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diff --git a/old/cwcnt10.txt b/old/cwcnt10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f5a2b6e..0000000 --- a/old/cwcnt10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8319 +0,0 @@ -***The Project Gutenberg Etext of Cow-Country, by B. M. Bower*** -#6 in our series by B. M. Bower - - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check -the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! - -Please take a look at the important information in this header. -We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an -electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* - -Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and -further information is included below. We need your donations. - - -Cow-Country - -by B. M. 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If you - don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are - payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon - University" within the 60 days following each - date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) - your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. - -WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? -The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, -scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty -free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution -you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg -Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". - -*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -Scanned By Mary Starr with Omnipage Pro software -marystarr@earthlink.net - - - - - -COW-COUNTRY - -by B. M. BOWER - - - - -CHAPTERS: - -1. AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY -2. THE TRAIL HERD -3. SOME INDIAN LORE -4. BUDDY GIVES WARNING -5. BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE -6. THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY -7. BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE -8. THE MULESHOE -9. LITTLE LOST -10. BUD MEETS THE WOMAN -11. GUILE AGAINST THE WILY -12. SPORT O' KINGS -13. THE SINKS -14. EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP -15. WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE -16. WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD -17. GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING "POINT" -18. THE CATROCK GANG -19. BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN -20. "PICK YOUR FOOTING!" -21. TRAILS END - - - - -COW-COUNTRY - - - -CHAPTER ONE: AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY - -In hot mid afternoon when the acrid, gray dust cloud kicked -up by the listless plodding of eight thousand cloven hoofs -formed the only blot on the hard blue above the Staked -Plains, an ox stumbled and fell awkwardly under his yoke, and -refused to scramble up when his negro driver shouted and -prodded him with the end of a willow gad. - -"Call your master, Ezra," directed a quiet woman voice gone -weary and toneless with the heat and two restless children. -"Don't beat the poor brute. He can't go any farther and carry -the yoke, much less pull the wagon." - -Ezra dropped the gad and stepped upon the wagon tongue where -he might squint into the dust cloud and decide which gray, -plodding horseman alongside the herd was Robert Birnie. Far -across the sluggish river of grimy backs, a horse threw up -its head with a peculiar sidelong motion, and Ezra's eyes -lightened with recognition. That was the colt, Rattler, -chafing against the slow pace he must keep. Hands cupped -around big, chocolate-colored lips and big, yellow-white -teeth, Ezra whoo-ee-ed the signal that called the nearest -riders to the wagon that held the boss's family. - -Bob Birnie and another man turned and came trotting back, and -at the call a scrambling youngster peered over his mother's -shoulder in the forward opening of the prairie schooner. - -"O-oh, Dulcie! We gonna git a wile cow agin!" - -Dulcie was asleep and did not answer, and the woman in the -slat sun-bonnet pushed back with her elbow the eager, -squirming body of her eldest. "Stay in the wagon, Buddy. -Mustn't get down amongst the oxen. One might kick you. Lie -down and take a nap with sister. When you waken it will be -nice and cool again." - -"Not s'eepy!" objected Buddy for the twentieth time in the -past two hours. But he crawled back, and his mother, relieved -of his restless presence, leaned forward to watch the -approach of her husband and the cowboy. This was the second -time in the past two days that an ox had fallen exhausted, -and her eyes showed a trace of anxiety. With the feed so poor -and the water so scarce, it seemed as though the heavy wagon, -loaded with a few household idols too dear to leave behind, a -camp outfit and the necessary clothing and bedding for a -woman and two children, was going to be a real handicap on -the drive. - -"Robert, if we had another wagon, I could drive it and make -the load less for these four oxen," she suggested when her -husband came up. "A lighter wagon, perhaps with one team of -strong horses, or even with a yoke of oxen, I could drive -well enough, and relieve these poor brutes." She pushed back -her sun-bonnet and with it a mass of red-brown hair that -curled damply on her forehead, and smiled disarmingly. "Buddy -would be the happiest baby boy alive if I could let him drive -now and then!" she added humorously. - -"Can't make a wagon and an extra yoke of oxen out of this -cactus patch," Bob Birnie grinned good humoredly. "Not even -to tickle Buddy. I'll see what I can do when we reach Olathe. -But you won't have to take a man's place and drive, Lassie." -He took the cup of water she drew from a keg and proffered- -water was precious on the Staked Plains, that season-and his -eyes dwelt on her fondly while he drank. Then, giving her -hand a squeeze when he returned the cup, he rode back to scan -the herd for an animal big enough and well-conditioned enough -to supplant the worn-out ox. - -"Aren't you thirsty, Frank Davis? I think a cup of water will -do you good," she called out to the cowboy, who had -dismounted to tighten his forward cinch in expectation of -having to use his rope. - -The cowboy dropped stirrup from saddle horn and came forward -stiff-leggedly, leading his horse. His sun-baked face, -grimed with the dust of the herd, was aglow with heat, and -his eyes showed gratitude. A cup of water from the hand of -the boss's wife was worth a gallon from the barrel slip- -slopping along in the lurching chuck-wagon. - -"How's the kids makin' out, Mis' Birnie?" Frank inquired -politely when he had swallowed the last drop and had wiped -his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's right warm and -dusty t'day." - -"They're asleep at last, thank goodness," she answered, -glancing back at a huddle of pink calico that showed just -over the crest of a pile of crumpled quilts. "Buddy has a -hard time of it. He's all man in his disposition, and all -baby in size. He's been teasing to walk with the niggers and -help drive the drag. Is my husband calling?" - -Her husband was, and Frank rode away at a leisurely trot. -Haste had little to do with trailing a herd, where eight -miles was called a good day's journey and six an average -achievement. The fallen ox was unyoked by the mellow-voiced -but exasperated Ezra, and since he would not rise, the three -remaining oxen, urged by the gad and Ezra's upbraiding, swung -the wagon to one side and moved it a little farther after the -slow-moving herd, so that the exhausted animal could rest, -and the raw recruit be yoked in where he could do the least -harm and would the speediest learn a new lesson in -discomfort. Mrs. Birnie glanced again at the huddle of pink -in the nest of quilts behind a beloved chest of drawers in -the wagon, and sighed with relief because Buddy slept. - -An ambitious man-child already was Buddy, accustomed to -certain phrases that, since he could toddle, had formed -inevitable accompaniment to his investigative footsteps. -"L'k-out-dah!" he had for a long time believed to be his -name among the black folk of his world. White folk had varied -it slightly. He knew that "Run-to-mother-now" meant that -something he would delight in but must not watch was going to -take place. Spankings more or less official and not often -painful signified that big folks did not understand him and -his activities, or were cross about something. Now, mother -did not want him to watch the wild cow run and jump at the -end of a rope until finally forced to submit to the ox-yoke -and help pull the wagon. Buddy loved to watch them, but he -understood that mother was afraid the wild cow might step on -him. Why she should want him to sleep when he was not sleepy -he had not yet discovered, and so disdained to give it -serious consideration. - -"Not s'eepy," Buddy stated again emphatically as a sort of -mental dismissal of the command, and crawled carefully past -Sister and lifted a flap of the canvas cover. A button--the -last button--popped off his pink apron and the sleeves rumpled -down over his hands. It felt all loose and useless, so Buddy -stopped long enough to pull the apron off and throw it beside -Sister before he crawled under the canvas flap and walked -down the spokes of a rear wheel. He did not mean to get in -the way of the wild cow, but he did want action for his -restless legs. He thought that if he went away from the wagon -and the herd and played while they were catching the wild -cow, it would be just the same as if he took a nap. Mother -hadn't thought of it, or she might have suggested it. - -So Buddy went away from the wagon and down into a shallow dry -wash where the wild cow would not come, and played. The first -thing he saw was a scorpion-nasty old bug that will bite -hard-and he threw rocks at it until it scuttled under a ledge -out of sight. The next thing he saw that interested him at -all was a horned toad; a hawn-toe, he called it, after Ezra's -manner of speaking. Ezra had caught a hawntoe for him a few -days ago, but it had mysteriously disappeared out of the -wagon. Buddy did not connect his mother's lack of enthusiasm -with the disappearance. Her sympathy with his loss had seemed -to him real, and he wanted another, fully believing that in -this also mother would be pleased. So he took after this -particular HAWN-toe, that crawled into various hiding places -only to be spied and routed out with small rocks and a sharp -stick. - -The dry wash remained shallow, and after a while Buddy, still -in hot pursuit of the horned toad, emerged upon the level -where the herd had passed. The wagon was nowhere in sight, -but this did not disturb Buddy. He was not lost. He knew -perfectly that the brown cloud on his narrowed horizon was -the dust over the herd, and that the wagon was just behind, -because the wind that day was blowing from the southwest, and -also because the oxen did not walk as fast as the herd. In -the distance he saw the "Drag" moving lazily along after the -dust-cloud, with barefooted niggers driving the laggard -cattle and singing dolefully as they walked. Emphatically -Buddy was not lost. - -He wanted that particular horned toad, however, and he kept -after it until he had it safe in his two hands. - -It happened that when he pounced at last upon the toad he -disturbed with his presence a colony of red ants on moving -day. The close ranks of them, coming and going in a straight -line, caught and held Buddy's attention to the exclusion of -everything else--save the horned toad he had been at such -pains to acquire. He tucked the toad inside his underwaist -and ignored its wriggling against his flesh while he squatted -in the hot sunshine and watched the ants, his mind one great -question. Where were they going, and what were they carrying, -and why were they all in such a hurry? - -Buddy had to know. To himself he called trailherd--but -father's cattle did not carry white lumps of stuff on their -heads, and furthermore, they all walked together in the same -direction; whereas the ant herd traveled both ways. Buddy -made sure of this, and then started off, following what he -had decided was the real trail of the ants. Most children -would have stirred them up with a stick; Buddy let them alone -so that he could see what they were doing all by themselves. - -The ants led him to a tiny hole with a finely pulverized rim -just at the edge of a sprawly cactus. This last Buddy -carefully avoided, for even at four years old he had long ago -learned the sting of cactus thorns. A rattlesnake buzzed -warning when he backed away and the shock to Buddy's nerves -roused within him the fighting spirit. Rattlesnakes he knew -also, as the common enemy of men and cattle. Once a steer had -been bitten on the nose and his head had swollen up so he -couldn't eat. Buddy did not want that to happen to HIM. - -He made sure that the horned toad was safe, chose a rock as -large as he could lift and heave from him, and threw it at -the buzzing, gray coil. He did not wait to see what happened, -but picked up another rock, a terrific buzzing sounding -stridently from the coil. He threw another and another with -all the force of his healthy little muscles. For a four-year- -old he aimed well; several of the rocks landed on the coil. - -The snake wriggled feebly from under the rocks and tried to -crawl away and hide, its rattles clicking listlessly. Buddy -had another rock in his hands and in his eyes the blue fire -of righteous conquest. He went close-close enough to have -brought a protesting cry from a grownup-lifted the rock high -as he could and brought it down fair on the battered head of -the rattler. The loathsome length of it winced and thrashed -ineffectively, and after a few minutes lay slack, the tail -wriggling aimlessly. - -Buddy stood with his feet far apart and his hands on his -hips, as he had seen the cowboy do whom he had unconsciously -imitated in the killing. - -"Snakes like Injuns. Dead'ns is good 'ens," He observed -sententiously, still playing the part of the cowboy. Then, -quite sure that the snake was dead, he took it by the tail, -felt again of the horned toad on his chest and went back to -see what the ants were doing. - -When so responsible a person as a grownup stops -to watch the orderly activities of an army of ants, -minutes and hours slip away unnoticed. Buddy was -absolutely fascinated, lost to everything else. When -some instinct born in the very blood of him warned Buddy that -time was passing, he stood up and saw that the sun hung just -above the edge of the world, and that the sky was a glorious -jumble of red and purple and soft rose. - -The first thing Buddy did was to stoop and study attentively -the dead snake, to see if the tail still wiggled. It did not, -though he watched it for a full minute. He looked at the sun-- -it had not set but glowed big and yellow as far from the -earth as his father was tall. Ezra had lied to him. Dead -snakes did not wiggle their tails until sundown. - -Buddy looked for the dust cloud of the herd, and was -surprised to find it smaller than he had ever seen it, and -farther away. Indeed, he could only guess that the faint -smudge on the horizon was the dust he had followed for more -days than he could count. He was not afraid, but he was -hungry and he thought his mother would maybe wonder where he -was, and he knew that the point-riders had already stopped -pushing the herd ahead, and that the cattle were feeding now -so that they would bed down at dusk. The chuckwagon was -camped somewhere close by, and old Step-and-a-Half, the lame -cook, was stirring things in his Dutch ovens over the camp- -fire. Buddy could almost smell the beans and the meat stew, -he was so hungry. He turned and took one last, long look at -the endless stream of ants still crawling along, picked up -the dead snake by the tail, cupped the other hand over the -horned toad inside his waist, and started for camp. - -After a while he heard someone shouting, but beyond faint -relief that he was after all near his "Outfit", Buddy paid no -attention. The boys were always shouting to one another, or -yelling at their horses or at the herd or at the niggers. It -did not occur to him that they might be shouting for him, -until from another direction he heard Ezra's unmistakable, -booming voice. Ezra sang a thunderous baritone when the -niggers lifted up their voices in song around their camp- -fire, and he could be heard for half a mile when he called in -real earnest. He was calling now, and Buddy, stopping to -listen, fancied that he heard his name. A little farther on, -he was sure of it. - -"OOO-EE! Whah y'all, Buddy? OOO-EEE!" - -"I'm a-comin'," Buddy shrilled impatiently. "What y' all -want?" - -His piping voice did not carry to Ezra, who kept on shouting. -The radiant purple and red and gold above him deepened, -darkened. The whole wild expanse of half-barren land became -suddenly a place of unearthly beauty that dulled to the -shadows of dusk. Buddy trudged on, keeping to the deep-worn -buffalo trails which the herd had followed and scored afresh -with their hoofs. He could not miss his way-not Buddy, son of -Bob Birnie, owner of the Tomahawk outfit-but his legs were -growing pretty tired, and he was so hungry that he could have -sat down on the ground and cried with the gnawing food-call -of his empty little stomach. - -He could hear other voices shouting at intervals now, but -Ezra's voice was the loudest and the closest, and it seemed -to Buddy that Ezra never once stopped calling. Twice Buddy -called back that he was a-comin', but Ezra shouted just the -same: "OOO-EE! WHAH Y' ALL, BUDDY? OOO-EE!" - -Imperceptibly dusk deepened to darkness. A gust of anger -swept Buddy's soul because he was tired, because he was -hungry and he was yet a long way from the camp, but chiefly -because Ezra persisted in calling after Buddy had several -times answered. He heard someone whom he recognized as Frank -Davis, but by this time he was so angry that he would not say -a word, though he was tempted to ask Frank to take him up on -his horse and let him ride to camp. He heard others-and once -the beat of hoofs came quite close. But there was a wide -streak of Scotch stubbornness in Buddy--along with several -other Scotch streaks--and he continued his stumbling progress, -dragging the snake by the tail, his other hand holding fast -the horned toad. - -His heart jumped up and almost choked him when first saw the -three twinkles on the ground which knew were not stars but -camp-fires. - -Quite unexpectedly he trudged into the firelight where Step- -and-a-Half was stirring delectable things in the iron pots -and stopping every minute or so to stare anxiously into the -gloom. Buddy stood blinking and sniffing, his eyes fixed upon -the Dutch ovens. - -"I'm HUNGRY!" he announced accusingly, gripping the toad that -had begun to squirm at the heat and light. I kilt a snake an' -I'm HUNGRY!" - -"Good gorry!" swore Step-and-a-Half, and whipped out his -six-shooter and fired three shots into the air. - -Footsteps came scurrying. Buddy's mother swept him into her -arms, laughing with a little whimpering sound of tears in the -laughter. Buddy wriggled protestingly in her arms. - -"L'kout! Y' all SKUCSH 'im! I got a HAWN-toe; wight here." -He patted his chest gloatingly. "An' I got a snake. I kilt -'im. An' I'm HUNGRY." - -Mother of Buddy though she was, Lassie set him down hurriedly -and surveyed her man-child from a little distance. - -"Buddy! Drop that snake instantly'" - -Buddy obeyed, but he planted a foot close to his kill and -pouted his lips. "'S my snake. I kilt 'im," He said firmly. -He pulled the horned toad from his waist-front and held it -tightly in his two hands. "An's my hawn-toe. I ketche'd'm. -'Way ova dere," he added, tilting his tow head toward the -darkness behind him. - -Bob Birnie rode up at a gallop, pulled up his horse in the -edge of the fire glow and dismounted hastily. - -Bob Birnie never needed more than one glance to furnish him -the details of a scene. He saw the very small boy confronting -his mother with a dead snake, a horned toad and a stubborn -set to his lips. He saw that the mother looked rather -helpless before the combination--and his brown mustache hid a -smile. He walked up and looked his first-born over. - -"Buddy," He demanded sternly, "where have you been?" - -"Out dere. Kilt a snake. Ants was trailing a herd. I got a -HAWN-toe. An' I'm hungry!" - -"You know better than to leave the wagon, young man. Didn't -you know we had to get out and hunt you, and mother was -scared the wolves might eat you? Didn't you hear us calling -you? Why didn't you answer?" - -Buddy looked up from under his baby eyebrows at his father, -who seemed very tall and very terrible. But his bare foot -touched the dead snake and he took comfort. "I was comin'," -he said. "I WASN'T los'. I bringed my snake and my hawn-toe. -An' dey--WASN'T--any--woluffs!" The last word came muffled, -buried in his mother's skirts. - - -CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAIL HERD - -Day after day the trail herd plodded slowly to the north, -following the buffalo trails that would lead to water, and -the crude map of one who had taken a herd north and had -returned with a tale of vast plains and no rivals. Always -through the day the dust cloud hung over the backs of the -cattle, settled into the clothes of those who followed, -grimed the pink aprons of Buddy and his small sister Dulcie -so that they were no longer pink. Whenever a stream was -reached, mother searched patiently for clear water and an -untrampled bit of bank where she might do the family washing, -leaving Ezra to mind the children. But even so the crust and -the wear and tear of travel remained to harass her fastidious -soul. - -Buddy remembered that drive as he could not remember the -comfortable ranch house of his earlier babyhood. To him -afterward it seemed that life began with the great herd of -cattle. He came to know just how low the sun must slide from -the top of the sky before the "point" would spread out with -noses to the ground, pausing wherever a mouthful of grass was -to be found. When these leaders of the herd stopped, the -cattle would scatter and begin feeding. If there was water -they would crowd the banks of the stream or pool, pushing and -prodding one another with their great, sharp horns. Later, -when the sun was gone and dusk crept out of nowhere, the -cowboys would ride slowly around the herd, pushing it quietly -into a smaller compass. Then, if Buddy were not too sleepy, -he would watch the cattle lie down to chew their cuds in -deep, sighing content until they slept. It reminded Buddy -vaguely of when mother popped corn in a wire popper, a long -time ago-before they all lived in a wagon and went with the -herd. First one and two-then there would be three, four, -five, as many as Buddy could count-then the whole herd would -be lying down. - -Buddy loved the camp-fires. The cowboys would sit around the -one where his father and mother sat--mother with Dulcie in -her arms--and they would smoke and tell stories, until mother -told him it was time little boys were in bed. Buddy always -wanted to know what they said after he had climbed into the -big wagon where mother had made a bed, but he never found -out. He could remember lying there listening sometimes to the -niggers singing at their own campfire within call, Ezra -always singing the loudest,--just as a bull always could be -heard above the bellowing of the herd. - -All his life, Ezra's singing and the monotonous bellowing of -a herd reminded Buddy of one mysteriously terrible time when -there weren't any rivers or any ponds or anything along the -trail, and they had to be careful of the water and save it, -and he and Dulcie were not asked to wash their faces. I think -that miracle helped to fix the incident indelibly in Buddy's -mind; that, and the bellowing of the cattle. It seemed a -month to Buddy, but as he grew older he learned that it was -three days they went without water. - -The first day he did not remember especially, except that -mother had talked about clean aprons that night, and failed -to produce any. The second he recalled quite clearly. Father -came to the wagons sometime in the night to see if mother was -asleep. Their murmured talk wakened Buddy and he heard father -say: - -"We'll hold 'em, all right, Lassie. And there's water ahead. -It's marked on the trail map. Don't you worry--I'll stay up -and help the boys. The cattle are uneasy--but we'll hold -'em." - -The third day Buddy never forgot. That was the day when -mother forgot that Q stands for Quagga, and permitted Buddy -to call it P, just for fun, because it looked so much like P. -And when he said " W is water ", mother made a funny sound -and said right out loud,"0h God, please!" and told Buddy to -creep back and play with Sister--when Sister was asleep, and -there were still x, y and z to say, let alone that mysterious -And-so-forth which seemed to mean so much and so little and -never was called upon to help spell a word. Never since he -began to have lessons had mother omitted a single letter or -cut the study hour down the teeniest little bit. - -Buddy was afraid of something, but he could not think what it -was that frightened him. He began to think seriously about -water, and to listen uneasily to the constant lowing of the -herd. The increased shouting of the niggers driving the -lagging ones held a sudden significance. It occurred to him -that the niggers had their hands full, and that they had -never driven so big a "Drag." It was hotter than ever, too, -and they had twice stopped to yoke in fresh oxen. Ezra had -boasted all along that ole Bawley would keep his end up till -they got clah to Wyoming. But ole Bawley had stopped, and -stopped, and at last had to be taken out of the yoke. Buddy -began to wish they would hurry up and find a river. - -None of the cowboys would take him on the saddle and let him -ride, that day. They looked harassed--Buddy called it cross-- -when they rode up to the wagon to give their horses a few -mouthfuls of water from the barrel. Step-and-a-Half couldn't -spare any more, they told mother. He had declared at noon -that he needed every drop he had for the cooking, and there -would be no washing of dishes whatever. Later, mother had -studied a map and afterwards had sat for a long while staring -out over the backs of the cattle, her face white. Buddy -thought perhaps mother was sick. - -That day lasted hours and hours longer than any other day -that Buddy could remember. His father looked cross, too, when -he rode back to them. Once it was to look at the map which -mother had studied. They talked together afterwards, and -Buddy heard his father say that she must not worry; the -cattle had good bottom, and could stand thirst better than a -poor herd, and another dry camp would not really hurt anyone. - -He had uncovered the water barrel and looked in, and had -ridden straight over to the chuck-wagon, his horse walking -alongside the high seat where Step-and-a-Half sat perched -listlessly with a long-lashed oxwhip in his hand. Father had -talked for a few minutes, and had ridden back scowling. - -"That old scoundrel has got two ten-gallon kegs that haven't -been touched!" he told mother. "Yo' all mustn't water any -more horses out of your barrel Send the boys to Step-and-a- -Half. Yo' all keep what you've got. The horses have got to -have water- to-night it's going to be hell to hold the herd, -and if anybody goes thirsty it'll be the men, not the horses -But yo' all send them to the other wagon, Lassie Mind, now! -Not a drop to anyone." - -After father rode away, Buddy crept up and put his two short -arms around mother. "Don't cry. I don't have to drink any -water," he soothed her. He waited a minute and added -optimistically, "Dere's a BI--IG wiver comin' pitty soon. -Oxes smells water a hunerd miles. Ezra says so. An' las' -night Crumpy was snuffin' an' snuffin'. I saw 'im do it. He -smelt a BIG wiver. THAT bi-ig!" He spread his short arms as -wide apart as they would reach, and smiled tremulously. - -Mother squeezed Buddy so hard that he grunted. - -"Dear little man, of course there is. WE don't mind, do we? -I-was feeling sorry for the poor cattle." - -"De're firsty," Buddy stated solemnly, his eyes big. "De're -bawlin' fer a drink of water. I guess de're AWFUL firsty. -Dere's a big wiver comin' now Crumpy smelt a big wiver." - -Buddy's mother stared across the arid plain parched into -greater barrenness by the heat that had been unremitting for -the past week. Buddy's faith in the big river she could not -share. Somehow they had drifted off the trail marked on the -map drawn by George Williams. - -Williams had warned them to carry as much water as possible -in barrels, as a precaution against suffering if they failed -to strike water each night. He had told them that water was -scarce, but that his cowboy scouts and the deep-worn buffalo -trails had been able to bring him through with water at every -camp save two or three. The Staked Plains, he said, would be -the hardest drive. And this was the Staked Plains--and it was -hard driving! - -Buddy did not know all that until afterwards, when he heard -father talk of the drive north. But he would have remembered -that day and the night that followed, even though he had -never heard a word about it. The bawling of the herd became a -doleful chant of misery. Even the phlegmatic oxen that drew -the wagons bawled and slavered while they strained forward, -twisting their heads under the heavy yokes. They stopped -oftener than usual to rest, and when Buddy was permitted to -walk with the perspiring Ezra by the leaders, he wondered why -the oxen's eyes were red, like Dulcie's when she had one of -her crying spells. - -At night the cowboys did not tie their horses and sit down -while they ate, but stood by their mounts and bolted food -hurriedly, one eye always on the restless cattle, that walked -around and around, and would neither eat nor lie down, but -lowed incessantly. Once a few animals came close enough to -smell the water in a bucket where Frank Davis was watering -his sweat-streaked horse, and Step-and-a-Half's wagon was -almost upset before the maddened cattle could be driven back -to the main herd. - -"No use camping," Bob Birnie told the boys gathered around -Step-and-a-Half's Dutch ovens. "The cattle won't stand. We'll -wear ourselves and them out trying to hold 'em-they may as -well be hunting water as running in circles. Step-and-a-Half, -keep your cooked grub handy for the boys, and yo' all pack up -and pull out. We'll turn the cattle loose and follow. If -there's any water in this damned country they'll find it." - -Years afterwards, Buddy learned that his father had sent men -out to hunt water, and that they had not found any. He was -ten when this was discussed around a spring roundup fire, and -he had studied the matter for a few minutes and then had -spoken boldly his mind. - -"You oughta kept your horses as thirsty as the cattle was, -and I bet they'd a' found that water," he criticized, and -was sent to bed for his tactlessness. Bob Birnie himself had -thought of that afterwards, and had excused the oversight by -saying that he had depended on the map, and had not foreseen -a three-day dry drive. - -However that may be, that night was a night of panicky -desperation. Ezra walked beside the oxen and shouted and -swung his lash, and the oxen strained forward bellowing so -that not even Dulcie could sleep, but whimpered fretfully in -her mother's arms. Buddy sat up wide-eyed and watched for the -big river, and tried not to be a 'fraid-cat and cry like -Dulcie. - -It was long past starry midnight when a little wind puffed -out of the darkness and the oxen threw up their heads and -sniffed, and put a new note into their "M-baw-aw-aw-mm!" -They swung sharply so that the wind blew straight into the -front of the wagon, which lurched forward with a new impetus. - -"Glo-ory t' Gawd, Missy! dey smells watah, sho 's yo' bawn!" -sobbed Ezra as he broke into a trot beside the wheelers " -'Tain't fur--lookit dat-ah huhd a-goin' it! No 'm, Missy, DEY -ain't woah out--dey smellin' watah an' dey'm gittin' TO it! -'Tain't fur, Missy." - -Buddy clung to the back of the seat and stared round-eyed -into the gloom. He never forgot that lumpy shadow which was -the herd, traveling fast in dust that obscured the nearest -stars. The shadow humped here and there as the cattle crowded -forward at a shuffling half trot, the click--awash of their -shambling feet treading close on one another. The rapping -tattoo of wide-spread horns clashing against wide-spread -horns filled him with a formless terror, so that he let go -the seat to clutch at mother's dress. He was not afraid of -cattle-they were as much a part of his world as were Ezra and -the wagon and the camp-fires-but he trembled with the dread -which no man could name for him. - -These were not the normal, everyday sounds of the herd. The -herd had somehow changed from plodding animals to one -overwhelming purpose that would sweep away anything that came -in its path. Two thousand parched throats and dust-dry -tongues-and suddenly the smell of water that would go -gurgling down two thousand eager gullets, and every -intervening second a cursed delay against which the cattle -surged blindly. It was the mob spirit, when the mob was -fighting for its very existence. - -Over the bellowing of the cattle a yelling cowboy now and -then made himself heard. The four oxen straining under their -yokes broke into a lumbering gallop lest they be outdistanced -by the herd, and Dulcie screamed when the wagon lurched -across a dry wash and almost upset, while Ezra plied the ox- -whip and yelled frantically at first one ox and then another, -inventing names for the new ones. Buddy drew in his breath -and held it until the wagon rolled on four wheels instead of -two,but he did not scream. - -Still the big river did not come. It seemed to Buddy that the -cattle would never stop running. Tangled in the terror was -Ezra's shouting as he ran alongside the wagon and called to -Missy that it was "Dat ole Crumpy actin' the fool", and that -the wagon wouldn't upset. "No'm, dey's jest in a hurry to git -dere fool haids sunk to de eyes in dat watah. Dey ain't -aimin' to run away--no'm, dish yer ain't no stampede!" - -Perhaps Buddy dozed. The next thing he remembered, day was -breaking, with the sun all red, seen through the dust. The -herd was still going, but now it was running and somehow the -yoked oxen were keeping close behind, lumbering along with -heads held low and the sweat reeking from their spent bodies. -Buddy heard dimly his mother's sharp command to Ezra: - -"Stand back, Ezra! We're not going to be caught in that -terrible trap. They're piling over the bank ahead of us. Get -away from the leaders. I am going to shoot." - -Buddy crawled up a little higher on the blankets behind the -seat, and saw mother steady herself and aim the rifle -straight at Crumpy. There was the familiar, deafening roar, -the acrid smell of black powder smoke, and Crumpy went down -loosely, his nose rooting the trampled ground for a space -before the gun belched black smoke again and Crumpy's yoke- -mate pitched forward. The wagon stopped so abruptly that -Buddy sprawled helplessly on his back like an overturned -beetle. - -He saw mother stand looking down at the wheelers, that backed -and twisted their necks under their yokes. Her lips were set -firmly together, and her eyes were bright with purple hollows -beneath. She held the rifle for a moment, then set the butt -of it on the "jockey box" just in front of the dashboard. -The wheelers, helpless between the weight of the wagon behind -and the dead oxen in front, might twist their necks off but -they could do no damage. - -"Unyoke the wheelers, Ezra, and let the poor creatures have -their chance at the water," she cried sharply, and Ezra, -dodging the horns of the frantic brutes, made shift to obey. - -Fairly on the bank of the sluggish stream with its flood-worn -channel and its treacherous patches of quicksand, the wagon -thus halted by the sheer nerve and quick-thinking of mother -became a very small island in a troubled sea of weltering -backs and tossing horns and staring eyeballs. Riders shouted -and lashed unavailingly with their quirts, trying to hold -back the full bulk of the herd until the foremost had slaked -their thirst and gone on. But the herd was crazy for the -water, and the foremost were plunged headlong into the soft -mud where they mired, trampled under the hoofs of those who -came crowding from behind. - -Someone shouted, close to the wagon yet down the bank at the -edge of the water. The words were indistinguishable, but a -warning was in the voice. On the echo of that cry, a man -screamed twice. - -"Ezra!" cried mother fiercely. "It's Frank Davis--they've got him -down, somehow. Climb over the backs of the cattle--There's no -other way--and GET HIM!" - -"Yas'm, Missy!" Ezra called back, and then Buddy saw him go -over the herd, scrambling, jumping from back to back. - -Buddy remembered that always, and the funeral they had later -in the day, when the herd was again just trail-weary cattle -feeding hungrily on the scanty grass. Down at the edge of the -creek the carcasses of many dead animals lay half-buried in -the mud. Up on a little knoll where a few stunted trees grew, -the negroes dug a long, deep hole. Mother's eyes were often -filled with tears that day, and the cowboys scarcely talked -at all when they gathered at the chuckwagon. - -After a while they all went to the hole which the negroes had -dug, and there was a long Something wrapped up in canvas. -Mother wore her best dress which was black, and father and -all the boys had shaved their faces and looked very sober. -The negroes stood back in a group by themselves, and every -few minutes Buddy saw them draw their tattered shirtsleeves -across their faces. And father--Buddy looked once and saw two -tears running down father's cheeks. Buddy was shocked into a -stony calm. He had never dreamed that fathers ever cried. - -Mother read out of her Bible, and all the boys held their -hats in front of them, with their hands clasped, and looked -at the ground while she read. Then mother sang. She sang, -"We shall meet beyond the river", which Buddy thought was a -very queer song, because they were all there but Frank Davis; -then she sang "Nearer, My God, to Thee." Buddy sang too, -piping the notes accurately, with a vague pronunciation of -the words and a feeling that somehow he was helping mother. - -After that they put the long, canvas-wrapped Something down -in the hole, and mother said "Our Father Who Art in Heaven ", -with Buddy repeating it uncertainly after her and pausing to -say "TRETHpatheth" very carefully. Then mother picked up -Dulcie in her arms, took Buddy by the hand and walked slowly -back to the wagon, and would not let him turn to see what the -boys were doing. - -It was from that day that Buddy missed Frank Davis, who had -mysteriously gone to Heaven, according to mother. Buddy's -interest in Heaven was extremely keen for a time, and he -asked questions which not even mother could answer. Then his -memory of Frank Davis blurred. But never his memory of that -terrible time when the Tomahawk outfit lost five hundred -cattle in the dry drive and the stampede for water. - - -CHAPTER THREE: SOME INDIAN LORE - -Buddy knew Indians as he knew cattle, horses, rattlesnakes -and storms--by having them mixed in with his everyday life. -He couldn't tell you where or when he had learned that -Indians are tricky. Perhaps his first ideas on that subject -were gleaned from the friendly tribes who lived along the -Chisolm Trail and used to visit the chuck-wagon, their -blankets held close around them and their eyes glancing -everywhere while they grinned and talked and pointed--and -ate. Buddy used to sit in the chuck-wagon, out of harm's way, -and watch them eat. - -Step-and-a-Half had a way of entertaining Indians which never -failed to interest Buddy, however often he witnessed it. When -Step-and-a-Half glimpsed Indians coming afar off, he would -take his dishpan and dump into it whatever scraps of food -were left over from the preceding meal. He used to say that -Indians could smell grub as far as a buzzard can smell a dead -carcase, and Buddy believed it, for they always arrived at -meal time or shortly afterwards. Step-and-a-Half would make a -stew, if there were scraps enough. If the gleanings were -small, he would use the dishwater--he was a frugal man--and -with that for the start-off he would make soup, which the -Indians gulped down with great relish and many gurgly sounds. - -Buddy watched them eat what he called pig-dinner. When Step- -and-a-Half was not looking he saw them steal whatever their -dirty brown hands could readily snatch and hide under their -blankets. So he knew from very early experience that Indians -were not to be trusted. - -Once, when he had again strayed too far from camp, some -Indians riding that way saw him, and one leaned and lifted -him from the ground and rode off with him. Buddy did not -struggle much. He saved his breath for the long, shrill yell -of cow-country. Twice he yodled before the Indian clapped a -hand over his mouth. - -Father and some of the cowboys heard and came after, riding -hard and shooting as they came. Buddy's pink apron fluttered -a signal flag in the arms of his captor, and so it happened -that the bullets whistled close to that particular Indian. He -gathered a handful of calico between Buddy's shoulders, held -him aloft like a puppy, leaned far over and deposited him on -the ground. - -Buddy rolled over twice and got up, a little dizzy and very -indignant, and shouted to father, "Shoot a sunsyguns!" - -From that time Buddy added hatred to his distrust of Indians. - -From the time when he was four until he was thirteen Buddy's -life contained enough thrills to keep a movie-mad boy of to- -day sitting on the edge of his seat gasping enviously through -many a reel, but to Buddy it was all rather humdrum and -monotonous. - -What he wanted to do was to get out and hunt buffalo. Just -herding horses, and watching out for Indians, and killing -rattlesnakes was what any boy in the country would be doing. -Still, Buddy himself achieved now and then a thrill. - -There was one day, when he stood heedlessly on a ridge -looking for a dozen head of lost horses in the draws below. -It was all very well to explain missing horses by the -conjecture that the Injuns must have got them, but Buddy -happened to miss old Rattler with the others. Rattler had -come north with the trail herd, and he was wise beyond the -wisdom of most horses. He would drive cattle out of the brush -without a rider to guide him, if only you put a saddle on -him. He had helped Buddy to mount his back--when Buddy was -much smaller than now--by lowering his head until Buddy -straddled it, and then lifting it so that Buddy slid down his -neck and over his withers to his back. Even now Buddy -sometimes mounted that way when no one was looking. Many -other lovable traits had Rattler, and to lose him would be a -tragedy to the family. - -So Buddy was on the ridge, scanning all the deep little -washes and draws, when a bullet PING-G-GED over his head. -Buddy caught the bridle reins and pulled his horse into the -shelter of rocks, untied his rifle from the saddle and crept -back to reconnoitre. It was the first time he had ever been -shot at--except in the army posts, when the Indians had -"broken out",--and the aim then was generally directed toward -his vicinity rather than his person. - -An Indian on a horse presently appeared cautiously from -cover, and Buddy, trembling with excitement, shot wild; but -not so wild that the Indian could afford to scoff and ride -closer. After another ineffectual shot at Buddy, he whipped -his horse down the ridge, and made for Bannock creek. - -Buddy at thirteen knew more of the wiles of Indians than does -the hardiest Indian fighter on the screen to-day. Father had -warned him never to chase an Indian into cover, where others -would probably be waiting for him. So he stayed where he was, -pretty well hidden in the rocks, and let the bullets he -himself had "run" in father's bullet-mold follow the enemy -to the fringe of bushes. His last shot knocked the Indian off -his horse--or so it looked to Buddy. He waited for a long -time, watching the brush and thinking what a fool that Indian -was to imagine Buddy would follow him down there. After a -while he saw the Indian's horse climbing the slope across the -creek. There was no rider. - -Buddy rode home without the missing horses, and did not tell -anyone about the Indian, though his thoughts would not leave -the subject. - -He wondered what mother would think of it. Mother's interests -seemed mostly confined to teaching Buddy and Dulcie what they -were deprived of learning in schools, and to play the piano-- -a wonderful old square piano that had come all the way from -Scotland to the Tomahawk ranch, the very frontier of the -West. - -Mother was a wonderful woman, with a soft voice and a slight -Scotch accent, and wit; and a knowledge of things which were -little known in the wilderness. Buddy never dreamed then how -strangely culture was mixed with pure savagery in his life. -To him the secret regret that he had not dared ride into the -bushes to scalp the Indian he believed he had shot, and the -fact that his hands were straining at the full chords of the -ANVIL CHORUS on that very evening, was not even to be -considered unusual. Still, certain strains of that classic -were always afterward associated in his mind with the -shooting of the Indian--if he had really shot him. - -While he counted the time with a conscientious regard for the -rests, he debated the wisdom of telling mother, and decided -that perhaps he had better keep that matter to himself, like -a man. - - - -CHAPTER FOUR: BUDDY GIVES WARNING - -Buddy swung down from his horse, unsaddled it and went -staggering to the stable wall with the burden of a stock- -saddle much too big for him. He had to stand on his boot-toes -to reach and pull the bridle down over the ears of Whitefoot, -which turned with an air of immense relief into the corral -gate and the hay piled at the further end. Buddy gave him one -preoccupied glance and started for the cabin, walking with -the cowpuncher's peculiar, bowlegged gait which comes of -wearing chaps and throwing out the knees to overcome the -stiffness of the leather. At thirteen Buddy was a cowboy from -hat-crown to spurs-and at thirteen Buddy gloried in the fact. -To-day, however, his mind was weighted with matters of more -importance than himself. - -"The Utes are having a war-dance, mother," he announced when -he had closed the stout door of the kitchen behind him. "They -mean it this time. I lay in the brush and watched them last -night." He stood looking at his mother speculatively, a -little grin on his face. "I told you, you can't change an -Injun by learning him to eat with a knife and fork," he -added. "Colorou ain't any whiter than he was before you set -out to learn him manners. He was hoppin' higher than any of -'em." - -"Teach, Buddy, not learn. You know better than to say 'learn -him manners.'" - -"Teach him manners," Buddy corrected himself obediently. "I -was thinking more about what I saw than about grammar. -Where's father? I guess I'd better tell him. He'll want to -get the stock out of the mountains, I should think." - -"Colorou will send me word before they take the warpath," -mother observed reassuringly. "He always has. I gave him a -whole pound of tea and a blue ribbon the last time he was -here," - -"Yes, and the last time they broke out they got away with -more 'n a hundred head of cattle. You got to Laramie, all -right, but he didn't tell father in time to make a roundup -back in the foothills. They're DANCING, mother!" - -"Well, I suppose We're due for an outbreak," sighed mother. -"Colorou says he can't hold his young men off when some of -the tribe have been killed. He himself doesn't countenance -the stealing and the occasional killing of white men. There -are bad Indians and good ones." - -"I know a couple of good ones," Buddy murmured as he made for -the wash basin. "It's the bad ones that were doing the -dancing, mother," he flung over his shoulder. "And if I was -you I'd take Dulcie and the cats and hit for Laramie. Colorou -might get busy and forget to send word!" - -"If I WAS you?" Mother came up and nipped his ear between -thumb and finger. "Robert, I am discouraged over you. All -that I teach you in the winter seems to evaporate from your -mind during the summer when you go out riding with the boys." - -Buddy wiped his face with an up-and-down motion on the roller -towel and clanked across to the cupboard which he opened -investigatively. "Any pie?" he questioned as he peered into -the corners. "Say, if I had the handling of those Utes, -mother, I'd fix 'em so they wouldn't be breaking out every -few months and making folks leave their homes to be pawed -over and burnt, maybe." He found a jar of fresh doughnuts and -took three. - -"They'll tromp around on your flower-beds--it just makes me -SICK when I think how they'll muss things up around here! I -wish now," He blurted unthinkingly, "that I hadn't killed the -Injun that stole Rattler." - -"Buddy! Not YOU." His mother made a swift little run across -the kitchen and caught him on his lean, hard-muscled young -shoulders. "You--you baby! What did you do? You didn't harm -an Indian, did you, laddie?" - -Buddy tilted his head downward so that she could not look -into his eyes. "I dunno as I harmed him--much," he said, -wiping doughnut crumbs from his mouth with one hasty sweep of -his forearm. "But his horse came outa the brush, and he -never. I guess I killed him, all right. Anyway, mother, I had -to. He took a shot at me first. It was the day we lost -Rattler and the bronks," He added accurately. - -Mother did not say anything for a minute, and Buddy hung his -head lower, dreading to see the hurt look which he felt was -in her eyes. - -"I have to pack a gun when I ride anywhere," he reminded her -defensively. "It ain't to balance me on the horse, either. If -Injuns take in after me, the gun's so I can shoot. And a -feller don't shoot up in the air--and if an Injun is hunting -trouble he oughta expect that maybe he might get shot -sometime. You--you wouldn't want me to just run and let them -catch me, would you?" - -Mother's hand slipped up to his head and pressed it against -her breast so that Buddy heard her heart beating steady and -sweet and true. Mother wasn't afraid--never, never! - -"I know--it's the dreadful necessity of defending our lives. -But you're so young--just mother's baby man! - -Buddy looked up at her then, a laugh twinkling in his eyes. -After all, mother understood. - -"I'm going to be your baby man always if you want me to, -mother," He whispered, closing his arms around her neck in a -sturdy hug. "But I'm father's horse-wrangler, too. And a -horse-wrangler has got to hold up his end. I--I didn't want -to kill anybody, honest. But Injuns are different. You kill -rattlers, and they ain't as mean as Injuns. That one I shot -at was shooting at me before I even so much as knew there was -one around. I just shot back. Father would, or anybody else." - -"I know--I know," she conceded, the tender womanliness of her -sighing over the need. In the next moment she was all mother, -ready to fight for her young. "Buddy, never, never ride -ANYWHERE without your rifle! And a revolver, too--be sure -that it is in perfect condition. And--have you a knife? -You're so LITTLE!" she wailed. "But father will need you, and -he'll take care of you--and Colorou would not let you be hurt -if he knew. But--Buddy, you must be careful, and always -watching--never let them catch you off your guard. I shall be -in Laramie before you and father and the boys, I suppose, if -the Indians really do break out. And you must promise me--" - -"I'll promise, mother. And don't you go and trust old Colorou -an inch. He was jumping higher than any of 'em, and shaking -his tomahawk and yelling--he'd have scalped me right there if -he'd seen me watching 'em. Mother, I'm going to find father -and tell him. And you may as well be packing up, and--don't -leave my guitar for them to smash, will you, mother?" - -His mother laughed then and pushed him toward the door. She -had an idea of her own and she did not want to be hindered -now in putting it into action. Up the creek, in the bank -behind a clump of willows, was a small cave--or a large -niche, one might call it--where many household treasures -might be safely hidden, if one went carefully, wading in the -creek to hide the tracks. She followed Buddy out, and called -to Ezra who was chopping wood with a grunt for every fall of -the axe and many rest--periods in the shade of the cottonwood -tree. - -At the stable, Buddy looked back and saw her talking -earnestly to Ezra, who stood nodding his head in complete -approval. Buddy's knowledge of women began and ended with his -mother. Therefore, to him all women were wonderful creatures -whom men worshipped ardently because they were created for -the adoration of lesser souls. Buddy did not know what his -mother was going to do, but he was sure that whatever she did -would be right; so he hoisted his saddle on the handiest -fresh horse, and loped off to drive in the remuda, feeling -certain that his father would move swiftly to save his cattle -that ranged back in the foothills, and that the saddle horses -would be wanted at a moment's notice. - -Also, he reasoned, the range horses (mares and colts and the -unbroken geldings) would not be left to the mercy of the -Indians. He did not quite know how his father would manage -it, but he decided that he would corral the REMUDA first, and -then drive in the other horses, that fed scattered in -undisturbed possession of a favorite grassy creek-bottom -farther up the Platte. - -The saddle horses, accustomed to Buddy's driving, were easily -corralled. The other horses were fat and "sassy" and resented -his coming among them with the shrill whoop of authority. -They gave him a hot hour's riding before they finally bunched -and went tearing down the river bottom toward the ranch. Even -so, Buddy left two of the wildest careening up a narrow -gulch. He had not attempted to ride after them; not because -he was afraid of Indians, for he was not. The war-dance held -every young buck and every old one in camp beyond the Pass. -But the margin of safety might be narrow, and Buddy was -taking no chances that day. - -When he was convinced that it was impossible for one boy to -be in half a dozen places at once, and that the cowboys would -be needed to corral the range bunch, Buddy whooped them all -down the creek below the home ranch and let them go just as -his father came riding up to the corral. - -"They're war-dancing, father," Buddy shouted eagerly, -slipping off his horse and wiping away the trickles of -perspiration with a handkerchief not much redder than his -face. "I drove all the horses down, so they'd be handy. Them -range horses are pretty wild. There was two I couldn't get. -What'll I do now?" - -Bob Birnie looked at his youngest rider and smoothed his -beard with one hand. "You're an ambitious lad, Buddy. It's -the Utes you're meaning--or is it the horses?" - -Buddy lifted his head and stared at his father disapprovingly. - -"Colorou is going to break out. I know. They've got their war -paint all on and they're dancing. I saw them myself. I was -going after the gloves Colorou s squaw was making for -me,--but I didn't get 'em. I laid in the brush and watched -'em dance." He stopped and looked again doubtfully at his -father. "I thought you might want to get the cattle outa the -way, he added. "I thought I could save some time--" - -"You're sure about the paint?" - -"Yes, I'm sure. And Colorou was just a-going it with his war -bonnet on and shaking his tomahawk and yelling--" - -"Ye did well, lad. We'll be leaving for Big Creek to-night, -so run away now and rest yourself." - -"Oh, and can I go?" Buddy's voice was shrill with eagerness. - -"I'll need you, lad, to look after the horses. It will give -me one more hand with the cattle. Now go tell Step-and-a-Half -to make ready for a week on the trail, and to have supper -early so he can make his start with the rest." - -Buddy walked stiffly away to the cook's cabin where Step-and- -a-Half sat leisurely gouging the worst blemishes out of soft, -old potatoes with a chronic tendency to grow sprouts, before -he peeled them for supper His crippled leg was thrust out -straight, his hat was perched precariously over one ear -because of the slanting sun rays through the window, and a -half-smoked cigarette waggled uncertainly in the corner of -his mouth while he sang dolefully a most optimistic ditty of -the West: - -"O give me a home where the buff-alo roam, -Where the deer and the antelope play, -Where never is heard a discouraging -word And the sky is not cloudy all day." - -"You're going to hear a discouraging word right now," Buddy -broke in ruthlessly upon the song. Whereupon, with a bit of -importance in his voice and in his manner, he proceeded to -spoil Step-and-a-Half's disposition and to deepen, if that -were possible, his loathing of Indians. Too often had he made -dubious soup of his dishwater and the leavings from a roundup -crew's dinner, and watched blanketed bucks smack lips over -the mess, to run from them now without feeling utterly -disgusted with life. Step-and-a-Half's vituperations could be -heard above the clatter of pots and pans as he made ready for -the journey. - -That night's ride up the pass through the narrow range of -high-peaked hills to the Tomahawk's farthest range on Big -Creek was a tedious affair to Buddy. A man had been sent on a -fast horse to warn the nearest neighbor, who in turn would -warn the next,--until no settler would be left in ignorance -of his danger. Ezra was already on the trail to Laramie, with -mother and Dulcie and the cats and a slat box full of -chickens, and a young sow with little pigs. - -Buddy, whose word no one had questioned, who might pardonably -have considered himself a hero, was concerned chiefly with -his mother's flower garden which he had helped to plant and -had watered more or less faithfully with creek water carried -in buckets. He was afraid the Indians would step on the -poppies and the phlox, and trample down the four o'clocks -which were just beginning to branch out and look nice and -bushy, and to blossom. The scent of the four o'clocks had -been in his nostrils when he came out at dusk with his fur -overcoat which mother had told him must not be left behind. -Buddy himself merely liked flowers: but mother talked to them -and kissed them just for love, and pitied them if Buddy -forgot and let them go thirsty. He would have stayed to fight -for mother's flower garden, if it would have done any good. - -He was thinking sleepily that next year he would plant -flowers in boxes that could be carried to the cave if the -Indians broke out again, when Tex Farley poked him in the -ribs and told him to wake up or he'd fall off his horse. It -was a weary climb to the top of the range that divided the -valley of Big Creek from the North Platte, and a wearier -climb down. Twice Buddy caught himself on the verge of -toppling out of the saddle. For after all he was only a -thirteen-year Old boy, growing like any other healthy young -animal. He had been riding hard that day and half of the -preceding night when he had raced back from the Reservation -to give warning of the impending outbreak. He needed sleep, -and nature was determined that he should have it. - - -CHAPTER FIVE: BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE - -One never could predict with any certainty how long Indians -would dance before they actually took the trail of murder and -pillage. So much depended upon the Medicine, so much on signs -and portents. It was even possible that they might, for some -mysterious reason unknown to their white neighbors, decide at -the last moment to bide their time. The Tomahawk outfit -worked from dawn until dark, and combed the foothills of the -Snowies hurriedly, riding into the most frequented, grassy -basins and wide canyons where the grass was lush and sweet -and the mountain streams rushed noisily over rocks. As fast -as the cattle were gathered they were pushed hastily toward -the Platte, And though the men rode warily with rifles as -handy as their ropes, they rode in peace. - -Buddy, proud of his job, counting himself as good a man as -any of them, became a small riding demon after rebellious -saddle horses, herding them away from thick undergrowth that -might, for all he knew, hold Indians waiting a chance to -scalp him, driving the REMUDA close to the cabins when night -fell, because no man could be spared for night herding, -sleeping lightly as a cat beside a mouse hole. He did not say -much, perhaps because everyone was too busy to talk, himself -included. - -Men rode in at night dog-weary, pulled their saddles and -hurried stiffly to the cabin where Step-and-a-Half was -showing his true worth as a cook who could keep the coffee- -pot boiling and yet be ready to pack up and go at the first -rifle-shot. They would bolt down enormous quantities of -bannock and boiled beef, swallow their coffee hot enough to -scald a hog, and stretch themselves out immediately to sleep. - -Buddy would be up and on his horse in the clear starlight -before dawn, with a cup of coffee swallowed to hearten him -for the chilly ride after the remuda. Even with the warmth of -the coffee his teeth would chatter just at first, and he -would ride with his thin shoulders lifted and a hand in a -pocket. He could not sing or whistle to keep himself company. -He must ride in silence until he had counted every dark, -moving shape and knew that the herd was complete, then ease -them quietly to camp. - -On the fourth morning he rode anxiously up the valley, -fearing that the horses had been stolen in the night, yet -hoping they had merely strayed up the creek to find fresh -pastures. A light breeze that carried the keen edge of frost -made his nose tingle. His horse trotted steadily forward, as -keen on the trail as Buddy himself; keener, for he would be -sure to give warning of danger. So they rounded a bend in the -creek and came upon the scattered fringe of the remuda -cropping steadily at the meadow grass there. - -Bud circled them, glancing now and then at the ridge beyond -the valley. It seemed somehow unnatural--lower, with the -stars showing along its wooded crest in a row, as if there -were no peaks. Then quite suddenly he knew that the ridge was -the same, and that the stars he saw were little, breakfast -camp-fires. His heart gave a jump when he realized how many -little fires there were, and knew that the dance was over. -The Indians had left the reservation and had crossed the -ridge yesterday, and had camped there to wait for the dawn. - -While he gathered his horses together he guessed how old -Colorou had planned to catch the Tomahawk riders when they -left camp and scattered, two by two, on "Circle." He had held -his band well out of sight and sound of the Big Creek cabin, -and if the horses had not strayed up the creek in the night -he would have caught the white men off their guard. - -Buddy looked often over his shoulder while he drove the -horses down the creek. It seemed stranger than luck, that he -had been compelled to ride so far on this particular morning; -as if mother's steadfast faith in prayer and the guardianship -of angels was justified by actual facts. Still, Buddy was too -hard-headed to assume easily that angels had driven the -horses up the creek so that he would have to ride up there -and discover the Indian fires. If angels could do that, why -hadn't they stopped Colorou from going on the warpath? It -would have been simpler, in Buddy's opinion. - -He did not mention the angel problem to his father, however. -Bob Birnie was eating breakfast with his men when Buddy rode -up to the cabin and told the news. The boys did not say -anything much, but they may have taken bigger bites by way of -filling their stomachs in less time than usual. - -"I'll go see for myself," said Bob Birnie. "You boys saddle -up and be ready to start. If it's Indians, we'll head for -Laramie and drive everything before us as we go. But the lad -may be wrong." He took the reins from Buddy, mounted, and -rode away, his booted feet hanging far below Buddy's short -stirrups. - -Speedily he was back, and the scowl on his face told plainly -enough that Buddy had not been mistaken. - -"They're coming off the ridge already," he announced grimly. -"I heard their horses among the rocks up there. They think to -come down on us at sunrise. There'll be too many for us to -hold off, I'm thinking. Get ye a fresh horse, Buddy, and -drive the horses down the creek fast as ye can." - -Buddy uncoiled his rope and ran with his mouth full to do as -he was told. He did not think he was scared, exactly, but he -made three throws to get the horse he wanted, blaming the -poor light for his ill luck; and then found himself in -possession of a tall, uneasy brown that Dick Grimes had -broken and sometimes rode. Buddy would have turned him loose -and caught another, but the horses had sensed the suppressed -excitement of the men and were circling and snorting in the -half light of dawn; so Buddy led out the brown, pulled the -saddle from the sweaty horse that had twice made the trip up -the creek, and heaved it hastily on the brown's back. Dick -Grimes called to him, to know if he wanted any help, and -Buddy yelled, "No!" - -"Here they come--damn 'em--turn the bunch loose and ride!" called -Bob Birnie as a shrill, yelling war-whoop, like the yapping of -many coyotes, sounded from the cottonwoods that bordered the -creek. "Yuh all right, Buddy?" - -"Yeah--I'm a-comin'," shrilled Buddy, hastily looping the -latigo. Just then the sharp staccato of rifle-shots mingled -with the whooping of the Indians. Buddy was reaching for the -saddle horn when the brown horse ducked and jerked loose. -Before Buddy realized what was happening the brown horse, the -herd and all the riders were pounding away down the valley, -the men firing back at the cottonwoods. - -In the dust and clamor of their departure Buddy stood -perfectly still for a minute, trying to grasp the full -significance of his calamity. Step-and-a-Half had packed -hastily and departed ahead of them all. His father and the -cowboys were watching the cottonwood grove many rods to -Buddy's right and well in the background, and they would not -glance his way. Even if they did they would not see him, and -if they saw him it would be madness to ride back--though -there was not a man among them who would not have wheeled in -his tracks and returned for Buddy in the very face of Colorou -and his band. - -From the cottonwoods came the pound of galloping hoofs. -"Angels NOTHING!" Cried Buddy in deep disgust and scuttled -for the cabin. - -The cabin, he knew as he ran, was just then the worst place -in the world for a boy who wanted very much to go on living. -Through its gaping doorway he saw a few odds and ends of food -lying on the table, but he dared not stop long enough to get -them. The Indians were thundering down to the corral, and as -he rounded the cabin's corner he glanced back and saw the -foremost riders whipping their horses on the trail of the -fleeing white men. But some, he knew, would stop. Even the -prospect of fresh scalps could not hold the greedy ones from -prowling around a white man's dwelling place. There might be -tobacco or whiskey left behind, or something with color or a -shine to it. Buddy knew well the ways of Indians. - -He made for the creek, thinking at first to hide somewhere in -the brush along the bank. Then, fearing the brightening light -of day and the wide space he must cross to reach the first -fringe of brush, he stopped at a dugout cellar that had been -built into the creek bank above high-water mark. There was a -pole-and-dirt roof, and because the dirt sifted down between -the poles whenever the wind blew--which was always--the place -had been crudely sealed inside with split poles overlapping -one another. The ceiling was more or less flat; the roof had -a slight slope. In the middle of the tiny attic thus formed -Buddy managed to worm his body through a hole in the gable -next to the creek. - -He wriggled back to the end next the cabin and lay there very -flat and very quiet, peeping out through a half-inch crack, -too wise in the ways of silence to hold his breath until he -must heave a sigh to relieve his lungs. It was hard to -breathe naturally and easily after that swift dash, but -somehow he did it. An Indian had swerved and ridden behind -the cabin, and was leaning and peering in all directions to -see if anyone had remained. Perhaps he suspected an ambush; -Buddy was absolutely certain that the fellow was looking for -him, personally, and that he had seen, Buddy run toward the -creek. - -It was not a pleasant thought, and the fact that he knew that -buck Indian by name, and had once traded him a jackknife for -a beautifully tanned wolf skin for his mother, did not make -it pleasanter. Hides-the-face would not let past friendliness -stand in the way of a killing. - -Presently Hides-the-face dismounted and tied his horse to a -corner log of the cabin, and went inside with the others to -see what he could find that could be eaten or carried off. -Buddy saw fresh smoke issue from the stone chimney, and -guessed that Step-and-a-Half had left something that could be -cooked. It became evident, in the course of an hour or so, -that his presence was absolutely unsuspected, and Buddy began -to watch them more composedly, silently promising especial -forms of punishment to this one and that one whom he knew. -Most of them had been to the ranch many times, and he could -have called to a dozen of them by name. They had sat in his -father's cabin or stood immobile just within the door, and -had listened while his mother played and sang for them. She -had fed them cakes--Buddy remembered the good things which -mother had given these despicable ones who were looting and -gobbling and destroying like a drove of hogs turned loose in -a garden, and the thought of her wasted kindness turned him -sick with rage. Mother had believed in their friendliness. -Buddy wished that mother could see them setting fire to the -low, log stable and the corral, and swarming in and out of -the cabin. - -Painted for war they were, with red stripes across their -foreheads, ribs outlined in red which, when they loosened -their blankets as the sun warmed them, gave them a fantastic -likeness to the skeletons Buddy wished they were; red stripes -on their arms, the number showing their rank in the tribe; -open-seated, buckskin breeches to their knees where they met -the tightly wrapped leggings; moccasins laced snugly at the -ankle--they were picturesque enough to any eyes but Buddy's. -He saw the ghoulish greed in their eyes, heard it in their -voices when they shouted to one another; and he hated them -even more than he feared them. - -Much that they said he understood. They were cursing the -Tomahawk outfit, chiefly because the men had not waited there -to be surprised and killed. They cursed his father in -particular, and were half sorry that they had not ridden on -in pursuit with the others. They hoped no white man would -ride alive to Laramie. It made cheerful listening to Buddy, -flat on his stomach in the roof of the dugout! - -After a while, when the cabin had been gutted of everything -it contained save the crude table and benches, a few Indians -brought burning brands from the stable and set it afire. They -were very busy inside and out, making sure that the flames -took hold properly. Then, when the dry logs began to blaze -and flames licked the edges of the roof, they stood back and -watched it. - -Buddy saw Hides-the-face glance speculatively toward the -dugout, and slipped his hand back where he could reach his -six-shooter. He felt pretty certain that they meant to -demolish the dugout next, and he knew exactly what he meant -to do. He had heard men at the posts talk of "selling their -lives dearly ", and that is what he intended to do. - -He was not going to be in too much of a hurry; he would wait -until they actually began on the dugout--and when they were -on the bank within a few feet of him, and he saw that there -was no getting away from death, he meant to shoot five -Indians, and himself last of all. - -Tentatively he felt of his temple where he meant to place the -muzzle of the gun when there was just one bullet left. It was -so nice and smooth--he wondered if God would really help him -out, if he said Our Father with a pure heart and with faith, -as his mother said one must pray. He was slightly doubtful of -both conditions, when he came to think of it seriously. This -spring he had felt grown-up enough to swear a little at the -horses, sometimes--and he was not sure that shooting the -Indian that time would not be counted a crime by God, who -loved all His creatures. Mother always stuck to it that -Injuns were God's creatures--which brought Buddy squarely -against the incredible assumption that God must love them. He -did not in the least mean to be irreverent, but when he -watched those painted bucks his opinion of God changed -slightly. He decided that he himself was neither pure nor -full of faith, and that he would not pray just yet. He would -let God go ahead and do as He pleased about it; except that -Buddy would never let those Indians get him alive, no matter -what God expected. - -Hides-the-face walked over toward the dugout. Buddy crooked -his left arm and laid the gun barrel across it to get a "dead -rest" and leave nothing to chance. Hides-the-face stared at -the dugout, moved to one side--and the muzzle of the gun -followed, keeping its aim directly at the left edge of his -breastbone as outlined with the red paint. Hides-the-face -craned, stepped into the path down the bank and passed out of -range. Buddy gritted his teeth malevolently and waited, his -ears strained to catch and interpret the meaning of every -soft sound made by Hides-the-face's moccasins. - -Hides-the-face cautiously pushed open the door of the cellar -and looked in, standing for interminable minutes, as is the -leisurely way of Indians when there is no great need of -haste. Ruddy cautiously lowered his face and peered down like -a mouse from the thatch, but he could not handily bring his -gun to bear upon Hides-the-face, who presently turned back -and went up the path, his shoulder-muscles moving snakishly -under his brown skin as he climbed the bank. - -Hides-the-face returned to the others and announced that -there was a place where they could camp. Buddy could not hear -all that he said, and Hides-the-face had his back turned so -that not all of his signs were intelligible; but he gathered -that these particular Indians had chosen or had been ordered -to wait here for three suns, and that the cellar appealed to -Hides-the-face as a shelter in case it stormed. - -Buddy did not know whether to rejoice at the news or to -mourn. They would not destroy the dugout, so he need not -shoot himself, which was of course a relief. Still, three -suns meant three days and nights, and the prospect of lying -there on his stomach, afraid to move for that length of time, -almost amounted to the same thing in the end. He did not -believe that he could hold out that long, though of course he -would try pretty hard. - -All that day Buddy lay watching through the crack, determined -to take any chance that came his way. None came. The Indians -loitered in the shade, and some slept. But always two or -three remained awake; and although they sat apparently ready -to doze off at any minute, Buddy knew them too well to hope -for such good luck. Two Indians rode in toward evening -dragging a calf that had been overlooked in the roundup; and -having improvidently burned the cabin, the meat was cooked -over the embers which still smouldered in places where knots -in the logs made slow fuel. - -Buddy watched them hungrily, wondering how long it took to -starve. - -When it was growing dark he tried to keep in mind the exact -positions of the Indians, and to discover whether a guard -would be placed over the camp, or whether they felt safe -enough to sleep without a sentinel. Hides-the-face he had -long ago decided was in charge of the party, and Hides-the- -face was seemingly concerned only with gorging himself on the -half-roasted meat. Buddy hoped he would choke himself, but -Hides-the-face was very good at gulping half-chewed hunks and -finished without disaster. - -Then he grunted something to someone in the dark, and there -was movement in the group. Buddy ground his growing -"second" teeth together, clenched his fist and said "Damn it!" -three times in a silent crescendo of rage because he could -neither see nor hear what took place; and immediately he -repented his profanity, remembering that God could hear him. -In Buddy's opinion, you never could be sure about God; He -bestowed mysterious mercies and strange punishments, and His -ways were past finding out. Buddy tipped his palms together -and repeated all the prayers his mother had taught him and -then, with a flash of memory, finished with "Oh, God, -please!" just as mother had done long ago on the dry drive. -After that he meditated uncomfortably for a few minutes and -added in a faint whisper, "Oh, shucks! You don't want to pay -any attention to a fellow cussing a little when he's mad. I -could easy make that up if you helped me out some way." - -Buddy believed afterwards that God yielded to persuasion and -decided to give him a chance. For not more than five minutes -passed when a far-off murmur grew to an indefinable roar, and -the wind whooped down off the Snowies so fiercely that even -the dugout quivered a little and rattled dirt down on Buddy -through the poles just over his head. - -At first this seemed an unlucky circumstance, for the Indians -came down into the dugout for shelter, and now Buddy was -afraid to breathe in the quiet intervals between the gusts. -Just below him he could hear the occasional mutters of -laconic sentences and grunted answers as the bucks settled -themselves for the night, and he had a short, panicky spell -of fearing that the poles would give way beneath him and drop -him in upon them. - -After a while--it seemed hours to Buddy--the wind settled -down to a steady gale. The Indians, so far as he could -determine, were all asleep in the cellar. And Buddy, setting -his teeth hard together, began to slide slowly backward -toward the opening through which he had crawled into the -roof. When he had crawled in he had not noticed the -springiness of the poles, but now his imagination tormented -him with the sensation of sagging and swaying. When his feet -pushed through the opening he had to grit his teeth to hold -himself steady. It seemed as if someone were reaching up in -the dark to catch him by the legs and pull him out. Nothing -happened, however, and after a little he inched backward -until he hung with his elbows hooked desperately inside the -opening, his head and shoulders within and protesting with -every nerve against leaving the shelter. - -Buddy said afterwards that he guessed he'd have hung there -until daylight, only he was afraid it was about time to -change guard, and somebody might catch him. But he said he -was scared to let go and drop, because it must have been -pretty crowded in the cellar, and he knew the door was open, -and some buck might be roosting outside handy to be stepped -on. But he knew he had to do something, because if he ever -went to sleep up in that place he'd snore, maybe; and anyway, -he said, he'd rather run himself to death than starve to -death. So he dropped. - -It was two days after that when Buddy shuffled into a mining -camp on the ridge just north of Douglas Pass. He was still on -his feet, but they dragged like an old man's. He had walked -twenty-five miles in two nights, going carefully, in fear of -Indians. The first five miles he had waded along the shore of -the creek, he said, in case they might pick up his tracks at -the dugout and try to follow him. He had hidden himself like -a rabbit in the brush through the day, and he had not dared -shoot any meat, wherefore he had not eaten anything. - -"I ain't as hungry as I was at first," He grinned -tremulously. "But I guess I better--eat. I don' want--to lose -the--habit--" Then he went slack and a man swearing to hide -his pity picked him up in his arms and carried him into the -tent. - - -CHAPTER SIX: THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY - -"You're of age," said Bob Birnie, sucking hard at his pipe. -"You've had your schooling as your mother wished that you -should have it. You've got the music in your head and your -fingers and your toes, and that's as your mother wished that -you should have. - -"Your mother would have you be all for music, and make tunes -out of your own head. She tells me that you have made tunes -and written them down on paper, and that there are those who -would buy them and print copies to sell, with your name at -the top of the page. I'll not say what I think of that--your -mother is an angel among women, and she has taught you the -things she loves herself. - -"But my business is with the cattle, and I've had you out -with me since you could climb on the back of a horse. I've -watched you, with the rope and the irons and in the saddle -and all. You've been in tight places that would try the -mettle of a man grown--I mind the time ye escaped Colorou's -band, and we thought ye dead 'til ye came to us in Laramie. -You've showed that you're able to hold your own on the range, -lad. Your mother's all for the music--but I leave it to you. - -"Ten thousand dollars I'll give ye, if that's your wish, and -you can go to Europe as she wishes and study and make tunes -for others to play. Or if ye prefer it, I'll brand you a herd -of she stock and let ye go your ways. No son of mine can take -orders from his father after he's a man grown, and I'm not to -the age where I can sit with the pipe from morning to night -and let another run my outfit. I've talked it over with your -mother, and she'll bide by your decision, as I shall do. - -"So I put it in a nutshell, Robert. You're twenty-one to-day; -a man grown, and husky as they're made. 'Tis time you faced -the world and lived your life. You've been a good -lad--as lads go." He stopped there to rub his jaw -thoughtfully, perhaps remembering certain incidents in -Buddy's full-flavored past. Buddy--grown to plain Bud among -his fellows--turned red without losing the line of hardness -that had come to his lips. - -"You're of legal age to be called a man, and the future's -before ye. I'll give ye five hundred cows with their calves -beside them--you can choose them yourself, for you've a -sharp eye for stock--and you can go where ye will. Or I'll -give ye ten thousand dollars and ye can go to Europe and make -tunes if you're a mind to. And whatever ye choose it'll be -make or break with ye. Ye can sleep on the decision, for -I've no wish that ye should choose hastily and be sorry -after." - -Buddy--grown to Bud--lifted a booted foot and laid it across -his other knee and with his forefinger absently whirled the -long-pointed rower on his spur. The hardness at his lips -somehow spread to his eyes, that were bent on the whirring -rower. It was the look that had come into the face of the -baby down on the Staked Plains when Ezra called and called -after he had been answered twice; the look that had held firm -the lips of the boy who had lain very flat on his stomach in -the roof of the dugout and had watched the Utes burning the -cabin. - -"There's no need to sleep on it," he said after a minute. -"You've raised me, and spent some money on me--but I've -saved you a man's wages ever since I was ten. If you think -I've evened things up, all right. If you don't, make out your -bill and I'll pay it when I can. There's no reason why you -should give me anything I haven't earned, just because -you're my father. You earned all you've got, and I guess I -can do the same. As you say, I'm a man. I'll go at the future -man fashion. And," he added with a slight flare of the -nostrils, "I'll start in the morning." - -"And is it to make tunes for other folks to play?"Bob Birnie -asked after a silence, covertly eyeing him. - -"No, sir. There's more money in cattle. I'll make my stake in -the cow-country, same as you've done." He looked up and -grinned a little. "To the devil with your money and your -she-stock! I'll get out all right--but I'll make my own way." - -"You're a stubborn fool, Robert. The Scotch now and then -shows itself like that in a man. I got my start from my -father and I'm not ashamed of it. A thousand pounds--and I -brought it to America and to Texas, and got cattle." - -Bud laughed and got up, hiding how the talk had struck deep -into the soul of him. "Then I'll go you one better, dad. -I'll get my own start." - -"You'll be back home in six months, lad, saying you've -changed your mind," Bob Birnie predicted sharply, stung by -the tone of young Bud. "That," he added grimly, "or for a -full belly and a clean bed to crawl into." - -Bud stood licking the cigarette he had rolled to hide an -unaccountable trembling of his fingers. "When I come back -I'll be in a position to buy you out! I'll borrow Skate and -Maverick, if you don't mind, till I get located somewhere." -He paused while he lighted the cigarette. "It's the custom," -He reminded his father unnecessarily, "to furnish a man a -horse to ride and one to pack his bed, when he's fired." - -"Ye've horses of yer own," Bob Birnie retorted, "and you've -no need to borrow." - -Bud stood looking down at his father, plainly undecided. "I -don't know whether they're mine or not," he said after a -minute. "I don't know what it cost you to raise me. Figure it -up, if you haven't already, and count the time I've worked -for you. Since you've put me on a business basis, like -raising a calf to shipping age, let's be businesslike about -it. You are good at figuring your profits--I'll leave it to -you. And if you find I've anything coming to me besides my -riding outfit and the clothes I've got, all right; I'll take -horses for the balance." - -He walked off with the swing to his shoulders that had always -betrayed him when he was angry, and Bob Birnie gathered his -beard into a handful and held it while he stared after him. -It had been no part of his plan to set his son adrift on the -range without a dollar, but since Bud's temper was up, it -might be a good thing to let him go. - -So Bob Birnie went away to confer with his wife, and Bud was -left alone to nurse his hurt while he packed his few -belongings. It did hurt him to be told in that calm, cold- -blooded manner that, now he was of legal age, he would not be -expected to stay on at the Tomahawk. Until his father had -spoken to him about it, Bud had not thought much about what -he would do when his school days were over. He had taken life -as it was presented to him week by week, month by month. He -had fulfilled his mother's hopes and had learned to make -music. He had lived up to his father's unspoken standards of -a cowman. He had made a "Hand" ever since his legs were long -enough to reach the stirrups of a saddle. There was not a -better rider, not a better roper on the range than Bud -Birnie. Morally he was cleaner than most young fellows of his -age. He hated trickery, he reverenced all good women; the bad -ones he pitied because he believed that they sorrowed -secretly because they were not good, because they had missed -somehow their real purpose in life, which was to be wife and -mother. He had, in fact grown up clean and true to type. He -was Buddy, grown to be Bud. - -And Buddy, now that he was a man, had been told that he was -not expected to stay at home and help his father, and be a -comfort to his mother. He was like a young eagle which, -having grown wing-feathers that will bear the strain of high -air currents, has been pecked out of the nest. No doubt the -young eagle resents his unexpected banishment, although in -time he would have felt within himself the urge to go. Leave -Bud alone, and soon or late he would have gone--perhaps with -compunctions against leaving home, and the feeling that he -was somehow a disappointment to his parents. He would have -explained to his father, apologized to his mother. As it was, -he resented the alacrity with which his father was pushing -him out. - -So he packed his clothes that night, and pushed his guitar -into its case and buckled the strap with a vicious yank, and -went off to the bunkhouse to eat supper with the boys instead -of sitting down to the table where his mother had placed -certain dishes which Buddy loved best--wanting to show in -true woman fashion her love and sympathy for him. - -Later--it was after Bud had gone to bed--mother came and had -a long talk with him. She was very sweet and sensible, and -Bud was very tender with her. But she could not budge him -from his determination to go and make his way without a -Birnie dollar to ease the beginning. Other men had started -with nothing and had made a stake, and there was no reason -why he could not do so. - -"Dad put it straight enough, and it's no good arguing. I'd -starve before I'd take anything from him. I'm entitled to my -clothes, and maybe a horse or two for the work I've done for -him while I was growing up. I've figured out pretty close -what it cost to put me through the University, and what I was -worth to him during the summers. Father's Scotch--but he -isn't a darned bit more Scotch than I am, mother. Putting it -all in dollars and cents, I think I've earned more than I -cost him. In the winters, I know I earned my board doing -chores and riding line. Many a little bunch of stock I've -saved for him by getting out in the foothills and driving -them down below heavy snowline before a storm. You remember -the bunch of horses I found by watching the magpies--the time -we tied hay in canvas and took it up to them 'til they got -strength enough to follow the trail I trampled in the snow? I -earned my board and more, every winter since I was ten. So I -don't believe I owe dad a cent, when it's all figured out. - -"But you've done for me what money can't repay, mother. I'll -always be in debt to you--and I'll square it by being the -kind of a man you've tried to teach me to be. I will, mother. -Dad and the dollars are a different matter. The debt I owe -you will never be paid, but I'm going to make you glad I know -there's a debt. I believe there's a God, because I know there -must have been one to make you! And no matter how far away I -may drift in miles, your Buddy is going to be here with you -always, mother, learning from you all there is of goodness -and sweetness." He held her two hands against his face, and -she felt his cheeks wet beneath her palms. Then he took them -away and kissed them many times, like a lover. - -"If I ever have a wife, she's going to have her work cut out -for her," He laughed unsteadily. "She'll have to live up to -you, mother, if she wants me to love her." - -"If you have a wife she'll be well-spoiled, young man! -Perhaps it is wise that you should go--but don't you forget -your music, Buddy--and be a good boy, and remember, mother's -going to follow you with her love and her faith in you, and -her prayers." - -It may have been that Buddy's baby memory of going north -whenever the trail herd started remained to send Bud -instinctively northward when he left the Tomahawk next -morning. It had been a case of stubborn father and stubborn -son dickering politely over the net earnings of the son from -the time when he was old enough to leave his mother's lap and -climb into a saddle to ride with his father. Three horses and -his personal belongings had been agreed upon between them as -the balance in Bud's favor; and at that, Bob Birnie dryly -remarked, he had been a better investment as a son than most -young fellows, who cost more than they were worth to raise. - -Bud did not answer the implied praise, but roped the -Tomahawk's best three horses out of the REMUDA corralled for -him by his father's riders. You should have seen the sidelong -glances among the boys when they learned that Bud, just home -from the University, was going somewhere with all his earthly -possessions and a look in his face that meant trouble! - -Two big valises and his blankets he packed on Sunfish, a -deceptively raw-boned young buckskin with much white showing -in his eyes--an ornery looking brute if ever there was one. -Bud's guitar and a mandolin in their cases he tied securely -on top of the pack. Smoky, the second horse, a deep-chested -"mouse" with a face almost human in its expression, he -saddled, and put a lead rope on the third, a bay four-year- -old called Stopper, which was the Tomahawk's best rope-horse -and one that would be missed when fast work was wanted in -branding. - -"He sure as hell picked himself three top hawses," a tall -puncher murmured to another. "Wonder where he's headed for? -Not