The Weekly Planet, founded and edited during its brief existence by Higginson Peabody, and issued every Saturday to the hebdomadal joy of Dodge1, might have flourished unto this day if it hadn’t been for Jack2. It was a circulation scheme proposed by Jack, and adopted by Higginson Peabody, which undid3 the destinies of the Weekly Planet to such a degree that, in the quicksands of a bottomless trouble into which they were thereby4 betrayed, a trouble, as Higginson Peabody averred5, “so vast, that against it no human ingenuity6 could prevail,” they bogged7 down and disappeared.
Not but what Jack was wholly true to the Weekly Planet and its fortunes. Indeed it was Jack, in his intense loyalty8 to the paper and those that gave it the aid and comfort of their countenance9, and despite the fact that Mr. Masterson’s recommendation had originally paved his way into journalism10, who misled that officer as to the flight-direction taken by Rattlesnake Sanders on the occasion of his winging Mr. Kelly. Perhaps, in defence of Jack, that episode should be briefly13 told.
Rattlesnake Sanders played a cold hand, being four kings and an ace14, against a quartette of queens, the then armament of Mr. Kelly. Mr. Kelly pointed15 out the frigid16 character of those four kings, and thereupon Rattlesnake, in a feeling of chagrin17 natural to one who finds himself detected in a wrong, shot Mr. Kelly in the arm. Following this ebuillition of temper, Rattlesnake mounted his pony18 and spurred away into the dark.
The office of the Weekly Planet was on the northern fringe of Dodge. It was ten o’clock of the night when Rattlesnake expressed his dissatisfaction with Mr. Kelly in manner and form set forth19. The editorial and mechanical forces of the Weekly Planet, made up of Higginson Peabody, Jack, and a trio of printers, were hard at work at the time and knew nothing of Rattlesnake and his exploits. Indeed, the earliest word which they received of Rattlesnake was when that impulsive20 cowboy pulled up at their door.
The cause of Rattlesnake’s pulling up was simple. When he and Mr. Kelly sat down to that friendly game, which in its finale was so disappointing, Rattlesnake, the evening being warm, had cast aside his coat and hat. Being more or less preoccupied21 when ready to leave, he forgot to reassume those garments. His halt at the Weekly Planet was with a purpose of repairs.
Bare of head and coatless, Rattlesnake called from the saddle to Higginson Peabody. The latter, with Jack at his elbow, appeared in the door.
“Got a hat and coat you don’t want?” asked Rattlesnake.
There were two six-shooters in the belt of Rattlesnake and a Winchester in its saddle-scabbard under his left leg, and it may have been this stock of ironware that awoke the generosity22 of Higginson Peabody. Whatever it was to move his benevolence23, the truth remains24 that he took his own hat and coat from their peg25 and conferred them on Rattlesnake.
“Nothing,” returned Higginson Peabody; “they are freely yours.”
“What’s the subscription29 to this rag?” asked Rattlesnake, pointing up at the sign above the door. “How much does she cost for a year?”
“Two dollars,” broke in Jack, who was the circulating agency of the Weekly Planet.
“Thar’s a saw-buck,” quoth Rattlesnake, bringing up a ten-dollar goldpiece and tossing it to Jack. “Put down Rattlesnake Sanders for five years.” Then, as he buried a spur in his pony’s flank and fled like an arrow: “I’ll send th’ address as soon as I settle down.”
When Rattlesnake Sanders injured Mr. Kelly’s arm Mr. Masterson was at the other end of town. It was ten minutes before he heard of the gay doings of Rattlesnake. When word reached him he threw a saddle onto a pony and started in pursuit. Mr. Masterson also halted at the open door of the Weekly Planet, only he was after information, not apparel.
“Did you see a cowboy without coat or hat go by?” asked Mr. Masterson, on the bare chance that the phenomenon had caught the eye of Higginson Peabody.
“I just gave one my coat and hat,” replied Higginson Peabody.
“It was Rattlesnake Sanders,” said Mr. Masterson, settling himself in his stirrups for a run. “He’s creased30 Kelly. Which way did he go?”
Before Higginson Peabody could answer, Jack took reply from his mouth.
“I’ll show you, Mr. Masterson,” observed the eager Jack, pointing westward31 towards the Cimarron Crossing. “He lined out in that direction. An’ say, he was simply hittin’ the high places!”
