W. C. Tuttle

“ It was Chuck’s idea. I listened to Chuck, Hank and Liniment Lucas, as they unfolds what’s on their minds. It has been said that every man has his price. Ours was one elephant, one camel and a tiger.
They wants us to steal them three animals for Paradise. All we’ve got to do is to hand ’em over to Paradise and all is forgiven. But they’re square about it, at that; they will pay Wick Smith what he paid for ’em; and give us a hundred apiece.
“And Piperock ain’t treated you two square,” says Chuck. ”

“ Cleopatra is settin' on what used to be the end of Buck's mahogany bar, her mouth wide open and her eyes shut. Gunga Din is standin' in the middle of the room, with one hind foot on Magpie's pant-leg, and Sahara is half-in and half-out of a rear window. And every time Gunga Din weaves the whole building shakes.
Dirty Shirt has got to his feet, and there he stands, plumb out of clothes, kinda rockin' on his feet and grinnin' foolish.
"Dud-do somethin'!" whispers Magpie. "Ain't nobody goin' to do somethin'?" ”

“ Piperock orates that she’s leapin’ ahead like a bee-stung bear. She ain’t, Ike. It jist ain’t no ways possible for her to leap thataway. She ain’t active like Paradise. We’re able to do things.
“Whereabouts in ― does Piperock compare with Paradise, I asks yuh to answer honestly? She don’t. We’ve got spirit, climate and brain power. We’ve got courageous men, wimmin and children. Why, our offspring are equal to two grown men of Piperock. We’ve got everythin’, Ike.”
“Except a elephant, a camel and a tiger,” says I.
“What’s them amount to?”
“And a Chamber of Commerce, Tombstone.” ”

“ I figures that we can pick up a grizzly and a wolf and mebbe a mountain lion to kinda add to our zoo. Folks will come a long ways to look at wild animiles, Ike—a long ways.”
Me and Dirty looks at each other and goes out to unpack, while Magpie goes ahead on Piperock’s epitaph.
It’s been quite a while since we put our foot on the rail; so we hurries up to Buck Masterson’s saloon, where we runs into Wick Smith and “Mighty” Jones. Mighty and Dirty Shirt ain’t no relation. Mighty is a little jigger, who thinks he’s big enough to hold his own. ”

“ I asks. “Folks won’t even come from Paradise, except to a dance; and then they come to pick a fight. We ain’t got a ― of a lot to offer—except to somebody that wants trouble, Magpie.”
“We will have, Ike. The idea was started in Paradise originally. Me and Wick Smith was down there last week and we went to see a tent show. It wasn’t much good and it wasn’t doin’ no business. Me and Wick got to talkin’ to the feller that owned the show and he told us all about his hard luck.
“He says that a circus is a drug on the market now, and that animiles ain’t worth nothin’, except in a zoo. ”

“ We got to a point where Dirty gets to braggin’ about bein’ East. He orates that he’s also effete. Magpie comes back from Paradise, all swelled up over himself, and invades Buck’s place.
“They’ll come,” he tells the world. “Paradise will be here in copious gobs. From Curlew we’ll poll a big majority, and there’ll be a sprinklin’ from Yaller Horse. I prognosticate that Piperock will hold about all there is in Yaller Rock County. We has spread the gospel of progress, and the world responds.” ”

“ We fell into Buck’s place, and it don’t take a normal man to see that everythin’ ain’t right in there.
Old Testament Tilton is settin’ up on what used to be the back-bar, squattin’ there like a wise old owl, lookin’ over the world; settin’ there like a statue, sayin’ nothin’. Piled up against the bar is what is left of the float. Buck is flat on his back, with his feet up over the pool-table, which has been moved over against the wall.
All to once that mass which used to be the float begins to heave upward, and from among the busted two-by-fours, twisted wires and colored cloth, cometh Sahara. ”

“ He says they’re all puttin’ ’em in in the East, and that no town can ever be an attraction unless it’s got a zoo.
“Well, me and Wick has a few drinks with him and got to talkin’ it over with him. He says he’s got the ingredients of a first-class zoological menagerie, and that he’s got a idea of puttin’ the proposition up to Paradise. He’s got a elephant. Of course it ain’t no first class elephant, bein’ as it’s kinda run down from travelin’ so much.
“The camel is—well, it ain’t noways in full plumage, but it’s a camel. The tiger seems to be as good as tigers go. ”

“ All the Harper tribe, as far back as I can figure out, was cautious. We bred more runners than we did fighters. Of course there ain't as many of us as there is Smiths. Smiths predominate, as it were. Anyway, the Smith tribe ain't got nothin' to do with this.
I ain't been in Piperock for several weeks. Me and "Dirty Shirt" Jones has been prospectin' back in the Whisperin' Creek hills, with our usual good luck—of gettin' back before all our food was gone. And we finds my pardner, "Magpie" Simpkins, settin' at the table in our shack, wearin' his Sunday clothes. ”