repping--this late in the season." - -Bud overheard them, and gave no sign. Had they asked him -directly he could not have told them, for he did not know, -except that somehow he felt that he was going to head north. -Why north, he could not have explained, since cow-country lay -all around him; nor how far north,--for cow-country extended -to the upper boundary of the States, and beyond into Canada. - -He left his horses standing by the corral while he went to -the house to tell his mother good-by, and to send a farewell -message to Dulcie, who had been married a year and lived in -Laramie. He did not expect to strike Laramie, he told his -mother when she asked him. - -"I'm going till I stop," He explained, with a squeeze of her -shoulders to reassure her. "I guess it's the way you felt, -mother, when you left Texas behind. You couldn't tell where -you folks would wind up. Neither can I. My trail herd is -kinda small, right now; a lot smaller than it will be later -on. But such as it is, it's going to hit the right range -before it stops for good. And I'll write." - -He took a doughnut in his hand and a package of lunch to slip -in his pocket, kissed her with much cheerfulness in his -manner and hurried out, his big-rowelled spurs burring on the -porch just twice before he stepped off on the gravel. Telling -mother good-by had been the one ordeal he dreaded, and he was -glad to have it over with. - -Old Step-and-a-Half hailed him as he went past the chuck- -house, and came limping out, wiping his hands on his apron -before he shook hands and wished him good luck. Ezra, -pottering around the tool shed, ambled up with the eyes of a -dog that has been sent back home by his master. "Ah shoah do -wish yo' all good fawtune an' health, Marse Buddy," Ezra -quavered. "Ah shoah do. It ain' goin' seem lak de same place-- -and Ah shoah do hopes yo' all writes frequent lettahs to yo' -mothah, boy!" - -Bud promised that he would, and managed to break away from -Ezra without betraying himself. How, he wondered, did -everyone seem to know that he was going for good, this time? -He had believed that no one knew of it save himself, his -father and his mother; yet everyone else behaved as if they -never expected to see him again. It was disconcerting, and -Bud hastily untied the two led horses and mounted Smoky, the -mouse-colored horse he himself had broken two years before. - -His father came slowly up to him, straight-backed and with -the gait of the man who has ridden astride a horse more than -he has walked on his own feet. He put up his hand, gloved for -riding, and Bud changed the lead-ropes from his right hand to -his left, and shook hands rather formally. - -"Ye've good weather for travelling," said Bob Birnie -tentatively. "I have not said it before, lad, but when ye own -yourself a fool to take this way of making your fortune, ten -thousand dollars will still be ready to start ye right. I've -no wish to shirk a duty to my family." - -Bud pressed his lips together while he listened. "If you keep -your ten thousand till it's called for, you'll be drawing -interest a long time on it," He said. "It's going to be hot -to-day. I'll be getting along." - -He lifted the reins, glanced back to see that the two horses -were showing the proper disposition to follow, and rode off -down the deep-rutted road that followed up the creek to the -pass where he had watched the Utes dancing the war dance one -night that he remembered well. If he winced a little at the -familiar landmarks he passed, he still held fast to the -determination to go, and to find fortune somewhere along the -trail of his own making; and to ask help from no man, least -of all his father who had told him to go. - - -CHAPTER SEVEN: BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE - -"I don't think it matters so much where we light, it's -what we do when we get there," said Bud to Smoky, his horse, -one day as they stopped where two roads forked at the base of -a great, outstanding peak that was but the point of a -mountain range. "This trail straddles the butte and takes on -up two different valleys. It's all cow-country--so what do -yuh say, Smoke? Which trail looks the best to you?" - -Smoky flopped one ear forward and the other one back, and -switched at a pestering fly. Behind him Sunfish and Stopper -waited with the patience they had learned in three weeks of -continuous travel over country that was rough in spots, -barren in places, with wind and sun and occasional, sudden -thunderstorms to punctuate the daily grind of travel. - -Bud drew a half dollar from his pocket and regarded it -meditatively. "They're going fast--we'll just naturally have -to stop pretty soon, or we don't eat," He observed. "Smoke, -you're a quitter. What you want to do is go back--but you -won't get the chance. Heads, we take the right hand trail. I -like it better, anyway--it angles more to the north." - -Heads it was, and Bud leaned from the saddle and recovered -the coin, Smoky turning his head to regard his rider -tolerantly. "Right hand goes--and we camp at the first good -water and grass. I can grain the three of you once more -before we hit a town, and that goes for me, too. G'wan, -Smoke, and don't act so mournful." - -Smoky went on, following the trail that wound in and out -around the butte, hugging close its sheer sides to avoid a -fifty-foot drop into the creek below. It was new country--Bud -had never so much as seen a map of it to give him a clue to -what was coming. The last turn of the deep-rutted, sandy road -where it left the river's bank and led straight between two -humpy shoulders of rock to the foot of a platter-shaped -valley brought him to a halt again in sheer astonishment. - -From behind a low hill still farther to the right, where the -road forked again, a bluish haze of smoke indicated that -there was a town of some sort, perhaps. Farther up the valley -a brownish cloud hung low-a roundup, Bud knew at a glance. He -hesitated. The town, if it were a town, could wait; the -roundup might not. And a job he must have soon, or go hungry. -He turned and rode toward the dust-cloud, came shortly to a -small stream and a green grass-plot, and stopped there long -enough to throw the pack off Sunfish, unsaddle Smoky and -stake them both out to graze. Stopper he saddled, then knelt -and washed his face, beat the travel dust off his hat, untied -his rope and coiled it carefully, untied his handkerchief and -shook it as clean as he could and knotted it closely again. -One might have thought he was preparing to meet a girl; but -the habit of neatness dated back to his pink-apron days and -beyond, the dirt and dust meant discomfort. - -When he mounted Stopper and loped away toward the dust-cloud, -he rode hopefully, sure of himself, carrying his range -credentials in his eyes, in his perfect saddle-poise, in the -tan on his face to his eyebrows, and the womanish softness of -his gloved hands, which had all the sensitive flexibility of -a musician. - -His main hope was that the outfit was working short-handed; -and when he rode near enough to distinguish the herd and the -riders, he grinned his satisfaction. - -"Good cow-country, by the look of that bunch of cattle," He -observed to himself. "And eight men is a small crew to work -a herd that size. I guess I'll tie onto this outfit. Stopper, -you'll maybe get a chance to turn a cow this afternoon." - -Just how soon the chance would come, Bud had not realized. He -had no more than come within shouting distance of the herd -when a big, rollicky steer broke from the milling cattle and -headed straight out past him, running like a deer. Stopper, -famed and named for his prowess with just such cattle, -wheeled in his tracks and lengthened his stride to a run. - -"Tie 'im down!" someone yelled behind Bud. And "Catch 'im and -tie 'im down!" shouted another. - -For answer Bud waved his hand, and reached in his pocket for -his knife. Stopper was artfully circling the steer, forcing -it back toward the herd, and in another hundred yards or so -Bud must throw his loop He sliced off a saddle-string and -took it between his teeth, jerked his rope loose, flipped -open the loop as Stopper raced up alongside, dropped the -noose neatly, and took his turns while Stopper planted his -forefeet and braced himself for the shock. Bud's right leg -was over the cantle, all his weight on the left stirrup when -the jerk came and the steer fell with a thump. By good luck-- -so Bud afterwards asserted--he was off and had the steer tied -before it had recovered its breath to scramble up. He -remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while -he went jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him. - -If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have -received a shock. Other riders had left their posts and were -edging up to hear what happened, and Bud reined up in -astonishment before the most amazing string of unseemly -epithets he had ever heard. It began with: "What'd you throw -that critter for?"--which of course is putting it mildly--and -ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to -another's face and expect anything but trouble afterwards. - -Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, -and dismounted. "Get off your horse and take the damnedest -licking you ever had in your life, for that!" He invited -vengefully. "You told me to tie down that steer, and I tied -him down. You've got no call to complain--and there isn't a -man on earth I'll take that kinda talk from. Crawl down, you -parrot-faced cow-eater--and leave your gun on the saddle." - -The man remained where he was and looked Bud over -uncertainly. "Who are you, and where'd yuh come from?" he -demanded more calmly. "I never saw yuh before." - -"Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!" Bud -snapped. "If I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You -called me something! Get off that horse or I'll pull you -off!" - -"Aw, yuh don't want to mind--" began a tall, lean man -pacifically; but he of the high nose stopped him with a wave -of the hand, his eyes still measuring the face, the form and -the fighting spirit of one Bud Birnie, standing with his coat -off, quivering with rage. - -"I guess I'm in the wrong, young fellow--I DID holler 'Tie -'im down.' But if you'd ever been around this outfit any -you 'd have known I didn't mean it literal." He stopped and -suddenly he laughed. "I've been yellin' 'Tie 'im down' for -two years and more, when a critter breaks outa the bunch, and -nobody was ever fool enough to tackle it before. "It's just a -sayin' we've got, young man. We--" - -"What about the name you called me?" Bud was still advancing -slowly, not much appeased by the explanation. "I don't give a -darn about the steer. You said tie him, and he's tied. But -when you call me--" - -"My mistake, young feller. When I get riled up I don't pick -my words." He eyed Bud sharply. "You're mighty quick to obey -orders," He added tentatively. - -"I was brought up to do as I'm told, "Bud retorted stiffly. "Any -objections to make?" - -"Not one in the world. Wish there was more like yuh. You -ain't been in these parts long?"His tone made a question of -the statement. - -"Not right here." Bud had no reason save his temper for not -giving more explicit information, but Bart Nelson--as Bud -knew him afterwards--continued to study him as if he -suspected a blotched past. - -"Hunh. That your horse?" - -"I've got a bill of sale for him." - -"You don't happen to be wanting a job, I s'pose?" - -"I wouldn't refuse to take one." And then the twinkle came -back to Bud's eyes, because all at once the whole incident -struck him as being rather funny. "I'd want a boss that -expected to have his orders carried out, though. I lack -imagination, and I never did try to read a man's mind. What -he says he'd better mean--when he says it to me." - -Bart Nelson gave a short laugh, turned and sent his riders -back to their work with oaths tingling their ears. Bud judged -that cursing was his natural form of speech. - -"Go let up that steer, and I'll put you to work," he said to -Bud afterwards. "That's a good rope horse you're riding. If -you want to use him, and if you can hold up to that little -sample of roping yuh gave us, I'll pay yuh sixty a month. And -that's partly for doing what you're told," he added with a -quick look into Bud's eyes. "You didn't say where you're -from----" - -"I was born and raised in cow-country, and nobody's looking -for me," Bud informed him over his shoulder while he -remounted, and let it go at that. From southern Wyoming to -Idaho was too far, he reasoned, to make it worth while -stating his exact place of residence. If they had never heard -of the Tomahawk outfit it would do no good to name it. If -they had heard of it, they would wonder why the son of so -rich a cowman as Bob Birnie should be hiring out as a common -cowpuncher so far from home. He had studied the matter on his -way north, and had decided to let people form their own -conclusions. If he could not make good without the name of -Bob Birnie behind him, the sooner he found it out the better. - -He untied the steer, drove it back into the herd and rode -over to where the high-nosed man was helping hold the "Cut." - -"Can you read brands? We're cuttin' out AJ and AJBar stuff; -left ear-crop on the AJ, and undercut on the AJBar." - -Bud nodded and eased into the herd, spied an AJ two-year-old -and urged it toward the outer edge, smiling to himself when -he saw how Stopper kept his nose close to the animal's rump. -Once in the milling fringe of the herd, Stopper nipped it -into the open, rushed it to the cut herd, wheeled and went -back of his own accord. From the corner of his eye, as he -went, Bud saw that Bart Nelson and one or two others were -watching him. They continued to eye him covertly while he -worked the herd with two other men. He was glad that he had -not travelled far that day, and that he had ridden Smoky and -left Stopper fresh and eager for his favorite pastime, which -was making cattle do what they particularly did not want to -do. In that he was adept, and it pleased Bud mightily to see -how much attention Stopper was attracting. - -Not once did it occur to him that it might be himself who -occupied the thoughts of his boss. Buddy--afterwards Bud--had -lived his whole life among friends, his only enemies the -Indians who preyed upon the cowmen. White men he had never -learned to distrust, and to be distrusted had never been his -portion. He had always been Bud Birnie, son and heir of Bob -Birnie, as clean-handed a cattle king as ever recorded a -brand. Even at the University his position had been accepted -without question. That the man he mentally called Parrotface -was puzzled and even worried about him was the last thing he -would think of. - -But it was true. Bart Nelson watched Bud, that afternoon. A -man might ride up to Bart and assert that he was an old hand -with cattle, and Bart would say nothing, but set him to work, -as he had Bud. Then he would know just how old a "Hand" the -fellow was. Fifteen minutes convinced him that Bud had -"growed up in the saddle", as he would have put it. But that -only mystified him the more. Bart knew the range, and he knew -every man in the country, from Burroback Valley, which was -this great valley's name, to the Black Rim, beyond the -mountain range, and beyond the Black Rim to the Sawtooth -country. He knew their ways and he knew their past records. - -He knew that this young fellow came from farther ranges, and -he would have been at a loss to explain just how he knew it. -He would have said that Bud did not have the "earmarks" of -an Idaho rider. Furthermore, the small Tomahawk brand on the -left flank of the horse Bud rode was totally unknown to Bart. -Yet the horse did not bear the marks of long riding. Bud -himself looked as if he had just ridden out from some nearby -ranch--and he had refused to say where he was from. - -Bart swore under his breath and beckoned to him a droopy- -mustached, droopy-shouldered rider who was circling the herd -in a droopy, spiritless manner and chewing tobacco with much -industry. - -"Dirk, you know brands from the Panhandle to Cypress Hills. -What d' yuh make of that horse? Where does he come from?" Bart -stopped abruptly and rode forward then to receive and drive -farther back a galloping AJBar cow which Bud and Stopper had just -hazed out of the herd. Dirk squinted at Stopper's brand which -showed cleanly in the glossy, new hair of early summer. He spat -carefully with the wind and swung over to meet his boss when the -cow was safely in the cut herd. - -"New one on me, Bart. They's a hatchet brand over close to -Jackson's Hole, somewhere. Where'd the kid say he was from?" - -"He wouldn't say, but he's a sure-enough cowhand." - -"That there horse ain't been rode down on no long journey," -Dirk volunteered after further scrutiny. And he added with -the unconscious impertinence of an old and trusted employee, -"Yuh goin' to put him on?" - -"Already done it--sixty a month," Bart confided. "That'll -bring out what's in him; he's liable to turn out good for the -outfit. Showed he'll do what he's told first, and think it -over afterwards. I like that there trait in a man." - -Dirk pulled his droopy mustache away from his lips as if he -wanted to make sure that his smile would show; though it was -not a pretty smile, on account of his tobacco-stained teeth. - -"'S your fun'ral, Bart. I'd say he's from Jackson's Hole, on -a rough guess--but I wouldn't presume to guess what he's here -fur. Mebby he come across from Black Rim. I can find out, if -you say so." - -Bud was weaving in and out through the herd, scanning the -animals closely. While the two talked he singled out a -yearling heifer, let Stopper nose it out beyond the bunch and -drove it close to the boss. - -"Better look that one over," He called out. "One way, it -looks like AJ, and another way I couldn't name it. And the -ear looks as if about half of it had been frozen off. Didn't -want to run it into the cut until you passed on it." - -Bart looked first at Bud, and he looked hard. Then he rode -over and inspected the yearling, Dirk close at his heels. - -"Throw 'er back with the bunch," He ordered. - -"That finishes the cut, then," Bud announced, rubbing his -hand along Stopper's sweaty neck. "I kept passing this -critter up, and I guess the other boys did the same. But it's -the last one, and I thought I'd run her out for you to look -over." - -Bart grunted. "Dirk, you take a look and see if they've got -'em all. And you, Kid, can help haze the cut up the Flat--the -boys'll show you what to do." - -Bud, remembering Smoky and Sunfish and his camp, hesitated. -"I've got a camp down here by the creek," He said. "If it's -all the same to you, I'll report for work in the morning, if -you'll tell me where to head for. And I'll have to arrange -somehow to pasture my horses; I've got a couple more at -camp." - -Bart studied him for a minute, and Bud thought he was going -to change his mind about the job, or the sixty dollars a -month. But Bart merely told him to ride on up the Flat next -morning, and take the first trail that turned to the left. "The -Muleshoe ranch is up there agin that pine mountain," he -explained. "Bring along your outfit. I guess we can take care -of a couple of horses, all right." - -That suited Bud very well, and he rode away thinking how -lucky he was to have taken the right fork in the road, that -day. He had ridden straight into a job, and while he was not -very enthusiastic over the boss, the other boys seemed all -right, and the wages were a third more than he had expected -to get just at first. It was the first time, he reminded -himself, that he had been really tempted to locate, and he -certainly had struck it lucky. - -He did not know that when he left the roundup his going had -been carefully noted, and that he was no sooner out of sight -than Dirk Tracy was riding cautiously on his trail. While he -fed his horses the last bit of grain he had, and cooked his -supper over what promised to be his last camp-fire, he did -not dream that the man with the droopy mustache was lying -amongst the bushes on the other bank of the creek, watching -every move he made. - -He meant to be up before daylight so that he could strike the -ranch of the Muleshoe outfit in time for breakfast, wherefore -he went to bed before the afterglow had left the mountain- -tops around him. And being young and carefree and healthfully -weary, he was asleep and snoring gently within five minutes -of his last wriggle into his blankets. But Dirk Tracy watched -him for fully two hours before he decided that the kid was -not artfully pretending, but was really asleep and likely to -remain so for the night - -Dirk was an extremely cautious man, but he was also tired, -and the cold food he had eaten in place of a hot supper had -not been satisfying to his stomach. He crawled carefully out -of the brush, stole up the creek to where he had left his -horse, and rode away. - -He was not altogether sure that he had done his full duty to -the Muleshoe, but it was against human nature for a man -nearing forty to lie uncovered in the brush, and let a -numerous family of mosquitoes feed upon him while he listened -to a young man snoring comfortably in a good camp bed a -hundred feet away. - -Dirk, because his conscience was not quite clear, slept in -the stable that night and told his boss a lie next morning. - - -CHAPTER EIGHT: THE MULESHOE - -The riders of the Muleshoe outfit were eating breakfast when -Bud rode past the long, low-roofed log cabin to the corral -which stood nearest the clutter of stables and sheds. He -stopped there and waited to see if his new boss was anywhere -in sight and would come to tell him where to unpack his -belongings. A sandy complexioned young man with red eyelids -and no lashes presently emerged from the stable and came -toward him, his mouth sagging loosely open, his eye; vacuous. -He was clad in faded overalls turned up a foot at the bottom -and showing frayed, shoddy trousers beneath and rusty, run- -down shoes that proved he was not a rider. His hat was -peppered with little holes, as if someone had fired a charge -of birdshot at him and had all but bagged him. - -The youth's eyes became fixed upon the guitar and mandolin -cases roped on top of Sunfish's pack, and he pointed and -gobbled something which had the sound speech without being -intelligible. Bud cocked an ear toward him inquiringly, made -nothing of the jumble and rode off to the cabin, leading -Sunfish after him. The fellow might or might not be the idiot -he looked, and he might or might not keep his hands off the -pack. Bud was not going to take any chance. - -He heard sounds within the cabin, but no one appeared until -he shouted, "Hello!" twice. The door opened then and Bart -Nelson put out his head, his jaws working over a mouthful of -food that seemed tough. - -"Oh, it's you. C'm awn in an' eat," he invited, and Bud -dismounted, never guessing that his slightest motion had been -carefully observed from the time he had forded the creek at -the foot of the slope beyond the cabin. - -Bart introduced him to the men by the simple method of waving -his hand at the group around the table and saying, "Guess you -know the boys. What'd yuh say we could call yuh?" - -"Bud--ah--Birnie," Bud answered, swiftly weighing the -romantic idea of using some makeshift name until he had made -his fortune, and deciding against it. A false name might mean -future embarrassment, and he was so far from home that his -father would never hear of him anyway. But his hesitation -served to convince every man there that Birnie was not his -name, and that he probably had good cause for concealing his -own. Adding that to Dirk Tracy's guess that he was from -Jackson's Hole, the sum spelled outlaw. - -The Muleshoe boys were careful not to seem curious about -Bud's past. They even refrained from manifesting too much -interest in the musical instruments until Bud himself took -them out of their cases that evening and began tuning them. -Then the half-baked, tongue-tied fellow came over and gobbled -at him eagerly. - -"Hen wants yuh to play something," a man they called Day -interpreted. "Hen's loco on music. If you can sing and play -both, Hen'll set and listen till plumb daylight and never -move an eyewinker." - -Bud looked up, smiled a little because Hen had no eyewinkers -to move, and suddenly felt pity because a man could be so -altogether unlikeable as Hen. Also because his mother's face -stood vividly before him for an instant, leaving him with a -queer tightening of the throat and the feeling that he had -been rebuked. He nodded to Hen, laid down the mandolin and -picked up the guitar, turned up the a string a bit, laid a -booted and spurred foot across the other knee, plucked a -minor chord sonorously and began abruptly: - -"Yo' kin talk about you coons a-havin' trouble-- -Well, Ah think Ah have enough-a of mah oh-own--" - -Hen's high-pointed Adam's apple slipped up and down in one -great gulp of ecstasy. He eased slowly down upon the edge of -the bunk beside Bud and gazed at him fascinatedly, his -lashless eyes never winking, his jaw dropped so that his -mouth hung half open. Day nudged Dirk Tracy, who parted his -droopy mustache and smiled his unlovely smile, lowering his -left eyelid unnecessarily at Bud. The dimple in Bud's chin -wrinkled as he bent his head and plunked the interlude with a -swing that set spurred boots tapping the floor rhythmically. - -"Bart, he's went and hired a show-actor, looks like." Dirk -confided behind his hand to Shorty McGuire. "That's real -singin', if yuh ask me!" - -"Shut up!" grunted Shorty, and prodded Dirk into silence so -that he would miss none of the song. - -Since Buddy had left the pink-apron stage of his adventurous -life behind him, singing songs to please other people had -been as much a part of his life as riding and roping and -eating and sleeping. He had always sung or played or danced -when he was asked to do so--accepting without question his -mother's doctrine that it was unkind and ill-bred to refuse -when he really could do those things well, because on the -cattle ranges indoor amusements were few, and those who could -furnish real entertainment were fewer. Even at the -University, coon songs and Irish songs and love songs had -been his portion; wherefore his repertoire seemed endless, -and if folks insisted upon it he could sing from dark to -dawn, providing his voice held out. - -Hen sat with his big-jointed hands hanging loosely over his -knees and listened, stared at Bud and grinned vacuously when -one song was done, gulped his Adam's apple and listened again -as raptly to the next one. The others forgot all about having -fun watching Hen, and named old favorites and new ones, heard -them sung inimitably and called for more. At midnight Bud -blew on his blistered fingertips and shook the guitar gently, -bottom-side up. - -"I guess that's all the music there is in the darned thing -to-night," he lamented. "She's made to keep time, and she -always strikes, along about midnight." - -"Huh-huh!" chortled Hen convulsively, as if he understood the -joke. He closed his mouth and sighed deeply, as one who has -just wakened from a trance. - -After that, Hen followed Bud around like a pet dog, and found -time between stable chores to groom those astonished horses, -Stopper and Smoky and Sunfish, as if they were stall-kept -thoroughbreds. He had them coming up to the pasture gate -every day for the few handfuls of grain he purloined for -them, and their sleekness was a joy to behold. - -"Hen, he's adopted yuh, horses and all, looks like," Dirk -observed one day to Bud when they were riding together. And -he tempered the statement by adding that Hen was trusty -enough, even if he didn't have as much sense as the law -allows. "He sure is takin' care of them cayuses of your'n. -D'you tell him to?" - -Bud came out of a homesick revery and looked at him -inquiringly. "No, I didn't tell him anything." - -"I believe that, all right," Dirk retorted. "You don't go -around tellin' all yuh know. I like that in a feller. A man -never got into trouble yet by keepin' his mouth shut; but -there's plenty that have talked themselves into the pen. Me, -I've got no use for a talker." - -Bud sent him a sidelong glance of inquiry, and Dirk caught -him at it and grinned. - -"Yuh been here a month, and you ain't said a damn word about -where you come from or anything further back than throwin' -and tyin' that critter. You said cow-country, and that has -had to do some folks that might be curious. Well, she's a -tearin' big place--cow-country. She runs from Canady to -Mexico, and from the corn belt to the Pacific Ocean, mighty -near takes in Jackson's Hole, and a lot uh country I know." -He parted his mustache and spat carefully into the sand. -"I'm willin' to tie to a man, specially a young feller, that -can play the game the way you been playin' it, Bud. Most -always," he complained vaguely, "they carry their brand too -damn main. They either pull their hats down past their -eyebrows and give everybody the bad eye, or else they're too -damn ready to lie about themselves. You throw in with the -boys just fine--but you ain't told a one of 'em where you -come from, ner why, ner nothin'." - -"I'm here because I'm here," Bud chanted softly, his eyes -stubborn even while he smiled at Dirk. - -"I know--yuh sung that the first night yuh come, and yuh -looked straight at the boss all the while you was singin' -it," Dirk interrupted, and laughed slyly. "The boys, they -took that all in, too. And Bart, he wasn't asleep, neither. -You sure are smooth as they make 'em, Bud. I guess," he -leaned closer to predict confidentially, "you've just about -passed the probation time, young feller. If I know the signs, -the boss is gittin' ready to raise yuh." - -He looked at Bud rather sharply. Instantly the training of -Buddy rose within Bud. His memory flashed back unerringly to -the day when he had watched that Indian gallop toward the -river, and had sneered because the Indian evidently expected -him to follow into the undergrowth. - -Dirk Tracy did not in the least resemble an Indian, nor did -his rambling flattery bear any likeness to a fleeing enemy; -yet it was plain enough that he was trying in a bungling way -to force Bud's confidence, and for that reason Bud stared -straight ahead and said nothing. - -He did not remember having sung that particular ditty during -his first evening at the Muleshoe, nor of staring at the boss -while he sung. He might have done both, he reflected; he had -sung one song after another for about four hours that night, -and unless he sang with his eyes shut he would have to look -somewhere. That it should be taken by the whole outfit as a -broad hint to ask no questions seemed to him rather -farfetched. - -Nor did he see why Dirk should compliment him on keeping his -mouth shut, or call him smooth. He did not know that he had -been on probation, except perhaps as that applied to his -ability as a cow-hand. And he could see no valid reason why -the boss should contemplate "raising" him. So far, he had -been doing no more than the rest of the boys, except when -there was roping to be done and he and Stopper were called -upon to distinguish themselves by fast rope-work, with never -a miss. Sixty dollars a month was as good pay as he had any -right to expect. - -Dirk, he decided, had given him one good tip which he would -follow at once. Dirk had said that no man ever got into -trouble by keeping his mouth shut. Bud closed his for a good -half hour, and when he opened it again he undid all the good -he had accomplished by his silence. - -"Where does that trail go, that climbs up over the mountains -back of that peak?" he asked. "Seems to be a stock trail. -Have you got grazing land beyond the mountains?" - -Dirk took time to pry off a fresh chew of tobacco before he -replied. "You mean Thunder Pass? That there crosses over into -the Black Rim country. Yeah--There's a big wide range country -over there, but we don't run any stock on it. Burroback -Valley's big enough for the Muleshoe." - -Bud rolled a cigarette. "I didn't mean that main trail; -that's a wagon road, and Thunder Pass cuts through between -Sheepeater peak and this one ahead of us--Gospel, you call -it. What I referred to is that blind trail that takes off up -the canyon behind the corrals, and crosses into the mountains -the other side of Gospel." - -Dirk eyed him. "I dunno 's I could say, right offhand, what -trail yuh mean," he parried. "Every canyon 's got a trail -that runs up a ways, and there's canyons all through the -mountains; they all lead up to water, or feed, or something -like that, and then quit, most gen'rally; jest peter out, -like." And he added with heavy sarcasm, "A feller that's -lived on the range oughta know what trails is for, and how -they're made. Cowcritters are curious-same as humans." - -To this Bud did not reply. He was smoking and staring at the -brushy lower slopes of the mountain ridge before them. He had -explained quite fully which trail he meant. It was, as he had -said, a "blind" trail; that is, the trail lost itself in the -creek which watered a string of corrals. Moreover, Bud had -very keen eyes, and he had seen how a panel of the corral -directly across the shale-rock bed of a small stream was -really a set of bars. The round pole corral lent itself -easily to hidden gateways, without any deliberate attempt at -disguising their presence. - -The string of four corrals running from this upper one-- -which, he remembered, was not seen from nearer the stables- -was perhaps a convenient arrangement in the handling of -stock, although it was unusual. The upper corral had been -built to fit snugly into a rocky recess in the base of the -peak called Gospel. It was larger than some of the others, -since it followed the contour of the basin-like recess. -Access to it was had from the fourth corral (which from the -ranch appeared to be the last) and from the creekbed that -filled the narrow mouth of the canyon behind. - -Dirk might not have understood him, Bud thought. He certainly -should have recognized at once the trail Bud meant, for there -was no other canyon back of the corrals, and even that one -was not apparent to one looking at the face of the steep -slope. Stock had been over that canyon trail within the last -month or so, however; and Bud's inference that the Muleshoe -must have grazing ground across the mountains was natural; -the obvious explanation of its existence. - -"How 'd you come to be explorin' around Gospel, anyway?" -Dirk quizzed finally. "A person'd think, short-handed as the -Muleshoe is this spring, 't you'd git all the ridin' yuh want -without prognosticatin' around aimless." - -Now Bud was not a suspicious young man, and he had been no -more than mildly inquisitive about that trail. But neither -was he a fool; he caught the emphasis which Dirk had placed -on the word aimless, and his thoughts paused and took another -look at Dirk's whole conversation. There was something queer -about it, something which made Bud sheer off from his usual -unthinking assurance that things were just what they seemed. - -Immediately, however, he laughed--at himself as well as at -Dirk. - -"We've been feeding on sour bread and warmed-over coffee ever -since the cook disappeared and Bart put Hen in the kitchen," -he said. "If I were you, Dirk, I wouldn't blister my hands -shovelling that grub into myself for a while. You're bilious, -old-timer. No man on earth would talk the way you've been -talking to-day unless his whole digestive apparatus were out -of order." - -Dirk spat angrily at a dead sage bush. "They shore as hell -wouldn't talk the kinda talk you've been talkie' unless they -was a born fool or else huntin' trouble," he retorted -venomously. - -"The doctor said I'd be that way if I lived," Bud grinned, -amiably, although his face had flushed at Dirk's tone. "He -said it wouldn't hurt me for work." - -"Yeah--and what kinda work?" Dirk rode so close that his -horse shouldered Bud's leg discomfortingly. "I been edgin' -yuh along to see what-f'r brand yuh carried. And I've got ye -now, you damned snoopin' kioty. Bart, he hired yuh to work- -and not to go prowling around lookin' up trails that ain't -there--" - -"You're a dim-brand reader, I don't think! Why you--!" - -Oh, well--remember that Bud was only Buddy grown bigger, and -he had never lacked the spirit to look out for himself. -Remember, too, that he must have acquired something of a -vocabulary, in the course of twenty-one years of absorbing -everything that came within his experience. - -Dirk reached for his gun, but Bud was expecting that. Dirk -was not quite quick enough, and his hand therefore came -forward with a jerk when he saw that he was "covered." Bud -leaned, pulled Dirk's six-shooter from its holster and sent it -spinning into a clump of bushes. He snatched a wicked-looking -knife from Dirk's boot where he had once seen Dirk slip it -sheathed when he dressed in the bunk-house, and sent that -after the gun. - -"Now, you long-eared walrus, you're in a position to play -fair. What are you going to do about it?" He reined away, out -of Dirk's reach, took his handkerchief and wrapped his own -gun tightly to protect it from sand, and threw it after -Dirk's gun and the knife. "Am I a snooping coyote?" he -demanded watching Dirk. - -"You air. More 'n all that, you're a damned spy! And I kin -lick yuh an' lass' yuh an' lead yuh to Bart like a sheep!" - -They dismounted, left their horses to stand with reins -dropped, threw off their coats and fought until they were too -tired to land another blow. There were no fatalities. Bud did -not come out of the fray unscathed and proudly conscious of -his strength and his skill and the unquestionable -righteousness of his cause. Instead he had three bruised -knuckles and a rapidly swelling ear, and when his anger had -cooled a little he felt rather foolish and wondered what had -started them off that way. They had ridden away from the -ranch in a very good humor, and he had harbored no conscious -dislike of Dirk Tracy, who had been one individual of a type -of rangemen which he had known all his life and had accepted -as a matter of course. - -Dirk, on his part, had some trouble in stopping the bleeding -of his nose, and by the time he reached the ranch his left -eye was closed completely. He was taller and heavier than -Bud, and he had not expected such a slugging strength behind -Bud's blows. - -He was badly shaken, and when Bud recovered the two guns and -the knife and returned his weapons to him, Dirk was half -tempted to shoot. But he did not--perhaps because Bud had -unwrapped his own six-shooter and was looking it over with the -muzzle slanting a wicked eye in Dirk's direction. - -Late that afternoon, when the boys were loafing around the -cabin waiting for their early supper, Bud packed his worldly -goods on Sunfish and departed from the Muleshoe--"by special -request", he admitted to himself ruefully--with his wages in -gold and silver in his pocket and no definite idea of what he -would do next. - -He wished he knew exactly why Bart had fired him. He did not -believe that it was for fighting, as Bart had declared. He -thought that perhaps Dirk Tracy had some hold on the Muleshoe -not apparent to the outsider, and that he had lied about him -to Bart as a sneaking kind of revenge for being whipped. But -that explanation did not altogether satisfy him, either. - -In his month at the Muleshoe he had gained a very fair -general idea of the extent and resources of Burroback Valley, -but he had not made any acquaintances and he did not know -just where to go for his next job. So for want of something -better, he rode down to the little stream which he now knew -was called One Creek, and prepared to spend the night there. -In the morning he would make a fresh start--and because of -the streak of stubbornness he had, he meant to make it in -Burroback Valley, under the very nose of the Muleshoe outfit. - - -CHAPTER NINE: LITTLE LOST - -Little Lost--somehow the name appealed to Bud, whose instinct -for harmony extended to words and phrases and, for that -matter, to everything in the world that was beautiful. From -the time when he first heard Little Lost mentioned, he had -felt a vague regret that chance had not led him there instead -of to the Muleshoe. Brands he had heard all his life as the -familiar, colloquial names for ranch headquarters. The -Muleshoe was merely a brand name. Little Lost was something -else, and because Buddy had been taught to "wait and find out" -and to ask questions only as a last resort, Bud was still in -ignorance of the meaning of Little Lost. He knew, from careless -remarks made in his presence, that the mail came to Little Lost, -and that there was some sort of store where certain everyday -necessities were kept, for which the store-keeper charged "two -prices." But there was also a ranch, for he sometimes heard the -boys mention the Little Lost cattle, and speak of some man as a -rider for the Little Lost. - -So to Little Lost Bud rode blithely next morning, riding -Stopper and leading Smoky, Sunfish and the pack following as -a matter of course. Again his trained instinct served him -faithfully. He had a very good general idea of Burroback -Valley, he knew that the Muleshoe occupied a fair part of the -south side, and guessed that he must ride north, toward the -Gold Gap Mountains, to find the place he wanted. - -The trail was easy, his horses were as fat as was good for -them. In two hours of riding at his usual trail pace he came -upon another stream which he knew must be Sunk Creek grown a -little wider and deeper in its journey down the valley. He -forded that with a great splashing, climbed the farther bank, -followed a stubby, rocky bit of road that wound through dense -willow and cottonwood growth, came out into a humpy meadow -full of ant hills, gopher holes and soggy wet places where -the water grass grew, crossed that and followed the road -around a brushy ridge and found himself squarely confronting -Little Lost. - -There could be no mistake, for "Little Lost Post Office" was -unevenly painted on the high cross-bar of the gate that stood -wide open and permanently warped with long sagging. There was -a hitch-rail outside the gate, and Bud took the hint and left -his horses there. From the wisps of fresh hay strewn along -the road, Bud knew that haying had begun at Little Lost. -There were at least four cabins and a somewhat pretentious, -story-and-a-half log house with vines reaching vainly to the -high window sills, and coarse lace curtains. One of these -curtains moved slightly, and Bud's sharp eyes detected the -movement and knew that his arrival was observed in spite of -the emptiness of the yard. - -The beaten path led to a screen door which sagged with much -slamming, leaving a wide space at the top through which flies -passed in and out quite comfortably. Bud saw that, also, and -his fingers itched to reset that door, just as he would have -done for his mother--supposing his mother would have -tolerated the slamming which had brought the need. Bud lifted -his gloved knuckles to knock, saw that the room within was -grimy and bare and meant for public use, very much like the -office of a country hotel, with a counter and a set of -pigeon-holes at the farther end. He walked in. - -No one appeared, and after ten minutes or so Bud guessed why, -and went back to the door, pushed it wide open and permitted -it to fly shut with a bang. Whereupon a girl opened the door -behind the counter and came in, glancing at Bud with frank -curiosity. - -Bud took off his hat and clanked over to the counter and -asked if there was any mail for Bud Birnie--Robert Wallace -Birnie. - -The girl looked at him again and smiled, and turned to -shuffle a handful of letters. Bud employed the time in trying -to guess just what she meant by that smile. - -It was not really a smile, he decided, but the beginning of -one. And if that were the beginning, he would very much like -to know what the whole smile would mean. The beginning hinted -at things. It was as if she doubted the reality of the name -he gave, and meant to conceal her doubt, or had heard -something amusing about him, or wished to be friends with -him, or was secretly timorous and trying to appear merely -indifferent. Or perhaps---- - -She replaced the letters and turned, and rested her hands on -the counter. She looked at him and again her lips turned at -the corners in that faint, enigmatical beginning of a smile. - -"There isn't a thing," she said. "The mail comes this noon -again. Do you want yours sent out to any of the outfits? Or -shall I just hold it?" - -"Just hold it, when there is any. At least, until I see -whether I land a job here. I wonder where I could find the -boss?" Bud was glancing often at her hands. For a ranch girl -her hands were soft and white, but her fingers were a bit too -stubby and her nails were too round and flat. - -"Uncle Dave will be home at noon. He's out in the meadow with -the boys. You might sit down and wait." - -Bud looked at his watch. Sitting down and waiting for four -hours did not appeal to him, even supposing the girl would -keep him company. But he lingered awhile, leaning with his -elbows on the counter near her; and by those obscure little -conversational trails known to youth, he progressed -considerably in his acquaintance with the girl and made her -smile often without once feeling quite certain that he knew -what was in her mind. - -He discovered that her name was Honora Krause, and that she -was called Honey "for short." Her father had been Dutch and -her mother a Yankee, and she lived with her uncle, Dave -Truman, who owned Little Lost ranch, and took care of the -mail for him, and attended to the store--which was nothing -more than a supply depot kept for the accommodation of the -neighbors. The store, she said, was in the next room. - -Bud asked her what Little Lost meant, and she replied that -she did not know, but that it might have something to do with -Sunk Creek losing itself in The Sinks. There was a Little -Lost river, farther across the mountains, she said, but it -did not run through Little Lost ranch, nor come anywhere near -it. - -After that she questioned him adroitly. Perversely Bud -declined to become confidential, and Honey Krause changed the -subject abruptly. - -"There's going to be a dance here next Friday night. It'll be -a good chance to get acquainted with everybody--if you go. -There'll be good music, I guess. Uncle Dave wrote to Crater -for the Saunders boys to come down and play. Do you know -anybody in Crater?" - -The question was innocent enough, but perverseness still held -Bud. He smiled and said he did not know anybody anywhere, any -more. He said that if Bobbie Burns had asked him "Should auld -acquaintance be forgot," he'd have told him yes, and he'd -have made it good and strong. But he added that he was just -as willing to make new acquaintance, and thought the dance -would be a good place to begin. - -Honey gave him a provocative glance from under her lashes, -and Bud straightened and stepped back. - -"You let folks stop here, I take it. I've a pack outfit and a -couple of saddle horses with me. Will it be all right to turn -them in the corral? I hate to have them eat post hay all day. -Or I could perhaps go back to the creek and camp." - -"Oh, just turn your horses in the corral and make yourself at -home till uncle comes," she told him with that tantalizing -half-smile. "We keep people here--just for accommodation. -There has to be some place in the valley where folks can -stop. I can't promise that uncle will give you a job, but -There's going to be chicken and dumplings for dinner. And the -mail will be in, about noon--you'll want to wait for that." - -She was standing just within the screen door, frankly -watching him as he came past the house with the horses, and -she came out and halted him when she spied the top of the -pack. - -"You'd better leave those things here," she advised him -eagerly. "I'll put them in the sitting-room by the piano. My -goodness, you must be a whole orchestra! If you can play, -maybe you and I can furnish the music for the dance, and save -Uncle Dave hiring the Saunders boys. Anyway, we can play -together, and have real good times." - -Bud had an odd feeling that Honey was talking one thing with -her lips, and thinking an entirely different set of thoughts. -He eyed her covertly while he untied the cases, and he could -have sworn that he saw her signal someone behind the lace -curtains of the nearest window. He glanced carelessly that -way, but the curtains were motionless. Honey was holding out -her hands for the guitar and the mandolin when he turned, -so Bud surrendered them and went on to the corrals. - -He did not return to the house. An old man was pottering -around a machine shed that stood backed against a thick -fringe of brush, and when Bud rode by he left his work and -came after him, taking short steps and walking with his back -bent stiffly forward and his hands swinging limply at his -sides. - -He had a long black beard streaked with gray, and sharp blue -eyes set deep under tufted white eyebrows. He seemed a -friendly old man whose interest in life remained keen as in -his youth, despite the feebleness of his body. He showed Bud -where to turn the horses, and went to work on the pack rope, -his crooked old fingers moving with the sureness of lifelong -habit. He was eager to know all the news that Bud could tell -him, and when he discovered that Bud had just left the -Muleshoe, and that he had been fired because of a fight with -Dirk Tracy, the old fellow cackled gleefully - -"Well, now, I guess you just about had yore hands full, young -man," he commented shrewdly. "Dirk ain't so easy to lick." - -Bud immediately wanted to know why it was taken for granted -that he had whipped Dirk, and grandpa chortled again. "Now if -you hadn't of licked Dirk, you wouldn't of got fired," he -retorted, and proceeded to relate a good deal of harmless -gossip which seemed to bear out the statement. Dirk Tracy, -according to grandpa, was the real boss of the Muleshoe, and -Bart was merely a figure-head. - -All of this did not matter to Bud, but grandpa was garrulous. -A good deal of information Bud received while the two -attended to the horses and loitered at the corral gate. - -Grandpa admired Smoky, and looked him over carefully, with -those caressing smoothings of mane and forelock which betray -the lover of good horseflesh. - -"I reckon he's purty fast," he said, peering shrewdly into -Bud's face." The boys has been talking about pulling off some -horse races here next Sunday--we got a good, straight, hard- -packed creek-bed up here a piece that has been cleaned of -rocks fer a mile track, and they're goin' to run a horse er -two. Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack. You -might git in on it, if you're around in these parts." He -pushed his back straight with his palms, turned his head -sidewise and squinted at Smoky through half-closed lids while -he fumbled for cigarette material. - -"I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars -on that horse myself," he observed, "if you say he kin run. -You wouldn't go an' lie to an old feller like me, would yuh, -son?" - -Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled. "No, I -won't lie to you, dad," he grinned. "You know horses too -well." - -"Well, but kin he run? I want yore word on it." - -"Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow," Bud admitted -cautiously. - -"Ever run him fer money?" The old man began teetering from -his toes to his heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and -back. - -"Well, no, not for money. I've run him once or twice for fun, -just trying to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe." - -"Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!" The old man spat -angrily into the dust of the corral. Then he thought of -something. "Did yuh BEAT 'em?" he demanded sharply. - -"Why, sure, I beat them!" Bud looked at him surprised, seemed -about to say more, and let the statement stand unqualified. - -Grandpa stared at him for a minute, his blue eyes blinking -with some secret excitement. "Young feller," he began -abruptly, "lemme tell yuh something. Yuh never want to do a -thing like that agin. If you got a horse that can outrun the -other feller's horse, figure to make him bring yuh in -something--if it ain't no more'n a quarter! Make him BRING -yuh a little something. That's the way to do with everything -yuh turn a hand to; make it bring yuh in something! It ain't -what goes out that'll do yuh any good--it's what comes in. -You mind that. If you let a horse run agin' another feller's -horse, bet on him to come in ahead--and then," he cried -fiercely, pounding one fist into the other palm, " by -Christmas, make 'im come in ahead!" His voice cracked and -went flat with emotion. - -He stopped suddenly and let his arms fall slack, his -shoulders sag forward. He waggled his head and muttered into -his beard, and glanced at Bud with a crafty look. - -"If I'da took that to m'self, I wouldn't be chorin' around -here now for my own son," he lamented. "I'd of saved the -quarters, an' I'd of had a few dollars now of my own. Uh -course," he made haste to add, "I git holt of a little, now -and agin. Too old to ride--too old to work--jest manage to -pick up a dollar er two now and agin--on a horse that kin -run." - -He went over to Smoky again and ran his hand down over the -leg muscles to the hocks, felt for imperfections and -straightened painfully, slapped the horse approvingly between -the forelegs and laid a hand on his shoulder while he turned -slowly to Bud. - -"Young feller, there ain't a man on the place right now but -you an' me. What say you throw yore saddle on this horse and -take 'im up to the track? I'd like to see him run. Seems to -me he'd ought to be a purty good quarter-horse." - -Bud hesitated. "I wouldn't mind running him, grandpa, if I -thought I could make something on him. I've got my stake to -make, and I want to make it before all my teeth fall out so I -can't chew anything but the cud of reflection on my lost -opportunities. If Smoky can run a few dollars into my pocket, -I'm with you." - -Grandpa teetered forward and put out his hand. "Shake on -that, boy!" he cackled. "Pop Truman ain't too old to have -his little joke--and make it bring him in something, by -Christmas! You saddle up and we'll go try him out on a -quarter-mile--mebby a half, if he holds up good." - -He poked a cigarette-stained forefinger against Bud's chest -and whispered slyly: "My son Dave, he 's got a horse in the -stable that's been cleanin' everything in the valley. I'll -slip him out and up the creektrail to the track, and you run -that horse of yourn agin him. Dave, he can't git a race outa -nobody around here, no more, so he won't run next Sunday. -We'll jest see how yore horse runs alongside Boise. I kin -tell purty well how you kin run agin the rest--Pop, he -ain't s' thick-headed they kin fool him much. What say we try -it?" - -Bud stood back and looked him over. "You shook hands with me -on it," he said gravely. "Where I came from, that holds a man -like taking oath on a Bible in court. I'm a stranger here, -but I'm going to expect the same standard of honor, grandpa. -You can back out now, and I'll run Smoky without any tryout, -and you can take your chance. I couldn't expect you to stand -by a stranger against your own folks--" - -"Sho! Shucks a'mighty!" Grandpa spat and wagged his head -furiously. "My own forks'd beat me in a horse race if they -could, and I wouldn't hold it agin 'em! Runnin' horses is -like playin' poker. Every feller fer himself an' mercy to- -ward none! I knowed what it meant when I shook with yuh, -young feller, and I hold ye to it. I hold ye to it! You lay -low if I tell ye to lay low, and we'll make us a few dollars, -mebby. C'm on and git that horse outa here b'fore somebuddy -comes. It's mail day." - -He waved Bud toward his saddle and took himself off in a -shuffling kind of trot. By the time Bud had saddled Smoky -grandpa hailed him cautiously from the brush-fringe beyond -the corral. He motioned toward a small gate and Bud led Smoky -that way, closing the gate after him. - -The old man was mounted on a clean-built bay whose coat shone -with little glints of gold in the dark red. With one sweeping -look Bud observed the points that told of speed, and his eyes -went inquiringly to meet the sharp blue ones, that sparkled -under the tufted white eyebrows of grandpa. - -"Do you expect Smoky to show up the same day that horse -arrives?" he inquired mildly. "Pop, you'll have to prove to -me that he won't run Sunday--" - -Pop snorted. "Seems to me like you do know a speedy horse -when you see one, young feller. Beats me't you been -overlookin' what you got under yore saddle right now. Boise, -he's the best runnin' horse in the valley--and that's why he -won't run next Sunday, ner no other Sunday till somebuddy -brings in a strange horse to put agin him. Dave, he won't -crowd ye fur a race, boy. You kin refuse to run yore horse -agin him, like the rest has done. I'll jest lope along t'day -and see what yours kin do." - -"Well, all right, then." Bud waited for the old man to ride -ahead down the obscure trail that wound through the brush for -half a mile or so before they emerged into the rough border -of the creek bed. Pop reined in close and explained -garrulously to Bud how this particular stream disappeared -into the ground two miles above Little Lost, leaving the -wide, level river bottom bone dry. - -Pop was cautious. He rode up to a rise of ground and scanned -the country suspiciously before he led the way into the creek -bed. Even then he kept close under the bank until they had -passed two of the quarter-mile posts that had been planted in -the hard sand. - -Evidently he had been doing a good deal of thinking during -the ride; certainly he had watched Smoky. When he stopped -under the bank opposite the half-mile post he dismounted more -spryly than one would have expected. His eyes were bright, -his voice sharp. Pop was forgetting his age. - -"I guess I'll ride yore horse m'self," he announced, and they -exchanged horses under the shelter of the bank. "You kin take -an' ride Boise-an' I want you should beat me if you kin." He -looked at Bud appraisingly. "I'll bet a dollar," he cried -suddenly, "that I kin outrun ye, young feller! An' you got -the fastest horse in Burroback Valley and I don't know what I -got under me. I'm seventy years old come September--when I'm -afoot. Are ye afraid to bet?" - -"I'm scared a dollar's worth that I'll never see you again -to-day unless I ride back to find you," Bud grinned. - -"Any time you lose ole Pop Truman--shucks almighty! Come on, -then--I'll show ye the way to the quarter-post!" - -"I'm right with you, Pop. You say so, and I'm gone!" - -They reined in with the shadow of the post falling square -across the necks of both horses. Pop gathered up the reins, -set his feet in the stirrups and shrilled, "Go, gol darn ye!" - -They went, like two scared rabbits down the smooth, yellow -stretch of packed sand. Pop's elbows stuck straight out, he -held the reins high and leaned far over Smoky's neck, his -eyes glaring. Bud--oh, never worry about Bud! In the years -that lay between thirteen and twenty-one Bud had learned a -good many things, and one of them was how to get out of a -horse all the speed there was in him. - -They went past the quarter-post and a furlong beyond before -either could pull up. Pop was pale and triumphant, and -breathing harder than his mount. - -"Here 's your dollar, Pop--and don't you talk in your sleep!" -Bud admonished, smiling as he held out the dollar, but with -an anxious tone in his voice. "If this is the best running -horse you've got in the valley, I may get some action, next -Sunday!" - -Pop dismounted, took the dollar with a grin and mounted -Boise--and that in spite of the fact that Boise was keyed up -and stepping around and snorting for another race. Bud -watched Pop queerly, remembering how feeble had been the old -man whom he had met at the corral. - -"Say, Pop, you ought to race a little every day," he -bantered. "You're fifteen years younger than you were an hour -ago." - -For answer Pop felt of his back and groaned. "Oh, I'll pay -fer it, young feller! I don't look fer much peace with my -back fer a week, after this. But you kin make sure of one -thing, and that is, I ain't goin' to talk in my sleep none. -By Christmas, We'll make this horse of yours bring us in -something! I guess you better turn yore horses all out in the -pasture. Dave, he'll give yuh work all right. I'll fix it -with Dave. And you listen to Pop, young feller. I'll show ye -a thing or two about runnin' horses. You'n me'll clean up a -nice little bunch of money-HE-HE!-beat Boise in a quarter -dash! Tell that to Dave, an' he wouldn't b'lieve ye!" - -When Pop got off at the back of the stable he could scarcely -move, he was so stiff. But his mind was working well enough -to see that Bud rubbed the saddle print off Boise and turned -his own horses loose in the pasture, before he let him go on -to the house. The last Bud heard from Pop that forenoon was a -senile chuckle and a cackling, "Outrun Boise in a quarter -dash! Shucks a'mighty! But I knew it--I knew he had the -speed--sho! Ye can't fool ole Pop--shucks!" - - -CHAPTER TEN: BUD MEETS THE WOMAN - -A woman was stooping at the woodpile, filling her arms with -crooked sticks of rough-barked sage. From the color of her -hair Bud knew that she was not Honey, and that she was -therefore a stranger to him. But he swung off the path and -went over to her as naturally as he would go to pick up a -baby that had fallen. - -"I'll carry that in for you," he said, and put out his hand -to help her to her feet. - -Before he touched her she was on her feet and looking at him. -Bud could not remember afterwards that she had done anything -else; he seemed to have seen only her eyes, and into them and -beyond them to a soul that somehow made his heart tremble. - -What she said, what he answered, was of no moment. He could -not have told afterwards what it was. He stooped and filled -his arms with wood, and walked ahead of her up the pathway to -the kitchen door, and stopped when she flitted past him to -show him where the wood-box stood. He was conscious then of -her slenderness and of the lightness of her steps. He dropped -the wood into the box behind the stove on which kettles were -steaming. There was the smell of chicken stewing, and the -odor of fresh-baked pies. - -She smiled up at him and offered him a crisp, warn cookie -with sugared top, and he saw her eyes again and felt the same -tremor at his heart. He pulled himself together and smiled -back at her, thanked her and went out, stumbling a little on -the doorstep, the cookie untasted in his fingers. - -He walked down to the corral and began fumbling at his pack, -his thoughts hushed before the revelation that had come to -him. - -"Her hands--her poor, little, red hands!" he said in a -whisper as the memory of them came suddenly. But it was her -eyes that he was seeing with his mind; her eyes, and what lay -deep within. They troubled him, shook him, made him want to -use his man-strength against something that was hurting her. -He did not know what it could be; he did not know that there -was anything--but oddly the memory of his mother's white face -back in the long ago, and of her tone when she said, "Oh, -God, please!" came back and fitted themselves to the look in -this woman's eyes. - -Bud sat down on his canvas-wrapped bed and lifted his hat to -rumple his hair and then smooth it again, as was his habit -when worried. He looked at the cookie, and because he was -hungry he ate it with a foolish feeling that he was being -sentimental as the very devil, thinking how her hands had -touched it. He rolled and smoked a cigarette afterwards, and -wondered who she was and whether she was married, and what -her first name was. - -A quiet smoke will bring a fellow to his senses sometimes -when nothing else will, and Bud managed, by smoking two -cigarettes in rapid succession, to restore himself to some -degree of sanity. - -"Funny how she made me think of mother, back when I was a kid -coming up from Texas," he mused. "Mother'd like her." It was -the first time he had ever thought just that about a girl. "She's -no relation to Honey," he added. "I'd bet a horse on that." He -recalled how white and soft were Honey's hands, and he swore a -little. "Wouldn't hurt her to get out there in the kitchen and -help with the cooking," he criticised. Then suddenly he laughed. -"Shucks a'mighty, as Pop says! with those two girls on the ranch -I'll gamble Dave Truman has a full crew of men that are plumb -willing to work for their board!" - -The stage came, and Bud turned to it relievedly. After that, -here came Dave Truman on a deep-cheated roan. Bud knew him by -his resemblance to the old man, who came shuffling bent- -backed from the machine-shed as Dave passed. - -Pop beckoned, and Dave reined his horse that way and stopped -at the shed door. The two talked for a minute and Dave rode -on, passing Bud with a curt nod. Pop came over to where Bud -stood leaning against the corral. - -"How are you feeling, dad?" Bud grinned absently. - -"Purty stiff an' sore, boy--my rheumatics is bad to-day." Pop -winked solemnly. "I spoke to Dave about you wantin' a job, -and I guess likely Dave'll put you on. They's plenty to do-- -hayin' comin' on and all that." He lowered his voice -mysteriously, though there was no man save Bud within a -hundred feet of him. "Don't ye go 'n talk horses--not yet. -Don't let on like yore interested much. I'll tell yuh when to -take 'em up." - -The men came riding in from the hayfield, some in wagons, two -astride harnessed work-horses, and one long-legged fellow in -chaps on a mower, driving a sweaty team that still had life -enough to jump sidewise when they spied Bud's pack by the -corral. The stage driver sauntered up and spoke to the men. -Bud went over and began to help unhitch the team from the -mower, and the driver eyed him sharply while he grinned his -greeting across the backs of the horses. - -"Pop says you're looking for work," Dave Truman observed, -coming up. "Well, if you ain't scared of it, I'll stake yuh -to a hayfork after dinner. Where yuh from?" - -"Just right now, I'm from the Muleshoe. Bud Birnie's my name. -I was telling dad why I quit." - -"Tell me," Dave directed briefly. "Pop ain't as reliable as -he used to be. He'd never get it out straight." - -"I quit," said Bud, "by special request." He pulled off his -gloves carefully and held up his puffed knuckles. "I got that -on Dirk Tracy." - -The driver of the mower shot a quick, meaning glance at Dave, -and laughed shortly. Dave grinned a little, but he did not -ask what had been the trouble, as Bud had half expected him -to do. Apparently Dave felt that he had received all the -information he needed, for his next remark had to do with the -heat. The day was a "weather breeder", he declared, and he -was glad to have another man to put at the hauling. - -An iron triangle beside the kitchen door clamored then, and -Bud, looking quickly, saw the slim little woman with the big, -troubled eyes striking the iron bar vigorously. Dave glanced -at his watch and led the way to the house, the hay crew -hurrying after him. - -Fourteen men sat down to a long table with a great shuffling -of feet and scraping of benches, and immediately began a -voracious attack upon the heaped platters of chicken and -dumplings and the bowls of vegetables. Bud found a place at -the end where he could look into the kitchen, and his eyes -went that way as often as they dared, following the swift -motions of the little woman who poured coffee and filled -empty dishes and said never a word to anyone. - -He was on the point of believing her a daughter of the house -when a square-jawed man of thirty, or thereabout, who sat at -Bud's right hand, called her to him as he might have called -his dog, by snapping his fingers. - -She came and stood beside Bud while the man spoke to her in -an arrogant undertone. - -"Marian, I told yuh I wanted tea for dinner after this. -D'you bring me coffee on purpose, just to be onery? I thought -I told yuh to straighten up and quit that sulkin'. I ain't -going to have folks think----" - -"Oh, be quiet! Shame on you, before everyone!" she whispered -fiercely while she lifted the cup and saucer. - -Bud went hot all over. He did not look up when she returned -presently with a cup of tea, but he felt her presence -poignantly, as he had never before sensed the presence of a -woman. When he was able to swallow his wrath and meet calmly -the glances of these strangers he turned his head casually -and looked the man over. - -Her husband, he guessed the fellow to be. No other -relationship could account for that tone of proprietorship, -and there was no physical resemblance between the two. A mean -devil, Bud called him mentally, with a narrow forehead, eyes -set too far apart and the mouth of a brute. Someone spoke to -the man, calling him Lew, and he answered with rough good -humor, repeating a stale witticism and laughing at it just as -though he had not heard others say it a hundred times. - -Bud looked at him again and hated him, but he did not glance -again at the little woman named Marian; for his own peace of -mind he did not dare. He thought that he knew now what it was -he had seen in the depth of her eyes, but there seemed to be -nothing that he could do to help. - -That evening after supper Honey Krause called to him when he -was starting down to the bunk-house with the other men. What -she said was that she still had his guitar and mandolin, and -that they needed exercise. What she looked was the challenge -of a born coquette. In the kitchen dishes were rattling, but -after they were washed there would be a little leisure, -perhaps, for the kitchen drudge. Bud's impulse to make his -sore hands an excuse for refusing evaporated. It might not be -wise to place himself deliberately in the way of getting a -hurt--but youth never did stop to consult a sage before -following the lure of a woman's eyes. - -He called back to Honey that those instruments ought to have -been put in the hayfield, where there was more exercise than -the men could use. "You boys ought to come and see me safe -through with it," he added to the loitering group around him. -"I'm afraid of women." - -They laughed and two or three went with him. Lew went on to -the corral and presently appeared on horseback, riding up to -the kitchen and leaving his horse standing at the corner -while he went inside and talked to the woman he had called -Marian. - -Bud was carrying his guitar outside, where it was cooler, -when he heard the fellow's arrogant voice. The dishes ceased -rattling for a minute, and there was a sharp exclamation, -stifled but unmistakable. Involuntarily Bud made a movement -in that direction, when Honey's voice stopped him with a -subdued laugh. - -"That's only Lew and Mary Ann," she explained carelessly. "They -have a spat every time they come within gunshot of each other." - -The lean fellow who had driven the mower, and whose name was -Jerry Myers, edged carelessly close to Bud and gave him a -nudge with his elbow, and a glance from under his eyebrows by -way of emphasis. He turned his head slightly, saw that Honey -had gone into the house, and muttered just above a whisper, -"Don't see or hear anything. It's all the help you can give -her. And for Lord's sake don't let on to Honey like you--give -a cuss whether it rains or not, so long 's it don't pour too -hard the night of the dance." - -Bud looked up at the darkening sky speculatively, and tried -not to hear the voices in the kitchen, one of which was -brutally harsh while the other told of hate and fear -suppressed under gentle forbearance. The harsh voice was -almost continuous, the other infrequent, reluctant to speak -at all. Bud wanted to go in and smash his guitar over the -fellow's head, but Jerry's warning held him. There were other -ways, however, to help; if he must not drive off the -tormentor, then he would call him away. He ignored his -bruised knuckles and plucked the guitar strings as if he held -a grudge against them, and then began to sing the first song -that came into his mind--one that started in a rollicky -fashion. - -Men came straggling up from the bunk-house before he had -finished the first chorus, and squatted on their heels to -listen, their cigarettes glowing like red fingertips in the -dusk. But the voice in the kitchen talked on. Bud tried -another--one of those old-time favorites, a "laughing coon" -song, though he felt little enough in the mood for it. In the -middle of the first laugh he heard the kitchen door slam, and -Lew's footsteps coming around the corner. He listened until -the song was done, then mounted and rode away, Bud's laugh -following him triumphantly--though Lew could not have guessed -its meaning. - -Bud sang for two hours expectantly, but Marian did not -appear, and Bud went off to the bunk-house feeling that his -attempt to hearten her had been a failure. Of Honey he did -not think at all, except to wonder if the two women were -related in any way, and to feel that if they were Marian was -to be pitied. At that point Jerry overtook him and asked for -a match, which gave him an excuse to hold Bud behind the -others. - -"Honey like to have caught me, to-night," Jerry observed -guardedly. "I had to think quick. I'll tell you the lay of -the land, Bud, seeing you're a stranger here. Marian's man, -Lew, he's a damned bully and somebody is going to draw a fine -bead on him some day when he ain't looking. But he stands in, -so the less yuh take notice the better. Marian, she's a fine -little woman that minds her own business, but she's getting a -cold deck slipped into the game right along. Honey's jealous -of her and afraid somebody'll give her a pleasant look. Lew's -jealous, and he watches her like a cat watches a mouse "It's -caught and wants to play with. Between the two of 'em Marian -has a real nice time of it. I'm wising you up so you won't -hand her any more misery by trying to take her part. Us boys -have learned to keep our mouths shut." - -"Glad you told me," Bud muttered. "Otherwise----" - -"Exactly," Jerry agreed understandingly. "Otherwise any of us -would." - -He stopped and then spoke in a different tone. "If Lew stays -off the ranch long enough, maybe you'll get to hear her sing. -Wow-ee, but that lady has sure got the meadow-larks whipped! -But look out for Honey, old-timer." - -Bud laughed unmirthfully. "Looks to me as if you aren't crazy -over Honey," he ventured. "What has she done to you?" - -"Her?" Jerry inspected his cigarette, listened to the whisper -of prudence in his ear, and turned away. "Forget it. I never -said a word." He swept the whole subject from him with a -comprehensive gesture, and snorted. "I'm gettin' as bad as -Pop," he grinned. "But lemme tell yuh something. Honey Krause -runs more 'n the post-office." - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN: GUILE AGAINST THE WILY - -Bud liked to have his life run along accustomed lines with a -more or less perfect balance of work and play, friendships -and enmities. He had grown up with the belief that any -mystery is merely a synonym for menace. He had learned to be -wary of known enemies such as Indians and outlaws, and to -trust implicitly his friends. To feel now, without apparent -cause, that his friends might be enemies in disguise, was a -new experience that harried him. - -He had come to Little Lost on Tuesday, straight from the -Muleshoe where his presence was no longer desired for some -reason not yet satisfactorily explained to him. You know what -happened on Tuesday. That night the land crouched under a -terrific electric storm, with crackling swords of white death -dazzling from inky black clouds, and ear-splitting thunder -close on the heels of it. Bud had known such storms all his -life, yet on this night he was uneasy, vaguely disturbed. He -caught himself wondering if Lew Morris's wife was frightened, -and the realization that he was worrying about her fear -worried him more than ever and held him awake long after the -fury of the storm had passed. - -Next day, when he came in at noon, there was Hen, from the -Muleshoe, waiting for dinner before he rode back with the -mail. Hen's jaw dropped when he saw Bud riding on a Little -Lost hay-wagon, and his eyes bulged with what Bud believed -was consternation. All through the meal Bud had caught Hen -eyeing him miserably, and looking stealthily from him to the -others. No one paid any attention, and for that Bud was -rather thankful; he did not want the Little Lost fellows to -think that perhaps he had done something which he knew would -hang him if it were discovered, which, he decided, was the -mildest interpretation a keen observer would be apt to make -of Hen's behavior. - -When he went out, Hen was at his heels, trying to say -something in his futile, tongue-tied gobble. Bud stopped and -looked at him tolerantly. "Hen, "It's no use--you might as -well be talking Chinese, for all I know. If it's important, -write it down or I'll never know what's on your mind." - -He pulled a note-book and a pencil from his vest-pocket and -gave them to Hen, who looked at him dumbly, worked his Adam's -apple violently and retreated to his horse, fumbled the mail -which was tied in the bottom of a flour sack for safe -keeping, sought a sheltered place where he could sit down, -remained there a few minutes, and then returned to his horse -He beckoned to Bud, who was watching him curiously; and when -Bud went over to him said something unintelligible and handed -back the note-book, motioning for caution when Bud would have -opened the book at once. - -So Bud thanked him gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes, -and waited until Hen had gone and he was alone before he read -the message. It was mysterious enough, certainly. Hen had -written in a fine, cramped, uneven hand: - -"You bee carful. bern this up& and dent let on like you no -anything but i warn you be shure bern this up." - -Bud tore out the page and burned it as requested, and since -he was not enlightened by the warning he obeyed Hen's -instructions and did not "let on." But he could not help -wondering, and was unconsciously prepared to observe little -things which ordinarily would have passed unnoticed. - -At the dance on Friday night, for instance, there was a good -deal of drinking and mighty little hilarity. Bud had been -accustomed to loud talk and much horseplay outside among the -men on such occasions, and even a fight or two would be -accepted as a matter of course. But though several quart -bottles were passed around during the night and thrown away -empty into the bushes, the men went in and danced and came -out again immediately to converse confidentially in small -groups, or to smoke without much speech. The men of Burroback -Valley were not running true to form. - -The women were much like all the women of cow-country: mothers -with small children who early became cross and sleepy and -were hushed under shawls on the most convenient bed, a piece -of cake in their hands; mothers whose faces were lined too -soon with work and ill-health, and with untidy hair that -became untidier as the dance progressed. There were -daughters--shy and giggling to hide their shyness--Bud knew -their type very well and made friends with them easily, and -immediately became the centre of a clamoring audience after -he had sung a song or two. - -There was Honey, with her inscrutable half smile and her -veiled eyes, condescending to graciousness and quite plainly -assuming a proprietary air toward Bud, whom she put through -whatever musical paces pleased her fancy. Bud, I may say, was -extremely tractable. When Honey said sing, Bud sang; when she -said play, Bud sat down to the piano and played until she -asked him to do something else. It was all very pleasant for -Honey--and Bud ultimately won his point--Honey decided to -extend her graciousness a little. - -Why hadn't Bud danced with Marian? He must go right away and -ask her to dance. Just because Lew was gone, Marian need not -be slighted--and besides, there were other fellows who might -want a little of Honey's time. - -So Bud went away and found Marian in the pantry, cutting -cakes while the coffee boiled, and asked her to dance. Marian -was too tired, and' she had not the time to spare; wherefore -Bud helped himself to a knife and proceeded to cut cakes with -geometrical precision, and ate all the crumbs. With his hands -busy, he found the courage to talk to her a little. He made -Marian laugh out loud and it was the first time he had ever -heard her do that. - -Marian disclosed a sense of humor, and even teased Bud a -little about Honey. But her teasing lacked that edge of -bitterness which Bud had half expected in retaliation for -Honey's little air of superiority. - -"Your precision in cutting cakes is very much like your -accurate fingering of the piano," she observed irrelevantly, -surveying his work with her lips pursed. "A pair of calipers -would prove every piece exactly, the same width; and even -when you play a Meditation? I'm sure the metronome would -waggle in perfect unison with your tempo. I wonder--" She -glanced up at him speculatively. "--I wonder if you think -with such mathematical precision. Do you always find that two -and two make four?" - -"You mean, have I any imagination whatever?" Bud looked away -from her eyes--toward the uncurtained, high little window. A -face appeared there, as if a tall man had glanced in as he -was passing by and halted for a second to look. Bud's eyes -met full the eyes of the man outside, who tilted his head -backward in a significant movement and passed on. Marian -turned her head and caught the signal, looked at Bud quickly, -a little flush creeping into her cheeks. - -"I hope you have a little imagination," she said, lowering -her voice instinctively. "It doesn't require much to see that -Jerry is right. The conventions are strictly observed at -Little Lost--in the kitchen, at least," she added, under her -breath, with a flash of resentment. "Run along--and the next -time Honey asks you to play the piano, will you please play -Lotusblume? And when you have thrown open the prison windows -with that, will you play Schubert's Ave Maria--the way you -play it--to send a breath of cool night air in?" - -She put out the tips of her fingers and pressed them lightly -against Bud's shoulder, turning toward the door. Bud started, -stepped into the kitchen, wheeled about and stood regarding -her with a stubborn look in his eyes. - -"I might kick the door down, too," he said. "I don't like -prisons nohow." - -"No-just a window, thank you," she laughed. - -Bud thought the laugh did not go very deep. "Jerry wants to -talk to you. He's the whitest of the lot, if you can call -that--" she stopped abruptly, put out a hand to the door, -gave him a moment to look into her deep, troubled eyes, and -closed the door gently but inexorably in his face. - -Jerry was standing at the corner of the house smoking -negligently. He waited until Bud had come close alongside -him, then led the way slowly down the path to the corrals. - -"I thought I heard the horses fighting," he remarked. "There -was a noise down this way." - -"Is that why you called me outside?" asked Bud, who scorned -subterfuge. - -"Yeah. I saw you wasn't dancing or singing or playing the -piano--and I knew Honey'd likely be looking you up to do one -or the other, in a minute. She sure likes you, Bud. She -don't, everybody that comes along." - -Bud did not want to discuss Honey, wherefore he made no -reply, and they walked along in silence, the cool, heavy -darkness grateful after the oil lamps and the heat of crowded -rooms. As they neared the corrals a stable door creaked open -and shut, yet there was no wind. Jerry halted, one hand going -to Bud's arm. They stood for a minute, and heard the swish of -the bushes behind the corral, as if a horse were passing -through. Jerry turned back, leading Bud by the arm. They were -fifty feet away and the bushes were still again before Jerry -spoke guardedly. - -"I guess I made a mistake. There wasn't nothing," he said, -and dropped Bud's arm." - -Bud stopped. "There was a man riding off in the brush," he -said bluntly, "and all the folks that came to the dance rode -in through the front gate. I reckon I'll just take a look -where I left my saddle, anyway." - -"That might have been some loose stock," Jerry argued, but -Bud went back, wondering a little at Jerry's manner. - -The saddle was all right, and so was everything else, so far -as Bud could determine in the dark, but he was not satisfied. -He thought he understood Jerry's reason for bringing him down -to the corrals, but he could not understand Jerry's attitude -toward an incident which any man would have called -suspicious. - -Bud quietly counted noses when he returned to the house and -found that supper was being served, but he could not recall -any man who was missing now. Every guest and every man on the -ranch was present except old Pop, who had a little shack to -himself and went to bed at dark every night. - -Bud was mystified, and he hated mysteries. Moreover, he was -working for Dave Truman, and whatever might concern Little -Lost concerned him also. But the men had begun to talk openly -of their various "running horses", and to exchange jibes and -boasts and to bet a little on Sunday's races. Bud wanted to -miss nothing of that, and Jerry's indifference to the -incident at the stable served to reassure him for the time -being. He edged close to the group where the talk was -loudest, and listened. - -A man they called Jeff was trying to jeer his neighbors into -betting against a horse called Skeeter, and was finding them -too cautious for his liking. He laughed and, happening to -catch Bud's eyes upon him, strode forward with an empty tin -cup in his hand and slapped Bud friendliwise on the shoulder. - -"Why, I bet this singin' kid, that don't know wha I got ner -what you fellers has got, ain't scared to take, a chance. Are -yuh, kid? What d' yuh think of this pikin' bunch here that -has seen Skeeter come in second and third more times 'n what -he beat, and yet is afraid to take a chance on rosin' two -bits? Whatd' yuh think of 'em? Ain't they an onery bunch?" - -"I suppose they hate to lose," Bud grinned. - -"That's it--money 's more to 'em than the sport of kings, -which is runnin' horses. This bunch, kid belly-ached till -Dave took his horse Boise outa the game, and now, by gosh, -they're backin' up from my Skeeter, that has been beat more -times than he won.' - -"When you pulled him, Jeff!" a mocking voice drawled. "And -that was when you wasn't bettin' yourself." - -Jeff turned injuredly to Bud. "Now don't that sound like a -piker?" he complained. "It ain't reason to claim I'd pull my -own horse. Ain't that the out doinest way to come back at a -man that likes a good race? - -Bud swelled his chest and laid his hand on Jeff's shoulder. -"Just to show you I'm not a piker," he cried recklessly, -"I'll bet you twenty-five dollars I can beat your Skeeter -with my Smoky horse that I rode in here. Is it a go?" - -Jeff's jaw dropped a little, with surprise. "What fer horse -is this here Smoky horse of yourn?" he wanted to know. - -Bud winked at the group, which cackled gleeful!, "I love the -sport of kings," he said. "I love it so well I don't have to -see your Skeeter horse till Sunday. From the way these boys -sidestep him, I guess he's a sure-enough running horse. My -Smoky's a good little horse, too, but he never scared a bunch -till they had cramps in the pockets. Still," he added with a -grin, "I'll try anything once. I bet you twenty-five dollars -my Smoky can beat your Skeeter." - -"Say, kid, honest I hate to take it away from yuh. Honest, I -do. The way you can knock the livin' tar outa that pyanny is -a caution to cats. I c'd listen all night. But when it comes -to runnin' horses--" - -"Are you afraid of your money?" Bud asked him arrogantly. -"You called this a bunch of pikers--" - -"Well, by golly, it'll be your own fault, kid. If I take your -money away from yuh, don't go and blame it onto me. Mebbe -these fellers has got some cause to sidestep--" - -"All right, the bet's on. And I won't blame you if I lose. -Smoky's a good little horse. Don't think for a minute I'm -giving you my hard earned coin. You'll have to throw up some -dust to get it, old-timer. I forgot to say I'd like to make -it a quarter dash." - -"A quarter dash it is," Jeff agreed derisively as Bud turned -to answer the summons of the music which was beginning again. - -The racing enthusiasts lingered outside, and Bud smiled to -himself while he whirled Honey twice around in an old- -fashioned waltz. He had them talking about him, and wondering -about his horse. When they saw Smoky they would perhaps call -him a chancey kid. He meant to ask Pop about Skeeter, though -Pop seemed confident that Smoky would win against anything in -the valley. - -But on the other hand, he had seen in his short acquaintance -with Little Lost that Pop was considered childish--that -comprehensive accusation which belittles the wisdom of age. -The boys made it a point to humor him without taking him -seriously. Honey pampered him and called him Poppy, while in -Marian's chill courtesy, in her averted glances, Bud had read -her dislike of Pop. He had seen her hand shrink away from -contact with his hand when she set his coffee beside his -plate. - -But Bud had heard others speak respectfully of Boise, and -regret that he was too fast to run. Pop might be childish on -some subjects, but Bud rather banked on his judgment of -horses--and Pop was penurious and anxious to win money. - -"What are you thinking about?" Honey demanded when the music -stopped. "Something awful important, I guess, to make you -want to keep right on dancing!" - -"I was thinking of horse-racing," Bud confessed, glad that he -could tell her the truth. - -"Ah, you! Don't let them make a fool of you. Some of the -fellows would bet the shirt off their backs on a horse-race! -You look out for them, Bud." - -"They wouldn't bet any more than I would," Bud boldly -declared. "I've bet already against a horse I've never seen. -How 's that?" - -"That's crazy. You'll lose, and serve you right." She went -off to dance with someone else, and Bud turned smiling to -find a passable partner amongst the older women--for he was -inclined to caution where strange girls were concerned. Much -trouble could come to a stranger who danced with a girl who -happened to have a jealous sweetheart, and Bud did not court -trouble of that kind. He much preferred to fight over other -things. Besides, he had no wish to antagonize Honey. - -But his dance with some faded, heavy-footed woman was not to -be. Jerry once more signalled him and drew him outside for a -little private conference. Jerry was ill at ease and inclined -to be reproachful and even condemnatory. - -He wanted first to know why Bud had been such a many kinds of -a fool as to make that bet with Jeff Hall. All the fellows -were talking about it. "They was asking me what kind of a -horse you've got--and I wouldn't put it past Jeff and his -bunch to pull some kind of a dirty trick on you," he -complained. "Bud, on the square, I like you a whole lot. You -seem kinda innocent, in some ways, and in other ways you -don't. I wish you'd tell me just one thing, so I can sleep -comfortable. Have you got some scheme of your own? Or what -the devil ails you?" - -"Well, I've just got a notion," Bud admitted. "I'm going to -have some fun watching those fellows perform, whether I win -or lose. I've spent as much as twenty-five dollars on a -circus, before now, and felt that I got the worth of my -money, too. I'm going to enjoy myself real well, next -Sunday." - -Jerry glanced behind him and lowered his voice, speaking -close to Bud's ear. "Well, there's something I'd like to say -that it ain't safe to say, Bud. I'd hate like hell to see you -get in trouble. Go as far as you like having fun--but--oh, -hell! What's the use?" He turned abruptly and went inside, -leaving Bud staring after him rather blankly. - -Jerry did not strike Bud as being the kind of a man who goes -around interfering with every other man's business. He was a -quiet, good-natured young fellow with quizzical eyes of that -mixed color which we call hazel simply because there is more -brown than gray or green. He did not talk much, but he -observed much. Bud was strongly inclined to heed Jerry's -warning, but it was too vague to have any practical value--" -about like Hen's note," Bud concluded. "Well-meaning but -hazy. Like a red danger flag on a railroad crossing where the -track is torn up and moved. I saw one, once and my horse -threw a fit at it and almost piled me. I figured that the red -flag created the danger, where I was concerned. Still, I'd -like to oblige Jerry and sidestep something or other, -but . . ." - -His thoughts grew less distinct, merged into wordless -rememberings and conjectures, clarified again into terse -sentences which never