The Moon, the Maid, and the Winged Shoes
The last place I locked wheels with Mike Butters was in Idaho. I'djust sold a silver-lead prospect and was proclaimin' my prosperitywith soundin' brass and ticklin' symbols. I was tuned up to G andsingin' quartettes with the bartender--opery buffet, so to speak--whenin Mike walked. It was a bright morning out-side and I didn'treco'nize him at first against the sunlight."Where's that cholera-morbus case?" said he."Stranger, them ain't sounds of cramps," I told him. "It's me singin''Hell Amongst the Yearlin's.'" Then I seen who he was and I fell amonghim.When we'd abated ourselves I looked him over."What you doin' in all them good clothes?" I inquired."I'm a D.D.S.""Do tell! All I ever took was the first three degrees. Gimme the gripand the password and I'll believe you.""That ain't a Masonic symbol," said he. "I'm a dentist--a bony fidodentist, with forceps and a little furnace and a gas-bag and awaitin'-rooms". He swelled up and bit a hang-nail off of his cigar."Yep! A regular toothwright."Naturally I was surprised, not to say awed. "Have you got much of apractice?" I made bold to ask."Um-m--It ain't what it ought to be, still I can't complain. It takestime to work into a fashionable clienteel. All I get a whack at now isInjuns, but I'm gradually beginnin' to close in on the white teeth."Now this was certainly news to me, for Mike was a foot-racer, and agood one, too, and the last time I'd seen him he didn't know nothingabout teeth, except that if you ain't careful they'll bite yourtongue. I figured he was lyin', so I said:"Where did you get your degree--off of a thermometer?""Nothing of the tall. I run it down. I did, for a God's fact. It'slike this: three months ago I crep' into this burg lookin' for amatch, but the professions was overcrowded, there bein' fourteenlawyers, a half-dozen doctors, a chiropodist, and forty-threebartenders here ahead of me, not to speak of a tooth-tinker. Thatthere dentist thought he could sprint. He come from some Easterncollege and his pa had grub-staked him to a kit of tools and sent himout here to work his way into the confidences and cavities of theIdahobos."Well, sir, the minute I seen him I realized he was my custard. Hewore sofy cushions on his shoulders, and his coat was cut in at theback. He rolled up his pants, too, and sometimes he sweetened the viewin a vi'lent, striped sweater. I watered at the mouth and picked myteeth over him--he was that succ'lent."He'd been lookin' down on these natives and kiddin' 'em ever since hearrived, and once a week, reg'lar, he tried to frame a race so's hecould wear his runnin'-pants and be a hero. I had no trouble fixin'things. He was a good little runner, and he done his best; but when Ibreasted the tape I won a quick-claim deed to his loose change, to abrand-new office over a drug-store, and to enough nickel-plated pliersfor a wire-tapper. I staked him to a sleeper ticket, then I moved intohis quarters. The tools didn't have no directions on 'em, but I'vefiggered out how to use most of 'em.""I gather that this here practice that you're buildin' up ain'texactly remunerative," I said to Mike."Not yet it ain't, but I'm widenin' out. There ain't a day passes thatI don't learn something. I was out drummin' up a little tradewhen your groans convinced me that somebody in here had a jumpin'toothache. If you ain't busy, mebbe you can help me get a patient."This particular saloon had about wore out its welcome with me, so Iwas game for any enterprise, and I allowed a little patient-huntin'would prob'ly do me good. I drawed my six gun and looked her over."It's a new sport, but I bet I'll take to it," said I. "What d'you do,crease 'em or cripple 'em?""Pshaw! Put up that hearse ticket," Mike told me. "Us doctors don'ttake human life, we save it.""I thought you said you was practisin' on Injuns.""Injuns is human. For a fact! I've learned a heap in this business.Not that I wouldn't bust one if I needed him, but it ain't necessary.Come, I'll show you."This here town had more heathens than whites in it, and before we'dgone a block I seen a buck Injun and his squaw idlin' along, lookin'into the store winders. The buck was a hungry, long-legged feller, andwhen we neared him Mike said to me:"Hist! There's one. I'll slip up and get him from behind. You grab himif he runs."This method of buildin' up a dental practice struck me as somestrange, but Butters was a queer guy and this was sort of a roughtown. When he got abreast of Mr. Lo, Mike reached out and garnered himby the neck. The Injun pitched some, but Mike eared him down finally,and when I come up I seen that one side of the lad's face was swelledup something