arizona nights(亚利桑那之夜)-第40章
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jump。 〃My God！〃 I yells to Tusky； kickin' over my chair； as I springs
to my feet。 〃Stop 'em！ Stop 'em！〃 But it was too late。 Out the
gate sprinted them poor devoted chickens； and up the road they trailed in
vain pursuit。 The last we seen of 'em was a mingling of dust and dim
figgers goin' thirty mile an hour after a disappearin' automobeel。
That was all we seen for the moment。 About three o'clock the first
straggler came limpin' in； his wings hangin'； his mouth open； his eyes
glazed with the heat。 By sundown fourteen had returned。 All the rest
had disappeared utter； we never seen 'em again。 I reckon they just
naturally run themselves into a sunstroke and died on the road。 It
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takes a long time to learn a chicken a thing； but a heap longer to unlearn
him。 After that two or three of these yere automobeels went by every day；
all a…blowin' of their horns； all kickin' up a hell of a dust。 And every time
them fourteen Honk…honks of mine took along after 'em； just as I'd taught
'em to do； layin' to get to their corn when they caught up。 No more of
'em died； but that fourteen did get into elegant trainin'。 After a while they
got plumb to enjoyin' it。 When you come right down to it； a chicken
don't have many amusements and relaxations in this life。 Searchin' for
worms； chasin' grasshoppers； and wallerin' in the dust is about the limits of
joys for chickens。
It was sure a fine sight to see 'em after they got well into the game。
About nine o'clock every mornin' they would saunter down to the rise of
the road where they would wait patient until a machine came along。 Then
it would warm your heart to see the enthusiasm of them。 With； exultant
cackles of joy they'd trail in； reachin' out like quarter…horses； their wings
half spread out； their eyes beamin' with delight。 At the lower turn they'd
quit。 Then； after talkin' it over excited…like for a few minutes； they'd
calm down and wait for another。 After a few months of this sort of
trainin' they got purty good at it。 I had one two…year…old rooster that
made fifty…four mile an hour behind one of those sixty…horsepower
Panhandles。 When cars didn't come along often enough； they'd all turn
out and chase jack…rabbits。 They wasn't much fun at that。 After a short；
brief sprint the rabbit would crouch down plumb terrified； while the Honk…
honks pulled off triumphal dances around his shrinkin' form。 Our
ranch got to be purty well known them days among automobeelists。 The
strength of their cars was horse…power； of course； but the speed of them
they got to ratin' by chicken…power。 Some of them used to come way up
from Los Angeles just to try out a new car along our road with the Honk…
honks for pace…makers。 We charged them a little somethin'； and then； too；
we opened up the road…house and the bar； so we did purty well。 It wasn't
necessary to work any longer at that bogus placer。 Evenin's we sat
around outside and swapped yarns； and I bragged on my chickens。 The
chickens would gather round close to listen。
They liked to hear their praises sung； all right。 You bet they sabe！
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The only reason a chicken； or any other critter； isn't intelligent is because
he hasn't no chance to expand。
Why； we used to run races with 'em。 Some of us would hold two or
more chickens back of a chalk line； and the starter'd blow the horn from a
hundred yards to a mile away； dependin' on whether it was a sprint or for
distance。 We had pools on the results； gave odds； made books； and kept
records。 After the thing got knowed we made money hand over fist。
The stranger broke off abruptly and began to roll a cigarette。
〃What did you quit it for； then？〃 ventured Charley； out of the hushed
silence。 〃Pride；〃 replied the stranger solemnly。 〃Haughtiness of spirit。〃
〃How so？〃 urged Charley； after a pause。 〃Them chickens；〃 continued
the stranger； after a moment； 〃stood around listenin' to me a…braggin' of
what superior fowls they was until they got all puffed up。 They wouldn't
have nothin' whatever to do with the ordinary chickens we brought in for
eatin' purposes； but stood around lookin' bored when there wasn't no sport
doin'。 They got to be just like that Four Hundred you read about in the
papers。 It was one continual round of grasshopper balls； race meets； and
afternoon hen…parties。 They got idle and haughty； just like folks。 Then
come race suicide。 They got to feelin' so aristocratic the hens wouldn't
have no eggs。〃 Nobody dared say a word。
〃Windy Bill's snake〃 began the narrator genially。 〃Stranger；〃
broke in Windy Bill； with great emphasis； 〃as to that snake； I want you to
understand this： yereafter in my estimation that snake is nothin' but an
ornery angleworm！〃
PART II THE TWO GUN MAN
CHAPTER ONE THE CATTLE RUSTLERS
Buck Johnson was American born； but with a black beard and a
dignity of manner that had earned him the title of Senor。 He had drifted
into southeastern Arizona in the days of Cochise and Victorio and
Geronimo。 He had persisted； and so in time had come to control the
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waterand hence the grazingof nearly all the Soda Springs Valley。 His
troubles were many； and his difficulties great。 There were the ordinary
problems of lean and dry years。 There were also the extraordinary
problems of devastating Apaches； rivals for early and ill…defined range
rightsand cattle rustlers。 Senor Buck Johnson was a man of
capacity； courage； directness of method； and perseverance。 Especially
the latter。 Therefore he had survived to see the Apaches subdued； the
range rights adjusted； his cattle increased to thousands； grazing the area of
a principality。 Now； all the energy and fire of his frontiersman's nature he
had turned to wiping out the third uncertainty of an uncertain business。
He found it a task of some magnitude。 For Senor Buck Johnson lived
just north of that terra incognita filled with the mystery of a double chance
of death from man or the flaming desert known as the Mexican border。
There； by natural gravitation； gathered all the desperate characters of three
States and two republics。 He who rode into it took good care that no one
should ride behind him； lived warily； slept light； and breathed deep when
once he had again sighted the familiar peaks of Cochise's Stronghold。
No one professed knowledge of those who dwelt therein。 They moved；
mysterious as the desert illusions that compassed them about。 As you
rode； the ranges of mountains visibly changed form； the mons