reached the medium of speech. - -"Well, I'll just make sure they don't try out Smoke when I'm -not looking," he decided, and slipped away in the dark. - -By a roundabout way which avoided the trail he managed to -reach the pasture fence without being seen. No horses grazed -in sight, and he climbed through and went picking his way -across the lumpy meadow in the starlight. At the farther side -he found the horses standing out on a sandy ridge where the -mosquitoes were not quite so pestiferous. The Little Lost -horses ;snorted and took to their heels, his three following -for a short distance. - -Bud stopped and whistled a peculiar call invented long ago -when he was just Buddy, and watched over the Tomahawk REMUDA. -Every horse with the Tomahawk brand knew that summons--though -not every horse would obey it. But these three had come when -they were sucking colts, if Buddy whistled; and in their -breaking and training, in the long trip north, they had not -questioned its authority. They turned and trotted back to him -now and nosed Bud's hands which he held out to them. - -He petted them all and talked to them in an affectionate -murmur which they answered by sundry lipnibbles and subdued -snorts. Smoky he singled out finally, rubbing his back and -sides with the flat of his hand from shoulder to flank, and -so to the rump and down the thigh to the hock to the scanty -fetlock which told, to those who knew, that here was an -aristocrat among horses. - -Smoky stood quiet, and Bud's hand lingered there, smoothing -the slender ankle. Bud's fingers felt the fine-haired tail, -then gave a little twitch. He was busy for a minute, kneeling -in the sand with one knee, his head bent. Then he stood up, -went forward to Smoky's head, and stood rubbing the horse's -nose thoughtfully. - -"I hate to do it, old boy--but I'm working to make's a home-- -we've got to work together. And I'm not asking any more of -you than I'd be willing to do myself, if I were a horse and -you were a man." - -He gave the three horses a hasty pat apiece and started back -across the meadow to the fence. They followed him like pet -dogs--and when Bud glanced back over his shoulder he saw in -the dim light that Smoky walked with a slight limp. - - -CHAPTER TWELVE: SPORT O' KINGS - -Sunday happened to be fair, with not too strong a wind -blowing. Before noon Little Lost ranch was a busy place, and -just before dinner it became busier. Horse-racing seemed to -be as popular a sport in the valley as dancing. Indeed, men -came riding in who had not come to the dance. The dry creek- -bed where the horses would run had no road leading to it, so -that all vehicles came to Little Lost and remained there -while the passengers continued on foot to the races. - -At the corral fresh shaven men, in clean shirts to -distinguish this as a dress-up occasion, foregathered, -looking over the horses and making bets and arguing. Pop -shambled here and there, smoking cigarettes furiously and -keeping a keen ear toward the loudest betting. He came -sidling up to Bud, who was leading Smoky out of the stable, -and his sharp eyes took in every inch of the horse and went -inquiringly to Bud's face. - -"Goin' to run him, young feller--lame as what he is?" he -demanded sharply. - -"Going to try, anyway," said Bud. "I've got a bet up on him, -dad." - -"Sho! Fixin' to lose, air ye? You kin call it off, like as -not. Jeff ain't so onreason'ble 't he'd make yuh run a lame -horse. Air yuh, Jeff?" - -Jeff strolled up and looked Smoky over with critical eyes. -"What's the matter? Ain't the kid game to run him? Looks to -me like a good little goer." - -"He's got a limp--but I'll run him anyway." Bud glanced up. -"Maybe when he's warmed up he'll forget about it." - -"Seen my Skeeter?" - -"Good horse, I should judge," Bud observed indifferently. -"But I ain't worrying any." - -"Well, neither am I," Jeff grinned. - -Pop stood teetering back and forth, plainly uneasy. "I'd rub -him right good with liniment," he advised Bud. "I'll git -some't I know ought t' help." - -"What's the matter, Pop? You got money up on that cayuse?" -Jeff laughed. - -Pop whirled on him. "I ain't got money up on him, no. But if -he wasn't lame I'd have some! I'd show ye 't I admire -gameness in a kid. I would so." - -Jeff nudged his neighbor into laughter. "There ain't a gamer -old bird in the valley than Pop," Jeff cried. "C'm awn, Pop, -I'll bet yuh ten dollars the kid beats me!" - -Pop was shuffling hurriedly out of the corral after the -liniment. To Jeff's challenge he made no reply whatever. The -group around Jeff shooed Smoky gently toward the other side -of the corral, thereby convincing themselves of the limp in -his right hind foot. While not so pronounced as to be -crippling, it certainly was no asset to a running horse, and -the wise ones conferred together in undertones. - -"That there kid's a born fool," Dave Truman stated -positively. "The horse can't run. He's got the look of a -speedy little animal--but shucks! The kid don't know anything -about running horses. I've been talking to him, and I know. -Jeff, you're taking the money away from him if you run that -race." - -"Well, I'm giving the kid a chance to back out," Jeff -hastened to declare. "He can put it off till his horse gits -well, if he wants to. I ain't going to hold him to it. I -never said I was." - -"That's mighty kind of you," Bud said, coming up from behind -with a bottle of liniment, and with Pop at his heels. "But -I'll run him just the same. Smoky has favored this foot -before, and it never seemed to hurt him any. You needn't -think I'm going to crawfish. You must think I'm a whining -cuss--say! I'll bet another ten dollars that I don't come in -more than a neck behind, lame horse or not!" - -"Now, kid, don't git chancey," Pop admonished uneasily. -"Twenty-five is enough money to donate to Jeff." - -"That's right, kid. I like your nerve," Jeff cut in, -emphasizing his approval with a slap on Bud's shoulder as he -bent to lift Smoky's leg. "I've saw worse horses than this -one come in ahead--it wouldn't be no sport o' kings if nobody -took a chance." - -"I'm taking chance enough," Bud retorted without looking up. -"If I don't win this time I will the next, maybe." - -"That's right," Jeff agreed heartily, winking broadly at the -others behind Bud's back. - -Bud rubbed Smoky's ankle with liniment, listened to various -and sundry self-appointed advisers and, without seeming to -think how the sums would total, took several other small bets -on the race. They were small--Pop began to teeter back and -forth and lift his shoulders and pull his beard--sure signs -of perturbation. - -"By Christmas, I'll just put up ten dollars on the kid," Pop -finally cackled. "I ain't got much to lose--but I'll show yuh -old Pop ain't going to see the young feller stand alone." He -tried to catch Bud's eye, but that young man was busy -saddling Smoky and returning jibe for jibe with the men -around him, and did not glance toward Pop at all. - -"I'll take this bottle in my pocket, Pop," he said with his -back toward the old man, and mounted carelessly. "I'll ride -him around a little and give him another good rubbing before -we run. I'm betting," he added to the others frankly, "on the -chance that exercise and the liniment will take the soreness -out of that ankle. I don't believe it amounts to anything at -all. So if any of you fellows want to bet--" - -"Shucks! Don't go 'n-" Pop began, and bit the sentence in -two, dropping immediately into a deep study. The kid was -getting beyond Pop's understanding. - -A crowd of perhaps a hundred men and women--with a generous -sprinkling of unruly juveniles--lined the sheer bank of the -creek-bed and watched the horses run, and screamed their -cheap witticisms at the losers, and their approval of those -who won. The youngster with the mysterious past and the -foolhardiness to bet on a lame horse they watched and -discussed, the women plainly wishing he would win--because he -was handsome and young, and such a wonderful musician. The -men were more cold-blooded. They could not see that Bud's -good looks or the haunting melody of his voice had any -bearing whatever upon his winning a race. They called him a -fool, and either refused to bet at all on such a freak -proposition as a lame horse running against Skeeter, or bet -against him. A few of the wise ones wondered if Jeff and his -bunch were merely "stringing the kid along "; if they might -not let him win a little, just to make him more "chancey." -But they did not think it wise to bet on that probability. - -While three races were being run Bud rode with the Little -Lost men, and Smoky still limped a little. Jerry Myers, still -self-appointed guardian of Bud, herded him apart and called -him a fool and implored him to call the race off and keep his -money in his own pocket. - -Bud was thinking just then about a certain little woman who -sat on the creek bank with a wide-brimmed straw hat shading -her wonderful eyes, and a pair of little, high-arched feet -tapping heels absently against the bank wall. Honey sat -beside her, and a couple of the valley women whom Bud had met -at the dance. He had ridden close and paused for a few -friendly sentences with the quartette, careful to give Honey -the attention she plainly expected. But it was not Honey who -wore the wide hat and owned the pretty little feet. Bud -pulled his thoughts back from a fruitless wish that he might -in some way help that little woman whose trouble looked from -her eyes, and whose lips smiled so bravely. He did not think -of possession when he thought of her; it was the look in her -eyes, and the slighting tones in which Honey spoke of her. - -"Say, come alive! What yuh going off in a trance for, when -I'm talking to yuh for your own good?" Jerry smiled -whimsically, but his eyes were worried. - -Bud pulled himself together and reined closer. - -"Don't bet anything on this race, Jerry," he advised "Or if -you do, don't bet on Skeeter. But--well, I'll just trade you -a little advice for all you've given me. Don't bet!" - -"What the hell!" surprise jolted out of Jerry. - -"It's my funeral," Bud laughed. "I'm a chancey kid, you see-- -but I'd hate to see you bet on me." He pulled up to watch the -next race--four nervy little cow-horses of true range -breeding, going down to the quarter post. - -"They 're going to make false starts aplenty," Bud remarked -after the first fluke." Jeff and I have it out next. I'll -just give Smoke another treatment." He dismounted, looked at -Jerry undecidedly and slapped him on the knee. "I'm glad to -have a friend like you," he said impulsively. "There's a lot -of two-faced sinners around here that would steal a man -blind. Don't think I'm altogether a fool." - -Jerry looked at him queerly, opened his mouth and shut it -again so tightly that his jawbones stood out a little. He -watched Bud bathing Smoky's ankle. When Bud was through and -handed Jerry the bottle to keep for him, Jerry held him for -an instant by the hand. - -"Say, for Gawdsake don't talk like that promiscuous, Bud," he -begged. "You might hit too close--" - -"Ay, Jerry! Ever hear that old Armenian proverb, 'He who -tells the truth should have one foot in the stirrup'? I -learned that in school." - -Jerry let go Bud's hand and took the bottle, Bud's watch that -had his mother's picture pasted in the back, and his vest, a -pocket of which contained a memorandum of his wagers. Bud was -stepping out of his chaps, and he looked up and grinned. -"Cheer up, Jerry. You're going to laugh in a minute." When -Jerry still remained thoughtful, Bud added soberly, "I -appreciate you and old Pop standing by me. I don't know just -what you've got on your mind, but the fact that there's -something is hint enough for me." Whereupon Jerry's eyes -lightened a little. - -The four horses came thundering down the track, throwing tiny -pebbles high into the air as they passed. A trim little -sorrel won, and there was the usual confusion of voices -upraised in an effort to be heard. When that had subsided, -interest once more centered on Skeeter and Smoky, who seemed -to have recovered somewhat from his lameness. - -Not a man save Pop and Bud had placed a bet on Smoky, yet -every man there seemed keenly interested in the race. They -joshed Bud, who grinned and took it good-naturedly, and found -another five dollars in--his pocket to bet--this time with -Pop, who kept eyeing him sharply--and it seemed to Bud -warningly. But Bud wanted to play his own game, this time, -and he avoided Pop's eyes. - -The two men rode down the hoof-scored sand to the quarter -post, Skeeter dancing sidewise at the prospect of a race, -Smoky now and then tentatively against Bud's steady pressure -of the bit. - -"He's not limping now," Bud gloated as they rode. But Jeff -only laughed tolerantly and made no reply. - -Dave Truman started them with a pistol shot, and the two -horses darted away, Smoky half a jump in the lead. His limp -was forgotten, and for half the distance he ran neck and neck -with Skeeter. Then he dropped to Skeeter's middle, to his -flank--then ran with his black nose even with Skeeter's rump. -Even so it was a closer race than the crowd had expected, and -all the cowboys began to yell themselves purple. - -But when they were yet a few leaps from the wire clothes-line -stretched high, from post to post, Bud leaned forward until -he lay flat alongside Smoky's neck, and gave a real Indian -war-whoop. Smoky lifted and lengthened his stride, came up -again to Skeeter's middle, to his shoulder, to his ears--and -with the next leap thrust his nose past Skeeter's as they -finished. - -Well, then there was the usual noise, everyone trying to -shout louder than his fellows. Bud rode to where Pop was -sitting apart on a pacing gray horse that he always rode, and -paused to say guardedly, - -"I pulled him, Pop. But at that I won, so if I can pry -another race out of this bunch to-day, you can bet all you -like. And you owe me five dollars," he added thriftily. - -"Sho! Shucks almighty!" spluttered Pop, reaching reluctantly -into his pocket for the money. "Jeff, he done some pullin' -himself--I wish I knowed," he added pettishly, "just how big -a fool you air." - -"Hey, come over here!" shouted Jeff. "What yuh nagging ole -Pop about?" - -"Pop lost five dollars on that race," Bud called back, and -loped over to the crowd. "But he isn't the only one. Seems -to me I've got quite a bunch of money coming to me, from this -crowd!" - -"Jeff, he'd a beat him a mile if his bridle rein had busted," -an arrogant voice shouted recklessly. "Jeff, you old fox, you -know damn well you pulled Skeeter. You must love to lose, -doggone yuh." - -"If you think I didn't run right," Jeff retorted, as if a -little nettled, "someone else can ride the horse. That is, if -the kid here ain't scared off with your talk. How about it, -Bud ? Think you won fair?" - -Bud was collecting his money, and he did not immediately -answer the challenge. When he did it was to offer them -another race. He would not, he said, back down from anyone. -He would bet his last cent on little Smoky. He became -slightly vociferative and more than a little vain-glorious, -and within half an hour he had once more staked all the money -he had in the world. The number of men who wanted to bet with -him surprised him a little. Also the fact that the Little -Lost men were betting on Smoky. - -Honey called him over to the bank and scolded him in tones -much like her name, and finally gave him ten dollars which -she wanted to wager on his winning. As he whirled away, -Marian beckoned impulsively and leaned forward, stretching -out to him her closed hand. - -"Here's ten," she smiled, "just to show that the Little Lost -stands by its men--and horses. Put it on Smoky, please." When -Bud was almost out of easy hearing, she called to him. "Oh-- -was that a five or a ten dollar bill I gave you?" - -Bud turned back, unfolding the banknote. A very tightly -folded scrap of paper slid into his palm. - -"Oh, all right--I have the five here in my pocket," called -Marian, and laughed quite convincingly. "Go on and run! We -won't be able to breathe freely until the race is over." - -Wherefore Bud turned back, puzzled and with his heart -jumping. For some reason Marian had taken this means of -getting a message into his hands. What it could be he did not -conjecture; but he had a vague, unreasoning hope that she -trusted him and was asking him to help her somehow. He did -not think that it concerned the race, so he did not risk -opening the note then, with so many people about. - -A slim, narrow-eyed youth of about Bud's weight was chosen to -ride Skeeter, and together they went back over the course to -the quarter post, with Dave to start them and two or three -others to make sure that the race was fair. Smoky was full -now of little prancing steps, and held his neck arched while -his nostrils flared in excitement, showing pink within. -Skeeter persistently danced sidewise, fighting the bit, crazy -to run. - -Skeeter made two false starts, and when the pistol was fired, -jumped high into the air and forward, shaking his head, -impatient against the restraint his rider put upon him. -Halfway down the stretch he lunged sidewise toward Smoky, but -that level-headed little horse swerved and went on, shoulder -to shoulder with the other. At the very last Skeeter rolled a -pebble under his foot and stumbled--and again Smoky came in -with his slaty nose in the lead. - -Pop rode into the centre of the yelling crowd, his whiskers -bristling. "Shucks almighty!" he cried. "What fer ridin' do -yuh call that there? Jeff Hall, that feller held Skeeter in -worse'n what you did yourself! I kin prove it! I got a stop -watch, an' I timed 'im, I did. An' I kin tell yuh the time -yore horse made when he run agin Dave's Boise. He's three -seconds--yes, by Christmas, he's four seconds slower t'day 'n -what he's ever run before! What fer sport d' you call that?" -His voice went up and cracked at the question mark like a boy -in his early teens. - -Jeff stalked forward to Skeeter's side. "Jake, did you pull -Skeeter?" he demanded sternly. "I'll swan if this ain't the -belly-achiness bunch I ever seen! How about it, Jake? Did -Skeeter do his durndest, or didn't he? - -"Shore, he did!" Jake testified warmly. "I'da beat, too, if -he hadn't stumbled right at the last. Didn't yuh see him -purty near go down? And wasn't he within six inches of -beatin'? I leave it to the crowd!" - -The crowd was full of argument, and some bets were paid under -protest. But they were paid, just the same. Burroback Valley -insisted that the main points of racing law should be obeyed -to the letter. Bud collected his winnings, the Scotch in him -overlooking nothing whatever in the shape of a dollar. Then, -under cover of getting his smoking material, he dared bring -out Marian's note. There were two lines in a fine, even hand -on a cigarette paper, and Bud, relieved at her cleverness, -unfolded the paper and read while he opened his bag of -tobacco. The lines were like those in an old-fashioned copy -book: - -"Winners may be losers. -Empty pockets, safe owner." - -And that was all. Bud sifted tobacco into the paper, rolled -it into a cigarette and smoked it to so short a stub that he -burnt his lips. Then he dropped it beside his foot and ground -it into the sand while he talked. - -He would run Smoky no more that day, he declared, but next -Sunday he would give them all a chance to settle their minds -and win back their losings, providing his horse's ankle -didn't go bad again with to-day's running. Pop, Dave, Jeff -and a few other wise ones examined the weak ankle and -disagreed over the exact cause and nature of the weakness. It -seemed all right. Smoky did not flinch from rubbing, though -he did lift his foot away from strange hands. They questioned -Bud, who could offer no positive information on the subject, -except that once he and Smoky had rolled down a bluff -together, and Smoky had been lame for a while afterwards. - -It did not occur to anyone to ask Bud which leg had been -lamed, and Bud did not volunteer the detail. An old sprain, -they finally decided, and Bud replaced his saddle, got his -chaps and coat from Jerry, who was smiling over an extra -twenty-five dollars, and rode over to give the girls their -winnings. - -He stayed for several minutes talking with them and hoping -for a chance to thank Marian for her friendly warning. But -there was none, and he rode away dissatisfied and wondering -uneasily if Marian thought he was really as friendly with -Honey as that young lady made him appear to be. - -He was one of the first to ride back to the ranch, and he -turned Smoky in the pasture and caught up Stopper to ride -with Honey, who said she was going for a ride when the races -were over, and that if he liked to go along she would show -him the Sinks. Bud had professed an eagerness to see the -Sinks which he did not feel until Marian had turned her head -toward Honey and said in her quiet voice: - -"Why the Sinks? You know that isn't safe country to ride in, -Honey." - -"That's why I want to ride there," Honey retorted flippantly. -"I hate safe places and safe things." - -Marian had glanced at Bud--and it was that glance which he -was remembering now with a puzzled sense that, like the note, -it had meant something definite, something vital to his own -welfare if he could only find the key. First it was Hen, then -Jerry, and now Marian, all warning him vaguely of danger into -which he might stumble if he were not careful. - -Bud was no fool, but on the other hand he was not one to -stampede easily. He had that steadfast courage, perhaps, -which could face danger and still maintain his natural calm-- -just as his mother had corrected grammatical slips in the -very sentences which told her of an impending outbreak of -Indians long ago Bud saddled Stopper and the horse which -Honey was to ride, led them to the house and went inside to -wait until the girl was ready. While he waited he played--and -hoped that Marian, hearing, would know that he played for -her; and that she would come and explain the cryptic message. -Whether Marian heard and appreciated the music or not, she -failed to appear and let him know. It seemed to him that she -might easily have come into the room for a minute when she -knew he was there, and let him have a chance to thank her and -ask her just what she meant. - -He was just finishing the AVE MARIA which Marian had likened -to a breath of cool air, when Honey appeared in riding skirt -and light shirtwaist. She looked very trim and attractive, -and Bud smiled upon her approvingly, and cut short the last -strain by four beats, which was one way of letting Marian -know that he considered her rather unappreciative. - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SINKS - -"We can go through the pasture and cut off a couple of -miles," said Honey when they were mounted. "I hope you don't -think I'm crazy, wanting a ride at this time of day, after -all the excitement we've had. But every Sunday is taken up -with horse-racing till late in the afternoon, and during the -week no one has time to go. And," she added with a sidelong -look at him, "there's something about the Sinks that makes me -love to go there. Uncle Dave won't let me go alone." - -Bud dismounted to pull down the two top bars of the pasture -gate so that their horses could step over. A little way down -the grassy slope Smoky and Sunfish fed together, the Little -Lost horses grouped nearer the creek. - -"I love that little horse of yours--why, he's gone lame -again!" exclaimed Honey. "Isn't that a shame! You oughtn't -to run him if it does that to him." - -"He likes it," said Bud carelessly as he remounted. "And so -do I, when I can clean up the way I did today. I'm over three -hundred dollars richer right now than I was this morning." - -"And next Sunday, maybe you'll be broke," Honey added -significantly. "You never know how you are coming out. I -think Jeff let you win to-day on purpose, so you'd bet it all -again and lose. He's like that. He don't care how much he -loses one day, because he gets it back some other time. I -don't like it. Some of the boys never do get ahead, and -you'll be in the same fix if you don't look out." - -"You didn't bring me along to lecture me, I know," said Bud -with a good-natured smile. "What about the Sinks ? Is it a -dangerous place as--Mrs. Morris says?" - -"Oh, Marian? She never does want me to come. She thinks I -ought to stay in the house always, the way she does. The -Sinks is--is--queer. There are caves, and then again deep -holes straight down, and tracks of wildcats and lions. And in -some places you can hear gurgles and rumbles. I love to be -there just at sundown, because the shadows are spooky and it -makes you feel--oh, you know--kind of creepy up your back. -You don't know what might happen. I--do you believe in ghosts -and haunted places, Bud?" - -"I'd need a lot of scaring before I did. Are the Sinks -haunted?" - -"No-o--but there are funny noises and people have got lost -there. Anyway they never showed up afterwards. The Indians -claim it's haunted." She smiled that baring smile of hers. -"Do you want to turn around and go back?" - -"Sure. After we've had our ride, and seen the sights." And he -added with some satisfaction, "The moon 's full to-night, and -no clouds." - -"And I brought sandwiches," Honey threw in as especial -blessing. "Uncle Dave will be mad, I expect. But I've never -seen the Sinks at night, with moonlight." - -She was quiet while the horses waded Sunk Creek and picked -their way carefully over a particularly rocky stretch beyond. -"But what I'd rather do," she said, speaking from her -thoughts which had evidently carried forward in the silence, -"is explore Catrock Canyon." - -"Well, why not, if we have time?" Bud rode up alongside her. "Is -it far?" - -Honey looked at him searchingly. "You must be stranger to -these parts," she said disbelievingly. "Do you think you can -make me swallow that?" - -Bud looked at her inquiringly, which forced her to go on. - -"You must know about Catrock Canyon, Bud Birnie. Don't try to -make me believe you don't." - -"I don't. I never heard of it before that I remember. What is -it makes you want to explore it?" - -Honey studied him. "You're the queerest specimen I ever did -see," she exclaimed pettishly. "Why, it's not going to hurt -you to admit you know Catrock Canyon is--unexplorable." - -"Oh. So you want to explore it because it's unexplorable. -Well, why is it unexplorable?" - -Honey looked around her at the dry sageland they were -crossing. "Oh, you make me TIRED!" she said bluntly, with -something of the range roughness in her voice. "Because it -is, that's all." - -"Then I'd like to explore it myself," Bud declared. - -"For one thing," Honey dilated, "there's no way to get in there. -Up on the ridge this side, where the rock is that throws a -shadow like a cat's head on the opposite wall, you can look -down a ways. But the two sides come so close together at the -top that you can't see the bottom of the canyon at all. I've -been on the ridge where I could see the cat's head." - -Bud glanced speculatively up at the sun, and Honey, catching -his meaning, shook her head and smiled. - -"If we get into the Sinks and back to-day, they will do -enough talking about it; or Uncle Dave will, and Marian. I--I -thought perhaps you'd be able to tell me about--Catrock -Canyon." - -"I'm able to say I don't know a thing about it. If no one can -get into it, I should think that's about all, isn't it?" - -"Yes--you'd think so," Honey agreed enigmatically, and began -to talk of the racing that day, and of the dance, and of -other dances and other races yet to come. Bud discussed these -subjects for a while and then asked boldly, "When's Lew -coming back?" - -"Lew?" Honey shot a swift glance at him. "Why?" She looked -ahead at the forbidding, craggy hills toward which she had -glanced when she spoke of Catrock. "Why, I don't know. How -should I?" - -Bud saw that he had spoken unwisely. "I was thinking he'd -maybe hate to miss another running match like to-day," he -explained guilelessly. "Everybody and his dog seemed to be -there to-day, and everybody had money up. All," he modified, -"except the Muleshoe boys. I didn't see any of them." - -"You won't," Honey told him with some emphasis. "Uncle Dave -and the Muleshoe are on the outs. They never come around -except for mail and things from the store. And most always -they send Hen. Uncle Dave and Dirk Tracy had an awful row -last winter. It was next thing to a killing. So of course the -outfits ain't on friendly terms." - -This was more than Pop had gossiped to Bud, and since the -whole thing was of no concern to him, and Honey plainly -objected to talking about Marian's husband, he was quite -ready to fix his interest once more upon the Sinks. He was -surprised when they emerged from a cluster of small, sage- -covered knolls, directly upon the edge of what at first sight -seemed to be another dry river bed--sprawled wider, perhaps, -with irregular arms thrust back into the less sterile land. -They rode down a steep, rocky trail and came out into the -Sinks. - -It was an odd, forbidding place, and the farther up the -gravelly bottom they rode, the more forbidding it became. Bud -thought that in the time when Indians were dangerous as she- -bears the Sinks would not be a place where a man would want -to ride. There were too many jutting crags, too many -unsuspected, black holes that led back--no one knew just -where. - -Honey led the way to an irregular circle of waterwashed -cobbles and Bud peered down fifty feet to another dry, -gravelly bottom seemingly a duplicate of the upper surface. -She rode on past other caves, and let him look down into -other holes. There were faint rumblings in some of these, but -in none was there any water showing save in stagnant pools in -the rock where the rain had fallen. - -"There's one cave I like to go into," said Honey at last. -"It's a little farther on, but we have time enough. There's a -spring inside, and we can eat our sandwiches. It isn't dark- -there are openings to the top, and lots of funny, winding -passages. That," she finished thrillingly, "is the place the -Indians claim is haunted." - -Bud did not shudder convincingly, and they rode slowly -forward, picking their way among the rocks. The cave yawned -wide open to the sun, which hung on the top of Catrock Peak. -They dismounted, anchored the reins with rocks and went -inside. - -When Bud had been investigative Buddy, he had explored more -caves than he could count. He had filched candles from his -mother and had crept back and back until the candle flame -flickered warning that he was nearing the "damps" Indians -always did believe caves were haunted, probably because they -did not understand the "damps", and thought evil spirits had -taken those who went in and never returned. Buddy had once -been lost in a cave for four harrowing hours, and had found -his way out by sheer luck, passing the skeleton of an Indian -and taking the tomahawk as a souvenir. - -Wherefore this particular cave, with a spring back fifty feet -from the entrance where a shaft of sunlight struck the rock -through some obscure slit in the rock, had no thrill for him. -But the floor was of fine, white sand, and the ceiling was -knobby and grotesque, and he was quite willing to sit there -beside the spring and eat two sandwiches and talk foolishness -with Honey, using that part of his mind which was not busy -with the complexities of winning money on the speed of his -horses when three horses represented his entire business -capital, and with wondering what was wrong with Burroback -Valley, that three persons of widely different viewpoints had -felt it necessary to caution him,--and had couched their -admonitions in such general terms that he could not feel the -force of their warning. - -He was thinking back along his life to where false alarms of -Indian outbreaks had played a very large part in the -Tomahawk's affairs, and how little of the ranch work would -ever have been done had they listened to every calamity -howler that came along. Honey was talking, and he was -answering partly at random, when she suddenly laughed and got -up. - -"You must be in love, Bud Birnie. You just said 'yes' when I -asked you if you didn't think water snakes would be coming -out this fall with their stripes running round them instead -of lengthwise! You didn't hear a word--now, did you?" - -"I heard music," Bud lied gallantly, "and I knew it was your -voice. I'd probably say yes if you asked me whether the moon -wouldn't look better with a ruffle around it." - -"I'll say the moon will be wondering where we are, if we -don't start back. The sun's down." - -Bud got up from sitting cross-legged like a Turk, helped -Honey to her feet--and felt her fingers clinging warmly to -his own. He led the way to the cave's mouth, not looking at -her. "Great sunset," he observed carelessly, glancing up at -the ridge while he held her horse for her to mount. - -Honey showed that she was perfectly at home in the saddle. -She rode on ahead, leaving Bud to mount and follow. He was -just swinging leisurely into the saddle when Stopper threw -his head around, glancing back toward the level just beyond -the cave. At the same instant Bud heard the familiar, -unmistakable swish of a rope headed his way. - -He flattened himself along Stopper's left shoulder as the -loop settled and tightened on the saddle horn, and dropped on -to the ground as Stopper whirled automatically to the right -and braced himself against the strain. Bud turned half -kneeling, his gun in his hand ready for the shot he expected -would follow the rope. But Stopper was in action-the best -ropehorse the Tomahawk had ever owned. For a few seconds he -stood braced, his neck arched, his eyes bright and watchful. -Then he leaped forward, straight at the horse and the rider -who was in the act of leveling his gun. The horse hesitated, -taken unaware by the onslaught. When he started to run -Stopper was already passing him, turning sharply to the right -again so that the rope raked the horse's front legs. Two -jumps and Stopper had stopped, faced the horse and stood -braced again, his ears perked knowingly while he waited for -the flop. - -It came--just as it always did come when Stopper got action -on the end of a rope. Horse and rider came down together. -They would not get up until Bud wished it--he could trust -Stopper for that--so Bud walked over to the heap, his gun -ready for action--and that, too, could be trusted to perform -with what speed and precision was necessary. There would be -no hasty shooting, however; Buddy had learned to save his -bullets for real need when ammunition was not to be had for -the asking, and grown-up Bud had never outgrown the habit. - -He picked up the fellow's six-shooter which he had dropped -when he fell, and stood sizing up the situation. - -By the neckerchief drawn across his face it was a straight -case of holdup. Bud stooped and yanked off the mask and -looked into the glaring eyes of one whom he had never before -seen. - -"Well, how d'yuh like it, far as you've got?" Bud asked -curiously. "Think you were holding up a pilgrim, or what?" - -Just then, BING-GG sang a rifle bullet from the ridge above -the cave. Bud looked that way and spied a man standing half -revealed against the rosy clouds that were already dulling as -dusk crept up from the low ground. It was a long shot for a -six-shooter, but Buddy used to shoot antelope almost that -far, so Bud lifted his arm and straightened it, just as if he -were pointing a finger at the man, and fired. He had the -satisfaction of seeing the figure jerk backward and go off -over the ridge in a stooping kind of run. - -"He'd better hurry back if he wants another shot at me," Bud -grinned. "It'll be so dark down here in a minute he couldn't -pick me up with his front sight if I was--as big a fool as -you are. How about it? I'll just lead you into camp, I -think--but you sure as hell couldn't get a job roping -gateposts, on the strength of this little exhibition." - -He went over to Stopper and untied his own rope, giving an -approving pat to that business-like animal. "Hope your leg -isn't broken or anything," he said to the man when he -returned and passed the loop over the fellow's head and -shoulders, drawing it rather snugly around his body and -pinning his arms at the elbows. "It would be kind of -unpleasant if they happen to take a notion to make you walk -all the way to jail." - -He beckoned Stopper, who immediately moved up, slackening the -rope. The thrown horse drew up his knees, gave a preliminary -heave and scrambled to his feet, Bud taking care that the man -was pulled free and safe. The fellow stood up sulkily -defiant, unable to rest much of his weight on his left leg. - -Bud had ten busy minutes, and it was not until they were both -mounted and headed for Little Lost, the captive with his arms -tied behind him, his feet tied together under the horse, -which Bud led, that Bud had time to wonder what it was all -about. Then he began to look for Honey, who had disappeared. -But in the softened light of the rising moon mingling with -the afterglow of sunset, he saw the deep imprints of her -horse's hoofs where he had galloped homeward. Bud did not -think she ran away because she was frightened; she had seemed -too sure of herself for that. She had probably gone for help. - -A swift suspicion that the attack might have been made from -jealousy died when Bud looked again at his prisoner. The man -was swarthy, low of brow--part Indian, by the look of him. -Honey would never give the fellow a second thought. So that -brought him to the supposition that robbery had been -intended, and the inference was made more logical when Bud -remembered that Marian had warned him against something of -the sort. Probably he and Honey had been followed into the -Sinks, and even though Bud had not seen this man at the -races, his partner up on the ridge might have been there. It -was all very simple, and Bud, having arrived at the obvious -conclusion, touched Stopper into a lope and arrived at Little -Lost just as Dave Truman and three of his men were riding -down into Sunk Creek ford on their way to the Sinks. They -pulled up, staring hard at Dave and his captive. Dave spoke -first. - -"Honey said you was waylaid and robbed or killed--both, we -took it, from her account. How'd yuh come to get the best of -it so quick?" - -"Why, his horse got tangled up in the rope and fell down, and -fell on top of him," Bud explained cheerfully. "I was -bringing him in. He's a bad citizen, I should judge, but he -didn't do me any damage, as it turned out, so I don't know -what to do with him. I'll just turn him over to you, I -think." - -"Hell! I don't want him," Dave protested. I'll pass him along -to the sheriff--he may know something about him. Nelse and -Charlie, you take and run him in to Crater and turn him over -to Kline. You tell Kline what he done--or tried to do. Was he -alone, Bud?" - -"He had a partner up on the ridge, so far off I couldn't -swear to him if I saw him face to face. I took a shot at him, -and I think I nicked him. He ducked, and there weren't any -more rifle bullets coming my way." - -"You nicked him with your six-shooter? And him so far off you -couldn't recognize him again?" Dave looked at Bud sharply. -"That's purty good shootin', strikes me." - -"Well, he stood up against the sky-line, and he wasn't more -than seventy-five yards," Bud explained. "I've dropped -antelope that far, plenty of times. The light was bad, this -evening." - -"Antelope," Dave repeated meditatively, and winked at his -men. "All right, Bud--we'll let it stand at antelope. Boys, -you hit for Crater with this fellow. You ought to make it -there and back by tomorrow noon, all right." - -Nelse took the lead rope from Bud and the two started off up -the creek, meaning to strike the road from Little Lost to -Crater, the county seat beyond Gold Gap mountains. Bud rode -on to the ranch with his boss, and tried to answer Dave's -questions satisfactorily without relating his own prowess or -divulging too much of Stopper's skill; which was something of -a problem for his wits. - -Honey ran out to meet him and had to be assured over and over -that he was not hurt, and that he had lost nothing but his -temper and the ride home with her in the moonlight. She was -plainly upset and anxious that he should not think her -cowardly, to leave him that way. - -"I looked back and saw a man throwing his rope, and you--it -looked as if he had dragged you off the horse. I was sure I -saw you falling. So I ran my horse all the way home, to get -Uncle Dave and the boys," she told him tremulously. And then -she added, with her tantalizing half smile, "I believe that -horse of mine could beat Smoky or Skeeter, if I was scared -that bad at the beginning of a race." - -Bud, in sheer gratitude for her anxiety over him, patted -Honey's hand and told her she must have broken the record, -all right, and that she had done exactly the right thing. And -Honey went to bed happy that night. - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN: EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP - -Bud wanted to have a little confidential talk with Marian. He -hoped that she would be willing to tell him a great deal more -than could be written on one side of a cigarette paper, and -he was curious to hear what it was. On the other hand, he -wanted somehow to let her know that he was anxious to help -her in any way possible. She needed help, of that he was -sure. - -Lew returned on Tuesday, with a vile temper and rheumatism in -his left shoulder so that he could not work, but stayed -around the house and too evidently made his wife miserable by -his presence. On Wednesday morning Marian had her hair -dressed so low over her ears that she resembled a lady of old -Colonial days--but she did not quite conceal from Bud's keen -eyes the ugly bruise on her temple. She was pale and her lips -were compressed as if she were afraid to relax lest she burst -out in tears or in a violent denunciation of some kind. Bud -dared not look at her, nor at Lew, who sat glowering at Bud's -right hand. He tried to eat, tried to swallow his coffee, and -finally gave up the attempt and left the table. - -In getting up he touched Lew's shoulder with his elbow, and -Lew let out a bellow of pain and an oath, and leaned away -from him, his right hand up to ward off another hurt. - -"Pardon me. I forgot your rheumatism," Bud apologized -perfunctorily, his face going red at the epithet. Marian, -coming toward him with a plate of biscuits, looked him full -in the eyes and turned her glance to her husband's back while -her lips curled in the bitterest, the most scornful smile Bud -had ever seen on a woman's face. She did not speak--speech -was impossible before that tableful of men--but Bud went out -feeling as though she had told him that her contempt for Lew -was beyond words, and that his rheumatism brought no pity -whatever. - -Wednesday passed, Thursday came, and still there was no -chance to speak a word in private. The kitchen drudge was -hedged about by open ears and curious eyes, and save at meal- -time she was invisible to the men unless they glimpsed her -for a moment in the kitchen door. - -Thursday brought a thunder storm with plenty of rain, and in -the drizzle that held over until Friday noon Bud went out to -an old calf shed which he had discovered in the edge of the -pasture, and gathered his neckerchief full of mushrooms. Bud -hated mushrooms, but he carried them to the machine shed and -waited until he was sure that Honey was in the sitting room -playing the piano--and hitting what Bud called a blue note -now and then--and that Lew was in the bunk-house with the -other men, and Dave and old Pop were in Pop's shack. Then, -and then only, Bud took long steps to the kitchen door, -carrying his mushrooms as tenderly as though they were eggs -for hatching. - -Marian was up to her dimpled elbows in bread dough when he -went in. Honey was still groping her way lumpily through the -Blue Danube Waltz, and Bud stood so that he could look out -through the white-curtained window over the kitchen table and -make sure that no one approached the house unseen. - -"Here are some mushrooms," he said guardedly, lest his voice -should carry to Honey. "They're just an excuse. Far as I'm -concerned you can feed them to the hogs. I like things clean -and natural and wholesome, myself. I came to find out what's -the matter, Mrs. Morris. Is there anything I can do? I took -the hint you gave me in the note, Sunday, and I discovered -right away you knew what you were talking about. That was a -holdup down in the Sinks. It couldn't have been anything -else. But they wouldn't have got anything. I didn't have more -than a dollar in my pocket." - -Marian turned her head, and listened to the piano, and -glanced up at him. - -"I also like things clean and natural and wholesome," she -said quietly. "That's why I tried to put you on your guard. -You don't seem to fit in, somehow, with--the surroundings. I -happen to know that the races held here every Sunday are just -thinly veiled attempts to cheat the unwary out of every cent -they have. I should advise you, Mr. Birnie, to be very -careful how you bet on any horses." - -"I shall," Bud smiled. "Pop gave me some good advice, too, -about running horses. He says, "It's every fellow for -himself, and mercy toward none. I'm playing by their rule, -and Pop expects to make a few dollars, too. He said he'd -stand by me." - -"Oh! He did?" Marian's voice puzzled Bud. She kneaded the -bread vigorously for a minute. "Don't depend too much on Pop. -He's--variable. And don't go around with a dollar in your -pocket--unless you don't mind losing that dollar. There are -men in this country who would willingly dispense with the -formality of racing a horse in order to get your money." - -"Yes--I've discovered one informal method already. I wish I -knew how I could help YOU." - -"Help me--in what way?" Marian glanced out of the window -again as if that were a habit she had formed. - -"I don't know. I wish I did. I thought perhaps you had some -trouble that--My mother had the same look in her eyes when we -came back to the ranch after some Indian trouble, and found -the house burned and everything destroyed but the ground -itself. She didn't say anything much. She just began helping -father plan how we'd manage until we could get material and -build another cabin, and make our supplies hold out. She -didn't complain. But her eyes had the same look I've seen in -yours, Mrs. Morris. So I feel as if I ought to help