fearful."Well, well," said I. "You've sure got the dentist's eye. You musthave spied that swellin' a block away."Mike nodded, then he said: "Poor feller! I'll bet it aches horrible.My office is right handy; let's get him in before the marshal seesus."We drug the savage up-stairs and into Mike's dental stable, then webedded him down in a chair. He protested considerable, but we got himthere in a tollable state of preservation, barring the fact that hewas skinned up on the corners and we had pulled a hinge off from theoffice door."It's a shame for a person to suffer thataway," Mike told me; "butthese ignorant aborigines ain't educated up to the mercies of science.Just put your knee in his stummick, will you? What could be finer thanto alleviate pain? The very thought in itself is elevatin'. I'm inthis humanity business for life--Grab his feet quick or he'll kick outthe winder.""Whoa!" I told the Injun. "Plenty fix-um!" I poked the swellin' on hisface and he let out a yelp."It's lucky we got him before multiplication set in," Mike assured me."I lay for 'em that-away at the foot of the stairs every day; but thisis the best patient I've had. I've a notion to charge this one.""Don't you charge all of 'em?" I wanted to know."Nope. I got a tin watch off of one patient when he was under gas, butthe most of 'em ain't worth goin' through. You got to do a certainamount of charity work.""Don't look like much of a business to me," I said."There's something about it I like," Mike told me. "It sort of growson a feller. Now that you're here to help catch 'em, I calc'late toacquire a lot of skill with these instruments. I've been playin' alone hand and I've had to take little ones that I could handle."When Mike produced a pair of nickel-plated nail-pullers, Mr. Injunsnorted like a sea-lion, and it took both of us to hold him down; butfinally I tied his hair around the head-rest and we had him. His manewas long and I put a hard knot in it, then I set on his moccasinswhile Doctor Butters pried into his innermost secrets."There she is--that big one." Mike pointed out a tooth that lookedlike the corner monument to a quartz claim."You're on the wrong side," I told him."Mebbe I am. Here's one that looks like it would come loose easier."Mike got a half-Nelson over in the east-half-east quarter-section ofthe buck's mouth and throwed his weight on the pliers.The Injun had pretty well wore himself out by this time, and whenhe felt those ice-tongs he just stiffened out--an Injun's dead gamethat-away; he won't make a holler when you hurt him. His squaw washangin' around with her eyes poppin' out, but we didn't pay noattention to her.Somehow Mike's pinchers kept jumpin' the track and at every slip a newwrinkle showed in the patient's face--patient is the right word, allright--and we didn't make no more show at loosenin' that tusk than asif we'd tried to pull up Mount Bill Williams with a silk thread. Atlast two big tears come into the buck's eyes and rolled down hischeeks. First time I ever seen one cry.Now that weakness was plumb fatal to him, for right there and then hecracked his plate with his missus. Yes, sir, he tore his shirt-waistproper. The squaw straightened up and give him a look--oh, what alook!"Waugh!" she sniffed. "Injun heap big squaw!" And with that sheswished out of the office and left him flat. Yes, sir, she just blewhim on the spot.I s'pose Mike would have got that tooth somehow--he's a perseverin'party--only that I happened to notice something queer and called himoff."Here, wait a minute," said I, and I loosened him from the man'schest. Mike was so engorsed in the pursuit of his profession that hewas astraddle of his patient's wishbone, gougin' away like a quartzminer. "Take your elbow out of his mouth and lemme talk to him aminute." When the savage had got his features together, I said to him,"How you catch um bump, hey?" And I pointed to his jaw."Bzz-zz-zz!" said he.I turned to Doctor Butters. "Hornet!" I declared.When Mike had sized up the bee-sting he admitted that my diagnosiswas prob'ly correct. "That's the trouble with these patients," hecomplained. "They don't take you into their confidence. Just the same,I'm goin' to attend to his teeth, for there's no tellin' when I'llcatch another one.""What's wrong with his teeth?" I questioned. "They look good to me,except they're wore down from eatin' camus. If he was a horse I'djudge him to be about a ten-year-old.""You never can tell by lookin' at teeth what's inside of 'em. Anyhow,a nice fillin' would set 'em off. I ain't tried no fillin's yet. Gimmethat Burley drill."I wheeled out a kind of sewing-machine; then I pedaled it while Mikedug into that Injun's hangin' wall like he had a round