The Desire of the Moth; and The Come On | Page 8

one of my old boots! Listen,
George! You heard this Chris-gentleman give his reasons for wanting
peace? Yes? Well, it's oh-so-different here. I hate peace! I loathe, detest,
abhor, and abominate peace! My very soul with strong disgust is
stirred--by peace! I'm growing younger every year, I don't own any
property here, I'm not going to be married; I ain't feeling pretty well
anyhow; and if you don't think I'll shoot, try to get up! Just look as if
you thought you wanted to wish to try to make an effort to get up."
"How--who----" began Creagan; but Pringle cut him short.
"Ask me no more, sweet! You have no speaking part here. We'll do the
talking. I just love to talk. I am the original tongue-tied man; I ebb and

flow. Don't let me hear a word from any of you! Well, pardner?"
Foy, still kneeling in fascinated amaze, now rose. Creagan's nose was
bleeding profusely.
"That was one awful wallop you handed our gimlet-eyed friend," said
Pringle admiringly. "Neatest bit of work I ever saw. Sir, to you! My
compliments!" He placed a chair near the front door and sat down. "I
feel like a lion in a den of Daniels," he sighed.
"But how did you happen to be here so handy?" inquired Foy.
"Didn't happen--I did it on purpose," said John Wesley. "You see, these
four birds tipped their hand. All evening they been instructing me
where I got off. They would-ed I had the wings of a dove, so I might
fly far, far away and be at rest. Now, I put it to you, do I look like a
dove?"
"Not at present," laughed Foy.
"Well, I didn't like it--nobody would. I see there was a hen on, I knew
the lay of the ground from looking after my horse. So I clomped off to
bed, got my good old Excalibur gun--full name X.L.V. Caliber--slipped
off my boots, tippytoed down the back stairs like a Barred Rock cat,
oozed in by the side door--and here I be! I overheard their pleasant little
plan to do you. I meant to do the big rescue act, but you mobilize too
quick for me. All the same, maybe it's as well I chipped in,
because--take a look at them cartridges in your gun, will you? Your
own gun--the one they borrowed from you."
Foy twisted a bullet from a cartridge. There was no powder. The four
men on the floor looked unhappy under his thoughtful eye.
"Nice little plant--what? Do we kill 'em?" said Pringle cheerfully. "I
don't know the rules well enough to break them. What was the big idea?
Was they vexed at you, son?"
"It would seem so," said Foy, smiling. "We had a little war here a spell

back. I suspect they wanted to stir it up again for political effect.
Election this fall."
"And you were not in their party? I see!" said Pringle, nodding
intelligently, "Well, they sure had it fixed to make your side lose one
vote--fixed good and proper. The Ben-boy was to let your right hand
loose and the Joe-boy was to shoot you as you pulled your gun. Why, if
you had lived to make a statement your own story woulda mighty near
let them out."
"I believe that I am greatly obliged to you, sir."
"I believe you are," said Pringle. "And--but, also, I know the two
gentlemen you were drinking with should be very grateful to you. They
had just half a second more to live--and you beat me to it. Too bad!
Well, what next?"
Foy pondered a little.
"I guess I'll go up to the Bar Cross wagon, as I intended, till things
simmer down. The Las Uvas warriors seldom ever bother the Bar Cross
Range. My horse is hitched up the street. How'd you like to go along
with me, stranger? You and me would make a fair-sized crowd."
"I'd like it fine and dandy," said Pringle. "But I got a little visit to make
to-morrow. Maybe I'll join you later. I like Las Uvas," stated John
Wesley, beaming. "Nice, lively little place! I think I'll settle down here
after a bit. Some of the young fellows are shy on good manners. But I
can teach 'em. I'd enjoy it.... Now, let's see: If you'll hold these lads a
few minutes I'll get my boots and saddle up and bring my horse to the
door; then I'll pay Max my hotel bill and talk to them while you get
your horse; and we'll ride together till we get out in the open. How's
that for a lay?"
That was a good lay, it seemed; and it was carried out--with one
addition: After Foy brought his horse he rang Central and called up the
sheriff.

"Hello!