W. C. Tuttle

“ Magpie stopped his yelps by picking him up and throwing him out of the door. Scenery was just sailing out as Ajax starts to come in, and they met. When an irresistible jackass meets an immovable educated fool there is something going on.
Them two misfits of the human race went into a clinch and hugged each other like long-lost brothers. They got up fighting blind, went into another clinch and rolled under Scenery’s bronc. ”

“ For a few seconds there ain't nothing but hoofs, boots and dust to be seen. Then it gets too warm for a buzzard-headed bronc, and said animal leaves its master to fate and an educated fool.
Ajax was a lot stronger than he looked. He squirmed loose, grabs the sheriff by the neck and the seat of the pants and cast him far away.
Poor Scenery! He rolls over a few times and staggers to his feet. He whales away with both fists at nothing, crosses his feet and falls down again. ”

“ Go to it.”
“I will do my best, sir,” says he, and we watches him going over the hills, dragging his rope behind him.
“Just plain crazy, Ike,” declares Magpie. “Plain crazy.”
“Not Ajax,” says I. “Nossir! That feller is plumb fancy crazy. He's gilt-edged, perfumed and embroidered, Magpie. He knows a million dollars' worth of things that won't never do him any good—things that other fellers like him have found out; and now he's out here to find out something to pass on to them. It won't never do him nor anybody else any good—but they'll be glad.” ”

“ Magpie smooths his mustache and scowls at the ground.
“Oh, yes; the hipwiggler. The hipwiggler is a animal. If one comes along and finds you sleeping on the ground it just plumb ruins you for future use. You’re dead—that’s about all.”
“Your—er—friend you spoke about,” says Ajax. “Was he sleeping on——”
“Uh-huh. A log saved his life. It’s thisaway, Ajax: A hipwiggler is a queer animal. It always prospects a man from his head down to his toes. It gets to the end of you and then starts eating its way back. Sabe?
“Dirty Shirt went to sleep with his feet on a log. ”

“ I yells.
“I am not sure, but I think it is a hipwiggler.”
“He tried to steal my sheep,” stated Doleful. “He assaulted me and——”
“Hipwiggler ——!” snorts Mighty. “He's got a polecat in that sack. Him and that goat are inoculated against any smell from now on and forever. Amen.”
Ajax stands there and looks foolish. He can't smell nothing. There is such a thing as getting too much. The goat swallers hard and leans against Ajax. I feel sorry for the goat.
“Well,” says Magpie. “you might as well take your goat, Mighty.”
“Not me!” yells Mighty. “I'm off that goat forever.” ”

“ Dirty spits out his cigaret and clamps his jaws hard.
“Before you do anything, Dirty, appeal to your better nature,” says I.
“What do you think, Dirty?” asks Magpie.
“Think?”
Dirty swings his bronc around and talks to us over his shoulder.
“I think you three has had all the fun you’re going to out of me. I don’t know what it means, but you can all go to —— as far as I’m concerned.”
We watches him ride off down the road.
“Is he—er—entirely sane?” asks Ajax, watching Dirty disappear.
“Not now,” says Magpie. “A human being can only stand so much. He got bit by a hipwiggler the other night.” ”

“ Ajax refused to smoke a cigaret, so we gave him an old pipe that “Polecat” Perkins left in our shack, but he didn’t seem to care for it.
“Now,” says Magpie, “we’d admire to hear what you came here for.”
Ajax crosses his legs, adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. It’s some job to clear a throat like his. The best way, I reckon, would be to drop in a can of nitroglycerin like they do in oil-wells.
“I am here,” says he, rubbing his hands together, “to study the effects of astragalas splendens on the genus Ovius.” ”

“ You take one side, Ike, and I’ll take the other.”
Ajax led like a old pack-horse and didn’t have much to say. We asked him why he was sore at Doleful, and he said the idea was absurd. We tied some raw meat over his eyes, and by supper-time he was able to feel the difference between a knife and a fork.
“Maybe some day you hombres will stay in the East where you belong,” says Magpie disgusted-like. “You sure gallop in where natives fear to sneak.”
“We scientists must suffer that the masses be informed,” explains Ajax. ”