Now, be it known that Rattlesnake had fled away to the north and east, as though heading for Hays—a course the reverse of that given by Jack. The intervention32, and the brisk falsehoods so cheerfully fulminated, took away the breath of Higginson Peabody. Before he regained33 it Mr. Masterson was a mile on his way to the Cimarron Crossing.
“How could you lie like that?” demanded Higginson Peabody, regarding Jack with wondering horror; “how could you lie like that, and you but fourteen! That Rattlesnake man went east, not west; and Mr. Masterson is an officer of the law!”
“What of it?” retorted Jack, indignantly; “d’you think I’d throw down a subscriber34?” Then, as he reached for his cap: “I reckon I’d better go over to the Alhambra an’ see how hard old Kell got plugged. It ought to be good for a column. Say!” and Jack beamed on Higginson Peabody, “if he’d only beefed old Kell, wouldn’t it have been hot stuff?”
Higginson Peabody, when he graduated from Harvard, had been invited into the counting-room of his father’s State Street bank. But the old migratory35 instinct of his puritan ancestry36 was rife37 within him, and he hungered to go abroad into the land. The expanding West invited him; also, he distasted a bank and liked the notion of a paper.
“Well,” said the elder Peabody, “I don’t blame you. Massachusetts and Boston aren’t what they were. New England to-day is out in Kansas and Nebraska.”
Higginson Peabody resolved to start a paper. Dodge occurred to him; a friend returning had told him that newsy things were prone38 to happen in Dodge. The soil, by the friend’s word, was kindly39; Higginson Peabody thought it would nourish and upbuild a paper. Wherefore, one bright autumnal morning, he dropped off at Dodge. Going over to the hotel he took a room by the month and confided40 to Mr. Wright that he would found the Weekly Planet.
Mr. Wright squeezed the hand of Higginson Peabody until it hung limp as a rag.
“Do you think,” asked Higginson Peabody, painfully separating each finger from its fellows, “do you think your city ready for the birth of a great paper?”
“Ready? Dodge’ll sit up nights to rock its cradle and warm its milk!” quoth Mr. Wright.
Mr. Wright went down to the Long Branch and told Mr. Short. As information radiated from the Long Branch the extremest corner of Dodge was filled with the news in an hour.
When Mr. Wright withdrew to the Long Branch he left Higginson Peabody sitting on the hotel porch. The costume of Higginson Peabody culminated42 in a silk hat that would have looked well on Boston Common. The tall, shiny hat excited the primitive43 interest of Cimarron Bill, who lightly shot it from the head of its owner. Then, with bullet following bullet, he rolled it along the sidewalk. Several gentlemen joined Cimarron Bill in this sprightly44 pastime of the hat. Full twenty took part, and Higginson Peabody’s headgear, to quote Cimarron Bill as he reported the episode later to Mr. Masterson, was:
“A heap shot up.”
“He’s an editor,” warned Mr. Masterson, “and going to start a paper. Mind, you mustn’t hurt him!”
“Hurt him!” retorted Cimarron Bill. “If I do I hope to go afoot the balance of my life—I do, shore!”
Mr. Wright returned from the Long Branch, bringing Mr. Short. Higginson Peabody mentioned the adventures of his hat.
“It’s my fault,” said Mr. Wright; “I’d ought to have told you. That breed of war-bonnet is ag’inst the rules of our set.”
“That’s right,” coincided Mr. Short; “only sooicides wear ’em in Dodge.”
“We’ll fix it,” observed Mr. Wright, who noticed that Higginson Peabody looked cast down. “What’s the size of your head?”
“Seven and an eighth,” returned Higginson Peabody, doubtfully.
“Seven and an eighth!” repeated Mr. Wright: “It’ll grow in Dodge. See if it ain’t two sizes larger in a month.”
Mr. Wright sent over to that mart whereof he was proprietor46, and presently a pearl-gray sombrero appeared.
“There you are!” exclaimed Mr. Wright. “As good a Stetson as ever rode in a round-up! Price? Not a word! I’ll take it out in advertising47.”
Mr. Wright became as an elder brother to Higginson Peabody. On the morning following the latter’s advent45 the two sat convenient to the hotel bar and talked of Indians. That is, Mr. Wright talked of Indians, and Higginson Peabody gulped48 and listened, pale of cheek.
