Robert Ervin Howard

Pilgrims To the Pecos Robert Ervin Howard

That there wagon rolled up the trail and stopped in front of our cabin one morning jest after sun-up. We all come out to see who it was, because strangers ain't common on Bear Creek-and not very often welcome, neither. They was a long, hungry-looking old coot driving, and four or five growed boys sticking their heads out."Good mornin', folks," said the old coot, taking off his hat. "My name is Joshua Richardson. I'm headin' a wagon-train of immigrants which is lookin' for a place to settle. The rest of 'em's camped three miles back down the trail. Everybody we met in these here Humbolt Mountings told us we'd hev to see Mister Roaring Bill Elkins about settlin' here-abouts. Be you him?""I'm Bill Elkins," says pap suspiciously."Well, Mister Elkins," says Old Man Richardson, wagging his chin-whiskers, "we'd admire it powerful if you folks would let us people settle somewheres about.""Hmmmm!" says pap, pulling his beard. "Whar you all from?""Kansas," says Old Man Richardson."Ouachita," says pap, "git my shotgun.""Don't you do no sech thing, Ouachie," says maw. "Don't be stubborn, Willyum. The war's been over for years.""That's what I say," hastily spoke up Old Man Richardson. "Let bygones be bygones, I says!""What," says pap ominously, "is yore honest opinion of General Sterlin' Price?"