Discovering Computer Science Interdisciplinary

Problems Principles and Python Programming First

Edition Jessen Havill download

https://textbookfull.com/product/discovering-computer-science-
interdisciplinary-problems-principles-and-python-programming-
first-edition-jessen-havill/

Download more ebook from https://textbookfull.com

We believe these products will be a great fit for you. Click
the link to download now, or visit textbookfull.com
to discover even more!

Discovering Computer Science Interdisciplinary Problems

Principles and Python Programming 1st Edition Jessen
Havill

https://textbookfull.com/product/discovering-computer-science-
interdisciplinary-problems-principles-and-python-programming-1st-
edition-jessen-havill/

Discovering Computer Science: Interdisciplinary

Problems, Principles, and Python Programming 2nd
Edition Jessen Havill

https://textbookfull.com/product/discovering-computer-science-
interdisciplinary-problems-principles-and-python-programming-2nd-
edition-jessen-havill/

Discovering Computer Science Interdisciplinary Problems

Principles and Python Programming 2nd Edition Jessen
Havill

https://textbookfull.com/product/discovering-computer-science-
interdisciplinary-problems-principles-and-python-programming-2nd-
edition-jessen-havill-2/

Python Programming An Introduction to Computer Science

John M. Zelle

https://textbookfull.com/product/python-programming-an-
introduction-to-computer-science-john-m-zelle/
Python Programming An Introduction to Computer Science
3rd Edition John M. Zelle

https://textbookfull.com/product/python-programming-an-
introduction-to-computer-science-3rd-edition-john-m-zelle/

Data Science from Scratch First Principles with Python

2nd Edition Joel Grus

https://textbookfull.com/product/data-science-from-scratch-first-
principles-with-python-2nd-edition-joel-grus/

Data Science from Scratch First Principles with Python

2nd Edition Grus Joel

https://textbookfull.com/product/data-science-from-scratch-first-
principles-with-python-2nd-edition-grus-joel/

Practical Programming An Introduction to Computer

Science Using Python 3 6 3rd Edition Paul Gries

https://textbookfull.com/product/practical-programming-an-
introduction-to-computer-science-using-python-3-6-3rd-edition-
paul-gries/

Programming Interview Problems: Dynamic Programming

(with solutions in Python) 1st Edition Leonardo Rossi

https://textbookfull.com/product/programming-interview-problems-
dynamic-programming-with-solutions-in-python-1st-edition-
leonardo-rossi/
Contents
1. Cover
2. Half Title
3. Title Page
4. Copyright Page
5. Table of Contents
6. Preface
7. Acknowledgments
8. About the author
9. CHAPTER 1 What is computation?

1. 1.1 PROBLEMS AND ABSTRACTION

2. 1.2 ALGORITHMS AND PROGRAMS
3. 1.3 EFFICIENT ALGORITHMS

1. Organizing a phone tree

2. A smoothing algorithm
3. A better smoothing algorithm

4. 1.4 COMPUTERS ARE DUMB

1. Inside a computer
2. Machine language
3. Everything is bits
4. The universal machine

5. 1.5 SUMMARY
6. 1.6 FURTHER DISCOVERY

10. CHAPTER 2 Elementary computations

1. 2.1 WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS

2. 2.2 ARITHMETIC

1. Finite precision
 2. Division
3. Order of operations
4. Complex numbers
3. 2.3 WHAT’S IN A NAME?
4. 2.4 USING FUNCTIONS

1. Built-in functions
2. Strings
3. Modules

5. *2.5 BINARY ARITHMETIC

1. Finite precision
2. Negative integers
3. Designing an adder
4. Implementing an adder

6. 2.6 SUMMARY
7. 2.7 FURTHER DISCOVERY
11. CHAPTER 3 Visualizing abstraction

1. 3.1 DATA ABSTRACTION

2. 3.2 VISUALIZATION WITH TURTLES

1. Drawing with iteration

3. 3.3 FUNCTIONAL ABSTRACTION

1. Function parameters
2. Let’s plant a garden

4. 3.4 PROGRAMMING IN STYLE

1. Program structure
2. Documentation
3. Descriptive names and magic numbers

5. 3.5 A RETURN TO FUNCTIONS

 1. Return vs. print
6. 3.6 SCOPE AND NAMESPACES

1. Local namespaces
2. The global namespace

7. 3.7 SUMMARY
8. 3.8 FURTHER DISCOVERY
12. CHAPTER 4 Growth and decay

1. 4.1 DISCRETE MODELS

1. Managing a fishing pond

2. Measuring network value
3. Organizing a concert

2. 4.2 VISUALIZING POPULATION CHANGES

3. 4.3 CONDITIONAL ITERATION
4. *4.4 CONTINUOUS MODELS

1. Difference equations
2. Radiocarbon dating
3. Tradeoffs between accuracy and time
4. Propagation of errors
5. Simulating an epidemic

5. *4.5 NUMERICAL ANALYSIS

1. The harmonic series

2. Approximating π
3. Approximating square roots

6. 4.6 SUMMING UP
7. 4.7 FURTHER DISCOVERY
8. 4.8 PROJECTS

1. Project 4.1 Parasitic relationships

2. Project 4.2 Financial calculators
3. *Project 4.3 Market penetration
4. *Project 4.4 Wolves and moose
13. CHAPTER 5 Forks in the road

1. 5.1 RANDOM WALKS

1. A random walk in Monte Carlo

2. Histograms

2. *5.2 PSEUDORANDOM NUMBER GENERATORS

1. Implementation
2. Testing randomness

3. *5.3 SIMULATING PROBABILITY DISTRIBUTIONS

1. The central limit theorem

4. 5.4 BACK TO BOOLEANS

1. Short circuit evaluation

2. Complex expressions
3. *Using truth tables
4. Many happy returns

5. 5.5 A GUESSING GAME

6. 5.6 SUMMARY
7. 5.7 FURTHER DISCOVERY
8. 5.8 PROJECTS

1. Project 5.1 The magic of polling

2. Project 5.2 Escape!

14. CHAPTER 6 Text, documents, and DNA

1. 6.1 COUNTING WORDS

2. 6.2 TEXT DOCUMENTS

1. Reading from text files

2. Writing to text files
3. Reading from the web
 3. 6.3 ENCODING STRINGS

1. Indexing and slicing

2. Creating modified strings
3. Encoding characters

4. 6.4 LINEAR-TIME ALGORITHMS

1. Asymptotic time complexity

5. 6.5 ANALYZING TEXT

1. Counting and searching

2. A concordance

6. 6.6 COMPARING TEXTS

7. *6.7 GENOMICS

1. A genomics primer
2. Basic DNA analysis
3. Transforming sequences
4. Comparing sequences
5. Reading sequence files

8. 6.8 SUMMARY
9. 6.9 FURTHER DISCOVERY
10. 6.10 PROJECTS

1. Project 6.1 Polarized politics

2. *Project 6.2 Finding genes
15. CHAPTER 7 Designing programs

1. 7.1 HOW TO SOLVE IT

1. Understand the problem

2. Design an algorithm
3. Implement your algorithm as a program
4. Analyze your program for clarity, correctness, and
efficiency
 2. *7.2 DESIGN BY CONTRACT

1. Preconditions and postconditions

2. Checking parameters
3. Assertions

3. *7.3 TESTING

1. Unit testing
2. Regression testing
3. Designing unit tests
4. Testing floating point values

4. 7.4 SUMMARY
5. 7.5 FURTHER DISCOVERY
16. CHAPTER 8 Data analysis

1. 8.1 SUMMARIZING DATA

2. 8.2 CREATING AND MODIFYING LISTS

1. List accumulators, redux

2. Lists are mutable
3. Tuples
4. List operators and methods
5. *List comprehensions

3. 8.3 FREQUENCIES, MODES, AND HISTOGRAMS

1. Tallying values
2. Dictionaries

4. 8.4 READING TABULAR DATA

5. *8.5 DESIGNING EFFICIENT ALGORITHMS

1. A first algorithm
2. A more elegant algorithm
3. A more efficient algorithm

6. *8.6 LINEAR REGRESSION

 7. *8.7 DATA CLUSTERING

1. Defining similarity
2. A k-means clustering example
3. Implementing k-means clustering
4. Locating bicycle safety programs

8. 8.8 SUMMARY
9. 8.9 FURTHER DISCOVERY
10. 8.10 PROJECTS

1. Project 8.1 Climate change

2. Project 8.2 Does education influence
unemployment?
3. Project 8.3 Maximizing profit
4. Project 8.4 Admissions
5. *Project 8.5 Preparing for a 100-year flood
6. Project 8.6 Voting methods
7. Project 8.7 Heuristics for traveling salespeople
17. CHAPTER 9 Flatland

1. 9.1 TWO-DIMENSIONAL DATA

2. 9.2 THE GAME OF LIFE

1. Creating a grid
2. Initial configurations
3. Surveying the neighborhood
4. Performing one pass
5. Updating the grid

3. 9.3 DIGITAL IMAGES

1. Colors
2. Image filters
3. Transforming images

4. 9.4 SUMMARY
5. 9.5 FURTHER DISCOVERY
6. 9.6 PROJECTS
 1. Project 9.1 Modeling segregation
2. Project 9.2 Modeling ferromagnetism
3. Project 9.3 Growing dendrites
18. CHAPTER 10 Self-similarity and recursion

1. 10.1 FRACTALS

1. A fractal tree
2. A fractal snowflake

2. 10.2 RECURSION AND ITERATION

1. Solving a problem recursively

2. Palindromes
3. Guessing passwords

3. 10.3 THE MYTHICAL TOWER OF HANOI

1. *Is the end of the world nigh?