Mr. Wright said a Cheyenne was as full of the unexpected as a career in Wall Street. He hoped the Cheyennes wouldn’t kill and scalp anybody about Dodge between then and Christmas. Mr. Wright set his limit at Christmas because that was three months away, and three months was as long as even an optimist49 was licensed50 to hope anything of a Cheyenne.
No, Mr. Wright did not think the Cheyennes would immediately bother Dodge. They were busy with the buffaloes53 at that season. Moreover, there were a number of buffalo52 hunters along the Medicine Lodge54 and the Cimarron whom they, the Cheyennes, might capture and burn at the stake. This would, so Mr. Wright argued, slake55 the Cheyenne thirst for immediate51 amusement. Later, when they had burned up that year’s stock of buffalo hunters and were suffering from ennui56, the Cheyennes would doubtless visit Dodge.
“But,” declared Mr. Wright, triumphantly57, “we generally beat ’em off. They never capture or kill more’n fifty of us before we have ’em routed. Sure; we down three times as many of them as they do of us. Which reminds me: come down to Kelly’s Alhambra and let me show you the head-dresses and bead58 jackets we shucked from the last outfit59 we wiped out.”
Mr. Wright exhibited to Higginson Peabody what trophies60 had been brought north from the ’Dobe Walls and were then adorning61 the walls of the Alhambra. Also, he had Mr. Kelly, who was their custodian62, bring out the eighty scalps, and counted them into the shrinking fingers of Higginson Peabody, who handled them gingerly. They were one and all, so Mr. Wright averred, stripped from slaughtered63 Cheyennes in the streets of Dodge.
“Isn’t that so, Kell?” asked Mr. Wright, appealing to Mr. Kelly.
“Shore!” assented64 Mr. Kelly. Then, by way of particular corroboration65 and picking out a brace66 of scalps whereof the braided hair was unusually long and glossy67, “I killed an’ skelped these two right yere in the s’loon.”
Higginson Peabody was impressed and said he would one day write up what he had heard for the Weekly Planet.
Mr. Wright invited Higginson Peabody to explore the region lying back of Dodge. They would make the trip on ponies68. Mr. Wright held that the exploration was requisite69 to the right editing of a local paper.
“For how,” demanded Mr. Wright, plausibly70, “can you get out a paper and know nothing of the country you’re in? As for Cheyennes, you need entertain no fear. You’ll have a pony under you that can beat an antelope71.”
Higginson Peabody, with Mr. Wright as guide, philosopher and friend, broke into the gray rolling desert to the north of Dodge. At the end of the first mile Dodge dropped out of sight behind a swell72 and Higginson Peabody found himself surrounded by naught73 save the shadowless plains—as grimly stark74 as when they slipped from the palm of the Infinite! The very picture of loneliness, the scene pressed upon the unsophisticated sensibilities of Higginson Peabody like a menace. He wanted to return to Dodge, but he didn’t like to say so.
Mr. Wright became replete75 of reminiscences. He showed Higginson Peabody where a party of emigrants76 had been butchered by the Cheyennes only eight weeks before.
By the side of a water hole Mr. Wright pointed to the ashes of a fire. The Cheyennes had there grilled77 a victim on the coals.
“You see,” explained Mr. Wright, in apology for the Cheyennes, “they didn’t have any stake. The best they could do was tie him, wrist and heel, toss him in the fire and then keep him there with their lances.”
“No,” said Mr. Wright, carelessly, “if my memory serves, he was a sot from Abilene.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed Mr. Wright, and he leaped from his pony.
Mr. Wright held up a moccasin which, apparently80, he had taken from the ground.
“Cheyenne,” said Mr. Wright, sinking his voice to a whisper. “Warm, too; that moccasin was on its owner not five minutes ago!”
Higginson Peabody took the buckskin footgear in his hands, which shook a little. The moccasin was warm. It could hardly have been otherwise since Mr. Wright had carried it in an inside pocket.
“We’d better skin out for Dodge,” said he.
Higginson Peabody wheeled, being quite in the humour for Dodge. He was on the threshold of saying so when a medley82 of yelps83 and yells broke forth. Higginson Peabody cast a look to the rear; a score of befeathered and ochre-bedabbled demons85 were in open cry not a furlong away.
