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Read Ebook: Creepin' Tintypes by Tuttle W C Wilbur C
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Ebook has 243 lines and 9796 words, and 5 pages
"Come on. I'm going to find a disguise for you to wear."
"You're a wonder if you can conceal me," says Dirty, who is cock-eyed in one optic. "All them snake-hunters has to do is take one look at me and I'm due to chase buffalo in the happy hunting-ground."
"Smoked glasses will fix you," says he.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day when I'd have to look at Piperock through smoked glasses," wails Dirty.
Well, he fixed us up; that's a cinch. When he got through with us we looked like a couple of shepherds gone to seed. Down at one of them two-handed stores he purchased us both a outfit. He got us each a pair of smoked specs and some whiskers which makes us resemble a pair of owls.
"Your home town won't recognize you now," says he.
"No," says Dirty, "but that won't profit us much. Piperock may not penetrate our disguise, but that won't stop 'em from pot-shooting a pair of freaks."
He takes us up to a hotel where all his stuff is and we sets down on the bed while he packs up.
"What kind of a sheriff have they got in Piperock?" he asks.
"He's a wonder," says Dirty, "and very fast with a gun."
Then me and Dirty thinks about Scenery Sims. He's about five feet two inches tall and his face is so danged thin that his mustache looks like a buffalo-robe hanging on a hatchet. I could rummage around in a sack and get a gun faster than Scenery could pull one out of his holster.
Waldemar got us a pair of valises to pack our own clothes in and then we drinks to our disguises and pilgrims to the depot.
"They'll never know you," says Waldemar.
"After we're dead they will," wails Dirty, "and I ain't never deceived anybody yet. I can just hear 'Old Testament' Tilton sayin', 'Man is of few days and full of trouble, O, my brethren, and these two grabbed off more than they could chew,' and then the Cross J quartet will sing, 'Jee-e-e-roo-o-o-sa-lem, Jee-e-e-roo-o-o-sa-lem, lee-e-ft up your voice an' see-e-ng.'"
"The Holy City," says Waldemar. "A beautiful thing."
"She's only skin-deep with that bunch," sighs Dirty. "I hope they just bury me and dispense with the sermon and songs."
"I think I'm goin' to like Piperock," says Waldemar.
"Your taste is all in your mouth, then," says Dirty. "What are we supposed to be, in case anybody asks us?"
"You two?"
He thinks for quite a while, and then says:
"Tell you what--you two are scientists, looking for the remains of a--a dinosaur. Mister Jones will be Professor Doolittle and Mister Harper will be Professor Smythe. How's that for names?"
"Lookin' for a dinny-sor," nods Dirty. "Might as well die for that as anything else, I reckon. Do we have to describe said--uh--thing? Is it a predatory animile, bird of prey or a crippled crawler?"
"The dinosaur," says he, "died a million years ago."
"Some fortune-teller likely told him what Piperock was goin' to be like," says Dirty.
We got off the train at Paradise, just in time to catch Art Miller's stage to Piperock, and on that stage is "Magpie" Simpkins and Judge Steele. Magpie looks us over, careful-like and then shakes his head.
"There ain't none," says he.
"None what?" asks Dirty.
"E-clipse of the sun."
"Professor Smythe and Professor Doolittle have ruined their eyes working on scientific data," explains Waldemar.
"Why confine your post mortem to eyes?" asks Magpie. "'Pears to me that they've ruined the rest of 'em, too. I suppose that one--" pointing at me--"got warped in the legs from studyin' the shape of the earth. Can't they talk United States?"
"They were born in this country," says Waldemar.
"What part?" asks the judge.
"Think we were assembled?"
"Goin' to Piperock?" asks Magpie.
"Yes," says Waldemar. "Yes, we are bound for there."
"On a mission?" asks the judge.
"Mostly for a rest," says Waldemar.
"You likely will be," admits Magpie, "and there's plenty of room in the jail."
We goes to Sam Holt's hotel. Old Sam sizes us up kinda close-like, and then Waldemar says--
"Have you three rooms?"
"I have," says old Sam, "and two of 'em I'll keep."
"What do you mean?" asks Waldemar.
"Them two," pointing at me and Dirty, "can't get no room from me. The last shepherd what stayed in my hotel left a lot of his mee-nag-i-ree behind."
"Your danged old hotel didn't need 'em," says Dirty. "You ain't changed blankets since the battle of Little Big Horn."
"I'm Professor Doolittle," says Dirty, "and I'm lookin' for a dinny-sor."
"Can we sleep in the barn?" I asks.
"No, yuh can't! My horses are all pets."
"Isn't there any other hotel?" asks Waldemar.
"I can give yuh a place to sleep," squeaks a voice behind us, and we turns to see Scenery Sims.
"Ah," says Waldemar, "another landlord looking for business."
"I ain't no landlord--I'm the sheriff," squeaks Scenery. "I've got a empty jail if yuh wants a place to sleep."
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