4. 10.4 RECURSIVE LINEAR SEARCH

1. Efficiency of recursive linear search

5. 10.5 DIVIDE AND CONQUER

1. Buy low, sell high

2. Navigating a maze

6. *10.6 LINDENMAYER SYSTEMS

1. Formal grammars
2. Implementing L-systems

7. 10.7 SUMMARY
8. 10.8 FURTHER DISCOVERY
9. 10.9 PROJECTS

1. *Project 10.1 Lindenmayer’s beautiful plants

 2. Project 10.2 Gerrymandering
3. Project 10.3 Percolation
19. CHAPTER 11 Organizing data

1. 11.1 BINARY SEARCH

1. Efficiency of iterative binary search

2. A spelling checker
3. Recursive binary search
4. Efficiency of recursive binary search

2. 11.2 SELECTION SORT

1. Implementing selection sort

2. Efficiency of selection sort
3. Querying data

3. 11.3 INSERTION SORT

1. Implementing insertion sort

2. Efficiency of insertion sort

4. 11.4 EFFICIENT SORTING

1. Internal vs. external sorting

2. Efficiency of merge sort

5. *11.5 TRACTABLE AND INTRACTABLE ALGORITHMS

1. Hard problems

6. 11.6 SUMMARY
7. 11.7 FURTHER DISCOVERY
8. 11.8 PROJECTS

1. Project 11.1 Creating a searchable database

2. Project 11.2 Binary search trees

20. CHAPTER 12 Networks

 1. 12.1 MODELING WITH GRAPHS

1. Making friends

2. 12.2 SHORTEST PATHS

1. Finding the actual paths

3. 12.3 IT’S A SMALL WORLD...

1. Clustering coefficients
2. Scale-free networks

4. 12.4 RANDOM GRAPHS

5. 12.5 SUMMARY
6. 12.6 FURTHER DISCOVERY
7. 12.7 PROJECTS

1. Project 12.1 Diffusion of ideas and influence

2. Project 12.2 Slowing an epidemic
3. Project 12.3 The Oracle of Bacon
21. CHAPTER 13 Abstract data types

1. 13.1 DESIGNING CLASSES

1. Implementing a class
2. Documenting a class

2. 13.2 OPERATORS AND SPECIAL METHODS

1. String representations
2. Arithmetic
3. Comparison
4. Indexing

3. 13.3 MODULES

1. Namespaces, redux
 4. 13.4 A FLOCKING SIMULATION

1. The World ADT

2. The Boid ADT

5. 13.5 A STACK ADT

6. 13.6 A DICTIONARY ADT

1. Hash tables
2. Implementing a hash table
3. Implementing indexing
4. ADTs vs. data structures

7. 13.7 SUMMARY
8. 13.8 FURTHER DISCOVERY
9. 13.9 PROJECTS

1. Project 13.1 Tracking GPS coordinates

2. Project 13.2 Economic mobility
3. Project 13.3 Slime mold aggregation
4. Project 13.4 Boids in space
22. APPENDIX A Installing Python

1. A.1 AN INTEGRATED DISTRIBUTION

2. A.2 MANUAL INSTALLATION

23. APPENDIX B Python library reference

1. B.1 MATH MODULE

2. B.2 TURTLE METHODS
3. B.3 SCREEN METHODS
4. B.4 MATPLOTLIB.PYPLOT MODULE
5. B.5 RANDOM MODULE
6. B.6 STRING METHODS
7. B.7 LIST METHODS
8. B.8 IMAGE MODULE
9. B.9 SPECIAL METHODS