Mr. Wright had made no idle brag86 when he said the pony bestrode by Higginson Peabody could outstrip87 an antelope. The latter gave that animal its head and the scenery began racing88 rearward in a slate-coloured blur89. Mr. Wright’s pony was panting on the flank of its flying mate.
“Ride hard!” shouted Mr. Wright. “To be captured is death by torture!”
Higginson Peabody did ride hard. There was a rattle12 of rifles and six-shooters; the high lead ripped and whined90 and whistled—new sounds to the shrinking ears of Higginson Peabody! Now and again a bullet scuttered along the ground to right or left and threw up ominous91 pinches of dust. Suddenly Mr. Wright reeled in the saddle.
The rest was lost to Higginson Peabody, for Mr. Wright’s pony, evidently as badly wounded as its rider, began falling to the rear.
On tore Higginson Peabody. Dodge at last! Drawing a deep breath he swept down the main street like a tornado93.
“Indians! Indians!” yelled Higginson Peabody.
Arriving opposite its home corral the pony set four hoofs94 and skated; recovering, it wheeled to the left. Higginson Peabody, by these abrupt95 manoeuvres, was spilled from the saddle “like a pup from a basket,” according to Mr. Kelly, who watched the ceremony from the Alhambra door.
Higginson Peabody reached the grass in a convenient ball. After a prolonged roll of twenty feet he scrambled96 up uninjured.
“Get your guns!” he cried to Mr. Kelly, and then began to run.
It was afterward97 a matter of regret in Dodge that no arrangements had been made for timing98 Higginson Peabody. He had only covered one hundred yards when he ran into the arms of Mr. Masterson, but it was the dispassionate judgment99 of both Mr. Kelly and Mr. Short, who, from their respective houses of entertainment, reviewed the feat84, that he did those one hundred yards in better than ten seconds. Indeed, so much was popular admiration100 excited by the winged work of Higginson Peabody that, in commemoration thereof, Dodge renamed him the “Jackrabbit,” by which honourable101 appellation102 he was ever afterward known to its generous inhabitants.
“Get your guns!” shouted Higginson Peabody when stopped by the outspread arms.
“What’s the trouble?” asked Mr. Masterson.
“Come,” said Mr. Masterson, refusing to be shaken off, “it’s only a joke. What you need now is a drink. Let’s push for Luke Short’s.”
While Higginson Peabody stood at the Long Branch bar and restored that confidence in his fellow-men which a two-days’ stay in Dodge had done much to shake, Cimarron Bill and a select bevy104, clad in full Cheyenne regalia, faces painted, blankets flying, feathers tossing, came whooping105 down the street. They jumped from their steaming ponies and joined Mr. Masterson and their victim.
“The drinks is on me!” shouted Cimarron Bill, giving the counter a resounding106 slap. “Which I’m as dry as a covered bridge!”
“The drinks is on the house,” said Mr. Short, severely107. Then to Higginson Peabody, “Here’s to you, stranger! An’ let me say,” concluded Mr. Short, while a colour of compliment showed through his tones, “that if ever you do run a footrace I’ll string my money on you.”
As he considered the incident, Higginson Peabody was inclined to refuse the boon108 of Mr. Wright’s further acquaintance, but Mr. Masterson and Mr. Kelly explained that to do so would be regarded, by the liberal sentiment of Dodge, as churlish in the extreme.
“That scamper109 into camp,” urged Mr. Kelly, “oughtn’t to count. It’s only folks we like an’ intend to adopt into our midst on whom we confer them rites110 of initiation111.”
“That’s whatever,” observed Cimarron Bill, who came up. “Which we shore wouldn’t take that much trouble with any gent onless we liked him.”
During his last year at Harvard Higginson Peabody edited the college paper, and that, when he landed in Dodge, had been the whole of his journalistic experience. While he conducted that vehicle of college information his one notable triumph was an article on Bible reading, in which he urged that all Bibles be bound in red. He pointed out an inherent interest to abide112 in red and quoted its effect on turkey gobblers. On the other hand, black, the usual cover-colour of Bibles, was a hue113 sorrowful and repellant; so far from inviting114 human interest, it daunted115 it. Higginson Peabody insisted that were every copy of the scriptures116 bound in red a score would read where only one perused117 them in their black uniform of gloom. This article gained him the compliment of a reprimand from the university heads and an accusation119 on the part of rivals that he was trying to promote an importance for his college colours.