“ Pretty soon Magpie sniffs the air. I sniff a little too, and then we hear Scenery Sims’ squeaky voice.
“Halt! You darn fool—halt!”
We steps around the corner of the cabin and sees a queer sight. In the middle of the trail stands Ajax. Standing between his long legs is a goat—a sick-looking goat.
Ajax has got the sack over his shoulder, and when he sees us he swings it to the ground.
Above him on the hill is Scenery with a rifle in his hands, and about sixty feet behind Ajax is Mighty, hanging on to his nose. Below Ajax, standing on the side of the hill with a rock in each hand, is Doleful. ”

“ The polecat came out of the sack and tangled with the goat, and then both of them started back down the trail towards Mighty.
Mighty must ’a’ got his property back, ’cause as far as we can see ’em Mighty is still in the lead, but it’s almost a cinch the goat will win out in the end.
Ajax watches ’em for a minute and then starts for the cabin.
“Wait!” snaps Magpie. “I’ll get your belongings for you.”
“I am going away,” says Ajax sad-like; “going where intellect is appreciated. I came here on a scientific mission, and I find that research work is not appreciated.” ”

“ Ajax got himself a rope this time. He hunted around until he found an old sack, and then he sets down to look in his little book.
“Today,” says he, “I am going to make a supreme effort to secure valuable data, and I wish to ask a few questions. Is the hipwiggler a vegetarian or of the carnivora, and what is its habitat?”
“The hipwiggler,” says Magpie, “eats anything and is fond of children. ”

“ Ajax tightens the rope around his waist, picks up his sack and faces the east.
“I gird up my loins and fare forth. Today I will complete my quest. I bid you good morning, gentlemen.”
We watches the blamed fool pilgrim across the hills.
“You've got to admire him for sticking,” says I, but Magpie snorts:
“Yeah? Might as well give three cheers for a cactus, Ike.”
“DOUGHGOD” SMITH comes past about dinner-time and stops to smoke a cigaret.
“Seen a posse today,” grins Doughgod. “Some bunch. Scenery Sims, Mighty Jones and Doleful Doolittle. ”

“ The danged little imitation has a six-gun in his hand when he shows up in our doorway. He peers at us mean-like and clears his throat. I'm just about to pour some beans into my plate, but I takes one look at his gun and swings back with that kettle and let her fly. ”

“ His clothes are about seven-eighths to the sere and yaller leaf. His valise don't contain nothing but a book, some papers and a box of pills. Magpie looks him over from all angles.
“Somebody will kill you, Ajax, if you dress thataway,” says Magpie. “In memory of Professor Middleton me and Ike will have to dress you civilized-like, I reckon.”
We got him into an old pair of boots, one of my shirts and an old sombrero of Magpie's. He looks like ——, but he don't know it. Then he wants another length of rope. ”

“ The blamed fool might get lost or bit by a snake. Sidewinders don’t respect education. After a while Magpie says:
“Ike, if it wasn’t for Middleton I’d let the blamed fool sink or swim, survive or perish, but I’d hate to rob Middleton of a chance to hear Ajax tell his experiences. ”

“ I walks over and takes a look. Looks like one of Sam Holt's rat-tailed broncs, but the rider—whooee! I don't blame Magpie for dropping the bacon. I'd 'a' dropped a stick of dynamite if I'd had one.
I'll begin at the top and work on down. First we have a hat. She looks like a cross between a ordinary hard hat and a campaign lid, being as she's sort of flat on the top. Under said hat cometh hair, which seems to grow straight out.
Then we have a pair of funeral-rimmed specs forking the longest, skinniest nose I ever seen. ”

“ The chin of the critter seems to be so long that the weight of it holds his mouth open.
We have with us now the neck. To speak like a poet I’d say that he had the neck of a swan. Maybe not so graceful, but longer. ”

“ Harper. I was chasing the elusive Ovius when this vulgar person came between us. He used very insulting adjectives—very! My lips could never repeat the strange things he said. Naturally I resented. I descended to the level of a brute, and fought as my ancestors fought.”
“I've heard of boot-leggers,” says Magpie, “but you must 'a' sprung from a family of boot-fighters, Ajax. Did you hit him first?” ”