“ Magpie orates that we’ll have ’em to attract more folks to Piperock. My ―, that bunch will drive away what we’ve got.”
“If I had that elephant,” said Mighty, “I’d shore take a reef in him. His hide don’t fit him no place. He ain’t no attraction—he’s a disgrace. From the rear he looks like ‘Polecat’ Perkins in his Sunday pants. Wick, you ort to give him a belt to take up the slack.”
“That’s why he’s an attraction,” declared Wick. “The feller I bought him from said that Gunga Din was a rare species of elephant. His name’s Gunga Din. ”

“ You fellers go back home, feelin’ sore at Paradise, and nobody will expect yuh to raid the zoo; sabe?”
When we went home, after swearin’ to do our little best, and we finds Magpie in the shack, composin’ some more stuff. We don’t say nothin’ about his kind note to us, and he don’t mention it to us.
“Still tryin’ to uplift Piperock on paper?” I asks.
“Combatin’ a evil influence, Ike. We are the pioneers—others foller. Some one is tryin’ to steal our thunder.”
“You got plenty of it,” declares Dirty. “They could swipe a lot of it from you and still leave enough for a dozen men.” ”

“ Them animals ain’t for sale.”
“Ain’t they?” asks Wick. “At more’n I paid? Magpie, I’d like to have the say-so over them critters myself. I own ’em, don’t I? They ain’t Piperock’s animals until Piperock has a bill-of-sale for ’em. I sure as ― don’t thank yuh for what you’ve done to me.”
“Where’s yore public spirit?” asks Magpie.
“Thassall right,” complains Wick. “I’ve got more public spirit than most folks, I reckon; but a thousand dollars is a thousand dollars. If Paradise wants to pay me more’n I paid—they git ’em, by gosh!” ”

“ Half of Piperock is guardin' this here stable. Over across the street is Pete Gonyer. Farther down the street is Mighty Jones, and up the other way is Olaf Hansen. One of them three has his eye on this place. They're watchin' to see that Paradise don't come and take them things away.
"And at night they're guardin' this place with sawed-off shotguns. They heard that Paradise was goin' to take away the menagerie; that's what they heard."
"It's kinda easy to see why Paradise wants to shift the job to me and Dirty Shirt Jones," says I. "Can't yuh do as yuh want to with yore own animals?" ”

“ Cod Liver Oil’s pinto just spread its legs, bawled like a calf—and fell down, sendin’ the old buck into a somersault almost under Gunga Din. Runnin’ Dog’s pinto turns around on one hind leg, shuckin’ old Runnin’ Dog, and went past us like a streak.
Gunga Din reached down, wrapped his trunk around Cod Liver Oil, and stood the old boy on his head twenty feet away.
“Yee-ow-w-w!” yelps Liniment Lucas. “Some show!”
And into it all comes Pete Gonyer, drivin’ a team of broncs hitched to a covered wagon. He is the Comin’ of the White Man. He came—I’ll say that much for him. ”

“ They were goin' pretty good when they took up the slack on them lines, and Pete Gonyer lifted right off the dome of Gunga Din, sailed off through the air and butted Dirty Shirt plumb off his camel. He not only butted him off, but took him along.
Then Gunga Din lifted his trunk high in the air and bugles loud and free—
"Ra-a-a-a te ta-a-a-a ta ta-a-a-a!"
RIGHT then I want to get down. I don't reckon that any Harper I ever lived that wanted to get down as badly as I do; but there ain't no safety on the ground. Every horse at them hitch-racks are heavin' and surgin, folks yelpin'. ”

“ He wears one of them beetle-backed coats, a pair of pants that sure follers the contour of his skinny legs and a pair of boots that sag a heap at the top and shows that Testament don’t noways pinch his feet.
Mike parts his hair on one side, slicks one side down until she almost reaches the bridge of his nose, where it retreats some sudden-like. He smells a heap of heel-yuh-tripe perfume.
Ricky is a barber. He looks, smells and acts like one. When he gets excited he applauds, like he was stroppin’ a razor. ”

“ Testament has his usual lemonade and a wink, and then we discusses conditions.
“How is everythin’ in this village of iniquity?” asks Testament kinda offhanded.
“Iniquity, ―!” snorts Buck. “There ain’t no iniquity in Piperock. We’re clean-minded and antiseptic of condition. If there’s any infection in this city it’s brought here from Paradise. By golly, some day you’ll be glad to be knowed as bein’ a suburb of Piperock City.” ”

“ I can’t see a danged thing and I don’t reckon Cleopatra can either; so we locates each other by sense of smell.
I dunno how long we fought. Scientists would probably differ as to how long a man and a tiger can fight without one or both of ’em dyin’. I ain’t got no feelin’ left within’ me. I reckon I’m kinda primitive just now, and I fights with tooth and claw. I hears voices around me, kinda cheerin’; so I puts up a supreme effort, as it were, and feels the tiger go limp.
“My ―!” I hears Dirty gasp hoarse-like. “They’re still at it.” ”