Notwithstanding this meagre apprenticeship120 in journalism Higginson Peabody, from its initial issue, made the Weekly Planet a highly readable paper. This was peculiarly the case after he, on Mr. Masterson’s endorsement121, had added Jack to his staff. It was Jack who brought in those spicy122 personal items which told in complimentary123 fashion the daily or rather nightly doings at Mr. Kelly’s Alhambra, Mr. Short’s Long Branch, Mr. Webster’s Alamo, and Mr. Peacock’s Dance Hall, to say nothing of the Dodge Opera House and Mr. Wright’s store, and which caused every reader to pick up the paper with pleasure and lay it down with regret. Also, it was Jack who taught Higginson Peabody the money value of a line of advertising that published cattle brands and set forth the boundaries of ranges, so that round-up outfits124 might intelligently hold the herds125 and cut out each ranchman’s cattle in what regions they belonged. Indeed, with Jack at his elbow Higginson Peabody carried the Weekly Planet to a point where it almost paid.
It was when the Weekly Planet had counted its thirteenth issue that Higginson Peabody took up the question of a circulation. At that time the paper owned but thirty-four subscribers. Dodge was small; the paper could be passed from hand to hand; those thirty-four copies, during the seven days when they were fresh, were read and appreciated by every eye in Dodge. Under such circumstances thirty-four copies would be enough; the demands of Dodge did not call for any more. Clearly, some argument beyond the argument of mere127 news was required to build up a Weekly Planet circulation.
Higginson Peabody, in conference with Jack, said that he thought of starting a baby contest. The paper would offer a prize for the most beautiful baby in Dodge.
Jack stood like a rock against this proposition. He showed how in all Dodge there were but two babies, and that the mother in each marvellous instance held her darling to be a cherub128 fresh descended129 from on high. That mother would make trouble for the Weekly Planet and all connected therewith if any rival infant were pitched upon as that cherub’s superior.
“The mother,” said Jack, ominously130, “whose young one got beat would let her hair down her back, give her war-yell, and simply leave the Weekly Planet on both sides of the Arkansaw. Besides, that gent don’t jingle131 a spur in Dodge who’s game to act as judge. But,” continued Jack, when Higginson Peabody, impressed by the serpent-like wisdom of his young assistant, had abandoned every notion of a baby contest, “I’ve thought up a play that ought to make the paper as popular as tortillas with a Mexican. How about a pie contest? Wouldn’t that meet the needs of the hour?” And Jack’s mouth took on an unctuous132 expression.
Jack explained his scheme. The Weekly Planet would offer a five-years’ subscription, free, for the best pie, any sort or species, sent to its editorial rooms, accompanied by the name of the authoress, within four calendar weeks of the announcement.
“We want to personally interest the ladies,” said Jack, “and a pie contest will do it.”
Higginson Peabody was struck by the original force of Jack’s suggestion. Hailing from what Mr. Warner called “the region of perpetual pie,” he could appreciate its merits. He put but one question:
“Whom shall we name as judge?” Higginson Peabody also added that it was beyond his own genius to act in that capacity, alleging133 a dyspepsia.
Jack’s eyes lit up like the windows of a hurdy-gurdy on the evening of a fandango.
“I’ll be judge,” said Jack.
The value of a pie contest as a spur to circulation gained immediate exhibition. The Weekly Planet jumped from thirty-four to one hundred and ten, and new subscriptions134 coming every hour.
Also, pies began to appear—pies of every kind. There was the morose135 mince136, the cheerful dried apple, the sedate137 pumpkin138, the consoling custard, the flippant plum; every variety of dried or canned goods on Mr. Wright’s broad shelves was drawn139 upon to become the basis of pie.
Since no limit had been placed upon her labours, every fair contestant140 sent ardent141 scores of entries. Lest one baking had been slightly burned on the under crust, each lady broke forth in further bakings, and by the end of the second day of that rivalry142 pies had accumulated on the premises143 of the Weekly Planet by the gross. They were stacked up in tiers of twelve on the editorial table, they covered printing-press and make-up stones, there were no chairs left and hardly room remained to move about among the cases because of pies. And the end was not yet; the third day opened with an aggregate144 consignment145 of eighty pies, and each confection a hopeful claimant of that five-years’ free subscription.
