Part 2

Cobalt spilled the tobacco out of his cigarette for the fifth time and turned to Slim. “Do we go?”

Slim climbed to his feet and hitched up his belt.

“Oh, well, of course, if that’s th’ way yuh feels about it, Buck, we’ll go--shore. But I jist wants to call yore attention to one thing, Buck. There is times in every man’s life when circumstances git th’ best uh him. Sometimes it’s booze, sometimes it’s women and sometimes it’s th’ pasteboards. Now if yuh asks me I’ll re-mark that I’m willin’ to be quoted to th’ extent that I believes elephants is circumstances too.”

“Uh course I don’t advertise myself as th’ ‘Greatest and Only Elephant Remover in th’ Universe,’ but as uh pair uh ‘Go Getters’ I reckon me and Cobalt are some distinguished.”

“Say, Buck,” drawled Cobalt, “how about them hosses? I shore ain’t goin’ back to face no judge and jury.”

Buck grinned widely and showed the need of a dentist in Yellow Horse.

“Not any, Cobalt. I reckon you fellers saved Andy Johnson and Pete Gonyer uh heap of explanations, ’cause th’ next day th’ real owners uh them bronks showed up with uh deputy sheriff.”

“Frederick been behavin’ right well?” asked Slim.

“As uh perfect gentleman I don’t reply a-tall. I only talks two languages--English and profane--and English won’t no ways describe what I’d have to tell yuh. All we ask is fer you fellers to come up there and take it away. We won’t even ask yuh where yo’re goin’. I’m representin’ Yaller Hoss in this matter, and while you fellers are to blame fer th’ advent of that animule, I’m here to state that uh memorial shaft will be raised right in th’ middle uh Main Street with yore names carved thereto th’ minute yuh can persuade that--huh--animule to pilgrim away to parts unknown.”

“Buck,” laughed Slim, “right in th’ center uh th’ street looks good, but I’m figgerin’ that ain’t no place a-tall fer uh double funeral.”

Cobalt cleared his throat.

“My opinions edzactly. I ain’t in favor uh no memorial. We’re jist uh plain pair uh ‘Go Getters’ and all we ask is yore kind regards and-- Buck, there ain’t no cause fer that six-gun. Me and Slim gave ours to th’ bellboy fer turnin’ out th’ lights last night.”

“Well, you know how Yaller Hoss stands and all we ask is peace. I’ll borrow uh pair uh bronks from old man Doolittle and we’ll leave here pronto. We can’t git there none too soon, ’cause my fair city ain’t noways what you’d call satisfied in th’ society of that hunk uh armor-plated deviltry.”

* * * * *

It was noon the next day when the trio rode into Yellow Horse and turned their tired horses over to a scared-looking stable-man. Slim glanced up and down the street and then turned to Buck.

“She don’t look natural a-tall, some way. What’s th’ matter? There ain’t uh hoss on th’ street and nobody in sight. Is somebody bein’ buried today, Buck?”

“Not yit!” snorted Buck. “Do yuh notice that my saloon’s got uh barb-wire fence across th’ front? Notice that there ain’t no ve-randa on th’ post-office nor on Wick Smith’s store, and that th’ town pump has been tore up by th’ roots? Did yuh happen to notice that th’ hitchin’-rack’s done vanished and that th’ hay-scales has done weighed its last load? Remember that nice white picket-fence which Mis’ Wayland had around her candy-store? Gone! Tore up by that zoological monstrosity!”

“Mama mine!” declared Cobalt. “Freddy shore leaves his trade-mark. What’s that buckboard doin’ on top of Jimmy Peyton’s shack?”

“Doin’!” yelped Buck. “It’s bein’ saved! That beast tried three times to drag that wagon through Smith’s front door, but it was too wide. Me and Jimmy sneaked it away from th’ brute while said beast was eatin’ up old man Anderson’s load uh baled hay. We h’ists her up there fer safety.”

Slim removed his sombrero and ran his forefinger thoughtfully over the snake-skin band.

“People have queer tastes sometimes. I observes that Sam Holt’s done moved his cow-shed into his front yard.”

“Gosh, that’s right!” exclaimed Buck. “I’ll bet----”

“Hey!” yelled an excited, high-pitched voice, and a tousled-headed youngster, who appeared across the street, beckoned to the trio. “Come on over here! They’ve got it locked up in your stable, Mr. Masterson, and they’re afraid it ain’t goin’ to stay put.”

“Comin’ right over, sonny!” yelled Masterson, and then to Slim: “I’m glad they got it locked up. We chased it into th’ corral before I left and th’ danged stump-puller went all th’ way around and removed all th’ posts. Come on and git it now.”

They crossed the street and found all of the male inhabitants of Yellow Horse perched on a high board fence, cussing and discussing ways and means of hampering the proclivities of Frederick.