24. Bibliography
25. Index
Landmarks
1. Cover
2. Table of Contents

1. i
2. ii
3. iii
4. iv
5. v
6. vi
7. vii
8. viii
9. ix
10. x
11. xi
12. xii
13. xiii
14. xiv
15. xv
16. xvi
17. xvii
18. xviii
19. xix
20. xx
21. xxi
22. xxii
23. xxiii
24. xxiv
25. xxv
26. xxvi
27. 1
28. 2
29. 3
30. 4
31. 5
32. 6
33. 7
34. 8
35. 9
36. 10
37. 11
38. 12
39. 13
40. 14
41. 15
42. 16
43. 17
44. 18
45. 19
46. 20
47. 21
48. 22
49. 23
50. 24
51. 25
52. 26
53. 27
54. 28
55. 29
56. 30
57. 31
58. 32
59. 33
60. 34
61. 35
62. 36
63. 37
64. 38
65. 39
66. 40
67. 41
68. 42
69. 43
70. 44
71. 45
72. 46
73. 47
74. 48
75. 49
76. 50
 77. 51
78. 52
79. 53
80. 54
81. 55
82. 56
83. 57
84. 58
85. 59
86. 60
87. 61
88. 62
89. 63
90. 64
91. 65
92. 66
93. 67
94. 68
95. 69
96. 70
97. 71
98. 72
99. 73
100. 74
101. 75
102. 76
103. 77
104. 78
105. 79
106. 80
107. 81
108. 82
109. 83
110. 84
111. 85
112. 86
113. 87
114. 88
115. 89
116. 90
117. 91
118. 92
119. 93
120. 94
121. 95
122. 96
123. 97
124. 98
125. 99
126. 100
127. 101
128. 102
129. 103
130. 104
131. 105
132. 106
133. 107
134. 108
135. 109
136. 110
137. 111
138. 112
139. 113
140. 114
141. 115
142. 116
143. 117
144. 118
145. 119
146. 120
147. 121
148. 122
149. 123
150. 124
151. 125
152. 126
153. 127
154. 128
155. 129
156. 130
157. 131
158. 132
159. 133
160. 134
161. 135
162. 136
163. 137
164. 138
165. 139
166. 140
167. 141
168. 142
169. 143
170. 144
171. 145
172. 146
173. 147
174. 148
175. 149
176. 150
177. 151
178. 152
179. 153
180. 154
181. 155
182. 156
183. 157
184. 158
185. 159
186. 160
187. 161
188. 162
189. 163
190. 164
191. 165
192. 166
193. 167
194. 168
195. 169
196. 170
197. 171
198. 172
199. 173
200. 174
201. 175
202. 176
203. 177
204. 178
205. 179
206. 180
207. 181
208. 182
209. 183
210. 184
211. 185
212. 186
213. 187
214. 188
215. 189
216. 190
217. 191
218. 192
219. 193
220. 194
221. 195
222. 196
223. 197
224. 198
225. 199
226. 200
227. 201
228. 202
229. 203
230. 204
231. 205
232. 206
233. 207
234. 208
235. 209
236. 210
237. 211
238. 212
239. 213
240. 214
241. 215
242. 216
243. 217
244. 218
245. 219
246. 220
247. 221
248. 222
249. 223
250. 224
251. 225
252. 226
253. 227
254. 228
255. 229
256. 230
257. 231
258. 232
259. 233
260. 234
261. 235
262. 236
263. 237
264. 238
265. 239
266. 240
267. 241
268. 242
269. 243
270. 244
271. 245
272. 246
273. 247
274. 248
275. 249
276. 250
277. 251
278. 252
279. 253
280. 254
281. 255
282. 256
283. 257
284. 258
285. 259
286. 260
287. 261
288. 262
289. 263
290. 264
291. 265
292. 266
293. 267
294. 268
295. 269
296. 270
297. 271
298. 272
299. 273
300. 274
301. 275
302. 276
303. 277
304. 278
305. 279
306. 280
307. 281
308. 282
309. 283
310. 284
311. 285
312. 286
313. 287
314. 288
315. 289
316. 290
317. 291
318. 292
319. 293
320. 294
321. 295
322. 296
323. 297
324. 298
325. 299
326. 300
327. 301
328. 302
329. 303
330. 304
331. 305
332. 306
333. 307
334. 308
335. 309
336. 310
337. 311
338. 312
339. 313
340. 314
341. 315
342. 316
343. 317
344. 318
345. 319
346. 320
347. 321
348. 322
349. 323
350. 324
351. 325
352. 326
353. 327
354. 328
355. 329
356. 330
357. 331
358. 332
359. 333
360. 334
361. 335
362. 336
363. 337
364. 338
365. 339
366. 340
367. 341
368. 342
369. 343
370. 344
371. 345
372. 346
373. 347
374. 348
375. 349
376. 350
377. 351
378. 352
379. 353
380. 354
381. 355
382. 356
383. 357
384. 358
385. 359
386. 360
387. 361
388. 362
389. 363
390. 364
391. 365
392. 366
393. 367
394. 368
395. 369
396. 370
397. 371
398. 372
399. 373
400. 374
401. 375
402. 376
403. 377
404. 378
405. 379
406. 380
407. 381
408. 382
409. 383
410. 384
411. 385
412. 386
413. 387
414. 388
415. 389
416. 390
417. 391
418. 392
419. 393
420. 394
421. 395
422. 396
423. 397
424. 398
425. 399
426. 400
427. 401
428. 402
429. 403
430. 404
431. 405
432. 406
433. 407
434. 408
435. 409
436. 410
437. 411
438. 412
439. 413
440. 414
441. 415
442. 416
443. 417
444. 418
445. 419
446. 420
447. 421
448. 422
449. 423
450. 424
451. 425
452. 426
453. 427
454. 428
455. 429
456. 430
457. 431
458. 432
459. 433
460. 434
461. 435
462. 436
463. 437
464. 438
465. 439
466. 440
467. 441
468. 442
469. 443
470. 444
471. 445
472. 446
473. 447
474. 448
475. 449
476. 450
477. 451
478. 452
479. 453
480. 454
481. 455
482. 456
483. 457
484. 458
485. 459
486. 460
487. 461
488. 462
489. 463
490. 464
491. 465
492. 466
493. 467
494. 468
495. 469
496. 470
497. 471
498. 472
499. 473
500. 474
501. 475
502. 476
503. 477
504. 478
505. 479
506. 480
507. 481
508. 482
509. 483
510. 484
511. 485
512. 486
513. 487
514. 488
515. 489
516. 490
517. 491
518. 492
519. 493
520. 494
521. 495
522. 496
523. 497
524. 498
525. 499
526. 500
527. 501
528. 502
529. 503
530. 504
531. 505
532. 506
533. 507
534. 508
535. 509
536. 510
537. 511
538. 512
539. 513
540. 514
541. 515
542. 516
543. 517
544. 518
545. 519
546. 520
547. 521
548. 522
549. 523
550. 524
551. 525
552. 526
553. 527
554. 528
555. 529
556. 530
557. 531
558. 532
559. 533
560. 534
561. 535
562. 536
563. 537
564. 538
565. 539
566. 540
567. 541
568. 542
569. 543
570. 544
571. 545
572. 546
573. 547
574. 548
575. 549
576. 550
577. 551
578. 552
579. 553
580. 554
581. 555
582. 556
583. 557
584. 558
585. 559
586. 560
587. 561
588. 562
589. 563
590. 564
591. 565
592. 566
593. 567
594. 568
595. 569
596. 570
597. 571
598. 572
599. 573
600. 574
601. 575
602. 576
603. 577
604. 578
605. 579
606. 580
607. 581
608. 582
609. 583
610. 584
611. 585
612. 586
613. 587
614. 588
615. 589
616. 590
617. 591
618. 592
619. 593
620. 594
621. 595
622. 596
623. 597
624. 598
625. 599
626. 600
627. 601
628. 602
629. 603
630. 604
631. 605
632. 606
633. 607
634. 608
635. 609
636. 610
637. 611
638. 612
639. 613
640. 614
641. 615
642. 616
643. 617
644. 618
645. 619
646. 620
647. 621
648. 622
649. 623
650. 624
651. 625
652. 626
653. 627
654. 628
655. 629
656. 630
657. 631
658. 632
659. 633
660. 634
661. 635
662. 636
663. 637
664. 638
665. 639
666. 640
667. 641
668. 642
669. 643
670. 644
671. 645
672. 646
673. 647
674. 648
675. 649
676. 650
677. 651
678. 652
679. 653
680. 654
681. 655
682. 656
683. 657
684. 658
685. 659
686. 660
687. 661
688. 662
689. 663
690. 664
691. 665
Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
the rat dropped it. The’ was also a hole in the boot where his bullet
had gone, but this didn’t prove anything. Still, Tank stuck to his
story, so we had to apologize for accusin’ him of lettin’ his good eye
sleep while he kept watch with his free one.
We stuffed burlap into the hole about the ridgepole, an’ that
night bein’ Christmas eve, we all gathered in and held festivities. We
danced an’ told tales an’ sang until a late hour. None of us were
instrument musicians; but we clapped our hands an’ patted with our
feet, an’ Kit took turns dancin’ with us, till it was most like a regular
party. Mexican Slim bet that he could do a Spanish dance as long as
Horace could sing different verses of his song; but we suppressed it
at the ninety-first verse. Tank wanted to let him finish, in the hope it
might kill the trade-rat; but we couldn’t stand any more, ourselves.
Then the Friar taught us a song called, “We three Kings of Orient
are”; an’ we disbursed for the night. It was a gorgeous night, an’ me
an’ the Friar took a little walk under the stars. One of ’em rested just
above the glisteny peak up back o’ the rim, an’ he sang soft an’ low,
the “Star of beauty, star of night” part o’ this song. He allus lifted me
off the earth when he sang this way. Then he sez to me: “After all,
Happy, life pays big dividends, if we just live it hard enough”; an’ he
gave a little sigh an’ went in to tend to Badger-face.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE—THE TRADE-RAT’S
CHRISTMAS-GIFT
Trade-rats haven’t as much idee of real music as coyotes have.
Ninety-one verses of that infernal cow-song, sung in Horace’s nose-
tenor, was enough to drive bed-bugs out of a lumber-camp; but that
night the trade-rat worked harder than ever. We had hid our stuff an’
fastened it down, an’ used every sort of legitimate means to
circumvent the cuss; but he beat us to it every time, an’ switched
our stuff around scandalous.
“Merry Christmas!” yelled Spider Kelley, holdin’ up a rusty sardine
can.
The trade-rat had remembered us all in some the same way, but
we recalled what day it was an’ took it in good part; until, all of a
sudden, ol’ Tank gave a whoop, an’ held up a brown buck-skin bag.
We crowded around an’ wanted him to open it up an’ see what was
inside; but he said it most probably belonged to Olaf or Kit or the
Friar; so we toted it into the cabin an’ asked the one who could
identify it to step out an’ claim his diamonds.
Then we had a surprise—not one o’ the bunch could identify the
bag! We stood around an’ looked at the bag for as much as five
minutes, tryin’ to figure out how the deuce even a trade-rat could
spring stuff on us none of us had ever seen before.
“This is a real trade, sure enough,” sez Horace.
“I tell ya what this is,” sez I. “This is a Christmas-gift for the Friar.
Go on an’ open it, Friar.”
The’ was some soft, Injun-tanned fawn-skin inside, wrappin’ up a
couple o’ papers, an’ two photographs, and an old faded letter. “I
don’t think we have the right to look at these,” sez the Friar.
“How’ll we ever find out who they belong to, then?” asked
Horace. “Look at the letter anyway.”