When Jack evolved a pie contest he had no foreknowledge of what would be its fatal popularity. In proposing to act as judge of that pastry146 competition he in no wise foresaw the pie-deluge which would set in. Still, being of the material from which heroes are made, Jack bore himself doughtily147. The first day he ate twenty-eight pies; the second day he got no further than twenty; on the third day, with two hundred untouched pies awaiting his sampling tooth, Jack fell ill.
“Of course,” said Jack, feebly, “I could go on, I s’ppose, and I’ll sell my life dearly; but what’s the use? What could one boy do against two hundred pies?”
Jack was undeniably ill, but as one whose spirit remains unconquerable, he would not go to bed. Although he could not look at a pie, he appeared about the office, like some criminal ghost obliged to haunt the scenes of its malefactions. And Jack was still capable of a suggestion. It was by his word that the three printers were named as an auxiliary148 commission to aid in forming an official judgment of those pies.
It was of scant149 avail. At the close of the fifth day the foreman came to Higginson Peabody wearing a look of defeat. Even three printers had been powerless before that storm of pie.
“Bill’s down an’ out,” said the foreman, dejectedly. Bill was one of the two journeymen printers. “It was a lemon pie Miss Casey made that floored him. To get the kinks out o’ Bill I had to give him a gallon of Kelly’s best Old Jordan, an’ at that he ain’t been the same man since.”
“What shall we do?” queried Higginson Peabody, desperately150. “We’ll be buried alive beneath an avalanche151 of pie!”
The foreman was a fertile printer, and thought he might find a purchaser for those pies. Higginson Peabody recklessly authorised him in that behalf. Borrowing a pony from Mr. Trask’s corral, the foreman went to Cimarron and arranged for the disposal of present as well as future pies at the rate of a dollar the dozen pies, to Mr. Ingalls of the Golden Rod restaurant. The following evening the premises of the Weekly Planet were happily free from pies, and the greenish cast in Jack’s cheek was giving way to the old-time hue of boyish health.
No harm would have come, and the Weekly Planet might have continued in its useful orbit undisturbed, had it not been for a visit that Aunt Nettie Dawson paid to Cimarron. Aunt Nettie was sedately152 walking in Cimarron’s only thoroughfare, intent on naught save a social hour with a valued friend, resident of that hamlet, when her glance was arrested by a certain pie in the window of the Golden Rod. It was of the mince family, and its top crust was ornamented153 with sundry154 nicks and flourishes, made by the point of a knife, and which in their whole effect resembled the remains of a pair of centipedes that had met a violent death. Aunt Nettie put on her glasses, took a second look to make sure, and then stalked into the Golden Rod, demanding its proprietor by name.
“Wherever did you-all get my pie, Bill Ingalls?” was the question which Aunt Nettie put. The frown that darkened her brow was like a threat.
Mr. Ingalls, commonly, was a brave and truthful155 man, and yet he told Aunt Nettie that he didn’t know. Mr. Ingalls said that the particular pie to which she pointed was a mystery and its origin wrapped in fog. Aunt Nettie snorted.
“You needn’t lie to me, Bill Ingalls,” she retorted; “you got it of that beanstalk editor. I’ll show that cheap Yankee who he’s foolin’ with as soon as ever I see Dodge ag’in.”
Higginson Peabody was discussing some subject of Weekly Planet economy with Jack when Aunt Nettie came in. Jack, being a frontier lad and keen to every sign of danger, realised the storm in its approach and fled for Mr. Masterson. His chief, less alive to the peril156, turned pleasantly on Aunt Nettie.
“What can I do, Miss Dawson?” he said.
“Where’s that mince I sent y’ yisterday?” demanded Aunt Nettie, manner as brittle157 and as hard as glass. “It’s got two fern leaves marked on the kiver.”
Higginson Peabody said never a word; panting like some trapped animal, he could only look at Aunt Nettie. Then Aunt Nettie unfurled the story of his perfidy158.
“An’ so,” said Aunt Nettie, in sour conclusion, “you allowed you’d dee-fraud us ladies of Dodge into bakin’ onlimited pies for them drunkards over in Cimarron!”