of holes toshoot before quittin'-time. This here was more in my line, bein' ahard-rock miner myself, and we certainly loaded a fine prospect ofgold into that native's bi-cuspidor. We took his front teeth becausethey was the easiest to get at.It was just like I said, this Injun's white keys was wore off shortand looked like they needed something, so we laid ourselves out tosupply the want. We didn't exactly fill them teeth; we merely rivetedon a sort of a plowshare--a gold sod-cutter about the size of yourfinger-nail. How Mike got it to stick I don't know, but he must havepicked up quite a number of dentist's tricks before I came. Anyhow,there she hung like a brass name-plate, and she didn't wabble hardlyat all. You'd of been surprised to see what a difference it made inthat redskin's looks.We let our patient up finally and put a lookin'-glass in his hand. Atfirst he didn't know just what to make of that fillin'; but when heseen it was real gold a grin broke over his face, his chest swelledup, and he walked out of the office and across the street to a noveltystore. In a minute out he came with a little round lookin'-glass and apiece of buckskin, and the last we seen of him he was hikin' down thestreet, grinnin' into that mirror as happy as a child and polishin'that tusk like it had started to rust."Which I sure entitle a gratifyin' operation," said Mike."I'm in no ways proud of the job," I told him. "I feel like I'd salteda mine."Well, me and Mike lived in them dental parlors for a couple of weeks,decoyin' occasional natives into it, pullin', spilin', fillin', andfilin' more teeth than a few, but bimeby the sport got tame.One day Mike was fakin' variations on his guitar, and I was washin'dishes, when I said: "This line is about as excitin' as a game ofjack-straws. D'you know it's foot-racin' time with the Injuns?""What?""Sure. They're gettin' together at old Port Lewis to run races thisweek. One tribe or the other goes broke and walks home every year. Ifwe could meet up with the winnin' crowd, down on the La Plata--"I didn't have to say no more, for I had a hackamore on Mike'sattention right there, and he quit climbin' the "G" string and put uphis box.The next day we traded out of the tooth business and rode south downthe old Navajo trail. We picked a good campin' spot--a little "flat"in a bend of the river where the grazin' was good--and we turned theponies out.We didn't have to wait long. A few evenings later, as we et supper weheard a big noise around the bend and knew our visitors was comin'.They must of had three hundred head of horses, besides a big outfit ofblankets, buckskin, baskets, and all the plunder that an Injun outfittravels with. At sight of us in their campin'-place they halted, andthe squaws and the children rode up to get a look at us.I stepped out in front of our tent and throwed my hand to my forehead,shading my eyes--that's the Injun sign of friendship. An old chief anda couple of warriors rode forrad, Winchester to pommel, but, seein' wewas alone, they sheathed their guns, and we invited 'em to eat.It didn't take much urgin'. While we fed hot biscuits to the head menthe squaws pitched camp.They was plumb elated at their winnin' up at Fort Lewis, and thegamblin' fever was on 'em strong, so right after supper they invitedus to join 'em in a game of Mexican monte. I let Mike do thecard-playin' for our side, because he's got a pass which is thedespair of many a "tin-horn." He can take a clean Methodist-Episcopaldeck, deal three hands, and have every face card so it'll answer toits Christian name. No, he didn't need no lookout, so I got myselfinto a game of "bounce the stick," which same, as you prob'ly know, ispurely a redskin recreation. You take a handful of twigs in your hand,then throw 'em on to a flat rock endways, bettin' whether an odd or aneven number will fall outside of a ring drawed in the dirt. After acouple of hours Mike strolled up and tipped me the wink that he'ddusted his victims."Say," he began, "there's the niftiest chicken down here that I eversee.""Don't start any didos with the domestic relations of this tribe," Itold him, "or they'll spread us out, and spread us thin. Remember,you're here on business bent, and if you bend back and forrads, frombusiness to pleasure, and versy visa, you'll bust. These people hasscrooplous ideas regardin' their wives and I respect 'em.""She ain't married," Mike told me. "She's the chief's daughter, andshe looks better to me than a silver mine."Durin' that evening we give the impression that we was well heeled, sothe tribe wasn't in no hurry to break camp on the following morning.Along about noon I missed Mike, and I took a stroll to look for him. Ifound