The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 28, 1906, Page 8

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. wagon elpless conversa- the camp nature the Odom, a in the desert of invalid long- that did not rub,” and e pancakes?” six-shooter, ing to pound an ante- er me in what I ttitude, candid though d you mean that Ing to throw the the boys been nd that pancake with “I meant my pony and ered brown pan- open kettle Was there a e when he saw in allusions. s bags and and set d. 1 watched as he be- nge them leisurely and untie many strings. not & stery,” sald Jud, as he ked, “but just the logical disclosures v case of me and t oozer from Mired Mule C Miss' Willella Learight. I don tnz vou ~] was punching mhey on the San M & red up in aspirations for to eat some canned grub that hasn't ever mooed or baaed or grunted or been In peck meas. ures. Bo I gets cn my bronc and pushes 1 Emsley Telfair's store the wind for T No ind teli- hem for old Bill Too- el. One day I gets e Pimienta crossing on the Nueces. bout 3 in the afternoon I walked inte Uncle Emsley’s store. 1 got up on the er and told Uncle Emsley thet the signs pointed to the devastation of the fruit crop of the world. In a minute I d a bag of crackers and a long-handle spoon, with an open can each of apr cots and pineapples and cherries &n green gages beside of me, with Uncl Emsley busy chopping away with tb hatchet at the yellow clings. I was fee ing like Adam before the apple stam pede, and was digging my spurs into th side of the counter and working with m: twenty-four-inch spoon; when I happene to look out of the window Into the yart Uncle Emsley’s house, which was next to the store. “There was a girl standing there—an imported girl with fixings on—philander ipg with a croquet maul and amusing herself by watching my style of en- couraging the fruit canning industry. “I glid off the counter and delivered up my shovel to Uncle Emsley. ““That's my niece,’ says he; ‘Miss Wil- lella Learight, down from Palestine on 4 sit. Do you want that I should make you acquainted? “ “The Holy Land,’ I says to myself, my thoughts milling some as I tried to run ’em into the corral. ‘Why not? There was sure angels In Pales— Why, yes, Uncle Emsley,” 1 says out loud, ‘T'd be awful edified to meet Miss Learight.’ “So Uncle Emsley took me out in the yard and gave us each other's entitle- ments. “I never was shy about women. I never could understand why some men who can break a mustang before break- fast and shave in the dark get all left- handed and full of perspiration and ex- cuses when they see a bolt of calico draped around what belongs in it. Inside of eight minutes me and Miss Willella was aggravating the croduet balls around as amlable as second cbusins. She gave me a dig about the @antity of canned fruit I had eaten, and I got back at her flat-footed about how a certaln lady named Eve started the fruit trouble in the first free-grass pasture—'Over in Palestine, wasn't it? says I, as easy and pat as roping a one-year-old. “That was how I acquired cordiality for the proximities of Miss Willella T-ea- cos nd the disposition grew larger as e time -passed. Bhe was stopping at mienta Crossing for her health, which s very good, and for the climate, which as 40 per cent hotter than Palestine. 1 »de over to see her once a week for a hile and then I figuréd it out that if doubled the number of trips I would ee her twice as often. ~“One week I slipped in a third trip, nd that's where the pancakes and the pink-eyed snoozer busted into the game. “That evening while I sat on the coun- ter with & ‘peach and two damsons in my mouth I asked Uncle Emsley how Miss Willella was, “ “Why,’ says Uncle Emsley, ‘she’s gon: riding with Jackson Bird, the sheep ma: from over at Mired Mule Canyada.’ “I swallowed the peach seed and tw damson seeds. I guess somebody hel the counter by the bridle while I go off; and then I walked out straigh ahead till I butted against the mesquit: where my roan was tied. “‘She's gone riding, I whispers ir my bronc's ear, ‘with Birdstome Jack the hired mule from Sheep Man’s Can yada. Did you get that, 6ld Leather- and-Gallops? “That bronc of mine wept, in his way He’d been ralsed a cow pony and he didn’t care for snoozers. “I went back and sald to Uncle Emsley: ‘Did you say a sheep man?" “‘I said a sheep man,’ says Uncle agein. ‘You must have heard tell of Jackson Bird. He's got eight sections of grazing and tour thousand head of the Snest Cotswolds south of the Arctic Circle.” > - “I went out and sat on the ground in the shadow of the store and leaned against a prickly pear. “I never had belleved in harming sheep men. You wouldn't go to work now and impair and disfigufe snoozers, would you, that eat on tables and wear little shoes and speak to you on sub- Jects? I had always let em pass, just as you-would a jackrabbit, with a po- Iite word and a guess about the weath- [\ 25 7 B T4 FRBII 2O ARLE er, but no stopping to swap canteens. I never thought it was worth while to be hostile with a snoozer. And be- cause I'd been lenient and let ‘em live, here was one going around riding with Miss Willella Learight. ¢ “An hour by the sun they come lop- Ing back #nd stopped at Uncle Emsley's, gate. The sheep person helped her off, and they stood throwing each other Sentences all sprighttul and sagaclous for & while. And then this feathered Jackson fifes up in his saddle and arises ais little stewpot of a hat and trots off in the direction of his mutton ranch. By this time I had unpiined myself from the prickly pear, and by the time ‘e gets half a mile out of Pimienta I inglefoots up beside him on my bronc. “I #ald that snoozer was pink eyed, ut he wasn't. His seeing arrange- nent was gray enough, but his eye- ashes was pink and his halr was sandy nd that gave you the idea. “ ‘Afternoon!’ says I to him. ‘You 10w ride with a equestrian who is com- monly .called Dead-Moral-Certainty Judson, on account of the way I shoot. When I want a stranger to know me 1 always introduce myself before .the draw, for I never did like to shake hands with ghosts.’ “’Ah,’ says he, just like that—'Ah, T'm glad to know you, Mr, Judson. I'm Jackson Bird from over at Mired Mule anch.’ “Just then one of my eyes saw 2 roadrunner skipping down the hill with a young tarantula in his bill, and the. other eye noticed a rabbit-hawk sitting on a dead limb in g water-elm. I pop- ped over one after the other with my forty-five just to show him. ‘Two out of three,’ says I. ‘Birds just naturally seem to draw my fire wherever I go.' “ ‘Nice shooting,’ says the sheep man without & flutter, ‘but don’t you some-. times ever miss the third shot? Elegant fine rain that was last week for the young m-.h don't you think, Mr. Judson?' says e. “ ‘Willle,’ says L riding over close ([ his oA 2NN ” .. palfrey, ‘vour Infatuated parents may have denounced you by the name of Jack- Bon, but you sure molted into a twitter- ing Willle—let us slough off this here analysis of rain and the elements, and get down to talk that is outside the vo- cabulary of parrots. That is a bad habit you have got of riding with young ladles over at Plmienta. I've known birds,’ says I, ‘to be served on toast for less than that. Miss Willella, says I, ‘don't ever want any nest made out of sheep's Wwool by a tomtit of the Jacksonian branch of ornithology. Now, are you going to quit, or do you wish for to gallop up agalnst this Dead-Moral-Certainty attach- ment to my name, which is good for two hyphens and st leasi one set of funeral obsequies?" “Jackson Bird flushed up some and then he laughed. “‘Why, Mr. Judson,’ says he, ‘you've got the wrong idea. I've called on Miss Learfght a few times; but not for the purpose you imagine. My object is purely & gastronomical one.” *'I rcached for my gunh. * ‘Walt a minute,’ says this Bird, ‘tl I explain. What would I do with a wife? If you ever saw that ranch of mine! I do my own cooking and mending. Bating— that's all the pleasure I get out of sheep raising. Mr. Judson, did you ever taste the pancakes that Miss Learight makes? *‘Me? No,’ I told him. “ ‘They're golden sunshine,’ says he; ‘honey-browned by the ambrosial fires of Eplcurus. I'd give two years of my life to get the recipe for making them pan- cakes. That's what 1 went to see Miss Learight for, says Jackson Bird, ‘but I haven't béen able to get it from her. It's an old recipe that's been in the family for seventy-five years. They hand it down from one generation to another, but they don't glve it away to outsiders. 