 It was in a blank envelope, an’ it began, “My dear son,” and
ended, “Your lovin’ mother.” The letter was just the same as all
mothers write to their sons, I reckon: full of heartache, an’
tenderness, an’ good advice, an’ scoldin’; but nothin’ to identify
nobody by; so we said ’at the Friar should read the papers. One of
’em was an honorable discharge from the army; but all the names
an’ dates an’ localities had been crossed out. It was what they call
an “Excellent” discharge, which is the best they give, an’ you could
tell by the thumb print ’at this part had been read the most by
whoever had treasured it.
The other paper was simply a clippin’ from a newspaper. It was a
column of items tellin’ about Dovey wishin’ to see Tan Shoes at the
same place next Sunday, an’ such things. The Friar said ’at this was
the personal column, an’ he sure labeled it; ’cause if a feller chose to
guess any, some o’ those items was personal enough to make a bar-
tender blush; but they didn’t convey any news to us as to where the
trade-rat had procured the buck-skin bag.
The photographs were wrapped in tissue paper an’ then tied
together with pink string, face to each. The Friar balked a little at
openin’ ’em up; but we deviled him into it. The first he opened was a
cheap, faded little one of an old lady. She had a sad, patient face,
an’ white hair. Horace was standin’ on a chair, lookin’ over the Friar’s
shoulder, an’ he piped out that the photograph had been took in
New York, an’ asked if we knew any one who lived there, which
most of us did; but not the subject of the photograph.
Then the Friar opened the other one. He took one look at it, an’
then his face turned gray. “This one was took in Rome,” sez Horace.
“Does any one here have a list o’ friends livin’ in Rome, Italy?”
He hadn’t looked at the face on the photograph, nor at the Friar’s
face; but when we didn’t answer, he looked up, saw that we had
sobered in sympathy with the Friar, an’ then he looked at the face on
the photograph an’ got down off the chair. The face was of a
beautiful lady in a low-necked, short-sleeved dress. Not as low nor
as short as some dresses I’ve seen in pictures, but still a purty
generous outlook.
 The Friar’s hands shook some; but he gradually got a grip on
himself, an’ purty soon, he sez in a steady voice: “This is a picture of
Signorina Morrissena. Does any one here know of her?”
Well, of course none of us had ever heard of her; so the Friar
wrapped up the package again an’ put it back into the buck-skin
bag. We had expected to have some high jinks that day, an’ Kit had
baked a lot o’ vinegar pies for dinner, we had plenty o’ fresh deer-
meat, an’ we had agreed to let the Friar hold a regular preachin’
first; but when we saw how the picture had shook him up we drifted
back to our own shack an’ sat talkin’ about where the deuce that
blame trade-rat could possibly have got a holt o’ the buck-skin bag. I
was purty sure that it was a picture o’ the Friar’s girl, the extra
trimmin’s on the name not bein’ much in the way of a disguise, an’
as soon as I got a chance to see Horace I questioned him, an’ he
said it was the girl, all right; but that she had developed a lot.
The Friar had taken a hoss an’ gone up into the mountains, an’
had left word that he didn’t want any dinner. We were as full o’
sympathy with him as we could stand, but not in the mood to
sidestep such a meal as Kit had framed up; so we ate till after three
in the afternoon. We didn’t want to do anything to fret him a speck;
so we hardly knew what to do. Generally it tickled him to have us
ask him to preach to us; but we couldn’t tell how he’d feel about it
now, and we were still discussin’ it about the fire when the Friar
came back.
He looked mighty weary, an’ we knew he had been drivin’ himself
purty hard, although it wasn’t just tiredness which showed in his
face. Still, the’ was a sort of peace there, too; so after he’d warmed
himself a while, ol’ Tank asked him if he wouldn’t like to preach to us
a bit.
The Friar once said that back East some folks used good
manners as clothin’ for their souls, but that out our way good-
heartedness was the clothin’, an’ good manners nothin’ more than a
silver band around the hat. “And some o’ the bands are mighty
narrow, Friar,” I added to draw him out. “Yes,” sez he, “but the hats
are mighty broad.”
 You just couldn’t floor the Friar in a case like this. He knew ’at
the politeness an’ the good-heartedness in Tank’s request was
divided off about the same as the band an’ the hat; and that all we
wanted was to ease off the Friar’s mind an’ let him feel contented;
so he heaved a sigh and shook his head at Tank.
When a blacksmith goes out into company, folks don’t pester him
with questions as to why tempered steel wasn’t stored up in handy
caves, instead of havin’ nothin’ but rough ore hid away in the cellar
of a mountain; and a carpenter is not held responsible because a
sharp saw cuts better ’n a dull one; but it seems about next to
impossible for a human bein’ to pass up a parson without insultin’
him a little about the ways o’ Providence, and askin’ him a lot o’
questions which would moult feathers out o’ the ruggedest angel in
the bunch.
We could all see ’at the Friar had been havin’ a rough day of it;
so Tank began by askin’ him questions simply to toll him away from
himself; but soon he was shootin’ questions into the Friar as rough
shod as though they was both strangers to each other.
“You say it was sheep-herders what saw the angels that night the
Lord was born,” sez Tank. “How come the’ wasn’t any cow-punchers
saw ’em?” Tank had about the deep-rootedest prejudice again’
sheep-herders I ever saw.
“The’ wasn’t any cow-punchers in that land,” sez the Friar. “It
was a hilly land an’—”
“Well I’d like to know,” broke in ol’ Tank, “why the Lord picked
out such a place as that, when he had the whole world to choose
from.”
O’ course the Friar tried his best to smooth this out; but by the
time he was through, Tank had got tangled up with another
perdicament. “Then, there was ol’ Faro’s dream,” he said, “the one
about the seven lean cows eatin’ the seven fat ones. I’ve punched
cows all my life, and I saw ’em so thin once, when the snow got
crusted an’ the chinook got switched off for a month, that the spikes
on their backbones punched holes through their hides; but they’d as
soon thought o’ flyin’ up an’ grazin’ on clouds, as to turn in an’ eat
one another.”
 By the time the Friar had got through explainin’ the difference
between dreams and written history, Tank was ready with another
query. “I heard tell once ’at the Bible sez, ‘If thy eye offends thee,
pluck it out.’ Does the Bible say this?”
“Well, it does,” admitted the Friar; “but you see—”
“Well, my free eye offends me,” broke in Tank. “It never did
offend me until Spike Groogan tried to pluck it out, and it don’t
offend me now as much as it does other folks. Still, I got to own up
’at the blame thing does offend me whenever I meet up with
strangers, ’cause it allus runs wilder in front of a stranger ’n at airy
other time. Now, what I want to know is, why an’ when an’ how
must I pluck out that eye—specially, when it sez in another place
that if a man’s eye is single his whole body is full o’ light. My eye is
single enough to suit any one. Fact is, it’s so blame single that some
folks call it singular; but the’ ain’t no more light in my body ’n there
is in airy other man’s.”
You couldn’t work off any spiritual interpretation stuff on Tank.
He thought an allegory was the varmint which lives in the Florida
swamps. Well, as far as that goes, I did, too, until the Friar pointed
out that it was merely a falsehood used to explain the truth; but
Tank, he didn’t join in with any new-fangled notions, an’ a feller had
to talk to him as straight out as though talkin’ to a hoss. The’ was
lots of times I didn’t envy the Friar his job.
But after he had satisfied Tank that it wasn’t required of him to
discard either of his lamps, especially the free one, he drifted off into
tellin’ us how he had spent the day—and then I envied him a little,
for he certainly did have the gift o’ wranglin’ words.
He told about havin’ rode up the mountain as far as he could go,
and then climbin’ as far as he could on foot. He showed how hard it
was to tell either a man or a mountain by the lines in their faces,
and he went on with this till he made a mountain almost human.
Then he switched around and showed how much a mountain was
like life, ambition bein’ like pickin’ out the mountain, the easy little
foothills bein’ the start, the summit allus hid while a feller was
climbin’, and each little plateau urgin’ him to give up there and rest.
He compared life and a mountain, until it seemed that all a feller
needed for a full edication, was just to have a mountain handy. Then
he wound up by sayin’ that he hadn’t been able to reach the peak.
He had sat in a sheltered nook for a time, gazin’ up at the face of a
cliff with an overhangin’ bank o’ snow on top, the wind swirlin’
masses o’ snow down about him, and everything tryin’ to point out
that he had been a failure, and might as well give up in disgust. He
stopped here, and we were all silent, for, as was usual with him, he