him--and the chief's daughter--alongside of a shady trout pool.She was weavin' a horsehair bracelet onto his wrist, and I seen theflash of his ring on her finger. Mike could travel some.He was a bit flustered, it seemed to me, and he tried to laugh thematter off, but the girl didn't. There was something about the lookof her that I didn't like. I've seen a whole lot of trouble come fromless than a horsehair bracelet. This here quail was mebbe seventeen;she was slim and shy, and she had big black eyes and a skin likevelvet. I spoke to Mike in words of one syllable, and I drug him awaywith me to our tent.That afternoon some half-grown boys got to runnin' foot-races and Mikeentered. He let 'em beat him, then he offered to bet a pony that theycouldn't do it again. The kids was game, and they took him quick. Mikefaked the race, of course, and lost his horse, that bein' part of ourprogam.When it was all over I seen the chief's daughter had been watchin' us,but she didn't say nuthin'. The next mornin', however, when we got upwe found a bully pinto pony tied to one of our tent stakes."Look who's here," said I. "Young Minnie Ha-ha has made good yourlosin's.""That pony is worth forty dollars," said Mike."Sure. And you're as good as a squaw-man this minute. You'rebetrothed.""Am I?" The idy didn't seem to faze Mike. "If that's the case," saidhe, "I reckon I'll play the string out. I sort of like it as far asI've gone.""I wish she'd gave us that cream-colored mare or hers," I said. "It'sworth two of this one.""I'll get it to-day," Mike declared. And sure enough, he lost anotherfoot-race, and the next morning the cream-colored mare was picketed infront of our tent.Well, this didn't look good to me, and I told Mike so. I never wasmuch of a hand to take money from women, so I served a warnin' onhim that if we didn't get down to business pretty quick and make ourclean-up I proposed to leave him flat on his back.That day the young men of the tribe did a little foot-runnin', andMike begged 'em to let him in. It was comical to see how pleasedthey was. They felt so sure of him that they began pro-ratin' ourbelongin's among one another. They laid out a half-mile course, andeverybody in camp went out to the finish-line to see the contest andto bet on it. The old chief acted as judge, bookmaker, clerk of thecourse, referee, and stakeholder. I s'pose by the time the race wasready to start there must of been fifty ponies up, besides a lot ofmoney, but the old bird kept every wager in his head. He rolled up acouple of blankets and placed 'em on opposite sides of the track, andshowed us by motions that the first man between 'em would be declaredthe winner. All the money that had been bet he put in little piles ona blanket; then he give the word to get ready.I had no trouble layin' our money at one to five, and our ponies atthe same odds; then, when everything was geared up, I called Mike fromhis tent. Say, when he opened the fly and stepped out there was acommotion, for all he had on was his runnin'-trunks and his spikedshoes. The Injuns was in breech-cloths and moccasins, and, of course,they created no comment; but the sight of a half-nekked white man wassomething new to these people, and the first flash they got at Mike'sfancy togs told 'em they'd once more fell a victim to the white man'swiles.They was wise in a minute, and some of the young hot-bloods was forsmokin' us up, but the chief was a sport--I got to give the old birdcredit. He rared back on his hind legs and made a stormy palaver;as near as I could judge he told his ghost-dancers they'd beencold-decked, but he expected 'em to take their medicine and grin, and,anyhow, it was a lesson to 'em. Next time they'd know better'n tomonkey with strangers. Whatever it was he said, he made his point, andafter a right smart lot of powwowin' the entertainment proceeded. ButMike and me was as popular with them people as a couple of polecats ata picnic.Mike certainly made a picture when he lined up at the start; he stoodout like a marble statue in a slate quarry. I caught a glimpse of thechief's daughter, and her eyes was bigger than ever, and she had herhands clinched at her side. He must have looked like a god to her;but, for that matter, he was a sight to turn any untamed female heart,whether the owner et Belgian hare off of silver service or boiledjack-rabbit out of a coal-oil can. Women are funny thataway.It's a pot-hunter's maxim never to win by a big margin, but to noseout his man at the finish. This Mike did, winnin' by a yard; then heacted as if he was all in--faked a faint, and I doused him with asombrero of water from the creek. It was a spectacular race, at that,for at the finish the