Aunt Nettie made a house to house canvass159 and told each lady the story of their mutual160 wrongs. There was a scurrying161 round-up of shawls and shakers. Within thirty minutes fourscore pie contestants162, Aunt Nettie at their angry head, were moving on the office of the Weekly Planet. They found the door closed and locked. Mr. Masterson, urged by Jack and realising the danger, had been before them. By advice of that tried strategist Higginson Peabody had barricaded163 his portals. He dragged the office counter across the locked door and then cowered164 behind double defences, fearing the worst.
“Never mind,” said Aunt Nettie, addressing her injured sisters, “he’s simply got to come out, an’ we’ll jest nacherally camp on his doorstep till he does.” This last ferociously165.
The Weekly Planet was in a state of siege, and word of that beleaguerment went through Dodge like wildfire. With scared faces Mr. Wright, Mr. Masterson, Mr. Short, Mr. Trask, Mr. Kelly and others among the town’s bravest spirits, gathered for conference in the Long Branch.
“What are we to do?” asked Mr. Masterson, anxiously. “I don’t want to be understood as shirking a duty, but if I’d known there was to be any such feminine uprising as this I’d never been sheriff of Ford166.”
Mr. Wright made a despairing gesture.
“I haven’t,” said Mr. Wright, “felt so he’pless an’ unprotected since Mr. Lee’s surrender.”
“What be we to do?” and Mr. Kelly repeated Mr. Masterson’s question. Then, as though making reply: “Whatever can we do? Thar’s them ladies on the warpath, an’ Aunt Nettie at their head! She’s that inflexible167, granite’s easy to her! An’ as for courage, Aunt Nettie teaches it. Thar’s nothin’ she’s feared of on four legs or two.”
“Yes thar is,” interjected Cimarron Bill, who stood listening. “Which Aunt Nettie’s timid of cows.”
There was a suggestion in the remark; strung like a bow by the difficulties of the situation Mr. Masterson seized upon it. Two words to Cimarron Bill and in another moment that hard-riding gentleman and a dozen hard-riding companions were cinching the hulls168 onto their ponies in Mr. Trask’s corral. Once in the saddle, away they tore for the river and began scrambling169 across, through deeps and shallows, with dire11 riot and uproar170.
On the south side of the river, up to their stolid171 knees in the rank grasses, were from fifty to one hundred head of cattle. These tossed wondering horns and blew loudly through their noses as Cimarron Bill and his mates came charging across. Their ruminations suffered further disturbance172 when, with headlong speed, those charging ones fell bodily upon them, rounded them up, hurled173 them into the river and sent them for the north bank on the jump. With bellow174 of protest the outraged175 cattle were rushed along. Once on the north bank they were cleverly bunched and, still on the canter, swung down on the office of the Weekly Planet.
The first to observe the approach of that horned phalanx, with the urgent riders whooping and dashing about in the rear, was Miss Casey of the lemon pies.
“Oh, look at them awful cows, Miss Dawson, dear!” she screamed, and pointed with horrified176 finger.
Not alone Aunt Nettie, but every lady looked. It was enough; there was a chorus of squeaks177, a vast flutter of skirts, and the fair vigilantes, gathered to revenge their betrayed pies, had scattered178 like a flock of blackbirds. Aunt Nettie was the last to go. She gazed at the oncoming cattle as they swept down upon the Weekly Planet, with lowered horn and steamy nostril179; she identified her recreant180 nephew, Cimarron Bill, and knew the whole as a masterpiece of Mastersonian diplomacy181.
“The cowards!” she exclaimed. Then Aunt Nettie clawed her petticoats about her and skurried after the others. The next moment the pushing, milling, foaming182 band were jammed and held about the building of the Weekly Planet. The ruse118 had worked, the siege was lifted.
Mr. Masterson, on his best pony and with a lead pony by the bridle, made his way through the herd126 to the door.
“Don’t waste a moment,” cried Mr. Masterson to Higginson Peabody, tossing him the reins of the lead pony the moment that journalist could be prevailed on to open his doors; “into the saddle with you and head for Cimarron. As sheriff of Ford I’ll see you safe as far as the county line.”
When Mr. Masterson, with Higginson Peabody, drew bridle at the boundary line between Ford and Gray counties, Mr. Masterson gave the other his hand.