“I’m bettin’ two to one that he don’t stay put fer five minutes more,” stated Pete Gonyer. “Anybody want to take uh chance? Also I wagers even money that in case he does emerge, th’ north side of th’ shack will hit th’ ground before th’ south side does.”

The crowd was too interested in the trembling cow-shed to notice the entrance of Slim and Cobalt, until the tousled-headed kid shinned up the fence and yelled, “There they are!” and pointed them out.

There was a tense moment as the crowd recognized them, and several hands strayed unconsciously toward pistol-butts. Masterson recognized the symptoms and, stepping forward, threw up both hands.

“No gun-play, folks! I knows how yuh feels, but this ain’t no time fer such petty revenge as shootin’. These fellers has my assurance that all we wants uh them is th’ immediate removal of this animated housewrecker.

“Bein’ acquainted with th’ habits and customs uh elephants they has assured me that they will remove it with wisdom and despatch. Jist sit tight and let them proceed with their chore.”

Slim tightened up his belt and cleared his throat.

“Who put this elephant in that shed?” he asked in a “Who-gives-this-bride-away?” tone.

“Andy Johnson and Pete Gonyer did!” yelled the kid gleefully. “Pete hit it with a rock and then run into the stable and climbed out of the hay window, and Andy shut th’ door behind it.”

“Ain’t you fellers got any sense?” asked Cobalt in an aggrieved tone. “Hit it with uh rock, eh? Anybody with sense would--say, Slim, did yuh ever hear th’ like?”

“Awful,” agreed Slim. “But, Cobalt, yuh got to make allowances fer downright ignorance. Yuh see they never studied elephantology like we have and yuh can’t expect them to----”

“Look out!” yelled Rickey Henderson.

“That wall is due to bust in uh minute.”

Slim ran over to the wall with the least bulge, put his mouth to a crack and yelled--

“Hup!”

The boards creaked and groaned as they settled back to their former position.

“Uh little knowledge is all that’s needed,” stated Cobalt, swelling out his chest and leering at the crowd on the fence.

“Well, go on and git him out,” growled Wick Smith. “Jist makin’ him quit tryin’ to come out through uh knot-hole don’t prove nothin’ to me.”

Slim beckoned to Cobalt and whispered in his ear--

“Stand ready to slide when I opens th’ door.”

“Haw! Haw!” exploded Art Miller from the highest part of the fence. “I done shot that brute six times this mawnin’ with uh .44 and I don’t believe he even heard th’ noise. I’m in favor uh usin’ dynamite on him while he’s in that shack. All in favor uh dynamite signify by yellin’-- Wow! Here he comes!”

All of which was very true. At that moment there came a crash of splintering wood, a cloud of dust and splinters, and Frederick the First was free. Not only free but coming straight for the extemporized grand stand.

“Whoop!” yelled Slim as he whirled on his boot-heel. He took two long strides and cleared that six-foot fence by the simple method of placing both hands on top and turning a complete hand-spring. The leap was a world-beater but the landing was disastrous.

Pete Gonyer and Art Miller had tangled in midair as they jumped and as they landed Slim’s pin-wheel turn was finished and he lit squarely on top of them with a jolt that deprived all three of them of their quota of atmosphere.

Slim was the first to recover. He saw the situation at a glance. Pete’s face was twitching and grimacing as he tried to pump air into his depleted lungs, while Art, on the bottom of the heap, was pounding his spurred heels in the dust and making queer little chuckling noises with his mouth.

Slim got up and raced around the corner. He was badly shaken up and desired to limp more than anything on earth, but he knew that there were healthier locations for him than that special spot when Pete and Art recovered.

“Mister, he’s got your pardner,” informed the kid, from around the corner of the blacksmith shop. The kid’s face was so white that his freckles didn’t show and his eyes were as large as saucers as he pointed up the alley. “He’s got him I tell you! Mebby he’s stood on him by this time.”

Slim limped up the alley and behind the saloon.

“‘Got him’ is right,” he groaned.

Cobalt was on his belly in the dust, and over him stood the elephant. Its trunk was playfully tapping Cobalt’s bare head and at every tap Cobalt dug his nose in the dust and squeaked--

“Don’t!”

“Are yuh alive, pardner?” panted Slim.

“Jist barely,” whispered Cobalt, and ducked into the dust again and groaned.

The crowd which had scattered far and wide began to drift back and peer around the corners. Some of the bolder ones sauntered out in sight but were ready for another stampede in case the elephant made another foray.

The elephant was getting nervous. He would lift one foot at a time and, after waving it around slowly, would place it back in the exact spot it had previously occupied.

“If he ever sits down I’m uh goner,” stated Cobalt in a whisper.

“He does jist that very thing,” remarked Rickey Henderson, cheerfully from the cover of a pile of beer-kegs. “Yesterday I seed him stand on his hind laigs jist like uh dog and then sit down plumb hard.”

