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"What did you do?" asked Joshua, interested. Joe, who was satisfied that the fellow was romancing, did not exhibit any interest. "What did I do?" echoed the Pike County man fiercely. "I told him he didn't know the man he insulted. I told him I was from Pike County, Missouri, and that I was a rip-tail roarer." "And could whip your weight in wildcats," suggested Joe.
"What have you to say in answer to this man's charge?" asked one of the miners, a large man who was looked upon as the leader of the company. "He charges you with taking his horse." "He lies!" said the man from Pike. "Be keerful, old Rip-tail," said Mr. Bickford in a warning tone. "I don't take sass any more than you do." "I didn't steal your horse."
"There's a man in this here country that looks like me," said the Pike man, with a lame excuse. "You've met him, likely." "That won't go down, old Rip-tail. There ain't but one man can whip his weight in wildcats and tell the all-firedest yarns out. That's you, and there ain't no gettin' round it."
"You'd better not rile me, stranger," said the Pike man fiercely. "You don't know me, you don't. I'm a rip-tail roarer, I am. I always kill a man who insults me." "So do we," said Joe quietly. The Pike County man looked at Joe in some surprise. He had expected to frighten the boy with his bluster, but it didn't seem to produce the effect intended. Mr.
"Well, that's cheeky," said Joshua, aghast at the man's impudence. "Why, I know you as well as if we'd been to school together. You are the Rip-tail Roarer. You are from Pike County, Missouri, you are. You can whip your weight in wildcats. That's he, gentlemen. I leave it to you."
"We generally decline doing what we don't want to do," said Joe. "Look here, boy," blustered the Pike man, "I reckon you don't know me. I'm from Pike County, Missouri, I am. I'm a rip-tail roarer, I am. I kin whip my weight in wildcats." "You told us that afore," said Joshua placidly. "Derned if I don't mean it, too!" exclaimed the Pike County man, with a fierce frown.
In giving the description, Joshua imitated the boastful accents of his old comrade with such success that the assembled miners laughed and applauded. "That's he! You've got him!" they cried. "Just hear that, old Rip-tail," said Mr. Bickford. "You see these gentlemen here believe me and they don't believe you."
"Chasin' the Indians," said the Rip-tail Roarer, swinging himself from his saddle. "Sho! Be there any Indians about here?" "Didn't you hear them last night?" inquired the man from Pike. "No." "Nor you?" turning to Joe. "I heard nothing of any Indians," replied Joe truthfully. "Then all I can say is, strangers, that you sleep uncommon sound." "Nothing wakes me up," said Bickford.
The story is chock full of stirring incidents, while the amusing situations are furnished by Joshua Bickford, from Pumpkin Hollow, and the fellow who modestly styles himself the "Rip-tail Roarer, from Pike Co., Missouri." Mr. Alger never writes a poor book, and "Joe's Luck" is certainly one of his best. Tom the Bootblack; or, The Road to Success.
That was too much for me to stand. I'm the Rip-tail Roarer from Pike County, Missouri, and no man can insult me and live. 'Jack, said I, 'we've been friends, but you've insulted me, and it must be washed out in blood. Then I up with my we'pon and shot him through the head." "Sho!" said Joshua.
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