1f I could ‘get that recipe, so I could make them pancakes for myself on my ranch, I'd be a happy man,’ says Bird. * *Are you sure,’ I says to him, ‘that it aln't the hand that mixes the pancakes that you're after? { *‘Sure; says Jackson. ‘Miss Learight 1s a mighty nice girl, but I can assure you my intentions go no further than the gastro—' but hé seen my thand going down to my holster and he changed his similitude—‘than the desire to procure a copy of ‘the pancake récipe,’ he finishes. ** *You ain’t such a bad little man,’ sa 1. trying to be fair. ‘I wa$ thinking some of making orphans of your sheep, but I'll let you fly away this time. But you stick to the pancakes,’ says I, ‘as close as the middle one of a stack, and don’t you g0 and mistake sentiments for syrup, ot there’ll be singing at your ranch, and you won't hear it." ““To convince you that I am sincere’ says the sheep man, ‘I'll ask you to help me. If you will get me a copy of that pancake recipe, 1 give you my word that I'll never call upon her again. 2 “ *That’s fair,’ I says, and I shook hands with Jackson Bird. ‘I'll get it for you if I can, and glad to oblige.” And he turned off down the big pear flat on the Pledra. “It.was five days afterward when I got another chance to ride over to Pimienta. Miss Willella and me passed a gratifying evening at Uncle Emsley’s. We was get- ting along in one another’s. estimation fine. Thinks I, if Jagkson Bird can now be persuaded to migrate I win. I recollect his_promise about the pancaks recipe, and I thinks T will persuade it from Miss Willella and give it to him; and then, if I catches Birdle off of Mired Mule agaln, I'll make him hop the twig. *“So, along about 10 o'clock, I put on a wheedling smile and says to Miss Will- ella: ‘Now, if there’s anything I do like better than the sight of a red steer on Breen grass it's the taste of a nice hot pancake smothered In sugar-house mo- lasses.” “Miss Willella gave a little jump on the plano stool and looked at me curious. *“‘Yes,' says she, ‘they’re real nice. Whet did you say was the name of that street in St. Louls, Mr. Odom, wheres you lost your hat? “ ‘Pancake avenue,’ says I, with & wink, : f “Pi FRCRAES Sy L oX B HADE IO O to show her thaf I was on about the fam- ily recipe and couldn’t be side-corraled off of the subject. ‘Come, now, Miss Will- ella,’ I says, let's hear how you make "em. Pancakes is just whirling In my head like wagon wheels. Start her off, now—pound of flour, eight dozen eggs. and so on. How does the catalogue of constituents run?’ “‘Excuse me for a moment, please,’ says Miss Willella, and she gives me a quick kind of sidsways looR and slides off the stool. She ambled out into the other room, and directly Uncle Emsley comes in in his shirt sleeves with a pitcher of water. He turns around to get a glass on the table, and I see a forty-five in his hip pocket. reat post holes!’ thinks I, ‘but here’s a family thinks & heap of cooking recipes, protecting it with firearms. I've known outfits that wouldn’t do that much by a family feud.’ “‘Drink this ‘here down,” says Uncle Emsley, handing me the glass of water. ‘You've rid too far to-day, Jud, and got yourseif overexcited, Try to think about something else now." “‘Do vou know how to make them pancakes, Uncle Emsley? T asked. ““Well, I'm not as apprised in' the an- atomy of them as some,’ says Uncle Ems- ley; ‘but I reckon you take a sifter of plaster of paris and a little dough and saleratus and corn meal and mix ‘em with cggs and buttermilk as usual. Is old Bill going to ship beeves to Kansas City this spring, Jud? “That all’ the pancake specifica- tions T could get that night. I didn’t wen- der that Jackson Bird found it uphill work. So 1 dropped the wubject and talked with Uncle Emsley & while about hollow horn and cyclones. And then Miss ‘Willella came and sald ‘good-night,’ and I hit the breeze for the ranch. “Abcut a week afterward I met Jackson . seem-to have any success S Bird riding out of Pimienta as I rode i, and we stopped in the road for & few frivolous remarks. ) “‘Got the bill of particulars for them flabjacks yet? I asked him. “*W8ll, wo’ says Jackson. ‘T doay in gettin hold of it. Did you try? “°1 @id" says I, ‘and ‘twas like trying to dig'a prairie dog out of his hole with a peanut hul “‘I'm most ready to give It up.' says Jackson: ‘but T did wast to know how to malke them pancakes to eat on my lonely ranch,’ says he. “““You keep on trying for it.’ T tells him, ‘and I'll do the ne of us s bound to get a rope @ orns before long. Weil, so lovg. V. ‘ou see, by this iime we was on tha peacefulest of t When 1 saw tnm- he wa. ing to get that receipt But every time I would she would get sort of remote a about the eve and try to change the ject. If I held her to it she would siide out and round up Unele Emsley with his pitcher of water and hip-pocket howitzer. “One day I galloped over to the : ['_ that 1 with a finerbunch of blue verbenas cut out of a herd of wild rs over on Polsoned Dog Prairte. 1 locked at ‘em with one eye 5 “Haven't ye heard the news? ‘Cattle up? I asks: * “Willella and Jackson Bird was fHU‘ ried in Palestine yesterday, says he. ‘Just got a letter this morning.’ “T let the news trickle in my ears and down toward my upper left-hand shirt pocket until it got to my feet. ““¥ould you mind saying that over again once more, Unale Emsley? says E “Maybe my hearing has got wrong. an you only said that prime heifers was 3430 on the hoof, or something like that. “ Married yesterday,” says Uncle Ems- ley, ‘and gone to Waco and Niagara Falls on a wedding tour. Why, didn’t you see none of the signs all along? Jackson Bird has been courting of Willella ever since that day he took her out riding. “ “Then,' says I in a kind of yell, ‘what was all this zizzaparccla he give me about pancakes? Tell me that. “When I sald ‘pancakes’ Uncle Emsley of dodged and stepped back. “ ‘Somebody’s been dealing me pancakes from the bottom of the deck,’ I says, ‘and Tl find out. I belleve you know. Talk up,” says I, ‘or we'll mix a panful of batter right here.’ 3 “I slid over the counter after Uncle Emsley. He grabbed at his gunm, but 1t was in a drawer, and he missed it two inches. I got him by the front of his shirt and shoved him In a corner. “Talk spancakes,’ says I, ‘or be made into one. Does Miss Willella make ‘em “‘She never made one in her life and I never saw one,’ says Uncle Emsley. soothingly. ‘Calm down now, Jud, calm down. Youwve got 4, and that wound in your head contaminating your sense of intelligence. Try not to think about pancakes.’ “ Uncle Emsley,’ say ed in the head except so far as my nat- ural cogitative instinets run t Jackson Bird told me he was c2 Miss Willella for the purpose of finc out her system of producing pancakes and he asked me to help him get the of lading of the ingredients. I dome so, with the results as you see. Have I I sofded down with Johnson grass by pink-eyed snooger, or what?' * ‘Slack up your grip on my dress shirt,” I, ‘I'm Bot wound- a e 19504535450 £ says Uncle Emsley, ‘and I'Tl tel! you. Yes, it looks like Jackson Bird has gons and humbugged you some. The day after he went riding with Willella he came back and told me and her to watch out for you ‘whenever you got to talking about pan- cakes. He sald he was In camp once where they were cooking flapfacks, and one of the fellows cut you over the head with a frying pan. Jackson said that whenever you got overhot or excited that wound hurt you and made you kind of crazy, and you went to raving about pan- cakes. He told us to just get you worked off of the subject and soothed down, and you wouldn’'t be dangerous. So, me and Willella done the best by you we knew how."” » During the progress of Jud's story he’ had been slowly but deftly combining certain portions of the contents of h! sacks and cacs. Toward the close of he set before e the finished product—a pair of red hot, rich hued pancakes on & tin plate. From some secret hoarding place he also brought & lump of excel- lent butter and a bottle of golden syrup- “How long ago did these hap- Dfl:}; T asked him. “Three years,” said Jud. Uv- ing on the Mired Mule MM mow. But I haven’t seen either of ‘em since. They say Jackson Bird was fixing his ranch up fine with rocking chairs and window cur- tains all the time he was putting me up the pancake tree. Oh, I got over it after a while. But the boys kept the racket up. “Did you make these cakes by the fa- mous recipe?”’ I asked. “Didn’t [ tell you there 't no re- ceipt?” sald Jud. “The boys hollered pan- cakes till they got pancake hungry, and I cut this receipt out of a newspaper. How does the truck taste?" “They're deliclous,” I answered. “WBF don’t you have some too, Judr’ , I was gure I heard a sigh, 7 said Jud. “I dom't mever &