had led us along to where we could see life through his eyes for a
space.
“After a time,” sez the Friar as soon as he saw we were in the
right mood, “I caught my breath again and followed the narrow
ledge I was on around to where I could see the highest peak stand
out clear and solitary; and from my side of it, it wasn’t possible for
any man to reach it. There was no wind here, the air was as sweet
and pure as at the dawn o’ creation, and everywhere I looked I met
glory heaped on glory. A gray cloud rested again’ the far side o’ the
peak, and back o’ this was the sun. Ah, there was a silver and a
golden linin’ both to this cloud; and all of a sudden I was comforted.
“I had done all I could do, and this was my highest peak.
Whatever was the highest peak for others, this was the highest peak
for me; and there was no more bitterness or envy or doubt or fear in
my heart. I stood for a long time lookin’ up at the gray cloud with its
dazzling edges, and some very beautiful lines crept into my memory
—‘The paths which are trod, by only the evenin’ and mornin’, and
the feet of the angels of God.’”
The Friar had let himself out a little at the end, and his eyes were
shinin’ when he finished. “I guess I have given you a sermon, after
all, boys,” he said, “and I hope you can use it to as good advantage
as I did when it came to me up on the mountain. We all have
thoughts we can’t put into words, and so I’ve failed to give you all
’at was given me; but it’s some comfort to know that, be they big or
be they little, we don’t have to climb any mountains but our own,
and whether we reach the top or whether we come to a blind wall
first, the main thing is to climb with all our might and with a certain
faith that those who have earned rest shall find it, after the sun has
set.”
 This was one of the days when the magic of the Friar’s voice did
strange things to a feller’s insides. We knew ’at he was talkin’ in
parables, an’ talkin’ mostly to himself; but each one of us knew our
own little mountains, an’ it was darn comfortin’ to understand that
the Friar could have as tough a time on his as we had on ours.
We all sat silent, each feller thinkin’ over his own problems; and
after a time, the Friar sang the one beginnin’, “O little town of
Bethlehem!” It was dark by this time, but the firelight fell on his
face, an’ made it so soft-like an’ tender that ol’ Tank Williams sniffled
audible once, an’ when the song was finished he piled a lot more
wood on the fire, an’ pertended ’at he was catchin’ cold. When Kit
called us in to supper, we all sat still for a full minute, before we
could get back to our appetites again.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX—A CONTESTED LIFE-TITLE
The bullet which had gone through Badger-face hadn’t touched a
single bone. It had gone through his left lung purty high up, but
somethin’ like the pneumonie set in, an’ he was a sorry lookin’ sight
when the fever started to die out after havin’ hung on for two
weeks. He had been drinkin’ consid’able beforehand, which made it
bad for him, an’ the Friar said it was all a question of reserve. If
Badger-face had enough of his constitution left to tide him over, he
stood a good chance; but otherwise it was his turn.
He didn’t have much blood left in him at the end of two weeks on
air and water, and he didn’t have enough fat to pillow his bones on.
We all thought ’at he ought to have something in the way o’ feed;
but the Friar wouldn’t stand for one single thing except water. He
said ’at food had killed a heap more wounded men ’n bullets ever
had; so we let him engineer it through in his own way.
When the fever started to leave, he got so weak ’at Horace
thought he was goin’ to flicker out, an’ he felt purty bad about it. He
didn’t regret havin’ done it, an’ said he would do just the same if he
had it to do over; but it calls up some mighty serious thoughts when
a fellow reflects that he is the one who has pushed another off into
the dark. On the night when it seemed certain that Badger-face
would lose his grip, we all went into his room an’ sat around waitin’
for the end, to sort o’ cheer him up a little. Life itself is a strange
enough adventure, but death has it beat a mile.
Along about nine o’clock, Badger said in a low, trembly voice:
“What’d you fellers do to me, if I got well?”
He didn’t even open his eyes; so we didn’t pay any heed to him.
When he first got out of his head, he had rambled consid’able. Part
o’ the time he seemed to be excusin’ himself for what he had done,
an’ part o’ the time he seemed to be gloatin’ over his devilment; but
the’ wasn’t any thread to his discourse so we didn’t set much store
by it. After waitin’ a few minutes, he quavered out his question
again, an’ the Friar told him not to worry about anything, but just to
set his mind on gettin’ well.
Badger shook his head feebly from side to side an’ mumbled,
“That don’t go, that don’t go with me.” He paused here for a rest,
an’ then went on. “I’ve been in my right mind all day, an’ I’ve been
thinkin’ a lot, an’ tryin’ some experiments. I can breathe in a certain
way which makes me easier an’ stronger, an’ I can breathe in
another way which shuts off my heart. I don’t intend to get well
merely for the pleasure o’ gettin’ lynched; so if that’s your game, I
intend to shut off my heart an’ quit before I get back the flavor o’
life. It don’t make two-bits difference with me either way. What d’ ya
intend to do?”
He had been a long time sayin’ this, an’ we had exchanged
glances purty promiscuous. We hadn’t give a thought as to what we
would do with him, providin’ he responded to our efforts to save his
life; but it was purty generally understood that Badger had fitted
himself to be strung up, just the same as if he hadn’t been shot at
all. Now, though, when we came to consider it, this hardly seemed a
square deal. There wasn’t much common sense in chokin’ a man’s
life down his throat for two weeks, only to jerk it out again at the
end of a rope, an’ we found ourselves in somethin’ of a complication.
“What do ya think we ort to do to ya?” asked Tank.
“Lynch me,” sez Badger, without openin’ his eyes; “but I don’t
intend to wait for it. I don’t blame ya none, fellers. I did ya all the
dirt I could; but I don’t intend to furnish ya with no circus
performance—I’m goin’ on.”
He began to breathe different, an’ his face began to get purplish
an’ ghastly. “Can he kill himself that way?” I asked the Friar.
“I don’t know,” sez the Friar. “I think ’at when he loses
consciousness, nature’ll take holt, an’ make him breathe the most
comfortable way—but I don’t know.”
“Let Olaf take a look at his flame,” sez Horace; so Olaf looked at
Badger a long time.
Olaf hadn’t wasted much of his time on Badger. He wasn’t long
on forgiveness, Olaf wasn’t; an’ ever since the time ’at Badger had
been so enthusiastic in tryin’ to have him lynched for killin’ Bud
Fisher, Olaf had give it out as his opinion that Badger was doomed
for hell, an’ he wasn’t disposed to take any hand in postponin’ his
departure. Olaf was the matter-o’-factest feller I ever knew. The’
don’t seem to be much harm in most of our cussin’, but when Olaf
indulged in profanity, he was solemn an’ earnest, the same as if he
was sayin’ a prayer backwards.
“It don’t look like Badger’s flame,” sez he after a time. “It’s gettin’
mighty weak an’ blue, an’ the’s a thick spot over his heart which
shows plainer ’n the one over his wound.”
“I move we give him a fresh start,” sez Horace.
“He’d ort to be lynched,” sez Tank. “I don’t see why we can’t try
him out now, an’ if we find him guilty, why he can kill himself if he
wants to, or else get well again an’ we’ll do it for him.”
Neither what Horace said nor what Tank said called out much
response. We knew the’ wasn’t any one could say a good word for
Badger-face an’ so he well deserved his stretchin’; but on the other
hand, there he was turnin’ gray before our eyes, an’ it went again’
our nature to discard him, after havin’ hung on to him for two
weeks. The Friar left the side of the bed an’ retired into a corner,
leavin’ us free to express ourselves.
“I don’t see how we can let him go free,” sez Tank. “He sez
himself ’at he ort to be lynched; an’ when a feller can’t speak a good
word for himself, I don’t see who can.”
“Badger-face,” sez Horace, “you’re the darnedest bother of a man
I ever saw. First you infest us until we have to shoot a hole through
you, an’ then we have to nurse you for two weeks, an’ now you’re
diggin’ your heels into our consciences. I give you my word we won’t
lynch you if you get well. We’ll turn you over to the law.”
Badger’s thin lips fell back over his yellow teeth in the ghastliest
grin a live man ever hung out. “The law,” sez he with bitter sarcasm,
“the law! Have you ever been in a penitentiary?”
“No,” sez Horace, “I have not.”
“Well, I have,” sez Badger. “I was put in for another feller’s deed;
an’ they gave me the solitary, the jacket, the bull-rings, the water-
cure, and if you’ll roll me over after I’m dead, you can still see the
scars of the whip on my back. I’ve tried the law, an’ I’ll see you all
damned before I try it again.”
Badger-face was as game as they generally get. As soon as he
stopped talkin’ he began to breathe against his heart again. Horace