you, just -as I'd help mother." Bud's face had been red and embarrassed -when he began, but his earnestness served to erase his -selfconsciousness. - -"You're different--just like mother," he went on when Marian -did not answer. "You don't belong here drudging in this -kitchen. I never saw a woman doing a man's work before. They -ought to have a man cooking for all these hulking men." - -"Oh, the kitchen!" Marian exclaimed impatiently. "I don't -mind the cooking. That's the least--" - -"It isn't right, just the same. I--I don't suppose that's it -altogether. I'm not trying to find out what the trouble is-- -but I wish you'd remember that I'm ready to do anything in -the world that I can. You won't misunderstand that, I'm -sure." - -"No-o," said Marian slowly. "But you see, there's nothing -that you can do--except, perhaps, make things worse for me." -Then , to lighten that statement, she smiled at him. "Just -now you can help me very much if you will go in and play -something besides the Blue Danube Waltz. I've had to listen -to that ever since Honora sent away for the music with the -winter's grocery order, last October. Tell Honora you got her -some mushrooms. And don't trust anyone. If you must bet on -the horses, do so with your eyes open. They're cheats--and -worse, some of them." - -Bud's glance followed hers through the window that overlooked -the corrals and the outbuildings. Lew was coming up to the -house with a slicker over his head to keep off the drizzle. - -"Well, remember I'd do anything for you that I'd do for my -mother or my sister Dulcie. And I wish you'd call on me just -as they would, if you get in a pinch and need me. If I know -you'll do that I'll feel a lot better satisfied." - -"If I need you be sure that I shall let you know. And I'll -say that "It's a comfort to have met one white man," Marian -assured him hurriedly, her anxious eyes on her approaching -husband. - -She need not have worried over his coming, so far as Bud was -concerned. For Bud was in the sitting-room and had picked -Honey off the piano stool, had given her a playful shake and -was playing the Blue Danube as its composer intended that it -should be played, when Lew entered the kitchen and kicked the -door shut behind him. - -Bud spent the forenoon conscientiously trying to teach Honey -that the rests are quite as important to the tempo of a waltz -measure as are the notes. Honey's talent for music did not -measure up to her talent for coquetry; she received about -five dollars' worth of instruction and no blandishments -whatever, and although she no doubt profited thereby, at last -she balked and put her lazy white hands over her ears and -refused to listen to Bud's inexorable "One, two, three, one, -two, three-and one, two, three." Whereupon Bud laughed and -returned to the bunk-house. - -He arrived in the middle of a heated argument over Jeff -Hall's tactics in racing Skeeter, and immediately was called -upon for his private, personal opinion of Sunday's race. -Bud's private, personal opinion being exceedingly private and -personal, he threw out a skirmish line of banter. - -Smoky could run circles around that Skeeter horse, he -boasted, and Jeff's manner of riding was absolutely -unimportant, non-essential and immaterial. He was mighty glad -that holdup man had fallen down, last Sunday, before he got -his hands on any money, because that money was going to talk -long and loud to Jeff Hall next Sunday. Now that Bud had -started running his horse for money, working for wages looked -foolish and unprofitable. He was now working merely for -healthful exercise and to pass the time away between Sundays. -His real mission in life, he had discovered, was to teach -Jeff's bunch that gambling is a sin. - -The talk was carried enthusiastically to the dinner table, -where Bud ignored the scowling proximity of Lew and repeated -his boasts in a revised form as an indirect means of letting -Marian know that he meant to play the Burroback game in the -Burroback way--or as nearly as he could--and keep his honesty -more or less intact. He did not think she would approve, but -he wanted her to know. - -Once, when Buddy was fifteen, four thoroughbred cows and four -calves disappeared mysteriously from the home ranch just -before the calves had reached branding age. Buddy rode the -hills and the valleys every spare minute for two weeks in -search of them, and finally, away over the ridge where an -undesirable neighbor was getting a start in cattle, Buddy -found the calves in a fenced field with eight calves -belonging--perhaps--to the undesirable neighbor. - -Buddy did not ride down to the ranch and accuse the neighbor -of stealing the calves. Instead, he painstakingly sought a -weak place in the fence, made a very accidental looking hole -and drove out the twelve calves, took them over the ridge to -Tomahawk and left them in a high, mountain meadow pretty well -surrounded by matted thickets. There, because there was good -grass and running water, the calves seemed quite as happy as -in the field. - -Then Buddy hurried home and brought a branding iron and a -fresh horse, and by working very hard and fast, he somehow -managed to plant a deep tomahawk brand on each one of the -twelve calves. He returned home very late and very proud of -himself, and met his father face to face as he was putting -away the iron. Explanations and a broken harness strap -mingled painfully in Buddy's memory for a long time -afterwards, but the full effect of the beating was lost -because Buddy happened to hear Bob Birnie confide to mother -that the lad had served the old cattle-thief right, and that -any man who could start with one thoroughbred cow and in four -years have sufficient increase from that cow to produce eight -calves a season, ought to lose them all. - -Buddy had not needed his father's opinion to strengthen his -own conviction that he had performed a worthy deed and one of -which no man need feel ashamed. Indeed, Buddy considered the -painful incident of the buggy strap a parental effort at -official discipline, and held no particular grudge against -his father after the welts had disappeared from his person. - -Wherefore Bud, the man, held unswervingly to the ethical -standard of Buddy the boy. If Burroback Valley was scheming -to fleece a stranger at their races and rob him by force if -he happened to win, then Bud felt justified in getting every -dollar possible out of the lot of them. At any rate, he told -himself, he would do his darndest. It was plain enough that -Pop was trying to make an opportunity to talk confidentially, -but with a dozen men on the place it was easy enough to avoid -being alone without arousing the old man's suspicions. Marian -had told him to trust no one; and Bud, with his usual -thoroughness, applied the warning literally. - -Sunday morning he caught up Smoky and rode him to the corral. -Smoky had recovered from his lameness, and while Bud groomed -him for the afternoon's running the men of Little Lost -gathered round him and offered advice and encouragement, and -even volunteered to lend him money if he needed it. But Bud -told them to put up their own bets, and never to worry about -him. Their advice and their encouragement, however, he -accepted as cheerfully as they were given. - -"Think yuh can beat Skeeter, young feller?" Pop shambled up -to inquire anxiously, his beard brushing Bud's shoulder while -he leaned close. "Remember what I told ye. You stick by me -an' I'll stick by you. You shook on it, don't forgit that, -young feller." - -Bud had forgotten, but he made haste to redeem his promise." -Last Sunday, Pop, I had to play it alone. To-day-well, if you -want to make an honest dollar, you know what to do, don't -you?" - -"Sho! I'm bettin' on yore horse t'day, an' mind ye, I want to -see my money doubled! But that there lameness in his left -hind ankle--I don't see but what that kinda changes my -opinion a little mite. You shore he won't quit on ye in the -race, now? Don't lie to ole Pop, young feller!" - -"Say! He 's the gamest little horse in the state, Pop. He -never has quit, and he never will." Bud stood up and laid a -friendly hand on the old fellow's shoulder. "Pop, I'm running -him to-day to win. That's the truth. I'm going to put all -I've got on him. Is that good enough?" - -"Shucks almighty! That's good enough fer me,--plenty good fer -me," Pop cackled, and trotted off to find someone who had -little enough faith in Smoky to wager a two-to-one against -him. - -It seemed to Bud that the crowd was larger than that of a -week ago, and there was no doubt whatever that the betting -was more feverish, and that Jeff meant that day to retrieve -his losses. Bud passed up a very good chance to win on other -races, and centred all his betting on Smoky. He had been -throughout the week boastful and full of confidence, and now -he swaggered and lifted his voice in arrogant challenge to -all and sundry. His three hundred dollars was on the race, -and incidentally, he never left Smoky from the time he led -him up from pasture until the time came when he and Jeff Hall -rode side by side down to the quarter post. - -They came up in a small whirlwind of speed and dust, and -Smoky was under the wire to his ears when Skeeter's nose -showed beyond it. Little Lost was jubilant. Jeff Hall and his -backers were not. - -Bud's three hundred dollars had in less than a minute -increased to a little over nine hundred, though all his bets -had been moderate. By the time he had collected, his pockets -were full and his cocksureness had increased to such an -unbearable crowing that Jeff Hall's eyes were venomous as a -snake's. Jeff had been running to win, that day, and he had -taken odds on Skeeter that had seemed to him perfectly safe. - -"I'll run yuh horse for horse!" he bellowed and spat out an -epithet that sent Bud at him white-lipped. - -"Damn yuh, ride down to the quarter post and I'll show you -some running!" Bud yelled back. "And after you've swallowed -dust all the way up the track, you go with me to where the -women can't see and I'll lick the living tar outa you!" - -Jeff swore and wheeled Skeeter toward the starting post, -beckoning Bud to follow. And Bud, hastily tucking in a -flapping bulge of striped shirt, went after him. At that -moment he was not Bud, but Buddy in one of his fighting -moods, with his plans forgotten while he avenged an insult. - -Men lined up at the wire to judge for themselves the finish, -and Dave Truman rode alone to start them. No one doubted but -that the start would be fair--Jeff and Bud would see to that! - -For the first time in months the rein-ends stung Smoky's -flanks when he was in his third jump. Just once Bud struck, -and was ashamed of the blow as it fell. Smoky did not need -that urge, but he flattened his ears and came down the track -a full length ahead of Skeeter, and held the pace to the wire -and beyond, where he stopped in a swirl of sand and went -prancing back, ready for another race if they asked it of -him. - -"Guess Dave'll have to bring out Boise and take the swellin' -outa that singin' kid's pocket," a hardfaced man shouted as -Jeff slid off Skeeter and went over to where his cronies -stood bunched and conferring earnestly together - -"Not to-day, he needn't. I've had all the excitement I want; -and I'd like to have time to count my money before I lose -it," Bud retorted. "Next Sunday, if it's a clear day and the -sign is right, I might run against Boise if it's worth my -while. Say, Jeff, seeing you're playing hard luck, I won't -lick you for what you called me. And just to show my heart's -right, I'll lend you Skeeter to ride home. Or if you want to -buy him back, you can have him for sixty dollars or such a -matter. He 's a nice little horse,--if you aren't in a -hurry!" - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE - -"Bud, you're fourteen kinds of a damn fool and I can prove -it," Jerry announced without prelude of any kind save, -perhaps, the viciousness with which he thrust a pitchfork -into a cock of hay. The two were turning over hay-cocks that -had been drenched with another unwelcome storm, and they had -not been talking much. "Forking" soggy hay when the sun is -blistering hot and great, long-billed mosquitoes are boring -indefatigably into the back of one's neck is not a pastime -conducive to polite and animated conversation. - -"Fly at it," Bud invited, resting his fork while he scratched -a smarting shoulder. "But you can skip some of the evidence. -I know seven of the kinds, and I plead guilty. Any able- -bodied man who will deliberately make a barbecue of himself -for a gang of blood-thirsty insects ought to be hanged. -What's the rest?" - -"You can call that mild," Jerry stated severely. "Bud, -you're playing to lose the shirt off your back. You've got a -hundred dollar forfeit up on next Sunday's running match, so -you'll run if you have to race Boise afoot. That's all right -if you want the risk--but did it ever occur to you that if -all the coin in the neighborhood is collected in one man's -pocket, there'll be about as many fellows as there are -losers, that will lay awake till sun-up figuring how to heel -him and ride off with the roll? I ain't over-stocked with -courage, myself. I'd rather be broke in Burroback Valley than -owner of wealth. It's healthier," - -He thrust his fork into another settled heap, lifted it clear -of the ground with one heave of his muscular shoulders, and -heard within a strident buzzing. He held the hay poised until -a mottled gray snake writhed into view, its ugly jaws open -and its fangs showing malevolently. - -"Grab him with your fork, Bud," Jerry said coolly. "A -rattler--the valley's full of 'em,--some of 'em 's human." - -The snake was dispatched and the two went on to the next hay- -cock. Bud was turning over more than the hay, and presently -he spoke more seriously than was his habit with Jerry. - -"You're full enough of warnings, Jerry. What do you want me -to do about it?" - -"Drift," Jerry advised. "There's moral diseases just as -catching as smallpox. This part of the country has been -settled up by men that came here first because they wanted to -hide out. They've slipped into darn crooked ways, and the -rest has either followed suit or quit. All through this rough -country "It's the same-over in the Black Rim, across Thunder -Mountains, and beyond that to the Sawtooth, a man that's -honest is a man that's off his range. I'd like to see you -pull out--before you're planted." - -Bud looked at Jerry, studied him, feature by feature. "Then -what are you doing here?" he demanded bluntly. "Why haven't -you pulled out?" - -"Me?" Jerry bit his lip. "Bud, I'm going to take a chance -and tell you the God's-truth. I dassent. I'm protected here -because I keep my mouth shut, and because they know I've got -to or they can hand me over. I had some trouble. I'm on the -dodge, and Little Lost is right handy to the Sinks and-- -Catrock Canyon. There ain't a sheriff in Idaho that would -have one chance in a thousand of getting me here. But you-- -say!" He faced Bud. "You ain't on the dodge, too, are yuh?" - -"Nope," Bud grinned. "Over at the Muleshoe they seemed to -think I was. I just struck out for myself, and I want to show -up at home some day with a stake I made myself. "It's just a -little argument with my dad that I want to settle. And," he -added frankly, "I seem to have struck the right place to make -money quickly. The very fact that they're a bunch of crooks -makes my conscience clear on the point of running my horse. -I'm not cheating them out of a cent. If Jeff's horse is -faster than Smoky, Jeff is privileged to let him out and win -if he can. It isn't my fault if he 's playing to let me win -from the whole bunch in the hope that he can hold me up -afterwards and get the roll "It's straight 'give and take'-- -and so far I've been taking." - -Jerry worked for a while, moodily silent. "What I'd like is -to see you take the trail; while the takin's good," he said -later. "I've got to keep my mouth shut. But I like yuh, Bud. -I hate like hell to see you walking straight into a trap." - -"Say, I'm as easily trapped as a mountain lion," Bud told him -confidently. - -Whereat Jerry looked at him pityingly. "You going to that -dance up at Morgan's?" - -"Sure! I'm going to take Honey and--I think Mrs. Morris if -she decides to go. Honey mentioned it last night. Why?" - -"Oh, nothing." Jerry shouldered his fork and went off to -where a jug of water was buried in the hay beside a certain -boulder which marked the spot. He drank long, stopped for a -short gossip with Charley, who strolled over for a drink, and -went to work on another row. - -Bud watched him, and wondered if Jerry had changed rows to -avoid further talk with him; and whether Jerry had merely -been trying to get information from him, and had either -learned what he wanted to know, or had given up the attempt. -Bud reviewed mentally their desultory conversation and -decided that he had accidentally been very discreet. The only -real bit of information he had given Jerry was the fact that -he was not "on the dodge"--a criminal in fear of the law--and -that surely could harm no man. - -That he intended to run against Boise on Sunday was common -knowledge; also that he had a hundred dollar forfeit up on -the race. And that he was going to a dance with Honey was of -no consequence that he could see. - -Bud was beginning to discount the vague warnings he had -received. Unless something definite came within his knowledge -he would go about his business exactly as if Burroback Valley -were a church-going community. He would not "drift." - -But after all he did not go to the dance with Honey, or with -anyone. He came to the supper-table freshly shaved and -dressed for the occasion, ate hungrily and straightway became -a very sick young man. He did not care if there were forty -dances in the Valley that night. His head was splitting, his -stomach was in a turmoil. He told Jerry to go ahead with -Honey, and if he felt better after a while he would follow. -Jerry at first was inclined to scepticism, and accused Bud of -crawfishing at the last minute. But within ten minutes Bud -had convinced him so completely that Jerry insisted upon -staying with him. By then Bud was too sick to care what was -being done, or who did it. So Jerry stayed. - -Honey came to the bunk-house in her dance finery, was met in -the doorway by Jerry and was told that this was no place for -a lady, and reluctantly consented to go without her escort. - -A light shone dimly in the kitchen after the dancers had -departed, wherefore Jerry guessed that Marian had not gone -with the others, and that he could perhaps get hold of -mustard for an emetic or a plaster--Jerry was not sure which -remedy would be best, and the patient, wanting to die, would -not be finicky. He found Marian measuring something drop by -drop into half a glass of water. She turned, saw who had -entered, and carefully counted three more drops, corked the -bottle tightly and slid it into her apron pocket, and held -out the glass to Jerry. - -"Give him this," she said in a soft undertone. "I'm sorry, -but I hadn't a chance to say a word to the boy, and so I -couldn't think of any other way of making sure he would not -go up to Morgan's. I put something into his coffee to make -him sick. You may tell him, Jerry, if you like. I should, if -I had the chance. This will counteract the effects of the -other so that he will be all right in a couple of hours." - -Jerry took the glass and stood looking at her steadily. "That -sure was one way to do it," he observed, with a quirk of the -lips. "It's none of my business, and I ain't asking any -questions, but--" - -"Very sensible, I'm sure," Marian interrupted him. "I wish -he'd leave the country. Can't you--?" - -"No. I told him to pull out, and he just laughed at me. I -knowed they was figuring on ganging together to-night--" - -Marian closed her hands together with a gesture of -impatience. "Jerry, I wish I knew just how bad you are!" she -exclaimed. "Do you dare stand by him? Because this thing is -only beginning. I couldn't bear to see him go up there to- -night, absolutely unsuspecting--and so I made him sick. Tell -that to anyone, and you can make me--" - -"Say, I ain't a damned skunk!" Jerry muttered. "I'm bad -enough, maybe. At any rate you think so." Then, as usually -happened, Jerry decided to hold his tongue. He turned and -lifted the latch of the screen door. "You sure made a good -job of it," he grinned. "I'll go an' pour this into Bud 'fore -he loses his boots!" - -He did so, and saved Bud's boots and half a night's sleep -besides. Moreover, when Bud, fully recovered, searched his -memory of that supper and decided that it was the sliced -cucumbers that had disagreed with him, Jerry gravely assured -him that it undoubtedly was the combination of cucumber and -custard pie, and that Bud was lucky to be alive after such -reckless eating. - -Having missed the dance altogether, Bud looked forward with -impatience to Sunday. It is quite possible that others shared -with him that impatience, though we are going to adhere for a -while to Bud's point of view and do no more than guess at the -thoughts hidden behind the fair words of certain men in the -Valley. - -Pop's state of mind we are privileged to know, for Pop was -seen making daily pilgrimage to the pasture where he could -watch Smoky limping desultorily here and there with Stopper -and Sunfish. On Saturday afternoon Bud saw Pop trying to get -his hands on Smoky, presumably to examine the lame ankle. But -three legs were all Smoky needed to keep him out of Pop's -reach. Pop forgot his rheumatism and ran pretty fast for a -man his age, and when Bud arrived Pop's vocabulary had -limbered up to a more surprising activity than his legs. - -"Want to bet on yourself, Pop?" Bud called out when Pop was -running back and forth, hopefully trying to corner Smoky in a -rocky draw. "I'm willing to risk a dollar on you, anyway." - -Pop whirled upon him and hurled sentences not written in the -book of Parlor Entertainment. The gist of it was that he had -been trying all the week to have a talk with Bud, and Bud had -plainly avoided him after promising to act upon Pop's advice -and run so as to make some money. - -"Well, I made some," Bud defended. "If you didn't, it's -just because you didn't bet strong enough." - -"I want to look at that horse's hind foot," Pop insisted. - -"No use. He's too lame to run against Boise. You can see that -yourself." - -Pop eyed Bud suspiciously, pulling his beard. "Are you fixin' -to double-cross me, young feller?" he wanted to know. "I -went and made some purty big bets on this race. If you think -yo're goin' to fool ole Pop, you 'll wish you hadn't. You -got enemies already in this valley, lemme tell yuh. The -Muleshoe ain't any bunch to fool with, and I'm willing to say -'t they're laying fer yuh. They think," he added shrewdly, -"'t you're a spotter, or something. Air yuh?" - -"Of course I am, Pop! I've spotted a way to make money and -have fun while I do it." Bud looked at the old man, -remembered Marian's declaration that Pop was not very -reliable, and groped mentally for a way to hearten the old -man without revealing anything better kept to himself, such -as the immediate effect of a horse hair tied just above a -horse's hoof, also the immediate result of removing that -hair. Wherefore, he could not think of much to say, except -that he would not attempt to run a lame horse against Boise. - -"All I can say is, to-morrow morning you keep your eyes open, -Pop, and your tongue between your teeth. And no matter what -comes up, you use your own judgment." - -To-morrow morning Pop showed that he was taking Bud's advice. -When the crowd began to gather--much earlier than usual, by -the way, and much larger than any crowd Bud had seen in the -valley--Pop was trotting here and there, listening and -pulling his whiskers and eyeing Bud sharply whenever that -young man appeared in his vicinity. - -Bud led Smoky up at noon--and Smoky was still lame. Dave -looked at him and at Bud, and grinned. "I guess that forfeit -money's mine," he said in his laconic way. "No use running -that horse. I could beat him afoot." - -This was but the beginning. Others began to banter and jeer -Bud, Jeff's crowd taunting him with malicious glee. The -singin' kid was going to have some of the swelling taken out -of his head, they chortled. He had been crazy enough to put -up a forfeit on to-day's race, and now his horse had just -three legs to run on. - -"Git out afoot, kid!" Jeff Hall yelled. "If you kin run half -as fast as you kin talk, you'll beat Boise four lengths in -the first quarter!" - -Bud retorted in kind, and led Smoky around the corral as if -he hoped that the horse would recover miraculously just to -save his master's pride. The crowd hooted to see how Smoky -hobbled along, barely touching the toe of his lame foot to -the ground. Bud led him back to the manger piled with new -hay, and faced the jeering crowd belligerently. Bud noticed -several of the Muleshoe men in the crowd, no doubt drawn to -Little Lost by the talk of Bud's spectacular winnings for two -Sundays. Hen was there, and Day Masters and Cub. Also there -were strangers who had ridden a long way, judging by their -sweaty horses. In the midst of the talk and laughter Dave led -out Boise freshly curried and brushed and arching his neck -proudly. - -"No use, Bud," he said tolerantly. "I guess you're set back -that forfeit money--unless you want to go through the motions -of running a lame horse." - -"No, sir, I'm not going to hand over any forfeit money -without making a fight for it!" Bud told him, anger showing -in his voice. "I'm no such piker as that. I won't run Smoky, -lame as he is "--Bud probably nudged his own ribs when he -said that!--"but if you'll make it a mile, I'll catch up my -old buckskin packhorse and run the race with him, by thunder! -He's not the quickest horse in the world, but he sure can run -a long while!" - -They yelled and slapped one another on the back, and -otherwise comported themselves as though a great joke had -been told them; never dreaming, poor fools, that a costly -joke was being perpetrated. - -"Go it, kid. You run your packhorse, and I'll rive yuh five -to one on him!" a friend of Jeff Hall's yelled derisively. - -"I'll just take you up on that, and I'll make it one hundred -dollars," Bud shouted back. "I'd run a turtle for a quarter, -at those odds!" - -The crowd was having hysterics when Bud straddled a Little -Lost horse and, loudly declaring that he would bring back -Sunfish, led Smoky limping back to he pasture. He returned -soon, leading the buckskin. The crowd surged closer, gave -Sunfish a glance and whooped again. Bud's face was red with -apparent anger, his eyes snapped. He faced them defiantly, -his hand on Sunfish's thin, straggling mane. - -"You're such good sports, you'll surely appreciate my -feelings when I say that this horse is mine, and I'm going to -run him and back him to win!" he cried. "I may be a darn -fool, but I'm no piker. I know what this horse can do when I -try to catch him up on a frosty morning--and I'm going to see -if he can't go just as fast and just as long when I'm on him -as he can when I'm after him." - -"We'll go yuh, kid! I'll bet yuh five to one," a man -shouted. "You name the amount yourself." - -"Fifty," said Bud, and the man nodded and jotted down the -amount. - -"Bud, you're a damn fool. I'll bet you a hundred and make it -ten to one," drawled Dave, stroking Boise's face -affectionately while he looked superciliously at Sunfish -standing half asleep in the clamor, with his head sagging at -the end of his long, ewe neck. "But if you'll take my advice, -go turn that fool horse back in the pasture and run the bay -if you must run something." - -"The bay's a rope horse. I don't want to spoil him by running -him. That little horse saved my life, down in the Sinks. No, -Sunfish has run times enough from me--now he 's got to run -for me, by thunder. I'll bet on him, too!" - -Jeff pushed his way through to Bud. He was smiling with that -crafty look in his eyes which should have warned a child that -the smile went no deeper than his lips. - -"Bud, doggone it, I like yore nerve. Besides, you owe me -something for the way you trimmed me last Sunday. I'll just -give you fifteen to one, and you put up Skeeter at seventy- -five, and as much money as yo're a mind to. A pile of it come -out of my pocket, so-" - -"Well, don't holler your head off, Jeff. How's two hundred?" - -"Suits me, kid." He winked at the others, who knew how sure a -thing he had to back his wager. "It 'll be a lot of money if -I should lose--" He turned suddenly to Dave. "How much was -that you put up agin the kid, Dave?" - -"One hundred dollars, and a ten-to-one shot I win," Dave -drawled. "That ought to satisfy yuh it ain't a frame-up. The -kid's crazy, that's all." - -"Oh! Am I?" Bud turned hotly."Well, I've bet half of all the -money I have in the world. And I'm game for the other half--" -He stopped abruptly, cast one look at Sunfish and another at -Boise, stepping about uneasily, his shiny coat rippling, -beautiful. He turned and combed Sunfish's scanty mane with -his gloved fingers. Those nearest saw that his lips were -trembling a little and mistook his hidden emotion for anger. - -"You got him going," a man whispered in Jeff's ear."The kid's -crazy mad. He'll bet the shirt off his back if yuh egg him on -a little more." - -Jeff must have decided to "egg" Bud on. By the time the crowd -had reached the course, and the first, more commonplace races -were over, the other half of his money was in the hands of -the stake-holder, who happened on this day to be Jerry. And -the odds varied from four to one up to Jeff Hall's scornful -fifteen. - -"Bet yuh five hundred dollars against your bay horse,"Lew -offered when Bud confessed that he had not another dollar to -bet.-- - -"All right, it's a go with me," Bud answered recklessly. -"Get his hundred, Jerry, and put down Stopper." - -"What's that saddle worth?" another asked meaningly. - -"One hundred dollars," snapped Bud. "And if you want to go -further, there are my chaps and spurs and this silver-mounted -bridle-and my boots and hat-and I'll throw in Sunfish for -whatever you say his hide's worth. Who wants the outfit?" - -"I'll take 'em," said Jeff, and permitted Jerry and Dave to -appraise the outfit, which Bud piled contemptuously in a -heap. - -He mounted Sunfish bareback with a rope halter. Bud was -bareheaded and in his sock feet. His eyes were terribly blue -and bright, and his face was flushed as a drunken man's. He -glanced over to the bank where the women and children were -watching. It seemed to him that one woman fluttered her -handkerchief, and his heart beat unevenly for a minute. - -Then he was riding at a walk down the course to the farthest -post, and the crowd was laughing at the contrast between the -two horses. Boise stepped springily, tossing his head, his -eyes ablaze with ardor for the race. Beside him Sunfish -walked steadily as if he were carrying a pack. He was not a -pretty horse to look at. His neck was long and thin, his mane -and tail scanty and uneven, a nondescript sorrel. His head -looked large, set on the end of that neck, his nose was -dished in and his eyes had a certain veiled look, as if he -were hiding a bad disposition under those droopy lids. -Without a saddle he betrayed his high, thin withers, the sway -in his back, his high hip bones. His front legs were flat, -with long, stringy-looking muscles under his unkempt buckskin -hide. Even the women laughed at Sunfish. - -Beside them two men rode, the starter and another to see that -the start was fair. So they receded down the flat, yellow -course and dwindled to mere miniature figures against the -sand, so that one could not tell one horse from another. - -The crowd bunched, still laughing at how the singin' kid was -going to feel when he rode again to meet them. It would cure -him of racing, they said. It would be a good lesson; serve -him right for coming in there and thinking, because he had -cleaned up once or twice, that he could not be beaten. - -"Here they come," Jeff Hall announced satisfiedly, and spat -into the sand as a tiny blue puff of smoke showed beside one -of the dots, and two other dots began to grow perceptibly -larger within a yellow cloud which rolled along the earth. - -Men reined this way and that, or stood on their toes if they -were afoot, the better to see the two rolling dots. In a -moment one dot seemed larger than the other. One could -glimpse the upflinging of knees as two horses leaped closer -and closer. - -"Well-l-he's keepin' Dave in sight--that's more than what I -expected he'd do," Jeff observed. - -It was Pop who suddenly gave a whoop that cracked and -shrilled into falsetto. - -"Shucks a'mighty! Dave, he's a-whippin' up to keep the KID in -sight!" he quavered. "Shucks--a'MIGHTY, he 's a-comin'!" - -He was. Lying forward flattened along Sunfish's hard-muscled -shoulders, Bud was gaining and gaining--one length, then two -lengths as he shot under the wire, slowed and rode back to -find a silent crowd watching him. - -He was clothed safely again in chaps, boots, spurs, hat-- -except that I have named the articles backward; cowpuncher -that he was, Bud put on his hat before he even reached for -his boots--and was collecting his wagers relentlessly as -Shylock ever took his toll, before he paid any attention to -the atmosphere around him. Then, because someone shouted a -question three inches from his ear, Bud turned and laughed as -he faced them. - -"Why, sure he's from running stock! I never said he wasn't-- -because none of you make-believe horsemen had sense enough to -see the speed in him and get curious. You bush-racers never -saw a real race-horse before, I guess. They aren't always -pretty to look at, you know. Sunfish has all the earmarks of -speed if you know how to look for them. He's thoroughbred; -sired by Trump, out of Kansas Chippy--if that means anything -to you fellows." He looked them over, eyes meeting eyes until -his glance rested on Jeff Hall."I've got his registration -papers in my grip, if you aren't convinced. And," he added by -way of rubbing it in, "I guess I've got about all the money -there is in this valley." - -"No, you ain't!" Pop Truman cackled, teetering backward and -forward while he counted his winnings. "I bet on ye, young -feller. Brought me in something, too. It did so!" - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD - -At supper Bud noticed that Marian, standing at his right -side, set down his cup of coffee with her right hand, and at -the same instant he felt her left hand fumble in his pocket -and then touch his elbow. She went on, and Bud in his haste -to get outside drank his coffee so hot that it scalded his -mouth. Jerry rose up and stepped backward over the bench as -Bud passed him, and went out at his heels. - -"Go play the piano for half an hour and then meet me where -you got them mushrooms. And when you quit playing, duck -quick. Tell Honey you'll be back in a minute. Have her hunt -for music for yuh while you're out--or something like that. -Don't let on." - -Bud might have questioned Jerry, but that cautious young man -was already turning back to call something--to Dave, so Bud -went around the corner, glancing into the pantry window as he -passed. Marian was not in sight, nor was Honey at the moment -when he stood beside the step of the post-office. - -Boldness carries its own talisman against danger. Bud went -in--without slamming the door behind him, you may be sure-- -and drew his small notebook from his inside pocket. With that -to consult frequently, he sat down by the window where the -failing light was strongest, and proceeded to jot down -imaginary figures on the paper he pulled from his coat pocket -and unfolded as if it were of no value whatever to him. The -piano playing ordered by Jerry could wait. - -What Marian had to say on this occasion could not be written -upon a cigarette paper. In effect her note was a preface to -Jerry's commands. Bud saw where she had written words and -erased them so thoroughly that the cheap paper was almost -worn through. She had been afraid, poor lady, but her fear -could not prevent the writing. - -"You must leave to-night for Crater and cash the checks given -you to pay the bets. Go to Crater. If you don't know the way, -keep due north after you have crossed Gold Gap. There's the -stage road, but they'll watch that, I'm afraid. They mean to -stop payment on the checks. But first they will kill you if -they can. They say you cheated with that thoroughbred horse. -They took their losses so calmly--I knew that they meant to -rob you. To show you how I know, it was Lew you shot on the -ridge that night. His rheumatism was caused by your bullet -that nicked his shoulder. So you see what sort we are--go. -Don't wait--go now." - -Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, -smiling at him. - -"Well, how much is it?" she teased when she saw he had -discovered her. - -Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns -of figures, his hat-brim hiding his face. - -"Over eleven thousand dollars," he announced, and twisted the -paper in his fingers while he went over to her. "Almost -enough to start housekeeping!" - -Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she -pretended to have dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to -tuck the paper out of sight. "I feel pretty much intoxicated -to-night, Honey," he said. "I think I need soothing, or -something--and you know what music does to the savage breast. -Let 's play." - -"All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought -you were mad," Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the -little gate in the half partition just as Bud was vaulting -the counter, which gave her a great laugh and a chance for -playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and immediately regretted -the caress. - -Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his -mandolin and played that while Honey thumped out chords for -him. As he had half expected, most of the men strayed in and -perched here and there listening just as if there had not -been a most unusual horserace to discuss before they slept. -Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost boys so -thoughtful, and this silence struck him all at once as -something sinister, like a beast of prey stalking its kill. - -Two waltzes he played--and then, in the middle of a favorite -two-step, a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and -Bud came as close to swearing as a well-behaved young man may -come in the presence of a lady. - -"Now I'll have to go get a new E string," he complained. "You -play the Danube for the boys--the way I taught you--while I -get this fixed. I've an extra string down in the bunk-house; -it won't take five minutes to get it." He laid the mandolin -down on his chair, bolted out through the screen door which -he slammed after him to let Jerry know that he was coming, -and walked halfway to the bunk-house before he veered off -around the corner of the machine shed and ran. - -Jerry was waiting by the old shed, and without a word he led -Bud behind it where Sunfish was standing saddled and bridled. - -"You got to go, Bud, while the going's good. "I'd go with yuh -if I dared," Jerry mumbled guardedly. "You hit for Crater, -Bud, and put that money in the bank. You can cut into the -stage road where it crosses Oldman Creek, if you go straight -up the race track to the far end, and follow the trail from -there. You can't miss it--there ain't but one way to go. I -got yuh this horse because he's worth more'n what the other -two are, and he's faster. And Bud, if anybody rides up on -yuh, shoot. Don't monkey around about it. And you RIDE!" - -"All right," Bud muttered. "But I'll have to go down in the -pasture and get my money, first. I've got my own private bank -down there, and I haven't enough in my pockets to play penny -ante more than one round." - -"Hell!" Jerry's hand lifted to Bud's shoulder and gripped it -for a minute. "That's right on the road to the Sinks, man!" -He stood biting his lips, thinking deeply, turning his head -now and then as little sounds came from the house: the waltz -Honey was playing, the post-office door slamming shut. - -"You tell me where that money's cached, Bud, and I'll go -after it. I guess you'll have to trust me--I sure wouldn't -let yuh go down to the pasture yourself right now. Where is -it?" - -"Look under that flat rock right by the gate post, where the -top bars hit the ground. "It's wrapped up in a handkerchief, -so just bring the package. "It's been easy to tuck things -under the rock when I was putting up the bars. I'll wait -here." - -"Good enough--I'd sure have felt easier if I'd known you -wasn't carrying all that money." Whereupon Jerry disappeared, -and his going made no sound. - -Bud stood beside Sunfish, wondering if he had been a fool to -trust Jerry. By his own admission Jerry was living without -the law, and this might easily be a smooth scheme of robbery. -He turned and strained his eyes into the dusk, listening, -trying to hear some sound that would show which way Jerry had -gone. He was on the point of following him--suspicion getting -the better of his faith--when Sunfish moved his head abruptly -to one side, bumping Bud's head with his cheek. At the same -instant a hand touched Bud's arm. - -"I saw you from the kitchen window," Marian whispered -tensely. "I was afraid you hadn't read my note, or perhaps -wouldn't pay any attention to it. I heard you and Jerry--of -course he won't dare go with you and show you the short-cut, -even if he knows it. There's a quicker way than up the creek- -bed. I have Boise out in the bushes, and a saddle. I was -afraid to wait at the barn long enough to saddle him. You -go--he's behind that great pile of rocks, back of the -corrals. I'll wait for Jerry." She gave him a push, and Bud -was so astonished that he made no reply whatever, but did -exactly as she had told him to do. - -Boise was standing behind the peaked outcropping of rock, and -beside him was a stock-saddle which must have taxed Marian's -strength to carry. Indeed, Bud thought she must have had -wings, to do so much in so short a space of time; though when -he came to estimate that time he decided that he must have -been away from the house ten minutes, at least. If Marian -followed him closely enough to see him duck behind the -machine shed and meet Jerry, she could run behind the corral -and get Boise out by way of the back door of the stable. -There was a path, screened from the corral by a fringe of -brush, which went that way. The truth flashed upon him that -one could ride unseen all around Little Lost. - -He was just dropping the stirrup down from the saddle horn -when Marian appeared with Jerry and Sunfish close behind her. -Jerry held out the package. - -"She says she'll show you a short cut," he whispered. "She -says I don't know anything about it. I guess she's right-- -there's a lot I don't know. Lew 's gone, and she says she'll -be back before daylight. If they miss Boise they'll think you -stole him. But they won't look. Dave wouldn't slam around in -the night on Boise--he thinks too much of him. Well--beat it, -and I sure wish yuh luck. You be careful, Marian. Come back -this way, and if you see a man's handkerchief hanging on this -bush right here where I'm standing, it'll mean you've been -missed." - -"Thank you, Jerry," Marian whispered."I'll look for it. Come, -Bud--keep close behind me, and don't make any noise." - -Bud would have protested, but Marian did not give him a -chance. She took up the reins, grasped the saddle horn, stuck -her slipper toe in the stirrup and mounted Boise as quickly -as Bud could have done it--as easily, too, making allowance -for the difference in their height. Bud mounted Sunfish and -followed her down the trail which led to the race track; but -when they had gone through the brush and could see starlight -beyond, she turned sharply to the left, let Boise pick his -way carefully over a rocky stretch and plunged into the brush -again, leaning low in the saddle so that the higher branches -would not claw at her hair and face. - -When they had once more come into open ground with a shoulder -of Catrock Peak before them, Marian pulled up long enough to -untie her apron and bind it over her hair like a peasant -woman. She glanced back at Bud, and although darkness hid the -expression on her face, he saw her eyes shining in the -starlight. She raised her hand and beckoned, and Bud reined -Sunfish close alongside. - -"We're going into a spooky place now," she leaned toward him -to whisper. "Boise knows the way, and your horse will -follow." - -"All right," Bud whispered back. "But you'd better tell me -the way and let me go on alone. I'm pretty good at scouting -out new trails. I don't want you to get in trouble--" - -She would not listen to more of that, but pushed him back -with the flat of her bare hand and rode ahead of him again. -Straight at the sheer bluff, that lifted its huge, rocky -shape before them, she led the way. So far as Bud could see -she was not following any trail; but was aiming at a certain -point and was sure enough of the ground to avoid detours. - -They came out upon the bank of the dry river-bed. Bud knew it -by the flatness of the foreground and the general contour of -the mountains beyond. But immediately they turned at a sharp -angle, travelled for a few minutes with the river-bed at -their backs, and entered a narrow slit in the mountains where -two peaks had been rent asunder in some titanic upheaval when -the world was young. The horses scrambled along the rocky -bottom for a little way, then Boise disappeared. - -Sunfish halted, threw his head this way and that, gave a -suspicious sniff and turned carefully around the corner of a -square-faced boulder. In front was blackness. Bud urged him a -little with rein and soft pressure of the spurs, and Sunfish -stepped forward. He seemed reassured to find firm, smooth -sand under his feet, and hurried a little until Boise was -just ahead clicking his feet now and then against a rock. - -"Coming?" Marian's voice sounded subdued, muffled by the -close walls of the tunnel-like crevice. - -"Coming," Bud assured her quietly "At your heels." - -"I always used to feel spooky when I was riding through -here," Marian said, dropping back so that they rode side by -side, stirrups touching. "I was ten when I first made the -trip. It was to get away from Indians. They wouldn't come -into these places. Eddie and I found the way through. We were -afraid they were after us, and