John, whur’s tblers did by us.’ yer do no sech thing!” piped id I, vuddyloop. ‘“ Het wull be a dis- he méntie ther camp ef ye do! What aire cin’ about?” aid he, so? that old gal out,” cried Bob. n’t got no call ter chip in hyer, w of. Keep her out, and we'll e@ growlé hyer funeral to suit Ourselves.” de et, or Rt down, a-straddle of ther coffin. @ spoke again. ard at me then, after we hev drunk,” he In’t keep We'll Shake hands with ther de- direction!! around, and that will end ther of ther day, so fur as his fu- it, and sig Concerned.” ied, makiitay!”’ yelped ther reckless cusses. What we'll do, and et will be ther plaPPer thing.” vent. Me git in thar, I tell yer!” Sal ry, you of 0p Was a-yellin’ A r solid eBhe meant business. ard had leaned over and got hold , and whlS8ight by ther shoulder, and he mn he got, him up, settin’ face to face with d tottere defunct was some limber about > paluted | aa - en Rete fargo ot he Has a“ s- - ther rigor mortus havin’ v7 re = a oe ae ; ; i a aU , ; , You Bet Bob from Cross Crick. ther whiskers and held him steddy while he spoke ter him “ Gunsight John,” he said, feelin’-like, “this hyer is a sad partin’ fer you, but before you go let’s take one ter old times. Hyer’s lookin’ ye in ther eye and a-wushin’ ye well. Hyer’s to yer health on t’other side. Hyer’s to yer journe.”’ At each peerud he tipped and imbibed a swolle-. And Sal, she had her dander up, and she was a-sashayin’ to ther front. ‘“ Now, pardner, et is your turn,” said Bob. “Bt wull soon be my turn,” hollered Sal. That thar crowd laffed wuss’n a pack ov wild hyeners over ther findin’ ov a feast, but ther defunct took et all in good part and never oncet offered ter kick. But, Sal did. I was a-strugglin’ my hardest to git out ov that thar box, but I couldn’t, and ther more I tried ther more I seemed ter stick fast; and by that time ther platform wur a-high-rollin’ at sech a rate that et was dangerous. That thar box seemed to weigh a ton, and every time I would fetch et clear et would pull me back with a force that nigh about loosened by teeth. And all ther time ther crowd wur whoopin’ et wild, as if et had been ther greatest sarcus they had ever seen in their lives. But, Sal was a-comin’, Ther rest didn’t see her, but I did. They all had their eyes to ther front, but I was facin’ t’other way. Her arms wur wavin’ like ther wings ov a windmill, and at every wave she fetched a couple ov galoots. Et was amazin’ to behold. And after her kem all ther rest of ther wimmin. They wur follerin’ in Sal’s wake, as et wur, and I looked fer a sad awakenin’ fer my pard. Et was a high time fer somebody ter nip his game in the bud. He was carryin’ a joke a leetle too fur: Sal Cuddyloop done ther nippin’! CHAPTER XVI. BOB IN A BOX. Thar was Bob, straddle ov ther coffin, and he didn’t dare to let go, fer if he had he would gone down in a heap, and he knewed et. He had loaded himself clear up to ther guzzle. Oncet let him git on his back, and he would be as dead as ther dead man, al- most. I knowed that, and so did he, and tharfor et was to his intrust to brace up long as he could do et. Gunsight had laid himself down again, and was behavin’ respectable. I opine he was the only decent galoot in ther gang. Sal Cuddyloop kem through that crowd like a shot out ov a mortar. She had buckled on her armor, as et wur, and she flung men right and left as she cut her swath. And on reachin’ ther front she reached over and cut my pard a swipe on ther cabeez that made him see stars. “T’ll l’arn ye some respeck fer ther dead!” she yelled at him. “Tll Varn ye ter—whoo-oop!” Thet thar swipe had done more’n she had figgered on. Bob had swayed a second or so, this way and that, as if pickin’ a place to fall, and bless me if he didn’t fall clean plum into her arms! Her whoop might ’a’ been heard a mile, I reckon. _Andnowonder, _ , ~ p = Ts oo, 5 * - | ~~ ae 4 y - oa ela Some 0} Mere : 3 * ' > : - a * ¥ Ve ; oe a i : 13 She guv a jump back, instead ov hug- gin’ to my pard as she had orter done, and off ther platform kem Bob. Down on ther ground he went, limber and flimp, and then ther way Sal whoop- ed was a caution ter kill. And all ther other wimmin took et up till et was like bedlum let out fer a hol- lyday. Ther crowd ov men sorter took skar at what had happened, thinkin’ et was Gunsight, and stampeded like a lot ov cattle, leavin’ me thar to faee ther moo- sic ther best I could in my situashun. I tried again ter git out ov that box, but no go; I was thar to stay. And Amazon Sal, she was a givin’ et to my pard right and left, and he unable ter lift a finger in his ’fense. “T’ll lam ther stuffin’ out ov ye!” she shrieked, ketchin’ him one on ther left side ov his head. ‘I'll knock ther livin’ daylights out ov ye!” ketchin’ him one on t’other side. And I really thought she would, too. “ Hold on, fair maiden!” I hollered out to her. ‘‘ He’s my pard, and I can’t see him ’bused like that.” “T’ll sarve you ther same!” she hol- lered back at me. “TJ’ll ’tend ter you soon’s I git done with him! I'll show ye that ye can’t come hyer frum Cross Crick and run things as ye please!” I got some frantic, about that time. You bet I made a grand splurge to git out ov that soap box. But, et wasn’t ther least use, fer ther darn thing stuck to me wuss’n a case OV fever. And all ther time my pard was a-get- tin’ et hot on every side from haff a dozen or more ov them wimmin, till 1 thought he was plum shur dead, I hollered and struggled, but ther more I struggled ther harder I seemed ter stick in that box, and that platform was euttin’ antics wuss’n a balloon in a chop wind. In my frantic efforts to git to my pard’s rescue, I did git haff onto my feet oncet, but I didn’t stay thar wuth a cent. I took to runnin’ backwards, and ther next I knowed I was flyin’ into eternity from off’n that thar platform, and I kem down on ther ground in a way to make me think I had dropped from ther moon. At first I was dazed, but I purty soon got my bearin’s. I could look under ther platform, and thar was them wimmin still a-punishin’ my pard. They wur about satisfied by that time, though, and as a last bit ov spite they took ther coffin down, lifted Gunsight tenderly out, and slammed my pard into ther box in a way that made my blood run cold ter witness. Havin’ done their wust, they took their dead mayor up and carried him tenderly away_in their arms, and in a minnit or two Sal Cuddyloop and all her gang had disappeared from ther scene. I was thankful they had fergot me. My pard was like a dead man—in fact, | I feared he was a dead man. I called to kim, but got no ’sponse, and. I struggled some more to git out ov ther. fix I was in, but et wasn’t no use. Every time I tried et, ther ground would take on a rollin’ that would dump me, and finally I made up my mind I would have to take et easy till some good Samaritan kem my way Ther wimmin gone, ther crowd begun ter come back. They wur all talkin’ and shoutin’ ter oncet, and I cise are make ’em hear me at all. 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