runners was bunched till a blanket would ofcovered 'em. When they tore into the finish I seen the chief's girl doa trick. Mike was runnin' on the outside, and when nobody was watchin'her the little squaw kicked one of them blanket bundles about two feetdown the course, givin' Mike that much the "edge." She done it cleverand it would have throwed a close race.Them savages swallered their physic and grinned, like the chief hadtold 'em, and they took it standin' up. They turned over the flower oftheir pony herd to us, not to mention about six quarts of silver moneyand enough blankets to fill our tent. The old chief patted Mike on theback, then put both hands to his temples with his fingers spread out,as much as to say, "He runs like a deer."Bimeby a buck stepped up and begun makin' signs. He pointed to the sunfour times, and we gathered that he wanted us to wait four days untilhe could go and get another man.Mike tipped me the wink, sayin': "They're goin' after the champeen ofthe tribe. That phony faint of mine done it. Will we wait? Why,say, we'd wait four years, wouldn't we? Sweet pickin's, I call it.Champeen, huh?""For me, I'd wait here till I was old folks," I said. "I don't aim toleave these simple savages nothin'. Nothin' at all, but a lot of idleregrets."Well, sir, there was a heap of excitement in that camp for the nextthree days. All them Injuns done, was to come and look at Mike andfeel of his legs and argue with one another. The first night after therace Mike tuned up his guitar, and later on I heard snatches of the"Spanish Fandango" stealin' up from the river bank. I knew what wason; I knew without lookin' that the old chief's girl was right therebeside him, huggin' her knees and listenin' with both ears. I didn'tlike to think about it, for she was a nice little yearlin', and itlooked to me like Mike was up to his usual devilment. Seemed like alow-down trick to play on an injunoo like her, and the more I studiedit the warmer I got. It was a wonderful night; the moonlight drenchedthe valley, and there was the smell of camp-fires and horses overeverything--just the sort of a night for a guitar, just the sort of anight to make your blood run hot and to draw you out into the glitterand make you race with your shadow.When Mike moseyed in, along about ten o'clock, he was plumb loco;the moon-madness was on him strong. His eyes was as bright as silvercoins, and his voice had a queer ring to it."What a night!" said he. "And what a life this is Lord! I'm tired ofpot-huntin'. I've trimmed suckers till I'm weary; I've toted a goldbrick in my pocket till my clothes bag. I'm sick of it. I'm goin' tobeat this Injun champeen, take my half of our winnin's, sell off therunty ones, and settle down.""Where do you aim to settle?" I inquired."Oh, anywhere hereabouts. These are good people, and I like 'em.""You mean you're goin' to turn out with the Injuns?" I inquired, withmy mouth open. Mike had led so sudden that he had me over the ropes."I'm goin' to do that very little thing," he declared. "I dunno how totalk much Navajo, but I'm learnin' fast, and she got my meanin'. Weunderstand each other, and we'll do better as time goes on. She callsme 'Emmike'! Sweet, ain't it?" He heaved a sigh, then he gargled alaugh that sounded like boilin' mush. "It ain't often a feller like megets a swell little dame that worships him. Horses, guns, camp-fires!Can you beat it?""If that squaw had a soft palate or a nose like a eeclair, youwouldn't be so keen for this simple life," I told him. "She hasstirred up your wickedness, Mike, and you've gone nutty. You'remoon-crazy, that's all. You cut it out."I argued half the night; but the more I talked the more I seen thatMike was stuck to be a renegade. It's a fact. If he hadn't of beena nice kid I'd of cut his hobbles and let him go; but--pshaw! MikeButters could run too fast to be wasted among savages, and, besides,it's a terrible thing for a white man to marry an Injun. The red neverdies out in the woman, but the white in the man always changes into adirty, muddy red. I laid awake a long while tryin' to figger out a wayto block his game, but the only thing I could think of was to tie himup and wear out a cinch on him. Just as I was dozin' off I had an idy.I didn't like it much at first; I had to swaller hard to down it, butthe more I studied it the better it looked, so for fear I'd weaken Irolled over and went to sleep.Mike was in earnest, and so was the girl; that much I found outthe next day. And she must of learned him enough Navajo to proposemarriage with, and he must of learned her enough English to say "yes,"for she took possession of our camp and begun to order me around.First thing she lugged