Suddenly Slim had a bright idea.

“Listen: I saw an elephant do that once and he was plumb slow in settin’ down. Now, when I walks up and yells ‘Hup!’ you jist rolls over fast and gits clear, _sabe_?”

“Not any!” declared Cobalt. “Let ’im alone, Slim. I’m alive now and this elephant can’t stand here all day. He’s got to move some time, and if I has anything to say about it, he moves of his own free will.”

“This thing has got to stop right now!” yelled Buck Masterson, coming down the alley with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. “Step back while I perforate that flat-footed rubber devil! Git back, Slim! That was my stable and doggone it----”

Slim stepped between Buck and the elephant and threw up his hands.

“Don’t do it, Buck! Shoot th’ beast if yuh must, but not while my bunkie is sleepin’ in its bosom. I’m uh heap wise to them scatter-bore riot-guns, and besides it wouldn’t even tickle that animule. Put that gun down and we’ll try uh little moral----”

Slim’s voice broke suddenly. Frederick the First had slowly wandered away from Cobalt, while every one was watching Masterson’s actions, and dropped his trunk over Slim’s shoulder.

Slim’s face turned a pasty white and he froze in his tracks. The trunk traveled slowly, caressed the back of his neck, tickled his ears and then came to a stop on his right shoulder. Slim reached up automatically and stroked it. The elephant moved up closer and began to explore Slim’s pockets. The crowd watched open-mouthed for Slim’s annihilation.

“Plumb docile,” announced Cobalt in awestricken tones.

Slim came back to earth and grinned foolishly.

“All yuh got to do is to use uh little brains. You snake-hunters don’t know nothin’ about elephants. Yuh can’t handle uh beast like this with six-shooters and riot-guns.”

He stroked Frederick’s trunk and reached for his cigarette-papers.

“Pore li’l ol’ Freddy. Did they abuse yuh? Yuh got to excuse ignorance in some folks and----”

Frederick suddenly whipped his trunk away from Slim’s shoulder and began backing up. His little eyes were searching the ground and his ears flopped like a pair of loose sails.

Faster and faster he backed until he hit the fence with a crash. The force of the impact turned him around and he surged the whole length of that fence, taking it all with him.

Heretofore he had always stopped to consider his handiwork, but this time he merely tossed his trunk and trumpeted wildly as he crashed over the fence and weaved down the street.

The crowd, with the exception of Slim and Cobalt, had broken for the street as the elephant began backing.

“Pack rat!” croaked Cobalt. “Pack rat jist came out of that old stable and scared seven kinds uh delirious delight out uh that big hunk uh rubber! What do yuh know about that?”

* * * * *

Came a sound of galloping horses and bouncing wagon from the street and a chorus of “Whoa! Whoa!” and then a murmuring of excited voices.

Slim listened for a moment and then grabbed Cobalt by the sleeve.

“Let’s git a-goin’! Gol darn this town anyway!”

They slipped around behind the demolished stable and started to sneak behind Wick Smith’s store, but Fate in the person of Masterson met them at the corner, and fate held a leveled riot-gun.

“No yuh don’t! I was layin’ fer jist some sich move. That--huh--elephant hit th’ street jist in time to meet judge Simpkins with uh load uh hay. Th’ judge is plumb busted up and his wagon is in keepin’ with th’ rest of this town. I reckon th’ hosses are in Canada by this time. Jist turn around and mosey up th’ street.”

Slim and Cobalt made no protest. Men seldom protest at the muzzle of a riot-gun. At the center of the street Slim stopped and removed his hat.

“I reckon you’ll erect that shaft right here, eh, Buck? Nice location.”

Buck started to reply but at this juncture the crowd surged out of Smith’s store and over to where Buck stood with his captives.

“Shall we hang ’em?” asked Art Miller, and this was a signal for each individual to express his opinion as to the ultimate fate of the pair.

“If yuh asks me, I favors hangin’ uh heap,” stated Pete Gonyer, rubbing his still aching side.

“Git yore dirty hands off me, Pete!” roared Slim. “I don’t let no hoss-thief pass sentence on me.”

“How’s th’ judge?” interrupted Buck.

“Still unconscious,” some one replied.

“We sent to Sagebrush fer Doc Ames,” announced Andy Johnson.

“We can’t do uh thing till he comes, and I don’t reckon he can git here before ten o’clock tonight.”

“Tell yuh what we better do,” suggested Smith. “We’ll lock ’em in that old ’dobie shack uh mine fer th’ night. There’s uh good padlock on th’ door and th’ window ain’t big enough fer uh monkey to crawl through. We’ll keep ’em till we sees if th’ judge is goin’ to pull through, eh?”

