The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Scraggs, by Henry Wallace Phillips

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Title: Mr. Scraggs

Author: Henry Wallace Phillips

Release Date: April 29, 2004 [EBook #12197]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. SCRAGGS ***

Produced by Al Haines

MR. SCRAGGS

INTRODUCED BY RED SAUNDERS

By

HENRY WALLACE PHILLIPS

Author of "Red Saunders," "Plain Mary Smith," etc.

THE GRAFTON PRESS

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1903, 1904, 1905, by The Curtis Publishing Co.
Copyright, 1903, by S. S. McClure Co. Copyright, 1905, by The
Grafton Press

Published January, 1906 Second edition February, 1906

CONTENTS

I. BY PROXY II. IN THE TOILS III. ST. NICHOLAS SCRAGGS IV. THE SIEGE OF THE DRUG STORE V. THE MOURNFUL NUMBER VI. MR. SCRAGGS INTERVENES VII. THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Made any other human countenance I ever see look like a nigger-minstrel show"

"He was disappointed in love—he had to be"

"Scraggsy looked like a forlorn hope lost in a fog"

"'Dearly beloved Brethren,' says I"

"Put up a high-grade article of cat-fight"

"You will talk to my ol' man like that, will you?"

"So we rode in, right cheerful"

"I was all over that Injun"

MR. SCRAGGS

INTRODUCED BY RED SAUNDERS

BY PROXY

I had met Mr. Scraggs, shaken him by the hand, and, in the shallow sense of the word, knew him. But a man is more than clothes and a bald head. It is also something of a trick to find out more about him—particularly in the cow country. One needs an interpreter. Red furnished the translation. After that, I nurtured Mr. Scraggs's friendship, for the benefit of humanity and philosophy. Saunders and I lay under a bit of Bad Lands, soaking in the spring sun, and enjoying the first cigarette since breakfast. In regard to things in general, he said:

"Now, there was the time I worked for the Ellis ranch. A ranch is like a man: it has something that belongs to it, that don't belong to no other ranch, same as I have just the same number of eyes and noses and so forth that you drew on your ticket, yet you ain't me no more'n I'm you. This was a kind of sober-minded concern; it was a thoughtful sort of a ranch, where everybody went about his work quiet. I guess it was because the boys was mostly old-timers, given to arguing about why was this and how come that. Argue! Caesar! It was a regular debating society. Wind-river Smith picked up a book in the old man's room that told about the Injuns bein' Jews 'way back before the big high-water, and how one gang of 'em took to the prairie and the other gang to the bad clothes business. Well, he and Chawley Tawmson—'member Chawley and his tooth? And you'd have time to tail-down and burn a steer before Chawley got the next word out—well, they got arguin' about whether this was so, or whether it weren't so. Smithy was for the book, havin' read it, and Chawley scorned it. The argument lasted a month, and as neither one of 'em knew anything about an Injun, except what you can gather from looking at him over a rifle sight, and as the only Jew either one of 'em ever said two words to was the one that sold Windriver a hat that melted in the first rain-storm, and then him and Chawley went to town and made the Hebrew eat what was left of the hat, after refunding the price, you can imagine what a contribution to history I listened to. That's the kind of place the Ellis ranch was, and a nice old farm she was, too.

"I'd been working there about three months, when along come a man that looked like old man Trouble's only son. Of all the sorrowful faces you ever see, his was the longest and thinnest. It made any other human countenance I ever see look like a nigger-minstrel show.

[Illustration: Made any other human countenance I ever see look like a nigger-minstrel show.]

"We was short-handed, as the old man had begun to put up hay and work some of the stock in corrals for the winter, so we took our new brother on. His name was Ezekiel George Washington Scraggs—tuneful number for a cow-outfit!—and his name didn't come anywhere near doin' him justice at that. Ezekiel knew his biz and turned in a day's work right straight along, but when you'd say, 'Nice day, Scraggs?' he'd heave such a sigh you could feel the draft all the way acrost the bull-pen, and only shake his head.

"Up to this time Wind-river had enjoyed a cinch on the mournful act. He'd had a girl sometime durin' the Mexican war, and she'd borrowed Smith's roll and skipped with another man. So, if we crowded Smithy too hard in debate, he used to slip behind that girl and say, 'Oh, well! You fellers will know better when you've had more experience," although we might have been talkin' about what's best for frost-bite at the time.

"He noticed this new man Scraggs seemed to hold over him a trifle in sadness, and he thought he'd find out why.

"'You appear to me like a man that's seen trouble,' says he.

"'Trouble!' says Scraggs. 'Trouble!' Then he spit out of the door and turned his back deliberate, like there wasn't any use conversin' on the subject, unless in the presence of an equal.

"Scraggs was a hard man to break into, but Smithy scratched his head and took a brace.

"'I've met with misfortune myself,' says he.

"'Ah?' says Scraggs. 'What's happened to you?' He sounded as if he didn't believe it amounted to much, and Smithy warmed up. He ladled out his woes like a catalogue. How he'd been blew up in mines; squizzled down a mountain on a snow-slide; chawed by a bear; caught under a felled tree; sunk on a Missouri River steamboat, and her afire, so you couldn't tell whether to holler for the life-savers or the fire-engine; shot up by Injuns and personal friends; mistook for a horse-thief by the committee, and much else, closing the list with his right bower. 'And, Mr. Scraggs, I have put my faith in woman, and she done me to the tune of all I had.'

"'Have you?' says Scraggs, still perfectly polite and uninterested. "'Have you?' says he, removin' his pipe and spitting carefully outdoors again. And then he slid the joker a'top of Smithy's play. 'Well, I have been a Mormon,' says he.

"'What?' says all of us.

"'Yessir!' says Mr. Scraggs, getting his feet under him, and with a mournful pride I can't give you the least idea of. 'A Mormon; none of your tinkerin' little Mormonettes. I was ambitious; hence E. G. W. Scraggs as you now behold him. In most countries a man's standin' is regulated by the number of wives he ain't got; in Utah it's just the reverse—and a fair test, too, when you come to think of it. I wanted to be the head of the hull Mormon kingdom,