our Navajo blankets to the creek, washed 'em,then spread 'em over some bushes and beat 'em with a stick until theywere as clean and soft as thistle-down. I'll admit she made a pleasantpicture against the bright colors of them blankets, and I couldn'taltogether blame Mike for losin' his head. He'd lost it, all right.Every time she looked at him out of them big black eyes he got aswabbly as clabber. It was plumb disgustin'.That evenin' he give her a guitar lesson. Now Mike himself was a sadmusician, and the sound of him fandangoin' uncertainly up and down thefretful spine of that instrument was a tribulation I'd put up with onaccount of friendship, pure and simple, but when that discord-lovin'lady cliff-dweller set all evenin' in our tent and scrapedsnake-dances out of them catguts with a fish-bone, I pulled my freightand laid out in the moonlight with the dogs.Mike's infatuation served one purpose, though; he spent so much timewith the squab that it give me an opportunity to work out my scheme.That guitar lesson showed me that vig'rous measures was necessary, soI dug up a file, a shoemaker's needle and some waxed thread, all ofwhich we had in our kit.On the fourth morning there was a stir in the camp, and we knew thatthe courier had got back with his runner. Pretty soon the wholevillage stormed up to our tent in a body."Let's go out and look him over," I said."What's the use of lookin' at him?" Mike inquired. "All Injuns lookalike--except one."I pulled back the tent fly and stepped out; then I called to Mike, forthe first thing I seen was that gold fillin' of ours. Yes, sir, rightthere, starin' me in the eye, was the sole and shinin' monument tome and Mike's brief whirl at the science of dentistry. The facesurroundin' it was stretched wide and welcome, and the minute thishere new-comer reco'nized me, he drawed back his upper lip and pointedproudly to his ornament, then he dug up his lookin'-glass and hispolishin'-rag and begun to dust it off. It was plain to be seen thathe thought more of it than his right eye. And it impressed the otherInjuns, too; they crowded up and studied it. They took turns feelin'of it, especially the squaws, and I bet if we'd had our dentist outfitwith us we could of got rich right there. The chief's daughter, inparticular, was took with the beauties of that gew-gaw, and she madesigns to us that she wanted one just like it."I never noticed he was so rangy," Mike told me, when he'd sized upthe new arrival. "Say, this guy looks good. He's split plumb to thelarynx and I bet he can run, for all of that wind-shield."I noticed that Mike was pretty grave when he come back in the tent,and more than once that day I caught him lookin' at the champeen, sortof studyin' him out. But for that matter this new party was gettin'his full share of attention; everywhere he went there was a trail ofkids at his heels, and every time he opened his mouth he made a hitwith the grown folks. The women just couldn't keep their eyes offenhim, and I seen that Mike was gettin' pretty sore.In the evenin' he made a confession that tipped off the way his mindwas workin'. "This is the first time I ever felt nervous before arace," said he. "Mebbe it's because it's goin' to be my last race;mebbe it's because that Injun knows me and ain't scared of me. Anyhow,I'm scared of him. That open-faced, Elgin-movement buck has got metickin' fast.""That ain't what's got your goat," I told him."Your cooin' dove is dazzled by that show of wealth, and you know it.""Hell! She's just curious, that's all. She's just a kid. I--I wish I'dof known who he was when I treated him. I'd of drove a horse-shoe nailin his knee."But all the same Mike looked worried.It rained hard that night, and the next morning the grass was prettywet. Mike tried it, first thing, and come back grinnin' till the topof his head was an island."That sod is so slippery old Flyin' Cloud can't get a good stride inhis moccasins. Me, I can straddle out and take holt with my spikes.Them spikes is goin' to put us on easy street. You see! I don't carehow good he is, they're goin' to give me four hundred head of broncsand a cute little pigeon to look out for 'em. Me, I'm goin' to layback and learn to play the guitar. I'm goin' to learn it by note.""You sure got the makin's of a squaw-man," I told him. "Seems likeI've over-read your hand. I used to think you had somethin' in youbesides a appetite, but I was wrong. You're plumb cultus, Mike.""Don't get sore," he grinned. "I got my chance to beat the game andI'm goin' to take it. I can't run foot-races, and win 'em, all mylife. Some day I'll step in my beard and sprain my ankle. Ambition'sa funny thing. I got the ambition to quit