Code of the West by Zane Grey

Author:Zane Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781634500739
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2015-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

When the harvest was over for that day, one-third of the great sorghum field had been cut—a showing which Henry Thurman viewed with simple delight.

“By golly! thet ’air’s a fine day’s work,” he exclaimed. “You all done well, ’cept Tim, who hates work, an’ Cal, who’ll never be no sorghum rastler.”

“Wal, I reckon them two was savin’ up,” drawled Enoch. “They shore was slow.”

“Now I forgot all aboot thet,” returned Henry. “I’ll shore enjoy seein’ Tim lick Cal again.—Say, Tim, air you a-goin’ to do it before supper or after?”

“Seein’ you tax me, I’ll say I’d like what little exercise it’d take before I clean up fer supper,” retorted Tim.

Thus the issue came up squarely on the moment when Serge was busy at the camp fire and the others were grouped around in restful postures.

It found Cal more than ready. His keen eye had caught sight of Georgiana and her sister Mary out on the road. They were returning from school, where Georgiana had spent the day, and on the moment were approaching the gate under the walnut trees a little distance from the camp. No one, save Cal, apparently had observed them.

“Ahuh!” exclaimed Cal, with a cheerfulness wholly reflected in Tuck Merry’s cadaverous image. He leaped to his feet. “I forgot all about that. . . . Come on, Tim—you bow-legged little hop-a-long bronco-buster. I’m hungry an’ I want to get this over before supper.”

The crowd greeted Cal’s speech with both amaze and delight. But Tim shared only the former. Slowly he got to his feet, his red face, from which he had wiped the dust, showing a dubious contempt. He squinted at Cal. He was not so sure that there existed perfect justification for his contempt.

“Come an’ take it,” cried Cal, banteringly. “Come out here. I don’t want to pile you up on Serge’s supper.—Tim, you’ve had the fun of lickin’ me four times, an’ you ought to be sport enough to take your medicine like I took mine.”

“You make me mad, Cal Thurman,” growled Tim. “You’re too fresh. An’ I’m gonna lick you fer the fifth time—which’ll be all you’ll ever want.”

He slouched out onto the grassy plot away from the group under the tree, and certainly in plain sight from the road. This was what Cal wanted. He had not the slightest doubt of the outcome. Tuck Merry had assured him that Tim could not last three minutes.

Suddenly Cal extended his hands, still wearing his old gloves, and he began to dance around Tim with the quickness of footwork that had been a part of the painful education imparted by Tuck Merry. Tim, rough-and-tumble fighter that he was, crouched close in on Cal, but could not find an opening. Cal increased his dancing steps, and began to feint with his fists, and saw instantly how Tim was bewildered by such tactics.

“Boys, don’t miss this,” called Cal, piercingly. “You all know how Tim hates to have anyone hit his big ugly nose. Now watch.”

Manifestly the watchers were intensely absorbed and thrillingly expectant.

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