stood lookin’ at him for a full minute, an’ then he lost his temper.
“You’re a coward, that’s what you are!” sez Horace. “I said all
along ’at you were a coward, an’ another feller said so too, an’ now
you’re provin’ it. You can sneak an’ kill cows an’ cut saddles in the
dark, but you haven’t the nerve to face things in the open. Now,
you’re sneakin’ off into the darkness o’ death because you’re afraid
to face the light of life.”
This was handin’ it to him purty undiluted, an’ Badger opened his
eyes an’ looked at Horace. His eyes were heavy an’ dull, but they
didn’t waver any. “Dinky,” sez Badger-face, “the only thing I got
again’ you is your size. I’ve been called a lot o’ different things in my
time; but you’re the first gazabo ’at ever called me a coward—an’
you’re about the only one who has a right to, ’cause you put me out
fair an’ square. I wish you had traveled my path alongside o’ me,
though. You ain’t no milksop, but after you’d been given a few o’ the
deals I’ve had, you’d take to the dark too. You can call me a coward
if you want to, or, after I’m gone, you can think of me as just bein’
dog tired an’ glad o’ the chance to crawl off into the dark to sleep. I
don’t want to be on your conscience; that’s not my game. All I want
is just to get shut o’ the whole blame business.”
He talked broken an’ quavery, an’ it took him a long time to
finish; but when he did quit, he turned on his bad breathin’ again.
Horace had flushed up some when Badger had mentioned milksop;
but when he had finished, Horace took his wasted hand in a hearty
grip, an’ sez: “I take it back, Badger. You ain’t no coward. I only
wanted to taunt you into stickin’ for another round; but I think
mighty well o’ ya. Will you agree to cut loose from the Ty Jones
crowd an’ try to be a man, if we give you your freedom, a new
outfit, and enough money to carry you out of the country?”
It was some time before Badger spoke, an’ then he said: “Nope,
I can’t do it. Ty knows my record, an’ he’s treated me white; but if I
quit him, he’ll get me when I least expect it. Now understand, Dinky,
that I don’t hold a thing again’ you, you’re the squarest feller I’ve
ever met up with; but I’m not comin’ back to life again. From where
I am now, I can see it purty plain, an’ it ain’t worth the trouble.”
“You could write back to Ty that you made your escape from us,”
sez Horace.
“That’s the best idee you’ve put over,” sez Badger, after he’d
thought it out; “but I haven’t enough taste for life to make the
experiment. Don’t fuss about me any more. I don’t suffer a mite. I
feel just like a feller in the Injun country, goin’ to sleep on post after
days in the saddle. He knows it’ll mean death, but he’s too tired out
to care a white bean.”
“Have you ever been in the army?” asked the Friar from his place
in the corner. We all gave a little start at the sound of his voice, for it
came with a snap an’ unexpected.
Badger’s lips dropped back for another hideous grin. “Yes,” he
said, “I’ve been in both the penitentiary and the army—and they’re a
likely pair.”
“Did you have a buck-skin bag?” asked the Friar, comin’ up to the
bed.
Badger-face tried to raise himself on his elbow, but he couldn’t
quite make it. “Yes, I did,” sez he, droppin’ back again. “What
became of it?”
“I am keepin’ it for ya,” sez the Friar. “Do you wish to leave any
word in case you do not recover?”
“No,” sez Badger, “the’ ain’t no one to leave word to. That letter
was from my mother, an’ that was her picture. She’s been dead a
long string o’ years now.”
“There was another picture an’ a newspaper clippin’,” sez the
Friar.
Badger-face didn’t give no heed; an’ after a time the Friar sez:
“What shall I do with them?”
“Throw ’em away,” sez Badger-face. “They don’t concern me
none. I was more took with that woman’s picture ’n airy other I ever
saw. That was all.”
“Where did you get it?” asked the Friar.
 “I got it from a young Dutchy,” sez Badger wearily. “He killed a
feller over at Leadville an’ came out here an’ took on with Ty Jones.
He said she was an opery singer, an’ got drugged at a hotel where
he was workin’.”
Badger-face was gettin’ purty weak by now, an’ he stopped with
a sort of sigh. The Friar took holt of his hand. “I am very much
interested in this woman,” he said, lookin’ into Badger’s face as if
tryin’ to give him life enough to go on with. “Can you tell me
anything else about her?”
“Not much,” sez Badger-face. “She was singin’ at what he called
the Winter Garden at Berlin, Germany. Some Austrian nobility got
mashed on her an’ drugged her at the hotel. Dutchy was mashed on
her, too, I reckon. They had advertised for him in a New York paper,
an’ when he got shot, over at Little Monte’s dance hall, he asked me
to write about it. His mother had died leavin’ property, an’ all they
wanted was to round up the heirs. I reckon they were glad enough
to have Dutchy scratched from the list. I don’t know why I did keep
that clippin’.”
“Have you any idee how long ago it was ’at the woman was
drugged?” asked the Friar.
“I haven’t any idee,” sez Badger-face weakly. “Carl was killed four
years ago this Christmas eve; so it had to be before that.”
“Listen to me, Badger-face,” sez the Friar, grippin’ his hand tight.
“I want you to get well. I know that all these men will stand by you
and help you to start a new life.”
“How long is it since I’ve been laid up?” asked Badger.
“Two weeks,” sez the Friar. “This is two days after Christmas.”
“Who tended to me?” asked Badger.
“We all did,” sez the Friar, “and we all stand ready to help you
make a new start.”
“I had a good enough start,” sez Badger; “but I fooled it away,
an’ I’m too old now to make a new one.”
“Is there any word you want sent to your friends at Ty Jones’s?”
asked the Friar.
Once more Badger skinned his face into the grin. “Friends?” sez
he. “When you trap a wolf, does he send any word to his friends? I
haven’t got no friends.”
“Swallow this milk,” sez Horace holdin’ some of it out to him in a
big spoon. Kit had made Olaf start to milkin’ a cow, ’cause she
wanted to use milk in cookin’, and intended to make butter when she
had the cream saved up. Badger put the milk in his mouth, an’ then
spit it out again.
“Don’t you put anything else in my mouth,” he sez. “I told you I
was goin’ to die; an’ by blank, I am goin’ to die.”
“Fellers,” sez Horace, turnin’ to us, “do you think this man is goin’
to die?” We all nodded our heads. “Then, will you give his life to me,
to do with as I will?” asked Horace; and we nodded our heads again.
Horace took off his coat, an’ rolled up his sleeves, an’ then he
came over an’ shook Badger-face by the shoulder. “Listen to me,” he
sez. “I fought ya once before, for your life, and I’m goin’ to fight you
for it now. Do you hear what I say—I’m goin’ to fight you for your
own life. I’m goin’ to make you swallow milk, if I have to tie you an’
pour it in through a funnel. You can’t hold your breath an’ fight, an’
I’m goin’ to fight you.”
Badger-face opened his eyes an’ looked up into Horace’s face. He
looked a long time, an’ the ghost of a smile crept into his face. “Well,
you’re the doggonedest little cuss I ever saw!” he exclaimed. He
waited a long time, an’ then set his teeth. “You beat me once,” he
muttered. “Now, see if you can beat me again.”
It was after midnight; so when Horace dropped the hint that he
wouldn’t need any help except from me an’ the Friar, the rest o’ the
boys dug out for the bunk shack. Then Horace took us over to the
fireplace an’ asked us what was the best thing to do.
“I do believe ’at you have stumbled on the right plan to save
him,” sez the Friar. “He has no fever, the wound is doin’ splendid,
and he has a powerful constitution. The trouble is that he does not
will to live. We must spur on his will, and if we can make him fight
back, this’ll help. Also we must control him as much as possible
through suggestion. Have you any plan o’ your own?”
“No,” sez Horace candidly. Horace didn’t need anything for any
emergency except his own nerve. “I am determined that he must
live, but I have no plan.”
 “The first thing is to give him a little warm milk,” sez the Friar.
“All right,” sez Horace. “You tell me what to do—by signs, as
much as possible—but let me give the orders to Badger-face. My size
has made an impression on him, and we can’t afford to lose a single
trick.” The Friar agreed to this an’ we went back to the bunk.
“Badger-face,” sez Horace, “I’d rather give you this milk peaceful;
but I’m goin’ to give it to ya, an’ you can bet what ya like on that.”
Badger opened his eyes again, an’ they were dull an’ glazy. “This
reminds me o’ the water-cure at the pen,” he said, an’ then set his
teeth.
“Hold his hands, Happy,” sez Horace, as full o’ fight as a snow-
plow. “Hold his head, Friar. Now then, swallow or drown.”
It looked purty inhuman, but Badger had to swallow after a bit,
an’ when we had put as much milk into him as we wanted—only a
couple o’ spoonfuls—we let him go, an’ he fell asleep, pantin’ a little.
We woke him up in half an hour, an’ put some more milk into him.
When he slept, his breathin’ was more like natural, an’ the fourth
time, I didn’t have to hold his hands; so I went to sleep myself.
Well, Horace won this fight, too. In about four days, Badger-face