“ Behind my animal is Dirty Shirt, settin' on the hump of Sahara, his face twisted kinda funny. He's got a pair of reins to hang on to.
Just then Gunga Din starts ahead. There ain't nothin' I can do but set there and let things go. We went surgin' around the corner and into the main street. Yaller Rock County sure was there. Every hitch-rack is packed with horses, and between the racks and the middle of the street stands the population of a county, waitin' for us to show up. ”

“ Her eyes would make a man lift his head when somebody is shootin’ at him. She lives with Wick Smith’s family while she’s teachin’ the young of Piperock to not shoot at each other.
Me and Dirty runs into her that evenin’ after we’ve been stationary at Buck’s bar for an hour or more. Dirty’s active eye jiggles convulsive-like for a while, and he seems to be wearin’ about six too many hands. ”

“ Chuck goes away, leavin’ me to nod at the bartender and lean against Dirty Shirt. Then cometh Polecat Perkins and his pack of high-class mongrels. He’s got eight of ’em, all on ropes, and they proceeds to tangle themselves around our legs.
“Greetin’s, everybody,” says Polecat. “Lay down, dogs!”
Polecat joins our convention and gets enthusiastic over the fact that tomorrow is Labor Day and that we’re goin’ to have a jollification.
“Take them dogs outside,” orders Buck. “My ―, this ain’t no doggery, Polecat. Take ’em away so folks will have a chance to git to the bar.” ”

“ We follers 'em up to the corner of Holt's hotel, and there we finds Gunga Din and Sahara, which are bein' held by Pete Gonyer, Olaf Hansen, Hassayampa Harris, Scenery Sims and "Half-Mile" Smith.
"Gunga Din is broke to ride," stated Hassayampa, "but I dunno about Sahara. Ike can ride the elephant, 'cause he's the biggest, and Dirty Shirt can mount the camel."
"Just a short moment," says I. "Nobody asked us. When I ride, I choose a horse; sabe? I ain't no elephant scratcher."
"Ain't yuh?" asks Yuma. "You swore to do what Miss Greenbaum asked yuh to, Ike. She asks yuh to ride the elephant." ”

“ Then Gunga Din let out another of them awful bugles, shucked the hitch-rack and headed for Buck’s place again—and hangin’ to the slack skin of Gunga Din’s rear end was Cleopatra. Behind them came Polecat Perkins’ pack of hounds, run to a frazzle, but still able to stagger on and wail plenty loud and long.
Them dogs has run that tiger all night, and it ain’t no wonder that the tiger is huntin’ for somethin’ to climb on to. Right into the wreck of Buck’s place they went, while the crowd, which is located in places of safety, yelled, shot and generally decided that ― was havin’ a recess. ”

“ I wouldn’t be surprized to see Piperock one of the big cities of the world. We have everythin’ to make it big.”
“Yeah, we’ve got a lot of country,” admits Dirty Shirt. “Me and Ike came across twenty miles of it today, and there was more beyond where we started from. If you want to go east, west, north or south from here yuh can find a lot of open country. We’ve got room to build, that’s a cinch.” ”

“ Over around Buck’s place there’s folks yellin’ to beat four of a kind, and some misguided jigger starts shootin’. I can see that there ain’t no regular doorway left in Buck’s saloon—just an openin’ about ten feet wide.
Just about that time Gunga Din comes around the corner. He ain’t got nobody on his back now, but he’s got a chair hooked around one hind leg. He runs into the hitch-rack, tried to go under it, and lifts it plumb out of the ground. ”

“ He does look kinda pale and walks antegodlin'.
"How comes you to git them there symptoms?" asks Dirty.
"Ignorance," says Hassayampa. "I tried to take a bale of hay away from Exhibit A of the Chamber of Commerce."
"Meanin' Gunga Din?"
"That accordion-skinned thing," says Hassayampa painful-like, kinda pluckin' at his Adam's apple. "I ain't jist right in m' mind yet. It grabbed me by the slack of the pants and took m' pants plumb off while I'm still in the air. Them kinda shocks ain't noways good for the human form. ”

“ Mighty Jones, wearin' a night-gown and a pair of paper wings, one of which has climbed up on her shoulder, makin' her look like a broken-winged duck.
I seen all this in a lot less time than it takes to tell it. The thing is comin' too danged fast, I sabe that much, and I know that an automobile don't scare at elephants. A runaway horse goes past me, hits its rump against the platform of Victory and Progress and skids the thing aside. ”

“ I seem to be layin' across somethin' that heaves and surges a heap. I manages to get one eye open and discovers that I'm on my stummick across a saddle.
Out in front of me and the horse is a queer-lookin' figure. It's got on a pair of overalls, which won't stay up, barefooted, bareheaded. It looks back at me, and I recognize Dirty Shirt by his jiggly eye. ”