so we kept going, and our -horses brought us out. Eddie--is my brother." - -"You grew up here?" Bud did not know how much incredulity was -in his voice. "I was raised amongst the Indians in Wyoming. I -thought you were from the East." - -"I was in Chicago for three years," Marian explained. "I -studied every waking minute, I think. I wanted to be a -singer. Then--I came home to help bury mother. Father--Lew -and father were partners, and I--married Lew. I didn't know-- -it seemed as though I must. Father put it that way. The old -story, Bud. I used to laugh at it in novels, but it does -happen. Lew had a hold over father and Eddie, and he wanted -me. I married him, but it did no good, for father was killed -just a little more than a month afterwards. We had a ranch, -up here in the Redwater Valley, about halfway to Crater. But -it went--Lew gambled and drank and--so he took me to Little -Lost. I've been there for two years." - -The words of pity--and more--that crowded forward for -utterance, Bud knew he must not speak. So he said nothing at -all. - -"Lew has always held Eddie over my head," she went on pouring -out her troubles to him. "There's a gang, called the Catrock -Gang, and Lew is one of them. I told you Lew is the man you -shot. I think Dave Truman is in with them--at any rate he -shuts his eyes to whatever goes on, and gets part of the -stealings, I feel sure. That's why Lew is such a favorite. -You see, Eddie is one--I'm trusting you with my life, almost, -when I tell you this. - -"But I couldn't stand by and not lift a hand to save you. I -knew they would kill you. They'd have to, because I felt that -you would fight and never give up. And you are too fine a man -for those beasts to murder for the money you have. I knew, -the minute I saw Jeff paying you his losings with a check, -and some of the others doing the same, just what would -happen. Jeff is almost as bad as the Catrockers, except that -he is too cowardly to come out into the open. He gave you a -check; and everyone who was there knew he would hurry up to -Crater and stop payment on it, if he could do it and keep out -of your sight. Those cronies of his would do the same--so -they paid with checks. - -"And the Catrock gang knew that. They mean to get hold of -you, rob and-and-kill you, and forge the endorsement on the -checks and let one man cash them in Crater before payment can -be stopped. Indeed, the gang will see to it that Jeff stays -away from Crater. Lew hinted that while they were about it -they might as well clean out the bank. It wouldn't be the -first time," she added bitterly. - -She stopped then and asked for a match, and when Bud gave her -one she lighted a candle and held it up so that she could -examine the walls. "It's a natural tunnel," she volunteered -in a different tone. "Somewhere along here there is a branch -that goes back into the hill and ends in a blow-hole. But -we're all right so far." - -She blew out the candle and urged Boise forward, edging over -to the right. - -"Wasn't that taking quite a chance, making a light?" Bud -asked as they went on. - -"It was, but not so great a chance as missing the way. Jerry -didn't hear anything of them when he went to the pasture -gate, and they may not come through this way at all. They may -not realize at first that you have left, and even when they -did they would not believe at first that you had gone to -Crater. You see "--and in the darkness Bud could picture her -troubled smile--" they think you are an awful fool, in some -ways. The way you bet to-day was pure madness." - -"It would have been, except that I knew I could win." - -"They never bet like that. They always 'figure', as they call -it, that the other fellow is going to play some trick on -them. Half the time Jeff bets against his own horse, on the -sly. They all do, unless they feel sure that their own trick -is best." - -"They should have done that to-day," Bud observed dryly. "But -you've explained it. They thought I'm an awful fool." - -Out of the darkness came Marian's voice. "It's because you're -so different. They can't understand you. - -Bud was not interested in his own foolishness just then. -Something in her voice had thrilled him anew with a desire to -help her and with the conviction that he was desperately in -need of help. There was a pathetic patience in her tone when -she summarized he whole affair in those last two sentences. -It was as if she were telling him how her whole life was -darkened because she herself was different--because they -could not understand a woman so fine, so true and sweet. - -"What will happen if you are missed? If you go back and -discover Jerry's handkerchief on that bush, what will you do? -You can't go back if they find out--" There was no need for -him to finish that sentence. - -"I don't know," said Marian, "what I shall do. I hadn't -thought much about it." - -"I haven't thought much about anything else," Bud told her -straightforwardly. "If Jerry flags you, you 'd better -keep going. Couldn't you go to friends?" - -"I could--if I had any. Bud, you don't understand. Eddie is -the only relative I have on earth, that I know at all. He -is--he's with the Catrockers and Lew dominates him -completely. Lew has pushed Ed into doing things so that I -must shield both or neither. And Eddie's just a boy. So I've -no one at all." - -Bud studied this while they rode on through the defile that -was more frequently a tunnel, since the succession of caves -always had an outlet which Marian found. She had stopped now -and dismounted, and they were leading their horses down a -steep, scrambling place with the stars showing overhead. - -"A blowhole," Marian informed him briefly. "We'll come into -another cave, soon, and while it's safe if you know it, I'll -explain now that you must walk ahead of your horse and keep -your right hand always in touch with the wall until we see -the stars again. There's a ledge-five feet wide in the -narrowest place, if you are nervous about ledges--and if you -should get off that you'd have a drop of ten feet or so. We -found that the ledge makes easier travelling, because the -bottom is full of rocks and nasty depressions that are -noticeable only with lights." - -She started off again, and Bud followed her, his gloved -fingers touching the right wall, his soul humbled before the -greatness of this little woman with the deep, troubled eyes. -When they came out into the starlight she stopped and -listened for what seemed to Bud a very long time. - -"If they are coming, they are a long way behind us," she said -relievedly, and remounted. "Boise knows his trail and has -made good time. And your horse has proven beyond all doubt -that he's a thoroughbred. I've seen horses balk at going -where we have gone." - -"And I've seen men who counted themselves brave as any, who -wouldn't do what you are doing to-night; Jerry, for instance. -I wish you'd go back. I can't bear having you take this -risk." - -"I can't go back, Bud. Not if they find I've gone." Then he -heard her laugh quietly. "I can't imagine now why I stayed -and endured it all this while. I think I only needed the -psychological moment for rebellion, and to-night the moment -came. So you see you have really done me a service by getting -into this scrape. It's the first time I have been off the -ranch in a year." - -"If you call that doing you a service, I'm going to ask you -to let me do something also for you." Bud half smiled to -himself in the darkness, thinking how diplomatic he was. "If -you're found out, you'll have to keep on going, and I take it -you wouldn't be particular where you went. So I wish you 'd -take charge of part of this money for me, and if you leave, -go down to my mother, on the Tomahawk ranch, out from -Laramie. Anyone can tell you where it is, when you get down -that way If you need any money use it. And tell mother I sent -her the finest cook in the country. Mother, by the way, is a -great musician, Marian. She taught me all I know of music. -You'd get along just fine with mother. And she needs you, -honest. She isn't very strong, yet she can't find anyone to -suit, down there--" - -"I might not suit, either," said Marian, her voice somewhat -muffled. - -"Oh, I'm not afraid of that. And--there's a message I want to -send--I promised mother I'd--" - -"Oh, hush! You're really an awfully poor prevaricator, Bud. -This is to help me, you're planning." - -"Well--it's to help me that I want you to take part of the -money. The gang won't hold you up, will they? And I want -mother to have it. I want her to have you, too,--to help out -when company comes drifting in there, sometimes fifteen or -twenty strong. Especially on Sunday. Mother has to wait on -them and cook for them, and--as long as you are going to cook -for a bunch, you may as well do it where it will be -appreciated, and where you'll be treated like a--like a lady -ought to be treated." - -"You're even worse--" began Marian, laughing softly, and -stopped abruptly, listening, her head turned behind them." -Sh-sh-someone is coming behind us," she whispered. "We're -almost through--come on, and don't talk!" - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING POINT - -They plunged into darkness again, rode at a half trot over -smooth, hard sand, Bud trusting himself wholly to Marian and -to the sagacity of the two horses who could see, he hoped, -much better than he himself could. His keen hearing had -caught a faint sound from behind them--far back in the -crevice-like gorge they had just quitted, he believed. For -Marian's sake he stared anxiously ahead, eager for the first -faint suggestion of starlight before them. It came, and he -breathed freer and felt of his gun in its holster, pulling it -forward an inch or two. - -"This way, Bud," Marian murmured, and swung Boise to the -left, against the mountain under and through which they -seemed to have passed. She led him into another small gorge -whose extent he could not see, and stopped him with a hand -pressed against Sunfish's shoulder. - -"We'd better get down and hold our horses quiet," she -cautioned. "Boise may try to whinny, and he mustn't." - -They stood side by side at their horses' heads, holding the -animals close. For a time there were no sounds at all save -the breathing of the horses and once a repressed sigh from -Marian. Bud remembered suddenly how tired she must be. At six -o'clock that morning she had fed twelve men a substantial -breakfast. At noon there had been dinner for several more -than twelve, and supper again at six--and here she was, -risking her life when she should be in bed. He felt for her -free hand, found it hanging listlessly by her side and took -it in his own and held it there, just as one holds the hand -of a timid child. Yet Marian was not timid. - -A subdued mutter of voices, the click of hoofs striking -against stone, and the pursuers passed within thirty feet of -them. Boise had lifted his head to nicker a salute, but -Marian's jerk on the reins stopped him. They stood very -still, not daring so much as a whisper until the sounds had -receded and silence came again. - -"They took the side-hill trail," whispered Marian, pushing -Boise backward to turn him in the narrow defile. "You'll have -to get down the hill into the creek-bed and follow that until -you come to the stage road. There may be others coming that -way, but they will be two or three miles behind you. This -tunnel trail cuts off at least five miles but we had to go -slower, you see. - -"Right here you can lead Sunfish down the bluff to the creek. -It's all dry, and around the first bend you will see where -the road crosses. Turn to the left on that and ride! This -horse of yours will have to show the stuff that's in him. Get -to Crater ahead of these men that took the hill trail. -They'll not ride fast--they never dreamed you had come -through here, but they came to cut off the distance and to -head you off. With others behind, you must beat them all in -or you'll be trapped between." - -She had left Boise tied hastily to a bush and was walking -ahead of Bud down the steep, rocky hillside to show him the -easiest way amongst the boulders Halfway down, Bud caught her -shoulder and stopped her. - -"I'm not a kid," he said firmly. "I can make it from here -alone. Not another step, young lady. If you can get back home -You'll be doing enough. Take this--it's money, but I don't -know how much. And watch your chance and go down to mother -with that message. Birnie, of the Tomahawk outfit--you'll -find out in Laramie where to go. And tell mother I'm all -right, and she'll see me some day--when I've made my stake. -God bless you, little woman. You're the truest, sweetest -little woman in the world. There's just one more like you-- -that's mother. Now go back--and for God's sake he careful!" - -He pressed money into her two hands, held them tightly -together, kissed them both hurriedly and plunged down the -hill with Sunfish slipping and sliding after him. For her -safety, if not for his own, he meant to get away from there -as quickly as possible. - -In the creek bed he mounted and rode away at a sharp gallop, -glad that Sunfish, thoroughbred though he was, had not been -raised tenderly in stall and corral, but had run free with -the range horses and had learned to keep his feet under him -in rough country or smooth. When he reached the crossing of -the stage road he turned to the left as Marian had commanded -and put Sunfish to a pace that slid the miles behind him. - -With his thoughts clinging to Marian, to the harshness which -life had shown her who was all goodness and sweetness and -courage, Bud forgot to keep careful watch behind him, or to -look for the place where the hill trail joined the road, as -it probably did some distance from Crater. It would be a -blind trail, of course--since only the Catrock gang and -Marian knew of it. - -They came into the road not far behind him, out of rock- -strewn, brushy wilderness that sloped up steeply to the -rugged sides of Gold Gap mountains. Sunfish discovered them -first, and gave Bud warning just before they identified him -and began to shoot. - -Bud laid himself along the shoulder of his horse with a -handful of mane to steady him while he watched his chance and -fired back at them. There were four, just the number he had -guessed from the sounds as they came out of the tunnel. A -horse ran staggering toward him with the others, faltered and -fell. Bud was sorry for that. It had been no part of his plan -to shoot down the horses. - -The three came on, leaving the fourth to his own devices--and -that, too, was quite in keeping with the type of human -vultures they were. They kept firing at Bud, and once he felt -Sunfish wince and leap forward as if a spur had raked him. -Bud shot again, and thought he saw one horseman lurch -backward. But he could not be sure--they were going at a -terrific pace now, and Sunfish was leaving them farther and -farther behind. They were outclassed, hopelessly out of -pistol range, and they must have known it, for although they -held to the chase they fired no more shots. - -Then a dog barked, and Bud knew that he was passing a ranch. -He could smell the fresh hay in the stacks, and a moment -later he descried the black hulk of ranch buildings. Sunfish -was running easily, his breath unlabored. Bud stood in the -stirrups and looked back. They were still coming, for he -could hear the pound of hoofs. - -The ranch was behind him. Clear starlight was all around, and -the bulk of near mountains. The road seemed sandy, yielding -beneath the pound of Sunfish's hoofs. Bud leaned forward -again in the saddle, and planned what he would do when he -reached Crater; found time, also, to hope that Marian had -gone back, and had not heard the shooting. - -Another dog barked, this time on the right. Bud saw that they -were passing a picket fence. The barking of this dog started -another farther ahead and to the left. Houses so close -together could only mean that he was approaching Crater. Bud -began to pull Sunfish down to a more conventional pace. He -did not particularly want to see heads thrust from windows, -and questions shouted to him. The Catrock gang might have -friends up this way. It would be strange, Bud thought, if -they hadn't. - -He loped along the road grown broader now and smoother. Many -houses he passed, and the mouths of obscure lanes. Dogs ran -out at him. Bud slowed to a walk and turned in the saddle, -listening. Away back, where he had first met the signs of -civilization, the dog he had aroused was barking again, his -deep baying blurred by the distance. Bud grinned to himself -and rode on at a walk, speaking now and then to an inquiring -dog and calling him Purp in a tone that soothed. - -Crater, he discovered in a cursory patrol of the place, was -no more than an overgrown village. The court-house and jail -stood on the main street, and just beyond was the bank. Bud -rode here and there, examining closely the fronts of various -buildings before he concluded that there was only the one -bank in Crater. When he was quite sure of that he chose place -near by the rear of the bank, where one horse and a cow -occupied a comfortable corral together with hay. He unsaddled -Sunfish and turned him there, himself returning to the bank -before those other night-riders had more than reached the -first straggling suburbs of the town. - -On the porch of the court-house, behind a jutting corner -pillar that seemed especially designed for the concealment of -a man in Bud's situation, he rolled cigarette which he meant -to smoke later on when the way was clear, and waited for the -horsemen to appear. - -Presently they came, rode to a point opposite the court-house -and bank with no more than a careless glance that way, and -halted in front of an uninviting hotel across the street. Two -remained on their horses while the third pounded on the door -and shook it by the knob and finally raised the landlord from -his sleep. There was a conference which Bud witnessed with -much interest. A lamp had been lighted in the bare office, -and against the yellow glow Bud distinctly saw the landlord -nod his head twice--which plainly betokened some sort of -understanding. - -He was glad that he had not stopped at the hotel. He felt -much more comfortable on the court-house porch. "Mother's -guardian angels must be riding 'point' to-night," he mused. - -The horsemen rode back to a livery stable which Bud had -observed but had not entered. There they also sought for news -of him, it would appear. You will recall, however, that Bud -had ridden slowly into the business district of Crater, and -his passing had been unmarked except by the barking of dogs -that spent their nights in yammering at every sound and so -were never taken seriously. The three horsemen were plainly -nonplussed and conferred together in low tones before they -rode on. It was evident that they meant to find Bud if they -could. What they meant to do with him Bud did not attempt to -conjecture. He did not intend to be found. - -After a while the horsemen rode back to the hotel, got the -landlord out with less difficulty than before and had another -talk with him. - -"He stole a horse from Dave Truman," Bud heard one of the -three say distinctly. "That there running horse Dave had." - -The landlord tucked in his shirt and exclaimed at the news, -and Bud heard him mention the sheriff. But nothing came of -that evidently. They talked further and reined their horses -to ride back whence they came. - -"He likely's give us the slip outside of town, some place," -one man concluded. "We'll ride back and see. If he shows up, -he'll likely want to eat. . . And send Dick out to the -Stivers place. We'll come a-running." He had lowered his -voice so that Bud could not hear what was to happen before -the landlord sent Dick, but he decided he would not pry into -the matter and try to fill that gap in the conversation. - -He sat where he was until the three had ridden back down the -sandy road which served as a street. Then he slipped behind -the court-house and smoked his cigarette, and went and -borrowed hay from the cow and the horse in the corral and -made himself some sort of bed with his saddle blanket to help -out, and slept until morning. - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:THE CATROCK GANG - -A woman with a checkered apron and a motherly look came to -let her chickens out and milk the cow, and woke Bud so that -she could tell him she believed he had been on a "toot", or -he never would have taken such a liberty with her corral. Bud -agreed to the toot, and apologized, and asked for breakfast. -And the woman, after one good look at him, handed him the -milk bucket and asked him how he liked his eggs. - -"All the way from barn to breakfast," Bud grinned, and the -woman chuckled and called him Smarty, and told him to come in -as soon as the cow was milked. - -Bud had a great breakfast with the widow Hanson. She talked, -and Bud learned a good deal about Crater and its -surroundings, and when he spoke of holdup gangs she seemed to -know immediately what he meant, and told him a great deal -more about the Catrockers than Marian had done. Everything -from murdering and robbing a peddler to looting the banks at -Crater and Lava was laid to the Catrockers. They were the -human buzzards that watched over the country and swooped down -wherever there was money. The sheriff couldn't do anything -with them, and no one expected him to, so far as Bud could -discover. - -He hesitated a long time before he asked about Marian Morris. -Mrs. Hanson wept while she related Marian's history, which in -substance was exactly what Marian herself had told Bud. Mrs. -Hanson, however, told how Marian had fought to save her -father and Ed, and how she had married Lew Morris as a part -of her campaign for honesty and goodness. Now she was down at -Little Lost cooking for a gang of men, said Mrs. Hanson, when -she ought to be out in the world singing for thousands and -her in silks and diamonds instead of gingham dresses and not -enough of them. - -"Marian Collier is the sweetest thing that ever grew up in -this country," the old lady sniffled. "She's one in a -thousand and when she was off to school she showed that she -wasn't no common trash. She wanted to be an opery singer, but -then her mother died and Marian done what looked to be her -duty. A bird in a trap is what I call her." - -Bud regretted having opened the subject, and praised the -cooking by way of turning his hostess's thoughts into a -different channel. He asked her if she would accept him as a -boarder while he was in town, and was promptly accepted. - -He did not want to appear in public until the bank was -opened, and he was a bit troubled over identification. There -could be no harm, he reflected, in confiding to Mrs. Hanson -as much as was necessary of his adventures. Wherefore he -dried the dishes for her and told her his errand in town, and -why it was that he and his horse had slept in her corral -instead of patronizing hotel and livery stable. He showed her -the checks he wanted to cash, and asked her, with flattering -eagerness for her advice, what he should do. He had been -warned, he said, that Jeff and his friends might try to beat -him yet by stopping payment, and he knew that he had been -followed by them to town. - -"What You'll do will be what I tell ye," Mrs Hanson replied -with decision. "The cashier is a friend to me--I was with his -wife last month with her first baby, and they swear by me -now, for I gave her good care. We'll go over there this -minute, and have talk with him. He'll do what he can for ye, -and he'll do it for my sake." - -"You don't know me, remember," Bud reminded her honestly. - -The widow Hanson gave him a scornful smile and toss of her -head. "And do I not?" she demanded. Do you think I've buried -three husbands and thinking now of the fourth, without -knowing what's wrote a man's face? Three I buried, and only -one died his bed. I can tell if a man's honest or not, -without giving him the second look. If you've got them checks -you should get the money on them--for I know their stripe. -Come on with me to Jimmy Lawton's house. He's likely holding -the baby while Minie does the dishes." - -Mrs. Hanson guessed shrewdly. The cashier of the Crater -County Bank was doing exactly what she said he would be -doing. He was sitting in the kitchen, rocking a pink baby -wrapped in white outing flannel with blue border, when Mrs. -Hanson, without the formality of more than one warning tap on -the screen door, walked in with Bud. She held out her hands -for the baby while she introduced the cashier to Bud. In -the next breath she was explaining what was wanted of the -bank. - -"They've done it before, and ye know it's plain thievery and -ought to be complained about. So now get your wits to work, -Jimmy, for this friend of mine is entitled to his money and -should have it if it is there to be had." - -"Oh, it's there," said Jimmy. He looked at his watch, looked -at the kitchen clock, looked at Bud and winked. "We open at -nine, in this town," he said. "It lacks half an hour--but let -me see those checks." - -Very relievedly Bud produced them, watched the cashier scan -each one to make sure that they were right, and quaked when -Jimmy scowled at Jeff Hall's signature on the largest check -of all. "He had a notion to use the wrong signature, but he -may have lost his nerve. It's all right, Mr. Birnie. Just -endorse these, and I'll take them into the bank and attend to -them the first thing I do after the door is open. You'd -better come in when I open up--" - -"The gang had some talk about cleaning out the bank while -they 're about it," Bud remembered suddenly. "Can't you -appoint me something, or hire me as a guard and let me help -out? How many men do you have here in this bank?" - -"Two, except when the president's in his office in the rear. -That's fine of you to offer. We've been held up, once--and -they cleaned us out of cash." Jimmy turned to Mrs. Hanson. -"Mother, can't you run over and have Jess come and swear Mr. -Birnie in as a deputy? If I go, or he goes, someone may -notice it and tip the gang off." - -Mrs. Hanson hastily deposited the baby in its cradle and went -to call "Jess", her face pink with excitement. - -"You're lucky you stopped at her house instead of some other -place," Jimmy observed. "She's a corking good woman. As a -deputy sheriff, you'll come in mighty handy if they do try -anything, Mr. Birnie--if you're the kind of a man you look to -be. I'll bet you can shoot. Can you?" - -"If you scare me badly enough, I might get a cramp in my -trigger finger," Bud confessed. Jimmy grinned and went back -to considering his own part. - -"I'll cash these checks for you the first thing I do. And as -deputy you can go with me. I'll have to unlock the door on -time, and if they mean to stop payment, and clean the bank -too, it will probably be done all at once. It has been a year -since they bothered us, so they may need a little change. If -Jess isn't busy he may stick around." - -"No one expects him to round up the gang, I heard." - -"No one expects him to go into Catrock Canyon after them. -He'll round them up, quick enough, if he can catch them far -enough from their holes." - -Jess returned with Mrs. Hanson, swore in a new deputy, eyed -Bud curiously, and agreed to remain hidden across the road -from the bank with a rifle. He nodded understandingly when -Bud warned him that the looting was a matter of hearsay on -his part, and departed with an awkward compliment to Mrs. Jim -about hoping that the baby was going to look like her. - -Jim lived just behind the bank, and a high board fence -between the two buildings served to hide his coming and -going. But Bud took off his hat and walked stooping,--by -special request of Mrs. Hanson--to make sure that he was not -observed. - -"I think I'll stand out in front of the window," said Bud -when they were inside. "It will look more natural, and if any -of these fellows show up I'd just as soon not show my brand -the first thing." - -They showed up, all right, within two minutes of the -unlocking of the bank and the rolling up of the shades. Jeff -Hall was the first man to walk in, and he stopped short when -he saw Bud lounging before the teller's window and the -cashier busy within. Other men were straggling up on the -porch, and two of them entered. Jeff walked over to Bud, who -shifted his position enough to bring him facing Jeff, whom he -did not trust at all. - -"Mr. Lawton," Jeff began hurriedly, "I want to stop payment -on a check this young feller got from me by fraud. It's for -five thousand eight hundred dollars, and I notify you--" - -"Too late, Mr. Hall. I have already accepted the checks. -Where did the fraud come in? You can bring suit, of course, -to recover." - -"I'll tell you, Jimmy. He bet that my horse couldn't beat -Dave Truman's Boise. A good many bet on the same thing. But -my horse proved to have more speed, so a lot of them are -sore." Bud chuckled as other Sunday losers came straggling -in. - -"Well, it's too late. I have honored the checks," Jimmy said -crisply, and turned to hand a sealed manila envelope to the -bookkeeper with whispered instructions. The bookkeeper, who -had just entered from the rear of the office, turned on his -heel and left again. - -Jeff muttered something to his friends and went outside as if -their business were done for the day. - -"I gave you five thousand in currency and the balance in a -cashier's check," Jimmy whispered through he wicket. "Sent it -to the house, We don't keep a great deal--ten thousand's our -limit in cash, and I don't think you want to pack gold or -silver--" - -"No, I didn't. I'd rather--" - -Two men came in, one going over to the desk where he -apparently wrote a check, the other came straight to the -window. Bud looked into the heavily bearded face of a man who -had the eyes of Lew Morris. He shifted his position a little -so that he faced the man's right side. The one at the desk -was glancing slyly over his shoulder at the bookkeeper, who -had just returned to his work. - -"Can you change this twenty so I can get seven dollars and a -quarter out of it?" asked the man at he window. As he slid -the bill through the wicket he started to sneeze, and reached -backward--for his handkerchief, apparently. - -"Here's one," said Bud. "Don't sneeze too hard, old-timer, or -you're liable to sneeze your whiskers all off. It's happened -before." - -Someone outside fired a shot in at Bud, clipping his hatband -in front. At the sound of the shot the whiskered one snatched -his gun out, and the cashier shot him. Bud had sent a shot -through the outside window and hit somebody--whom, he did not -know, for he had no time to look. The young fellow at the -desk had whirled, and was pointing a gun shakily, first at he -cashier and then at Bud. Bud fired and knocked he gun out of -his hand, then stepped over the man he suspected was Lew and -caught the young fellow by the wrist. - -"You're Ed Collier--by your eyes and your mouth," Bud said in -a rapid undertone. "I'm going to get you out of this, if -you'll do what I say. Will you?" - -"He got me in here, honest," the young fellow quaked. He -couldn't be more than nineteen, Bud guessed swiftly. - -"Let me through, Jimmy," Bud ordered hurriedly. "You got the -man that put up this job. I'll take the kid out the back way, -if you don't mind." - -Jimmy opened the steel-grilled door and let them through. - -"Ed Collier," he said in a tone of recognition. "I heard he -was trailing--" - -"Forget it, Jimmy. If the sheriff asks about him, say he got -out. Now, Ed, I'm going to take you over to Mrs. Hanson's. -She'll keep an eye on you for a while." - -Eddie was looking at the dead man on the floor, and trembling -so that he did not attempt to reply; and by way of Jimmy's -back fence and the widow Hanson's barn and corral, Bud got -Eddie safe into the kitchen just as that determined lady was -leaving home with a shotgun to help defend the honor of the -town. - -Bud took her by the shoulder and told her what he wanted her -to do. "He's Marian's brother, and too young to be with that -gang. So keep him here, safe and out of sight, until I come. -Then I'll want to borrow your horse. Shall I tie the kid?" - -"And me an able-bodied woman that could turn him acrost my -knee?" Mrs. Hanson's eyes snapped. - -"It's more likely the boy needs his breakfast. Get along with -ye!" - -Bud got along, slipping into the bank by the rear door and -taking a hand in the desultory firing in the street. The -sheriff had a couple of men ironed and one man down and the -landlord of the hotel was doing a great deal of explaining -that he had never seen the bandits before. Just by way of -stimulating his memory Bud threw a bullet close to his heels, -and the landlord thereupon grovelled and wept while he -protested his innocence. - -"He's a damn liar, sheriff," Bud called across the hoof- -scarred road. "He was talking to them about eleven o'clock -last night. There were three that chased me into town, and -they got him up out of bed to find out whether I'd stopped -there. I hadn't, luckily for me. If I had he'd have showed -them the way to my room, and he'd have had a dead boarder -this morning. Keep right on shedding tears, you old cut- -throat! I was sitting on the court-house porch, last night, -and I heard every word that passed between you and the -Catrockers!" - -"I've been suspicioning here was where they got their -information right along," the sheriff commented, and slipped -the handcuffs on the landlord. Investigation proved that Jeff -Hall and his friends had suddenly decided that they had no -business with the bank that day, and had mounted and galloped -out of town when the first shot was fired. Which simplified -matters a bit for Bud. - -In Jimmy Lawton's kitchen he received his money, and when the -prisoners were locked up he saved himself some trouble with -the sheriff by hunting him up and explaining just why he had -taken the Collier boy into custody. - -"You know yourself he's just a kid, and if you send him over -the road he's a criminal for life. I believe I can make a -decent man of him. I want to try, anyway. So you just leave -me this deputy's badge, and make my commission regular and -permanent, and I'll keep an eye on him. Give me a paper so I -can get a requisition and bring him back to stand trial, any -time he breaks out. I'll be responsible for him, sheriff." - -"And who in blazes are you?" the sheriff inquired, with a -grin to remove the sting of suspicion. "Name sounded -familiar, too!" - -"Bud Birnie of the Tomahawk, down near Laramie; Telegraph -Laramie if you like and find out about me. - -"Good Lord! I know the Tomahawk like a book!" cried the -sheriff. "And you're Bob Birnie's boy! Say! D'you remember -dragging into camp on the summit one time when you was about -twelve years old--been hidin' out from Injuns about three -days? Well, say! I'm the feller that packed you into the -tent, and fed yuh when yuh come to. Remember the time I rode -down and stayed over night at yore place, the time Bill Nye -come down from his prospect hole up in the Snowies, bringin' -word the Injuns was up again?" The sheriff grabbed Bud's hand -and held it, shaking it up and down now and then to emphasize -his words. - -"Folks called you Buddy, then. I remember yuh, helpin' your -mother cook 'n' wash dishes for us fellers. I kinda felt like -I had a claim on yuh, Buddy. - -"Say, Bill Nye, he's famous now. Writin' books full of jokes, -and all that. He always was a comical cuss. Don't you -remember how the bunch of us laughed at him when he drifted -in about dark, him and four burros--that one he called -Boomerang, that he named his paper after in Laramie? I've -told lots of times what he said when he come stoopin' into -the kitchen--how Colorou had sent him word that he'd give -Bill just four sleeps to get outa there. An, 'Hell!' says -Bill. 'I didn't need any sleeps!' An' we all turned to and -cooked a hull beef yore dad had butchered that day--and Bill -loaded up with the first chunks we had ready, and pulled his -freight. He sure didn't need any sleeps--" - -"Yes, you bet I remember. Jesse Cummings is your name. I sure -ought to remember you, for you and your partner saved my -life, I expect. I thought I'd seen you before, when you made -me deputy. How about the kid? Can I have him? Lew Morris, the -man that kept him on the wrong side of the law, is dead, I -heard the doctor say. Jimmy got him when he pulled his gun." - -"Why, yes--if the town don't git onto me turnin' him loose, I -guess you can have the kid for all I care. He didn't take any -part in the holdup, did he Buddy?" - -"He was over by the customers' desk when Lew started, to hold -up the cashier." - -"Well I got enough prisoners so I guess he won't be missed. -But you look out how yuh git him outa town. Better wait til -kinda late to-night. I sure would like to see him git a show. -Them two Collier kids never did have a square deal, far as -I've heard. - -But be careful, youngster. I want another term off this -county if I can get it. Don't go get me in bad." - -"I won't," Bud promised and hurried back to Mrs. Hanson's -house. - -That estimable lady was patting butter in a wooden bowl when -Bud went in. She turned and brushed a wisp of gray hair from -her face with her fore arm and sh-shed him into silent -stepping, motioning toward an inner room. Bud tiptoed and -looked, saw Ed Collier fast asleep, swaddled in a blanket, -and grinned his approval. - -He made sure that the sleep was genuine, also that the -blanket swaddling was efficient. Moreover, he discovered that -Mrs. Hanson had very prudently attached a thin wire to the -foot of the blanket cocoon, had passed the wire through a -knot hole in a cupboard set into the partition, and to a -sheep bell which she no doubt expected to ring upon -provocation--such as a prisoner struggling to release his -feet from a gray blanket fastened with many large safety -pins. - -"He went right to sleep, the minute I'd fed him and tied him -snug," Mrs. Hanson murmured. "He was a sulky divvle and -wouldn't give a decent answer to me till he had his stomach -filled. From the way he waded into the ham and eggs, I guess -a square meal and him has been strangers for a long time." - -Sleep and Ed Collier must have been strangers also, for Bud -attended the inquest of Lew Morris, visited afterwards with -Sheriff Cummings, who was full of reminiscence and wanted to -remind Bud of everything that had ever happened within his -knowledge during the time when they had been neighbors with -no more than forty miles or so between them. The sheriff -offered Bud a horse and saddle, which he promised to deliver -to the widow's corral after the citizens of Crater had gone -to bed. And while he did not say that it would be Ed's horse, -Bud guessed shrewdly that it would. After that, Bud carefully -slit the lining of his boots tucked money and checks into the -opening he had made, and did a very neat repair job. - -All that while Ed Collier slept. When Bud returned for his -supper Ed had evidently just awakened and was lying on his -back biting his lip while he eyed the wire that ran from his -feet to the parting of a pair of calico curtains. He did not -see Bud, who was watching him through a crack in the door at -the head of the bed. Ed was plainly puzzled at the wire and a -bit resentful. He lifted his feet until the wire was well -slackened, held them poised for a minute and deliberately -brought them down hard on the floor. - -The result was all that he could possibly have expected. -Somewhere was a vicious clang, the rattle of a tin pan and -the approaching outcry of a woman. Bud retreated to the -kitchen to view the devastation and discovered that a sheep -bell not too clean had been dislodged from a nail and dragged -through one pan of milk into another, where it was rolling on -its edge, stirring the cream that had risen. As Mrs. Hanson -rushed in from the back yard, Bud returned to the angry -captive's side. - -"I've got him safe," he soothed Mrs. Hanson and her shotgun. -"He just had a nightmare. Perhaps that breakfast you fed him -was too hearty. I'll look after him now, Mrs. Hanson. We -won't be bothering you long, anyway." - -Mrs. Hanson was talking to herself when she went to her milk -pans, and Bud released Eddie Collier, guessing how -humiliating it must be to be a young fellow pinned into a -blanket with safety pins, and knowing from certain -experiences of his own that humiliation is quite as apt to -breed trouble as any other emotion. - -Eddie sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at Bud. His -eyes were like Marian's in shape and color, but their -expression was suspicion, defiance, and watchfulness blended -into one compelling stare that spelled Fear. Or so Bud read -it, having trapped animals of various grades ever since he -had caught the "HAWNTOAD", and seen that look many, many -times in the eyes of his catch. - -"How'd you like to take a trip with me--as a kind of a -partner?" Bud began carelessly, pulling a splinter off the -homemade bed for which Mrs. Hanson would not thank him--and -beginning to whittle it to a sharp point aimlessly, as men -have a way of doing when their minds are at work upon a -problem which requires--much constructive thinking. - -"Pardner in what?" Eddie countered sullenly. - -"Pardner in what I am planning to do to make money. I can -make money, you know--and stay on friendly terms with the -sheriff, too. That's better than your bunch has been able to -do. I don't mind telling you--it's stale news, I guess--that -I cleaned up close to twelve thousand dollars in less than a -month, off a working capital of three thoroughbred horses and -about sixty dollars cash. And I'll add the knowledge that I -was playing against men that would slip a cold deck if they -played solitaire, they were so crooked. And if that doesn't -recommend me sufficiently, I'll say I'm a deputy sheriff of -Crater County, and Jesse Cummings knows my past. I want to -hire you to go with me and make some money, and I'll pay you -forty a month and five per cent bonus on my profits at the -end of two years. The first year may not show any profits, -but the second year will. How does it sound to you?" - -He had been rolling a cigarette, and now he offered the -"makings" to Ed, who accepted them mechanically, his eyes -still staring hard at Bud. He glanced toward the door and the -one little window where wild cucumber vines were thickly -matted, and Bud interpreted his glance. - -"Lew and another Catrocker--the one that tried to rope me -down in the Sinks--are dead, and three more are in jail. -Business won't be very brisk with the Catrock gang for a -while." - -"If you're trying to bribe me into squealing on the rest, -you're a damn fool," said Eddie harshly. "I ain't the -squealing kind. You can lead me over to jail first. I'd -rather take my chances with the others." He was breathing -hard when he finished. - -"Rather than work for me?" Bud sliced off the sharp point -which he had so carefully whittled, and began to sharpen a -new one. Eddie watched him fascinatedly. - -"Rather than squeal on the bunch. There's no other reason in -God's world why you'd make me an offer like that. I ain't a -fool quite, if my head does run up to a peak." - -Bud chewed his lip, whittled, and finally threw the splinter -away. When he turned toward Eddie his eyes were shiny. - -"Kid, you're breaking your sister's heart, following this -trail. I'd like to see you give her a chance to speak your -name without blinking back tears. I'd like to see her smile -all the way from her dimples to her eyes when she thinks of -you. That's why I made the offer--that and because I think -you'd earn your wages." - -Eddie looked at him, looked away, staring vacantly at the -wall. His eyelashes were blinking very fast, his lip began to -tremble. "You--I--I never wanted to--I ain't worth saving-- -oh, hell! I never had a chance before--" He dropped sidewise -on the bed, buried his face in his arms and sobbed hoarsely, -like the boy he was. - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN:BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN - -"You'll have to show me the trail, pardner," said Bud when -they were making their way cautiously out of town by way of -the tin can suburbs. "I could figure out the direction all -right, and make it by morning; but seeing you grew up here, -I'll let you pilot." - -"You'll have to tell me where you want to go, first," said -Eddie with a good deal of sullenness still in his voice. - -"Little Lost." Without intending to do so, Bud put a good -deal of meaning in his voice. - -Eddie did not say anything, but veered to the right, climbing -higher on the slope than Bud would have gone. "We can take -the high trail," he volunteered when they stopped to rest the -horses. "It takes up over the summit and down Burroback -Valley. It's longer, but the stage road edges along the Sinks -and--it might be rough going, after we get down a piece." - -"How about the side-hill trail, through Catrock Peak?" - -Eddie turned sharply. In the starlight Bud was watching him, -wondering what he was thinking. - -"How'd you get next to any side-hill trail?" Eddie asked -after a minute. "You been over it?" - -"I surely have. And I expect to go again, to-nigh! A young -fellow about your size is going to act a pilot, and get me to -Little Lost as quick as possibe. It'll be daylight at that." - -"If you got another day coming, it better be before daylight -we get there," Eddie retorted glumly. H hesitated, turned his -horse and led the way down the slope, angling down away from -the well-travelled trail over the summit of Gold Gap. - -That hesitation told Bud, without words, how tenuous was his -hold upon Eddie. He possessed sufficient imagination to know -that his own carefully discipline past, sheltered from actual -contact with evil, had given him little enough by which to -measure the soul of a youth like Eddie Collier. - -How long Eddie had supped and slept with thieves and -murderers, Bud could only guess. From the little that Marian -had told him, Eddie's father had been one of the gang. At -least, she had plainly stated that he and Lew had been -partners--though Collier might have been ranching innocently -enough, and ignorant of Lew's real nature. - -At all events, Eddie was a lad well schooled in inequity such -as the wilderness fosters in sturdy fashion. Wide spaces give -room for great virtues and great wickedness. Bud felt that he -was betting large odds on an unknown quantity. He was placing -himself literally in the hands of an acknowledged Catrocker, -because of the clean gaze of a pair of eyes, the fine curve -of the mouth. - -For a long time they rode without speech. Eddie in the lead, -Bud following, alert to every little movement in the sage, -every little sound of the night. That was what we rather -naively call "second nature", habit born of Bud's growing -years amongst dangers which every pioneer family knows. Alert -he was, yet deeply dreaming; a tenuous dream too sweet to -come true, he told himself; a dream which he never dared to -dream until the cool stars, and the little night wind began -to whisper to him that Marian was free from the brute that -had owned her. He scarcely dared think of it yet. Shyly he -remembered how he had held her hand to give her courage while -they rode in darkness; her poor work-roughened little hand, -that had been old when he took it first, and had warmed in -his clasp. He remembered how he had pressed her hands -together when they parted--why, surely it was longer ago than -last night!