began to have an appetite, an’ then it was all off with him. He
couldn’t have died if we’d left him plumb alone; but he hadn’t give
up yet. The Friar kept him down to a mighty infan-tile diet, sayin’
that a lung shot was a bad one, an’ the pure mountain air was all
that had saved him; but even now fever was likely to come back on
him.
It was close to the tenth o’ January when Horace came in from a
ride one evenin’, an’ went in to see Badger-face, still wearin’ his gun.
Quick as a wink, Badger grabbed the gun; but Horace threw himself
on Badger’s arm, an’ yelled for help. The Friar an’ Olaf rushed in
from the lean-to, an’ corraled the gun in short order.
“You blame little bob-cat, you!” sez Badger. “I didn’t intend to use
the gun on you.”
“I know what you intended to do,” sez Horace; “but you don’t
win this deal as easy as all that.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN—A STRANGE ALLIANCE
After this we tied Badger-face in bed an’ kept watch of him. He kept
on gettin’ stronger all the time, an’ a good percent of his meanness
came back with his strength. Sometimes he’d spend hours tauntin’
Horace an’ the Friar; but they didn’t mind it any more ’n if Badger
had been a caged beast. Then one night he concluded to try cussin’.
He started in to devise somethin’ extra fancy in the way o’ high-
colored profanity; but he hadn’t gone very far on this path, before
Olaf came in as black as a thunder cloud.
“Do you want to be whipped with a whip?” he demanded.
“Naw, I don’t want to be whipped with a whip,” sez Badger-face.
“Then you stop swearin’,” sez Olaf. “We been to enough trouble
about you, and I don’t intend to have my wife listen to any more o’
your swearin’. If you don’t stop it, I whip all your skin off. You say
you want to die—I whip you to death before your very eyes.”
Badger heaved at his ropes a time or two, an’ then he realized
his weakness, sank back on the bed, an’ the tears rolled down his
cheeks. He fair sobbed. “You’re a set o’ cowards,” he yelled, “the
whole pack o’ you! You wouldn’t let me die, and now you threaten to
whip me to death. I dare any one of ya to shoot me—you yellow-
hearted cowards!”
“I care not for what you say I am,” said Olaf. “You know if I am a
coward, and you know if I keep my word. I say to you, slow an’
careful, that if you yell swear words again in my house, I whip your
hide off.”
Well, this had a quietin’ influence on Badger’s conversation; but
he fretted himself a good deal as to what we intended to do with
him. Finally one day when he began to look a little more like a live
man than a skeleton, Horace sez to him: “Badger, you said you
didn’t have any friends, an’ it must be true, ’cause not one of your
own outfit has ever been to see you, not even Ty Jones.”
 “Ty Jones don’t stay out here through the winter,” sez Badger-
face. “If he’d been here, he’d have squared things up for this, one
way or another.”
“Where does he go?” asked Horace.
“I don’t know,” sez Badger-face.
Horace asked Olaf about it, and Olaf said ’at Ty Jones allus pulled
out in December, an’ didn’t come back until March.
Then Horace came in and sat by Badger again. “I’ve got a
proposition to make to you,” sez he, “and you think it over before
you answer. I have plenty o’ money; but I’ve wasted most o’ my life,
sittin’ down. If you are sick of livin’ like a wolf, I’ll pay your expenses
and half again as much as Ty Jones is payin’ you, and all you’ll have
to agree to is to go along as a sort of handy-man for me. I think we
can get to be purty good friends, but that can wait. I intend to
ramble around wherever my notions take me. If you’ll give your
word to be as decent as you can, I’ll give my word to stand by you
as far as I’m able. Your life is forfeit to me, an’ if you’ll do your part,
I intend to make the balance of it worth while to ya. Now, don’t
answer me; but think it over an’ ask all the questions you want to.
I’ll answer true what I do answer; but I won’t answer any ’at I don’t
want to.”
If Horace had crept in an’ cut off his two ears, Badger wouldn’t
have been any more surprised. Well, none of us would, as far as that
goes; though why we should let anything ’at Horace chose to do
surprise us by this time is more ’n I know.
He an’ Badger talked it over complete for several days, Horace
agreein’ that he wouldn’t ask Badger to go anywhere the army or
the law was likely to get him an’ not to make him do any stunts ’at
would make him look foolish. He told Horace ’at he had served one
enlistment an’ got a top-notch discharge, an’ had then took on
again; but a drunken officer had him tied on a spare artillery wheel
because Badger had laughed when the officer had fallen off his
horse into a mud puddle. He said they had laid the wheel on the
ground and him across it, the small of his back restin’ on the hub o’
the wheel, an’ his arms an’ legs spread an’ tied to the rim, an’ had
kept him there ten hours. He said that he had deserted the first
chance he got; but he refused to tell what had happened to the
officer afterward.
Finally Badger said he would take up Horace’s proposition; an’
Horace called Olaf in to see if Badger was speakin’ true. This was the
first Badger had ever heard about Olaf’s eyes seein’ soul-flames; but
he said ’at this explained a lot to him he hadn’t understood before.
Olaf looked at him careful; an’ Badger held up his right hand an’ said
that as long as Horace treated him square, he would be square with
Horace, even to the point of givin’ up his life for him.
“He is speakin’ true,” sez Olaf; and from that very minute,
Badger-face became a different man, an’ Horace took off the ropes.
“You do look some like a badger with that bum beard on,” sez
Horace; “but I don’t like this name, and I want you to pick out a new
one. Pick out some Christian name, your own or any other; but now
that you are startin’ on a new life, it will help to have a new name.”
Badger-face studied over this a long time, but he couldn’t root up
any name to suit him so he told Horace to pick out a name, and he’d
agree to wear it.
“Well,” sez Horace, after he’d give it a good thinkin’ over, “I think
I’ll call you Promotheus.”
Badger looked at him purty skeptical. “I don’t intend to take no
Greaser name,” sez he. “Is that Mexican?”
“No,” sez Horace. “That’s Greek; an’ the original Promotheus was
an all around top-notcher. He was a giant, so you couldn’t complain
none on your size; he rebelled again’ the powers, so you couldn’t
call him a dog-robber; but the thing ’at you two are closest together
in, is your infernal stubbornness. They tried to break Promotheus
down by chainin’ him to a rock while the vultures fed on his liver, but
they couldn’t make him give in. ‘Pity the slaves who take the yoke,’
sez he; ‘but don’t pity me who still have my own self-respect.’”
Badger-face was so blame weak that his eyes filled up with tears
at this; an’ the only way he could straighten himself up was to put a
few florid curses on his own thumby left-handedness; but Olaf had
gone after some wood, so it didn’t start anything. “I’ll take that
name,” sez he, “an’ I’ll learn how to spell an’ pronounce it as soon as
I can; but you’ve diluted down my blood so confounded thin with
your doggone, sloppy milk diet that I’m a long way from havin’ that
feller’s grit, right at this minute.”
Horace stood over Badger-face, an’ pointed his finger at him,
fierce. “Listen to me,” sez he. “The next time you heave out an insult
to milksops or milk diets, I’ll sing you my entire song—to the very
last word.”
We set up a howl; but Badger-face didn’t realize all he was up
against when he took on with Horace, so he only smiled in a sickly
way, an’ looked puzzled.
“I’ll tell ya what I’m willin’ to do, Dinky,” said he, as soon as we
stopped our noise; “now that I’ve took a new name, I don’t need to
wear this sort of a beard any more, an’, if ya want me to, I’ll trim it
up the same fool way ’at you wear yours; an’ I’ll wear glasses, too, if
you say the word.”
“We’ll wait first to see how you look in a biled shirt,” sez Horace;
“but in honor of your new name, I’m goin’ to let you have some
deer-meat soup for your dinner, an’ a bone to gnaw on.”
We had a regular feast that day, and called Badger-face
Promotheus every time we could think up an excuse; so as to have
practice on the name. The Friar did his best to take part; but I knew
every line in his face, and it hurt me to see him fightin’ at himself.
After dinner we took a walk together; but we didn’t talk none
until we had climbed the rim, fought the wind for a couple of hours,
an’ started back again. It was his plan to think of some big, common
chunk of life when he was in trouble, so as to take his mind as much
as possible off himself; and he started to talk about Horace an’
Promotheus. He even laughed a little at the combination which
Promotheus Flannigan an’ Horace Walpole Bradford would make
when they settled down on the East again.
“The more I think it over,” said the Friar, “the plainer I can see
that most of our sorrow an’ pain and savageness comes from our
custom of punishin’ the crops instead of the farmers. Look at the
possibilities the’ was in Promotheus when he started out. He has a
strong nature, and in spite of his life, he still has a lot o’ decent