The crowd received the suggestion with acclaim, and formed a triumphal procession to the aforementioned shack. It was a relic of the days before lumber came to Yellow Horse, and consisted of one room about ten by fifteen feet, low ceiling, and the one window was high up on the wall and was evidently used more as a loophole or ventilator. On the floor was nothing except some old straw and the dust of years.

Into this they were thrust and the door padlocked behind them. The crowd then wandered back to slake their thirst and await the coming of the doctor.

“Well, we’re safe from Freddy,” stated the optimistic Slim, after the crowd had gone.

“Unha,” agreed Cobalt doubtfully. “I heard Andy tell Pete that Frederick had jist kept on goin’. I reckon that animule must ’a’ had uh right smart of uh yaller streak, Slim. I wonder what they can do to us in case th’ judge don’t recover?”

“It ain’t what they can do to us, Cobalt, it’s what will they do to us? I’m sorry for th’ judge.”

“Then yore sorrow’s plumb misplaced, Slim. If yuh got any sorrow to waste jist smear uh little close to home. Remember in case he does survive he sits on our case, _sabe_?”

“This is some hy-iu jail,” remarked Slim, after examining all the walls and ceiling. “That window ain’t big enough to send yore regrets out of. Golly, it’s gittin’ dark. Give me yore smokin’.”

They consumed several cigarettes before it got so dark that Cobalt had to light a match to look at his watch.

“Eight-thirty,” he announced. “I reckon that doctor will be due in about--say, what in thunder’s shuttin’ th’ little light out of our window?”

Slim jumped to his feet and strode over to the wall.

“Holy mackerel, it’s that--look, Cobalt! It’s Frederick! Look out, he’s tryin’ to come in th’ window!”

The elephant slid his trunk over the inside of the window and sniffed at the dust-covered walls. Suddenly his trunk stiffened and he began to pull back.

Came a muffled grunt and the side of that dobie shack for a space of about six feet wide parted company with the roof, and a cloud of dust almost suffocated the captives.

“Woosh!” grunted Frederick happily, and bunted his broad head against the wall next to the door.

At last he had found a wall that wasn’t full of nails and splinters, and the fact seemed to please him immensely.

_Sqush! Boof!_ The entire front wall caved in and the ceiling sagged.

Obeying the same impulse, Slim and Cobalt sprang to their feet and dashed out of the gaping walls as far as possible from the elephant and headed for the open country. They ran as far as their lungs allowed, rested a few seconds and then repeated the performance, and stopped not until far from Yellow Horse.

“Where--goin’?” panted Cobalt. “Let’s go--Curlew.”

“Not any,” wheezed Slim. “We ain’t got no horses and this--huh--flat country ain’t safe a-tall. We’ll go--Mica.”

“Aw, we can’t,” protested Cobalt. “We can’t travel that trail in th’ dark. Golly, we’d fall off! Why, Slim, there’s places on that trail where it’s uh million miles to th’ bottom!”

“We’ll take uh chance. It’s uh cinch they can’t foller us, and th’ moon will be up pretty soon, Cobalt. Come on! Let’s git a-goin’ and leave this flat country.”

Cobalt protested every step of the way but followed Slim to the foot of the trail. This trail had never been popular with the cattlemen on account of its narrowness, and was seldom used except by foot travelers. In places a misstep would plunge the unlucky one for five hundred feet straight into the bristling tops of spruce and fir--missing that, the jagged rocks of Lost Creek were anything but inviting.

They toiled around the worst part of the trail and sat down to rest. The moon flooded the valley below them and showed a silhouette of the Pitchfork Range beyond, but they had little inclination to contemplate the majesty of the night.

“Lookin’ back over my life I can’t say she’s been uh howling success,” mused Cobalt aloud. “I ain’t never done anything that was exactly wrong, but someway I jist can’t never seem to be--well, one who was also there, Slim.”

“Me and you both,” agreed Slim dolefully. “Seems like I can’t seem to make people appreciate my efforts. Now, you and me has always done our dangedest, Cobalt, and what do we git fer it? We’ve always tried to do our best and I can’t remember uh place yet where we ain’t had to leave in such uh hurry that we ain’t had uh chance to say-- What th’----!”

They jumped to their feet.

“What is it, Slim?” quavered Cobalt. “Am I seein’ things or----”

“It was,” stated Slim with conviction. “Wait till he makes that last turn--if he can.”

Below them on the narrow trail a huge shadow seemed to crawl along slowly. At times it would halt as if undecided, and then move forward. Suddenly there was a rattle of loose stones, a muffled squeal and the shadow vanished.

Slim turned to Cobalt and removed his hat.

“_Requiescat in pace_,” he murmured.

“Me and you both,” agreed Cobalt. “What does that mean, Slim?”

“That,” replied Slim, “is uh favorite expression among th’ Piegan Indians. It means ‘All’s well that ends well.’”

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the September 1916 issue of Adventure magazine.]