work. Besides, she--youknow--she's got a dimple you could lay your finger in. You'd ought tohear her say 'Emmike'; it's certainly cute."We bet everything we had--everything except that pinto pony and thecream-colored mare. I held them two out, for I figgered we was goin'to need 'em and need 'em bad, if my scheme worked out.The course--it was a quarter-mile, straight-away--was laid out alongthe bottom-land where the grass was thick and short. Me and the chiefand his girl set on a blanket among the little piles of silver, andthe rest of the merry villagers lined up close to the finish-line. Wewhite men had been the prime attraction up till now, but it didn'ttake me long to see that we wasn't any more. Them people was allwrapped up in the lad with the gold name-plate, and they was rootin'for him frantic. Last thing he done was to give his eighteen-caratsquaw-catcher the once-over with his buckskin buffer, then he shinedit at the chief's girl and trotted down to the startin'-line. Inoticed that she glued her big-and-liquids on him and kept 'em there.It was beautiful to watch those two men jockey for a start; the Injunwas lean and hungry and mighty smart--but Mike was smarter still. Ofcourse he got the jump.It was a pretty start, and Mike held his lead for fifty yards or more.I'll admit I was worked up. I've had my heart in my mouth so oftenover his races that it's wore smooth from swallerin', but this time itjust wouldn't go down. Our dental patient was runnin' an awful race,but it looked like Mike had him; then, just as the boy settled downand reached out into that long, strong stride of his'n, somethinghappened. He slipped. He would have fell, except that he caughthimself. The next second he slipped again, and Mr. "Man in Love with aGold Fillin'" passed him.With that them Injuns begun to speak. Some of their yells broughthunks of throat with 'em, and that whole region begun to echo as farsouth as the Rio Bravo.My scheme had worked, all right. You see, when Mike was doin' hisheavy courtin' I'd planted my ace in the hole; I'd took off the outersoles of his runnin'-shoes and filed the spikes almost in two, closeup to the plate. When I sewed the leather back on, it never showed,but the minute he struck his gait they broke with him and he begin tomiss his pull. He might have won at that, for he's got the heart of alion, but I s'pose the surprise did as much as anything else tobeat him. It made my heart bleed to see the fight he put up, but hefinished six feet to the bad and fell across the mark on his face,sobbin' like a child. It's the game ones that cry when they're licked;analyze a smilin' loser and you'll find the yellow streak. I liftedhim to his feet, but he was shakin' like a bush in the wind."Them shoes!" he wailed. "Them damned shoes!" Then he busted out againand blubbered like a kid.Right then I done some actin'; but, pshaw! anybody can act when he hasto. If I'd of overplayed my hand a nickel's worth he'd of clumb up melike a rat up a rafter and there would of been human reminders allover that neighborhood. Not but what I would have got him eventually,bein' as I had my side-arms, but I liked Mike and I wouldn't killnobody if I was sober.It happened that he fell right at the feet of the chief's girl, andwhen I lifted him up he seen her. But, say, it must have been a shockto him. Her eyes was half shut, her head was throwed back, and she washissin' like a rattlesnake. Mike stiffened and sort of pawed at her,but she drawed away just like that other squaw in our dentist officehad drawed away from her liege lord and master."Waugh! White man heap squaw!" said she, and with that she flirted herbraids and turned to the winner of the race. She went up to him andlifted his lip with her thumb like she just had to have another lookat his gold tooth, then she smiled up into his face and they walkedaway together without a glance in our direction.Mike follered a step or two, then he stopped and stared around at thecrowd. It was a big minute for him, and for me, too, and I'll prob'lynever forget the picture of that pantin' boy at bay among themgrinnin' barbarians. The curs was yappin' at his heels, the squawswas gigglin' and makin' faces, the bucks was showin' their teeth andpointin' at his tears.Mike never said a word. He just stooped down and peeled off hisrunnin'-shoes, then he throwed 'em as far as he could, right out intothe river. "Who the hell would marry a dame like that?" he sobbed."She's stuck on his jewelry.""Come on, lad," said I; and I led him to our tent. Then, while he puton his clothes, I saddled the pinto pony and the cream-colored mare,for it was six days to the railroad.
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