“Look out for yourself,” he said; “catch the express for the East!”
“Don’t you think,” inquired Higginson Peabody, quaveringly, “that after the excitement cools off I can come back?”
Mr. Masterson firmly shook his head.
“There isn’t a chance,” said he. “If they were white men, or even Cheyennes, I’d say ‘Yes.’ But they’re ladies, and you know what ladies are! I’m reckoned a judge in matters of life and death, and I tell you frankly183 that if it were twenty years from now, and you showed up in Dodge, I wouldn’t guarantee your game a moment.”
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1
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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2
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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3
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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4
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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5
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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7
bogged
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| adj.陷于泥沼的v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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8
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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9
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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11
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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12
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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13
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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14
ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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20
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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21
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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22
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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23
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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24
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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25
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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26
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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27
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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28
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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29
subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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30
creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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31
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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32
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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33
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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34
subscriber
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| n.用户，订户；（慈善机关等的）定期捐款者；预约者；签署者 | |
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35
migratory
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| n.候鸟，迁移 | |
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36
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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37
rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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38
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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39
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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40
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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41
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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42
culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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44
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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45
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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46
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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47
advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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48
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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49
optimist
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| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
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50
licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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51
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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52
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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53
buffaloes
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| n.水牛（分非洲水牛和亚洲水牛两种）( buffalo的名词复数 )；（南非或北美的）野牛；威胁；恐吓 | |
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54
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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55
slake
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| v.解渴，使平息 | |
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56
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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57
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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58
bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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59
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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60
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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61
adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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62
custodian
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| n.保管人，监护人；公共建筑看守 | |
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63
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
corroboration
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| n.进一步的证实，进一步的证据 | |
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66
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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67
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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68
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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69
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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70
plausibly
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| 似真地 | |
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71
antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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72
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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73
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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74
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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75
replete
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| adj.饱满的，塞满的；n.贮蜜蚁 | |
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76
emigrants
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| n.（从本国移往他国的）移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
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77
grilled
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| adj. 烤的, 炙过的, 有格子的 动词grill的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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78
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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79
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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80
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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81
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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82
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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83
yelps
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| n.（因痛苦、气愤、兴奋等的）短而尖的叫声( yelp的名词复数 )v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的第三人称单数 ) | |
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84
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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85
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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86
brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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87
outstrip
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| v.超过，跑过 | |
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88
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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89
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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90
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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91
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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92
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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93
tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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94
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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95
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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96
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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97
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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98
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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99
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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100
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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101
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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102
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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103
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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104
bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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105
whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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106
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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107
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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108
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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scamper
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| v.奔跑，快跑 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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111
initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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112
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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113
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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114
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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115
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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117
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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118
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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119
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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120
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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121
endorsement
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| n.背书；赞成，认可，担保；签(注)，批注 | |
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122
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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123
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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outfits
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| n.全套装备( outfit的名词复数 )；一套服装；集体；组织v.装备，配置设备，供给服装( outfit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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125
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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126
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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128
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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129
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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132
unctuous
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| adj.油腔滑调的，大胆的 | |
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133
alleging
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| 断言，宣称，辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
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134
subscriptions
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| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
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135
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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136
mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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137
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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138
pumpkin
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| n.南瓜 | |
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139
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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140
contestant
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| n.竞争者，参加竞赛者 | |
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141
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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143
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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144
aggregate
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| adj.总计的，集合的；n.总数；v.合计；集合 | |
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145
consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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146
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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doughtily
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| adv.强地，勇敢地 | |
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148
auxiliary
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| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
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149
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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150
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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151
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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152
sedately
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| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
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153
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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155
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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156
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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158
perfidy
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| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
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159
canvass
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| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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161
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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contestants
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| n.竞争者，参赛者( contestant的名词复数 ) | |
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163
barricaded
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| 设路障于，以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 )； 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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164
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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166
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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168
hulls
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| 船体( hull的名词复数 )； 船身； 外壳； 豆荚 | |
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169
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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170
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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171
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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172
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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174
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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175
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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176
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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177
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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178
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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179
nostril
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| n.鼻孔 | |
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180
recreant
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| n.懦夫；adj.胆怯的 | |
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181
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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182
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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183
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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