humanity in him. Who can tell what he might have been, if his good
qualities had been cultivated instead o’ smothered?”
 “That’s true enough,” sez I; “and look at Horace, too. They
simply let him wither up for forty years, and yet all this time he had
in him full as much devilment as Promotheus himself.”
“Oh, we waste, we waste, we waste!” exclaimed the Friar.
“Instead o’ usin’ the strength and vigor of our manhood in a noble
way, we let some of it rust and decay, and some of it we use for our
own destruction. The outlaw would have been the hero with the
same opportunity, and who can tell what powers lie hidden behind
the mask of idleness!”
“Well, that’s just it,” sez I. “A human bein’ is like a keg o’ black
stuff. For years it may sit around perfectly harmless; and only when
the right spark pops into it can we tell whether it’s black sand or
blastin’ powder. Even Horace, himself, thought he was black sand;
but he turned out to be a mighty high grade o’ powder.”
We walked on a while without talkin’; but the Friar was wrastlin’
with his own thoughts, an’ finally he stopped an’ asked me as
solemn as though I was the boss o’ that whole country: “If you had
started a lot o’ work, and part of it promised to yield a rich harvest
with the right care, and part of it looked as though it might sink back
to worse than it had been in the beginnin’—is there anything in the
world which could make you give it up?”
The Friar knew my life as well as I did; so I didn’t have to do any
pertendin’ with him. “Yes,” I sez, “the right woman would.”
The Friar didn’t do any pertendin’ with me either. He stood,
shakin’ his head slowly from side to side. “I wish I knew, I wish I
knew,” he said.
We walked on again, an’ when we came in sight o’ the cabin, I
sez to him, in order to give him a chance to free his mind if he saw
fit: “Horace told me what he knew about it.”
“Yes, I know,” sez the Friar; “but no one knew very much. She
was a splendid brave girl, Happy. I had known her when she was a
little girl and I a farmer boy. I was much older than she was, but I
was allus interested in her. There wasn’t one thing they could say
against her—and yet they drove her out o’ my life. I thought she
was dead, I heard that she was dead; so I buried her in my heart,
and came out here where life was strong and young, because I
could not work back there. I tried to work in the slums of the cities;
but I could not conquer my own bitterness, with the rich wastin’ and
the poor starvin’ all about me. I have found joy in my life out here;
but she has come to life again with that picture, and once more I am
at war with myself.”
“Well, I’ll bet my eyes, Friar,” sez I, “that you find the right
answer; but I haven’t got nerve enough to advise ya—though I will
say that if it was me, I’d pike out an’ look for the girl.”
“I wish I knew, I wish I knew,” was all the Friar said.
Promotheus didn’t have any set-backs after this. We talked over
whether it would be better to have him go up to Ty’s an’ tell the
boys some big tale about Dinky Bradford, or to just pull out an’ leave
’em guessin’; and we finally came to the conclusion ’at the last
would be the best.
He was still purty weak by the first o’ February; but he was
beginnin’ to fret at bein’ housed up any longer, so we began to get
ready to hit the back-trail. By takin’ wide circles we could get
through all right, at this season; but with Promotheus still purty
wobbly, it wasn’t likely to be a pleasant trip, an’ we didn’t hurry none
with our preparations. Horace insisted on payin’ Olaf two hundred
dollars for his share o’ the bother, an’ I’m purty certain he slipped Kit
another hundred. He wasn’t no wise scrimpy with money.
We started on the tenth of February, Promotheus ridin’ a quiet
old hoss, an’ still lookin’ purty much like a bitter recollection. They
were consid’able surprised when we arrived at the Diamond Dot; but
we only told ’em as much of our huntin’ as we felt was necessary.
Horace intended to start for the East at once; but next day when
he put on his dude clothes again, Promotheus purty nigh bucked on
him. Most of Horace’s raiment was summer stuff, nachely; but he
had a long checked coat ’at he wore with a double ended cap, which
certainly did look comical. He had cut some fat off his middle, an’
had pushed out his chest an’ shoulders consid’able; so that his stuff
wrinkled on him; and it took a full hour to harden Promotheus to the
change.
“Do I have to look like that?” sez he.
 “You conceited ape you!” sez Horace. “You couldn’t look like this
if you went to a beauty doctor for the rest o’ time; but as soon as
we get where they sell clothes for humans, I’m goin’ to provide you
with somethin’ in the nature of a disguise.”
Disguise sounded mighty soothin’ to Promotheus, so he gritted
his teeth, an’ said he wouldn’t go back on his word. The fact was,
that it did give ya an awful shock to see Horace as he formerly was.
We had got so used to seein’ him gettin’ about, able an’ free, that it
almost seemed like a funeral to have him drop down to those clothes
again.
The Friar went over to the station with us, and he an’ Horace had
a confidential talk; and then Horace and Promotheus got on the train
and scampered off East.
“I’m goin’ to stick right here, Happy,” sez the Friar. “I have let my
work get way behind, in tendin’ to Promotheus; but from now on I’m
goin’ to tie into it again. I’d like to do something to put the cattle
men and the sheep men on better terms; but this seems like a hard
problem.”
“Yes,” sez I, “that ain’t no job for a preacher, and I’d advise you
to let it alone. The cattle men will put up the same sort of an
argument for their range ’at the Injuns did; but between you and
me, I doubt if they stand much more show in the long run.”
“I can’t see why there isn’t room for both,” sez the Friar. “It
seems to me that the cattle men are too harsh.”
“Nope,” sez I, “there ain’t room for ’em both, an’ the’s somethin’
irritatin’ about sheep that makes ya want to be harsh with all who
have dealin’s with ’em. Hosses can starve out cattle an’ sheep can
starve out hosses; but after a sheep has grazed over a place, nothin’
bigger ’n an ant can find any forage left. Cattle are wild an’
tempestus, an’ they bellow an’ tear around an’ fight, and the men
who tend ’em are a good bit like ’em; while sheep just meekly take
whatever you’ve a mind to give ’em; but they hang on, just the
same, an’ multiply a heap faster ’n cattle do. A sheep man is meek—
like a Jew. If a Jew gets what he wants he’s satisfied, an’ he’s willin’
to pertend ’at he’s had the worst o’ the deal; but a cattle man is
never satisfied unless he has grabbed what he wanted away from
some one else, an’ then shot him up a little for kickin’ about it. It’ll
probably be fifty or a hundred years yet, before the sheep men are
strong enough to worry the cattle men; but they’ll sure do it some
day.” That’s what I told the Friar that time at the station, an’ I
guessed the outcome close enough, though I didn’t make much of a
hit as to the time it was goin’ to take.
Well, the Friar, he rode away east to Laramie, and I went north to
the Diamond Dot, and got things ready for the summer work.
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT—THE HEART OF HAPPY
HAWKINS
Late the next summer, I got a fine long letter from Horace—and
blame if he didn’t succeed in surprisin’ me again. He wrote this letter
from Africa, which is about the foreignest parts this world is able to
exhibit, I reckon. He told about the East not findin’ favor with
Promotheus, though he had done all he could for him, startin’ out
with high society and endin’ up by takin’ him down one night to a
sailor’s saloon and lettin’ him mix into a general fight; but that
Promotheus just simply couldn’t stand the tameness, and so they
had gone to Africa to hunt big game, and give the folks out our way
a chance to forget there ever had been such a cuss as Badger-face.
He sent along some photographs, too, and they was as novel as
a blue moon—Horace, Promotheus, and a lot o’ naked niggers totin’
packs on their heads. Horace was the funniest lookin’ mortal a body
ever saw; but Promotheus had him beat a mile. They both wore
bowls on their heads an’ colored glasses; but Promotheus with side-
burns was sure enough to frighten a snake into convulsions! His
gnawin’ teeth stuck out through a self-satisfied grin; and I was willin’
to bet that as soon as the heathen saw him, they’d give up bowin’
down to wood an’ stone.
The next time I saw Friar Tuck, he told me about receivin’ a letter
from Horace who had gone to Berlin on his way to Africa, but hadn’t
been able to learn anything satisfactory. The singer had been the big
card at their concerts, an’ there had been some talk about her gettin’
drugged by an Austrian who belonged to the em-bassy; but she had
disappeared complete, an’ nobody could be found who seemed to
know anything about it. The Friar kept himself goin’ like a steam-
engine these days; but while he became a little more tender if
possible, he lacked something of his old-time spirits. Before this, he
used to come sweepin’ along like a big cool breeze, an’ a feller’s
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

textbookfull.com