Part 12 (1/2)

Horace sat down on the end of a charred log. ”Well, I'll die right here,” sez he. ”This spot suits me as well as any other.”

”You don't have to die at all,” sez I. ”A body can go forty days without food, an' it does more good than harm.” Friar Tuck had told me a lot about fastin', an' I was keen to try it out on Horace. From all I could see from the theory o' fastin', it was just what was needed for Horace's nerves.

”Look at me,” sez Horace, pullin' at the waist of his clothes. ”I bet I've lost twenty pounds already, on this fool trip. Twenty pounds more would make me a corpse, an' I'd just as soon be made one here as anywhere. As soon as I rest up a little, I'm goin' to begin to yell until I draw those blame Injuns back, an' have 'em finish the job in short order.”

He wasn't bluffin', he was simply desp'rit. ”You'll have to walk with us,” sez I; ”come on.”

Tank took one arm, an' I took the other, an' we started forth. For the first hour he hung back, and then he began to step out on his own hook. When we rested at noon, he was the freshest one of us. Tank an'

I had ridin' boots, an' ridin' muscles; while he had walkin' shoes, an' no muscles at all worth mentionin'. ”I can play at this game as well as any one,” sez Horace, chewin' a blade o' gra.s.s, an' lookin'

proud of himself.

Tank was purty well fussed up; he wasn't workin' out any theories, he had just come along to help pester Horace an' have a little amus.e.m.e.nt; but it began to appear to him that his fun was comin' high-priced.

By nightfall we was all tol'able hungry; but Horace was so set up over bein' able to put over a full day's walk on nothin' to eat that he was purty speechy, an' it was nine o'clock before he went to sleep. As soon as he had dropped off, I went down to meet Spider Kelley an' get the grub he had brought out for me 'n' Tank. He said 'at the other boys wasn't braggin' none about their trip the night before; but they were all ready to roast me an' Tank as soon as we got in. We'd had it fixed that Spider an' the rest was to take turns worryin' Horace on the back trip; but Spider said that it looked to him as if I'd win the bet anyway, so he intended to play neutral from that on. As soon as me an' Tank had eaten, we turned in, an' all of us slept like logs.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BENEFITS OF FASTING

The next day Horace walked easier 'n any of us. Now I'm tellin' this to ya straight 'n' you can believe it or not just as ya please; but that little cuss stepped right along, began to notice the scenery, an'

even cracked a few jokes now an' again; while me an' Tank just plodded with our minds fixed on the meal we were goin' to get that night.

Horace had give up all thought o' meals, so they didn't pester him any.

At the end of the third day Horace had lost his appet.i.te complete.

Friar Tuck had swore that hunger didn't worry a man more 'n three days, an' sure enough, it didn't. Horace didn't care whether he ever et again or not. He'd get a little dizzy when he'd start out, an' once in a while he'd feel a bit fainty; but as far as bein' ravenous went, me an Tank had him beat a mile.

”Where is the joke o' this fool trip?” growled Tank to me on the evenin' of the fourth day as we were eatin' the supper Spider Kelley had brought out. ”He ain't a human at all, Horace ain't; he's a reptile, an' can live without food.”

Spider was tickled a lot, and said he didn't care if he did lose his bet, that it was worth it to find how everlastin' tough a little half-hand like Horace could be when drove to it. I'd been thinkin' it over all day, but I didn't say anything.

Friar Tuck had said it was a question of will power, more 'n anything else: that if a man just held his thoughts away from food it wouldn't bother him; but if he kept thinkin' of it, the digestin' juices would flow into his stomach an' make him think he was starvin'; so I was minded to try a new plan next day.

”Spider,” I sez, ”you put a cow an' calf up in Nufty's Corral”-which was the name of a little shut-in park we would go through the next afternoon. ”Put 'em there in the mornin', a cow with an off brand, if you can find one, an' trim their hoofs down close, so they won't go back to the bunch. Remember 'at we're on foot, an' trim 'em close enough to make it hurt 'em to walk. I'm goin' to make Horace hungry if I can.”

”I hate to play again' him and my own bet,” sez Spider; ”but I'll have the cow there, just to see what you're up to. If you're goin' to butcher it, though, I don't see why a young steer wouldn't be better.”

”I'll count on you havin' it there,” sez I; an' then Spider rode back to the ranch house, an' me an' Tank went to sleep.

Next mornin' me an' Tank put the cartridges out of our belts into our pockets. As soon as we started to walk I began to talk about my hunger, an' weakness, an' the empty feelin' in my head an' stomach. At first Horace didn't pay any heed; but from the start, ol' Tank Williams caught every symptom I suggested; until I feared he'd curl up on the trail an' die o' starvation. Finally, though, Horace began to pay heed to my suggestions, an' to sigh an' moan a little. What finally got him was my gnawin' at my rope an' gauntlet. Tank an' I had saved our ropes, 'cause we expected to have need of 'em; and when noon came an' I sat with a stupid look in my face, chewin' first the rope, an' then the wrist o' the gauntlet, Horace began to have some of the symptoms I was fis.h.i.+n' for. Finally he borrowed one o' my gauntlets, an' after he had munched on it a while, he was as hungry as any one could wish.

”I can't go another peg,” he sez when I got up to start on again.

”How does that come?” I asked him. ”When we stopped to rest you was feelin' more chipper 'n any of us.”

”I'm dyin' o' hunger,” he replied, solemn. ”I've got a gnawin' pain in my stomach, an' I'm all in. I fear my stomach is punctured or stuck together or somethin'.”

I had had a lot o' discussions with Friar Tuck about the power o'

suggestion; but I had never took much stock in it. I could see now, though, that it actually did work. As long as Horace was tellin'