--and had kissed them reverently as he would kiss -the fingers of a queen. - -"Hell's too good for Lew Morris," he blurted unexpectedly, -the thought of Marian's bruised cheek coming like a blow. - -"Want to go and tell him so? If you don't yuh better shut -up," Eddie whispered fierce warning. "You needn't think all -the Catrockers are dead or in jail. They's a few left and -they'd kill yuh quicker'n they'd take a drink." - -Bud, embarrassed at the emotion behind his statement, rather -than ashamed of the remark itself, made no reply. - -Much as Eddie desired silence, he himself pulled up and spoke -again when Bud had ridden close. - -"I guess you come through the Gap," he whispered. "They's a -shorter way than that--Sis don't know it. It's one the bunch -uses a lot--if they catch us--I can save my hide by makin' -out I led you into a trap. You'll get yours, anyway. How much -sand you got?" - -Bud leaned and spat into the darkness. "Not much. Maybe -enough to get through this scary short-cut of yours." - -"You tell the truth when you say scary. It's so darn crazy to -go down Catrock Canyon maybe they won't think we'd tackle it. -And if they catch us, I'll say I led yuh in--and then--say, -I'm kinda bettin' on your luck. The way you cleaned up on -them horses, maybe luck'll stay with you. And I'll help all I -can, honest." - -"Fine." Bud reached over and closed his fingers around -Eddie's thin, boyish arm. "You didn't tell me yet why the -other trail isn't good enough." - -"I heard a sound in the Gap tunnel, that's why. You maybe -didn't know what it was. I know them echoes to a fare-ye- -well. Somebody's there--likely posted waiting." He was -motionless for a space, listening. - -"Get off-easy. Take off your spurs." Eddie was down, -whispering eagerly to Bud. "There's a draft of air from the -blow-holes that comes this way. Sound comes outa there a lot -easier than it goes in. Sis and I found that out. Lead your -horse--if they jump us, give him a lick with the quirt and -hide in the brush." - -Like Indians the two made their way down a rambling slope not -far from where Marian had guided Bud. To-night, however, -Eddie led the way to the right instead of the left, which -seemed to Bud a direction that would bring them down Oldman -creek, that dry river bed, and finally, perhaps, to the race -track. - -Eddie never did explain just how he made his way through a -maze of water-cut pillars and heaps of sandstone so -bewildering that Bud afterward swore that in spite of the -fact that he was leading Sunfish, he frequently found himself -at that patient animal's tail, where they were doubled around -some freakish pillar. Frequently Eddie stopped and peered -past his horse to make sure that Bud had not lost the trail. -And finally, because he was no doubt worried over that -possibility, he knotted his rope to his saddle horn, brought -back a length that reached a full pace behind the tail of the -horse, and placed the end in Bud's hand. - -"If yuh lose me you're a goner," he whispered. "So hang onto -that, no matter what comes. And don't yuh speak to me. This -is hell's corral and we're walking the top trail right now." -He made sure that Bud had the loop in his hand, then slipped -back past his horse and went on, walking more quickly. - -Bud admitted afterwards that he was perfectly willing to be -led like a tame squirrel around the top of "hell's corral", -whatever that was. All that Bud saw was an intricate assembly -of those terrific pillars, whose height he did not know, -since he had no time to glance up and estimate the distance. -There was no method, no channel worn through in anything that -could be called a line. Whatever primeval torrent had -honeycombed the ledge had left it so before ever its waters -had formed a straight passage through. How Eddie knew the way -he could only conjecture, remembering how he himself had -ridden devious trails down on the Tomahawk range when he was -a boy. It rather hurt his pride to realize that never had he -seen anything approaching this madman's trail. - -Without warning they plunged into darkness again. Darkness so -black that Bud knew they had entered another of those -mysterious, subterranean passages which had created such -names as abounded in the country: the "Sinks", "Little -Lost", and Sunk River itself which disappeared mysteriously. -He was beginning to wonder with a grim kind of humor if he -himself was not about to follow the example of the rivers and -disappear, when the soft padding of their footfalls blurred -under the whistling of wind. Fine particles of sand stung -him, a blast full against him halted him for a second. But -the rope pulled steadily and he went on, half-dragged into -starlight again. - -They were in a canyon; deep, sombre in its night shadows, its -width made known to him by the strip of starlight overhead. -Directly before them, not more than a hundred yards, a light -shone through a window. - -The rope slackened in his hands, and Eddie slipped back to -him shivering a little as Bud discovered when he laid a hand -on his arm. - -"I guess I better tie yuh--but it won't be so yuh can't shoot. -Get on, and let me tie your feet into the stirrups. I--I -guess maybe we can get past, all right--I'll try--I want to -go and take that job you said you'd give me!" - -"What's the matter, son? Is that where the Catrockers hang -out?" Bud swung into the saddle. "I trust you, kid. You're -her brother." - -"I--I want to live like Sis wants me to. But I've got to tie -yuh, Mr. Birnie, and that looks-- But they'd k--you don't -know how they kill traitors. I saw one--" He leaned against -Bud's leg, one hand reaching up to the saddle horn and -gripping it in a passing frenzy." If you say so," he -whispered rapidly, "we'll sneak up and shoot 'em through the -window before they get a chance--" - -Bud reached out his hand and patted Eddie on the shoulder." -That job of yours don't call for any killing we can avoid," -he said. "Go ahead and tie me. No use of wasting lead on two -men when one will do. It's all right. I trust you, pardner." - -Eddie's shoulders stiffened. He stood up, looked toward the -light and gripped Bud's hand. "I thought they'd be asleep-- -what was home," he said. "We got to ride past the cabin to -get out through another water-wash. But you take your coat -and tie your horse's feet, and I'll tie mine. I--can't tie -you, Mr. Birnie. We'll chance it together." - -Bud did not say anything at all, for which Eddie seemed -grateful. They muffled eight hoofs, rode across the canyon's -bottom and passed the cabin so closely that the light of a -smoky lantern on a table was plainly visible to Bud, as was -the shaggy profile of a man who sat with his arms folded, -glowering over a pipe. He heard nothing. Bud halted Sunfish -and looked again to make sure, while Eddie beckoned -frantically. They went on undisturbed--the Catrockers kept no -dogs. - -They passed a couple of corrals, rode over springy sod where -Bud dimly discerned hay stubble. Eddie let down a set of -bars, replaced them carefully, and they crossed another -meadow. It struck Bud that the Catrockers were fairly well -entrenched in their canyon, with plenty of horse feed at -least. - -They followed a twisting trail along the canyon's wall, rode -into another pit of darkness, came out into a sandy stretch -that seemed hazily familiar to Bud. They crossed this, dove -into the bushes following a dim trail, and in ten minutes -Eddie's horse backed suddenly against Sunfish's nose. Bud -stood in his stirrups, reins held firmly in his left hand, -and in his right his six-shooter with the hammer lifted, -ready to snap down. - -A tall figure stepped away from the peaked rocks and paused -at Bud's side. - -"I been waiting for Marian," he said bluntly. "You know -anything about her?" - -"She turned back last night after she had shown me the way." -Bud's throat went dry. "Did they miss her?" He leaned -aggressively. - -"Not till breakfast time, they didn't. I was waiting here, -most all night--except right after you folks left. She wasn't -missed, and I never flagged her--and she ain't showed up -yet!" - -Bud sat there stunned, trying to think what might have -happened. Those dark passages through the mountains--the -ledge--" Ed, you know that trail she took me over? She was -coming back that way. She could get lost--" - -"No she couldn't--not Sis. If her horse didn't act the fool-- -what horse was it she rode?" Ed turned to Jerry as if he -would know. - -"Boise," Bud spoke quickly, as though seconds were precious. -"She said he knew the way." - -"He sure ought to," Eddie replied emphatically. "Boise -belongs to Sis, by rights. The mare got killed and Dad gave -him to Sis when he was a suckin' colt, and Sis raised him on -cow's milk and broke him herself. She rode him all over. Lew -took and sold him to Dave, and gambled the money, and Sis -never signed no bill of sale. They couldn't make her. Sis has -got spunk, once you stir her up. She'll tackle anything. -She's always claimed Boise is hers. Boise knows the Gap like -a book. Sis couldn't get off the trail if she rode him." - -"Something happened, then," Bud muttered stubbornly. "Four -men came through behind us, and we waited out in the dark to -let them pass. Then she sent me down to the creek-bottom, and -she turned back. If they got her--" He turned Sunfish in the -narrow brush trail. "She's hurt, or they got her--I'm going -back!" he said grimly. - -"Hell! you can't do any good alone," Eddie protested, coming -after him. "We'll go look for her, Mr. Birnie, but we've got -to have something so we can see. If. Jerry could dig up a -couple of lanterns--" - -"You wait. I'm coming along," Jerry called guardedly. "I'll -bring lanterns." - -To Bud that time of waiting was torment. He had faced danger -and tragedy since he could toddle, and fear had never -overridden the titillating sense of adventure. But then the -danger had been for himself. Now terror conjured pictures -whose horror set him trembling. Twenty-four hours and more -had passed since he had kissed Marian's hand and let her go-- -to what? The inky blackness of those tunnelled caverns in the -Gap confronted his mind like a nightmare. He could not speak -of it--he dared not think of it, and yet he must. - -Jerry came on horseback, with three unlighted lanterns held -in a cluster by their wire handles. Eddie immediately urged -his horse into the brushy edge of the trail so that he might -pass Bud and take the lead. "You sure made quick time," he -remarked approvingly to Jerry. - -"I raided Dave's cache of whiskey or I'd have been here -quicker," Jerry explained. "We might need some." - -Bud gritted his teeth. "Ride, why don't yuh?" he urged Eddie -harshly. "What the hell ails that horse of yours ? You got -him hobbled?" - -Eddie glanced back over his bobbing shoulder as his horse -trotted along the blind trail through the brush. "This here -ain't no race track," he expostulated. "We'll make it quicker -without no broken legs." - -There was justice in his protest and Bud said nothing. But -Sunfish's head bumped the tail of Eddie's horse many times -during that ride. Once in the Gap, with a lighted lantern in -his rein hand and his six-shooter in the other--because it was -ticklish riding, in there with lights revealing them to -anyone who might be coming through--he was content to go -slowly, peering this way and that as he rode. - -Once Eddie halted and turned to speak to them. "I know Boise -wouldn't leave the trail. If Sis had to duck off and hide -from somebody, he'd come back to the trail. Loose, he'd do -that. Sis and I used to explore around in here just for fun, -and kept it for our secret till Lew found out. She always -rode Boise. I'm dead sure he'd bring her out all right." - -"She hasn't come out--yet. Go on," said Bud, and Eddie rode -forward obediently. - -Three hours it took them to search the various passages where -Eddie thought it possible that Marian had turned aside. Bud -saw that the trail through was safe as any such trail could -be, and he wondered at the nerve and initiative of the girl -and the boy who had explored the place and found where -certain queer twists and turns would lead. Afterwards he -learned that Marian was twelve and Eddie ten when first they -had hidden there from Indians, and they had been five years -in finding where every passage led. Also, in daytime the -place was not so fearsome, since sunlight slanted down into -many a passageway through the blow-holes high above. - -"She ain't here. I knew she wasn't," Eddie announced when the -final tunnel let them into the graying light of dawn beyond -the Peak. - -"In that case--" Bud glanced from him to Jerry, who was -blowing out his lantern. - -Jerry let down the globe carefully, at the same time glancing -soberly at Bud. "The kid knows better than we do what would -happen if Lew met up with her and Boise." - -Eddie shook his head miserably, his eyes fixed helpessly upon -Bud. "Lew never, Mr. Birnie. I was with him every minute -from dark till--till the cashier ,shot him. We come up the -way I took you through the canyon. Lew never knew she was -gone any more than I did." - -Jerry bit his lip. "Kid, what if the gang run acrost her, -KNOWING Lew was dead?" he grated. "And her on Boise? The -word's out that Bud stole Boise. Dave and the boys rode out -to round him up--and they ain't done it, so they're still -riding--we'll hope. Kid, you know damn well your gang would -double-cross Dave in a minute, now Lew's killed. If they got -hold of the horse, do yuh think they'd turn him over to -Dave?" - -"No, you bet your life they wouldn't!" Eddie retorted. - -"And what about HER?" Bud cut in with ominous calm. "She's -your sister, kid. Would you be worried if you knew they had -HER and the horse?" - -Eddie gulped and looked away. "They wouldn't hurt her unless -they knew't Lew was dead," he said. "And them that went to -Crater was killed or jailed, so--" He hesitated. "It looked -to me like Anse was setting up waiting for the bunch to get -back from Crater. He--he's always jumpy when they go off and -stay, and it'd be just like him to set there and wait till -daylight. It looks to me, Mr. Birnie, like him and--and the -rest don't know yet that the Crater job was a fizzle. They -wouldn't think of such a thing as taking Sis, or Boise -either, unless they knew Lew was dead." - -"Are you sure of that?" Bud had him in a grip that widened -the boy's eyes with something approaching fear. - -"Yes sir, Mr. Birnie, I'm sure. What didn't go to Crater -stayed in camp--or was gone on some other trip. No, I'm -sure!" He jerked away with sudden indignation at Bud's -disbelief. "Say! Do you think I'm bad enough to let my sister -get into trouble with the Catrockers? I know they never got -her. More'n likely it's Dave." - -"Dave went up Burroback Valley," Jerry stated flatly. "Him -and the boys wasn't on this side the ridge. They had it sized -up that Bud might go from Crater straight across into Black -Rim, and they rode up to catch him as he comes back across." -Jerry grinned a little. They wanted that money you peeled off -the crowd Sunday, Bud. They was willing you should get to -Crater and cash them checks before they overhauled yuh and -strung yuh up." - -"You don't suppose they'd hurt Marian if they found her with -the horse? She might have followed along to Crater--" - -"She never," Eddie contradicted. And Jerry declared in the -same breath, "She'd be too much afraid of Lew. No, if they -found her with the horse they'd take him away from her and -send her back on another one to do the kitchen work," he -conjectured with some contempt. "If they found YOU without -the horse--well--men have been hung on suspicion, Bud. -Money's something everybody wants, and there ain't a man in -the valley but what has figured your winnings down to the -last two-bit piece. It's just a runnin' match now to see what -bunch gets to yuh first." - -"Oh, the money! I'd give the whole of it to anyone that would -tell me Marian 's safe," Bud cried unguardedly in his misery. -Whereat Jerry and Ed looked at each other queerly. - - -CHAPTER TWENTY: "PICK YOUR FOOTING!" - -The three sat irresolutely on their horses at the tunnel's -end of the Gap, staring out over the valley of the Redwater -and at the mountains beyond. Bud's face was haggard and the -lines of his mouth were hard. It was so vast a country in -which to look for one little woman who had not gone back to -see Jerry's signal! - -"I'll bet yuh Sis cleared out," Eddie blurted, looking at Bud -eagerly, as if he had been searching for some comforting -word. "Sis has got lots of sand. She used to call me a 'fraid -cat all the time when I didn't want to go where she did. I'll -bet she just took Boise and run off with him. She would, if -she made up her mind--and I guess she'd had about as much as -she could stand, cookin' at Little Lost--" - -Bud lifted his head and looked at Eddie like a man newly -awakened. "I gave her money to take home for me, to my -mother, down Laramie way. I begged her to go if she was -liable to be in trouble over leaving the ranch. But she said -she wouldn't go--not unless she was missed. She knew I'd come -back to the ranch. I just piled her hands full of bills in -the dark and told her to use them if she had to--" - -"She might have done it," Jerry hazarded hopefully. "Maybe -she did sneak in some other way and get her things. She'd -have to take some clothes along. Women folks always have to -pack. By gosh, she could hide Boise out somewhere and--" - -For a young man in danger of being lynched by his boss for -horse stealing and waylaid and robbed by a gang notorious in -the country, Bud's appetite for risk seemed insatiable that -morning. For he added the extreme possibility of breaking his -neck by reckless riding in the next hour. - -He swung Sunfish about and jabbed him with the spurs, ducking -into the gloom of the Gap as if the two who rode behind were -assassins on his trail. Once he spoke, and that was to -Sunfish. His tone was savage. - -"Damn your lazy hide, you've been through here twice and -you've got daylight to help--now pick up your feet and -travel!" - -Sunfish travelled; and the pace he set sent even Jerry -gasping now and then when he came to the worst places, with -the sound of galloping hoofs in the distance before him, and -Eddie coming along behind and lifting his voice warningly now -and then. Even the Catrockers had held the Gap in respect, -and had ridden its devious trail cautiously. But caution was -a meaningless word to Bud just then while a small flame of -hope burned steadily before him. - -The last turn, where on the first trip Sunfish lost Boise and -balked for a minute, he made so fast that Sunfish left a -patch of yellowish hair on a pointed rock and came into the -open snorting fire of wrath. He went over the rough ground -like a bouncing antelope, simply because he was too mad to -care how many legs he broke. At the peak of rocks he showed -an inclination to stop, and Bud, who had been thinking and -planning while he hoped, pulled him to a stand and waited for -the others to come up. They could not go nearer the corrals -without incurring the danger of being overheard, and that -must not happen. - -"You damn fool," gritted Jerry when he came up with Bud. "If -I'd knowed you wanted to commit suicide I'd a caved your head -in with a rock and saved myself the craziest ride I ever took -in m' life!" - -"Oh, shut up!" Bud snapped impatiently. "We're here, aren't -we? Now listen to me, boys. You catch up my horses--Jerry, -are you coming along with me? You may as well. I'm a deputy -sheriff, and if anybody stops you for whatever you've done, -I'll show a warrant for your arrest. And by thunder," he -declared with a faint grin, "I'll serve it if I have to to -keep you with me. I don't know what you've done, and I don't -care. I want you. So catch up my horses--and Jerry, you can -pack my war-bag and roll your bed and mine, if I'm too busy -while I'm here." - -"You're liable to be busy, all right," Jerry interpolated -grimly. - -"Well, they won't bother you. Ed, you better get the horses. -Take Sunfish, here, and graze him somewhere outa sight. We'll -keep going, and we might have to start suddenly." - -"How about Sis? I thought--" - -"I'm going to turn Little Lost upside down to find her, if -she's here. If she isn't, I'm kinda hoping she went down to -mother. She said there was no other place where she could go. -And she'd feel that she had to deliver the money, perhaps-- -because I must have given her a couple of thousand dollars. -It was quite a roll, mostly in fifties and hundreds, and I'm -short that much. I'm just gambling that the size of made her -feel she must go." - -"That'd be Sis all over, Mr. Birnie." Eddie glanced around -him uneasily. The sun was shining level in his eyes, and -sunlight to Eddie had long meant danger. "I guess we better -hurry, then. I'll get the horses down outa sight, and come -back here afoot and wait." - -"Do that, kid," said Bud, slipping wearily off Sunfish. He -gave the reins into Eddie's hand, motioned Jerry with his -head to follow, and hurried down the winding path to the -corrals. The cool brilliance of the morning, the cheerful -warbling of little, wild canaries in the bushes as he passed, -for once failed to thrill him with joy of life. He was -wondering whether to go straight to the house and search it -if necessary to make sure that she had not been there, or -whether Indian cunning would serve him best. His whole being -ached for direct action; his heart trembled with fear lest he -should jeopardize Marian's safety by his impetuous haste to -help her. - -Pop, coming from the stable just as Bud was crossing the -corral, settled the question for him. Pop peered at him -sharply, put a hand to the small of his back and came -stepping briskly toward him, his jaw working like a sheep -eating hay. - -"Afoot, air ye?" he exclaimed curiously. "What-fer idea yuh -got in yore head now, young feller? Comin' back here afoot -when ye rid two fast horses? Needn't be afraid of ole Pop-- -not unless yuh lie to 'im and try to git somethin' fur -nothin'. Made off with Lew's wife, too, didn't ye? Oh, there -ain't much gits past ole Pop, even if he ain't the man he -used to be. I seen yuh lookin' at her when yuh oughta been -eatin'. I seen yuh! An' her watchin' you when she thought -nobuddy'd ketch her at it! Sho! Shucks a'mighty! You been -playin' hell all around, now, ain't ye? Needn't lie--I know -what my own eyes tells me!" - -"You know a lot, then, that I wish I knew. I've been in -Crater all the time, Pop. Did you know Lew was mixed up in a -bank robbery yesterday, and the cashier of the bank shot -him? The rest of the gang is dead or in jail. The sheriff did -some good work there for a few minutes." - -Pop pinched in his lips and stared at Bud unwinkingly for a -minute. "Don't lie to me," he warned petulantly. "Went to -Crater, did ye? Cashed them checks, I expect." - -Bud pulled his mouth into a rueful grin. "Yes, Pop, I cashed -the checks, all right--and here's what's left of the money. -I guess," he went on while he pulled out a small roll of -bills and licked his finger preparatory to counting them, "I -might better have stuck to running my horses. Poker's sure a -fright. The way it can eat into a man's pocket--" - -"Went and lost all that money on poker, did ye?" Pop's voice -was shrill. "After me tellin' yuh how to git it--and showin' -yuh how yuh could beat Boise--" the old man's rage choked -him. He thrust his face close to Bud's and glared venomously. - -"Yes, and just to show you I appreciate it, I'm going to give -you what's left after I've counted off enough to see me -through to Spokane. I feel sick, Pop. I want change of air. -And as for riding two fast horses to Crater--" he paused -while he counted slowly, Pop licking his lips avidly as he -watched,--"why I don't know what you mean. I only ride one -horse at a time, Pop, when I'm sober. And I was sober till I -hit Crater." - -He stopped counting when he reached fifty dollars and gave -the rest to Pop, who thumbed the bank notes in a frenzy of -greed until he saw that he had two hundred dollars in his -possession. The glee which he tried to hide, the crafty -suspicion that this was not all of it the returning -conviction that Bud was actually almost penniless, and the -cunning assumption of senility, was pictured on his face. -Pop's poor, miserly soul was for a minute shamelessly -revealed. Distraught though he was, Bud stared and shuddered -a little at the spectacle. - -I always said 't you're a good, honest, well-meaning boy," -Pop cackled, slyly putting the money out of sight while he -patted Bud on the shoulder. "Dave he thought mebby you took -and stole Boise--and if I was you, Bud, I'd git to Spokane -quick as I could and not let Dave ketch ye. Dave's out now -lookin' for ye. If he suspicioned you'd have the gall to come -right back to Little Lost, I expect mebby he'd string yuh up, -young feller. Dave's got a nasty temper--he has so!" - -"There's something else, Pop, that I don't like very well to -be accused of. You say Mrs. Morris is gone. I don't know a -thing about that, or about the horse being gone. I've been in -Crater. I'd just got my money out of the bank when it was -held up, and Lew was shot." - -Pop teetered and gummed his tobacco and grinned foxily. "Shucks! -I don't care nothin' about Lew's wife goin', ner I don't care -nothin' much about the horse. They ain't no funral uh mine, Bud. -Dave an' Lew, let 'em look after their own belongin's." - -"They'll have to, far as I'm concerned," said Bud. "What would I -want of a horse I can beat any time I want to run mine? Dave must -think I'm scared to ride fast, since Sunday! And Pop, I've got -troubles enough without having a woman on my hands. Are you sure -Marian's gone?" - -"SURE?" Pop snorted. "Honey, she's had to do the cookin' for -me an' Jerry--and if I ain't sure--" - -Bud did not wait to hear him out. There was Honey, whom he -would very much like to avoid meeting; so the sooner he made -certain of Marian's deliberate flight the better, since Honey -was not an early riser. He went to the house and entered by -way of the kitchen, feeling perfectly sure all the while that -Pop was watching him. The disorder there was sufficiently -convincing that Marian was gone, so he tip-toed across the -room to a door through which he had never seen any one pass -save Lew and Marian. - -It was her bedroom, meagrely furnished, but in perfect order. -On the goods-box dresser with a wavy-glassed mirror above it, -her hair brush, comb and a few cheap toilet necessities lay, -with the comb across a nail file as if she had put it down -hurriedly before going out to serve supper to the men. -Marian, then, had not stolen home to pack things for the -journey, as Jerry had declared a woman would do. Bud sent a -lingering glance around the room and closed the door. Hope -was still with him, but it was darkened now with doubts. - -In the kitchen again he hesitated, wanting his guitar and -mandolin and yet aware of the foolishness of burdening -himself with them now. Food was a different matter, however. -Dave owed him for more than three weeks of hard work in the -hayfield, so Bud collected from the pantry as much as he -could carry, and left the house like a burglar. - -Pop was fiddling with the mower that stood in front of the -machine shed, plainly waiting for whatever night transpire. -And since the bunk-house door was in plain view and not so -far away as Bud wished it, he went boldly over to the old -man, carrying his plunder on his shoulder. - -"Dave owes me for work, Pop, so I took what grub I needed," -he explained with elaborate candor. "I'll show you what I've -got, so you'll know I'm not taking anything that I've no -right to." He set down the sack, opened it and looked up into -what appeared to be the largest-muzzled six-shooter he had -ever seen in his life. Sheer astonishment held him there -gaping, half stooped over the sack. - -"No ye don't, young feller!" Pop snarled vindictively. "Yuh -think I'd let a horse thief git off 'n this ranch whilst I'm -able to pull a trigger? You fork ner that money you got on -ye, first thing yuh do! it's mine by rights--I told yuh I'd -help ye to win money off 'n the valley crowd, and I done it. -An' what does you do? Never pay a mite of attention to me -after I'd give ye all the inside workin's of the game--never -offer to give me my share--no, by Christmas, you go steal a -horse of my son's and hide him out somewheres, and go lose -mighty near all I helped yuh win, playin' poker! Think I'm -goin' to stand for that? Think two hundred dollars is goin' -to even things up when I helped ye to win a fortune? Hand -over that fifty you got on yuh! - -Very meekly, his face blank, Bud reached into his pocket and -got the money. Without a word he pulled two or three dollars -in silver from his trousers pockets and added that to the -lot. "Now what?" he wanted to know. - -"Now You'll wait till Dave gits here to hang yuh fer horse- -stealing!" shrilled Pop. "Jerry! Oh, Jerry! Where be yuh? I -got 'im, by Christmas--I got the horse thief--caught him -carryin good grub right outa the house!" - -"Look out, Jerry!" called Bud, glancing quickly toward the -bunk-house. - -Now, Pop had without doubt been a man difficult to trick in -his youth, but he was old, and he was excited, tickled over -his easy triumph. He turned to see what was wrong with Jerry. - -"Look out, Pop, you old fool, You'll bust a bloodvessel if -you don't quiet down," Bud censured mockingly, wresting the -gun from the clawing, struggling old man in his arms. He was -surprised at the strength and agility of Pop, and though he -was forcing him backward step by step into the machine shed, -and knew that he was master of the situation, he had his -hands full. - -"Wildcats is nothing to Pop when he gets riled," Jerry -grinned, coming up on the run. I kinda expected something -like this. What yuh want done with him, Bud?" - -"Gag him so he can't holler his head off, and then take him -along--when I've got my money back, Bud panted. "Pop, you're -about as appreciative as a buck Injun." - -"Going to be hard to pack him so he'll ride," Jerry observed -quizzically when Pop, bound and gagged, lay glaring at them -behind the bunk-house. "He don't quite balance your two -grips, Bud. And we do need hat grub." - -"You bring the grub--I'll take Pop--" Bud stopped in the act -of lifting the old man and listened. Honey's voice was -calling Pop, with embellishments such Bud would never have -believed a part of Honey's vocabulary. From her speech, she -was coming after him, and Pop's jaws worked frantically -behind Bud's handkerchief. - -Jerry tilted his head toward the luggage he had made a second -trip for, picked up Pop, clamped his hand over the mouth that -was trying to betray them, and slipped away through the brush -glancing once over his shoulder to make sure that Bud was -following him. - -They reached the safe screen of branches and stopped there -for a minute, listening to Honey's vituperations and her -threats of what she would do to Pop if he did not come up and -start a fire. - -She stopped, and hoofbeats sounded from the main road. Dave -and his men were coming. - -In his heart Bud thanked Little Lost for that hidden path -through the bushes. He heard Dave asking Honey what was the -matter with her, heard the unwomanly reply of the girl, heard -her curse Pop for his neglect of the kitchen stove at that -hour of the morning. Heard, too, her questioning of Dave. Had -they found Bud, or Marian? - -"If you got 'em together, and didn't string 'em both up to -the nearest tree--" - -Bud bit his lip and went on, his face aflame with rage at the -brutishness of a girl he had half respected. "Honey!" he -whispered contemptuously. "What a name for that little -beast!" - -At the rocks Eddie was waiting with Stopper, upon whom they -hurriedly packed the beds and Bud's luggage. They spoke in -whispers when they spoke at all, and to insure the horse's -remaining quiet Eddie had tied a cotton rope snugly around -its muzzle. - -"I'll take Pop," Bud whispered, but Jerry shook his head and -once more shouldered the old fellow as he would carry a bag -of grain. So they slipped back down the trail, took a turn -which Bud did not know, and presently Bud found that Jerry -was keeping straight on. Bud made an Indian sign on the -chance that Jerry would understand it, and with his free hand -Jerry replied. He was taking Pop somewhere. They were to wait -for him when they had reached the horses. So they separated -for a space. - -"This is sure a great country for hideouts, Mr. Birnie," -Eddie ventured when they had put half a mile between -themselves and Little Lost, and had come upon Smoky, Sunfish -and Eddie's horse feeding quietly in a tiny, spring-watered -basin half surrounded with rocks. "If you know the country -you can keep dodgin' sheriffs all your life--if you just have -grub enough to last." - -"Looks to me as if there aren't many wasted opportunities -here," Bud answered with some irony. "Is there an honest man -in the whole country, Ed? I'd just like to know." - -Eddie hesitated, his eyes anxiously trying to read Bud's -meaning and his mood. "Not right around the Sinks, I guess," -he replied truthfully. "Up at Crater there are some, and over -to Jumpoff. But I guess this valley would be called pretty -tough, all right. It's so full of caves and queer places it -kinda attracts the ones that want to hide out." Then he -grinned. "It's lucky for you it's like that, Mr. Birnie, or -I don't see how you'd get away. Now I can show you how to get -clear away from here without getting caught. But I guess we -ought to have breakfast first. I'm pretty hungry. Ain't you? -I can build a fire against that crack in the ledge over -there, and the smoke will go away back underneath so it won't -show. There's a blow-hole somewhere that draws smoke like a -chimney." - -Jerry came after a little, sniffing bacon. He threw himself -down beside the fire and drew a long breath. "That old -skunk's heavier than what you might think," he observed -whimsically. "I packed him down into one of them sink holes -and untied his feet and left him to scramble out best way he -can. It'll take him longer'n it took me. Having the use of -your hands helps quite a lot. And the use of your mouth to -cuss a little. But he'll make it in an hour or two--I'm -afraid." He looked at Bud, a half-shamed tenderness in his -eyes." It sure was hard to leave him like I did. It was like -walking on your toes past a rattler curled up asleep -somewhere, afraid you might spoil his nap. Only Pop wasn't -asleep." He sat up and reached his hand for a cup of coffee -which Eddie was offering. "Anyway, I had the fun of telling -the old devil what I thought about him," he added, and blew -away the steam and took another satisfying nip. - -"He'll put them on our trail, I suppose," said Bud, biting -into a ragged piece of bread with a half-burned slice of hot -bacon on it. - -"When he gets to the ranch he will. His poison fangs was sure -loaded when I left. He said he wanted to cut your heart out -for robbing him, and so forth, ad swearum. We'd best not -leave any trail." - -"We ain't going to," Eddie assured him eagerly. "I'm glad -being with the Catrockers is going to do some good, Mr. -Birnie. It'll help you git away, and that'll help find Sis. I -guess she hit down where you live, maybe. How far can your -horse travel to-day--if he has to?" - -Bud looked across to where Sunfish, having rolled in a wet -spot near the spring and muddied himself to his satisfaction, -was greedily at work upon a patch of grass. "If he has to, -till he drops in his tracks. And that won't be for many a -mile, kid. He's thoroughbred; a thoroughbred never knows when -to quit." - -"Well, there ain't any speedy trail ahead of us today," Eddie -vouchsafed cheeringly. "There's half-a mile maybe where we -can gallop, and the rest is a case of picking your footing." - -"Let's begin picking it, then," said Bud, and got up, -reaching for his bridle. - -By devious ways it was that Eddie led them out of that -sinister country surrounding the Sinks. In the beginning Bud -and Jerry exchanged glances, and looked at their guns, -believing that it would be through Catrock Canyon they would -have to ride. Eddie, riding soberly in the lead, had yet a -certain youthful sense of his importance. "They'll never -think of following yuh this way, unless old Pop Truman gits -back in time to tell 'em I'm travelling with yuh," he -observed once when they had penetrated beyond the -neighborhood of caves and blow-holes and were riding safely -down a canyon that offered few chances of their being -observed save from the front, which did not concern them. - -"I guess you don't know old Pop is about the ringeader of the -Catrockers. Er he was, till he began to git kinda childish -about hoarding money, and then Dave stepped in. And Mr. -Birnie, I guess you'd have been dead when you first came -there, if it hadn't been that Dave and Pop wanted to give you -a chance to get a lot of money off of Jeff's bunch. Lew was -telling how you kept cleaning up, and he said right along -that they was taking too much risk having you around. Lew -said he bet you was a detective. Are you, Mr. Birnie?" - -Bud was riding with his shoulders sagged forward, his -thoughts with Marian--wherever she was. He had been convinced -that she was not at Little Lost, that she had started for -Laramie. But now that he was away from that evil spot his -doubts returned. What if she were still in the neighborhood-- -what if they found her? Memory of Honey's vindictiveness made -him shiver, Honey was the kind of woman who would kill. - -"I am, from now on, kid," he said despondently. "We're going -to ride till we find your sister. And if those hell-hounds -got her--" - -"They didn't, from the way Honey talked," Jerry comforted. -"We'll find her at Laramie, don't you ever think we won't!" - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:TRAILS END - -At the last camp, just north of the Platte, Bud's two black -sheep balked. Bud himself, worn by sleepless nights and long -hours in the saddle, turned furiously when Jerry announced -that he guessed he and Ed wouldn't go any farther. - -"Well, damn you both for ungrateful hounds!" grated Bud, hurt -to the quick. "I hope you don't think I brought you this far -to help hold me in the saddle; I made it north alone, without -any mishap. I think I could have come back all right. But if -you want to quit here, all right. You can high-tail it back -to your outlaws--" - -"Well, if you go 'n put it that way!" Jerry expostulated, -lifting both hands high in the air in a vain attempt to pull -the situation toward the humorous. "You're a depity sheriff, -and you got the drop." He grinned, saw that Bud's eyes were -still hard and his mouth unyielding, and lowered his hands, -looking crestfallen as a kicked pup that had tried to be -friendly. - -"You can see for yourself we ain't fit to go 'n meet your -mother and your father like we was--like we'd went straight," -Eddie put in explanatorily. "You've been raised good, and-- -say, it makes a man want to BE good to see how a feller don't -have to be no preacher to live right. But it don't seem -square to let you take us right home with you, just because -you're so darned kind you'd do it and never think a thing -about it. We ain't ungrateful--I know I ain't. But--but--" - -"The kid's said it, Bud," Jerry came to the rescue. "We come -along because it was a ticklish trip you had ahead. And I've -knowed as good riders as you are, that could stand a little -holding in the saddle when some freak had tried to shoot 'em -out of it. But you're close to home now and you don't need us -no more, and so we ain't going to horn in on the prodigal -calf's milkbucket. Marian, She's likely there--" - -"If Sis ain't with your folks we'll hunt her up," Eddie -interrupted eagerly. "Sis is your kind--she--she's good -enough for yuh, Bud, and I hope she--ll--well if she's got -any sense she will--well, if it comes to the narrying point, -I--well, darn it, I'd like to see Sis git as good a man as -you are!" Eddie, having bluntered that far, went headlong as -if he were afraid to stop. "Sis is educated, and she's an -awful good singer and a fine girl, only I'm her brother. But -I'm going to live honest from now on, Bud, and I hope you -won't hold off on account of me. I ain't going to have sis -feel like crying when she thinks about me! You--you--said -something that hurt like a knife, Bud, when you told me that, -up in Crater. And she wasn't to blame for marryn' Lew--and -she done that outa goodness, the kind you showed to Jerry and -me. And we don't want to go spoilin' everything by letting -your folks see what you're bringin' home with yuh! And it -might hurt Sis with your folks, if they found out that I'm--" - -Bud had been standing by his horse, looking from one to the -other, listening, watching their faces, measuring the full -depth of their manhood. "Say! you remind me of a story the -folks tell on me," he said, his eyes shining, while his voice -strove to make light of it all. "Once, when I was a kid in -pink-aprons, I got lost from the trail-herd my folks were -bringing up from Texas. It was comin' dark, and they had the -whole outfit out hunting me, and everybody scared to death. -When they were all about crazy, they claim I came walking up -to the camp-fire dragging a dead snake by the tail, and -carrying a horn toad in my shirt, and claiming they were mine -because I 'ketched 'em.' I'm not branding that yarn with any -moral--but figure it out for yourself, boys." - -The two looked at each other and grinned. "I ain't dead yet," -Eddie made sheepish comment. "Mebbe you kinda look on me as -being a horn toad, Bud." - -"When you bear in mind that my folks raised that kid, You'll -realize that it takes a good deal to stampede mother." Bud -swung into the saddle to avoid subjecting his emotions to the -cramped, inadequate limitations of speech. "Let's go, boys. -She's a long trail to take the kinks out of before supper- -time." - -They stood still, making no move to follow. Bud reined Smoky -around so that he faced them, reached laboriously into that -mysterious pocket of a cowpuncher's trousers which is always -held closed by the belt of his chaps, and which invariably -holds in its depths the things he wants in a hurry. They -watched him curiously, resolutely refusing to interpret his -bit of autobiography, wondering perhaps why he did not go. - -"Here she is." Bud had disinterred the deputy sheriff's -badge, and began to polish it by the primitive but effectual -method of spitting on it and then rubbing vigorously on his -sleeve. "You're outside of Crater County, but by thunder -you're both guilty of resisting an officer, and county lines -don't count!" He had pinned the badge at random on his coat -while he was speaking, and now, before the two realized what -he was about, he had his six-shooter out and aimed straight -at them. - -Bud had never lived in fear of the law. Instantly was sorry -when he saw the involuntary stiffening of their muscles, the -quick wordless suspicion and defiance that sent their eyes in -shifty glances to right and left before their hands lifted a -little. Trust him, love him they might, there was that latent -fear of capture driven deep into their souls; so deep that -even he had not erased it. - -Bud saw--and so he laughed. - -"I've got to show my folks that I've made a gathering," he -said. "You can't quit, boys. And I'm going to take you to the -end of the trail, now you've started." He eyed them, saw that -they were still stubborn, and drew in his breath sharply, -manfully meeting the question in their minds. - -"We've left more at the Sinks than the gnashing of teeth," he -said whimsically. "A couple of bad names, for instance. -You're two bully good friends of mine, and--damn it, Marian -will want to see both of you fellows, if she's there. If she -isn't--we'll maybe have a big circle to ride, finding her. -I'll need you, no matter what's ahead." He looked from one to -the other, gave a snort and added impatiently, "Aw, fork your -horses and don't stand there looking like a couple of damn -fools!" - -Whereupon Jerry shook his head dissentingly, grinned and gave -Eddie so emphatic an impulse toward his horse that the kid -went sprawling. - -"Guess We're up against it, all right--but I do wish yo 'd -lose that badge!" Jerry surrendered, and flipped the bridle -reins over the neck of his horse. "Horn toad is right, the -way you're scabbling around amongst them rocks," he called -light-heartedly to the kid. "Ever see a purtier sunrise? I -never!" - -I don't know what they thought of the sunset. Gorgeous it -was, with many soft colors blended into unnamable tints and -translucencies, and the songs of birds in the thickets as -they passed. Smoky, Sunfish and Stopper walked briskly, ears -perked forward, heads up, eyes eager to catch the familiar -landmarks that meant home. Bud's head was up, also, his eyes -went here and there, resting with a careless affection on -those same landmarks which spelled home. He would have let -Smoky's reins have a bit more slack and would have led his -little convoy to the corrals at a gallop, had not hope begun -to tremble and shrink from meeting certainty face to face. -Had you asked him then, I think Bud would have owned himself -a coward. Until he had speech with home-folk he would merely -be hoping that Marian was there; but until he had speech with -them he need not hear that they knew nothing of her. Bud-- -like, however, he tried to cover his trepidation with a joke. - -"We'll sneak up on. 'em," he said to Ed and Jerry when the -roofs of house and stables came into view. - -Here's where I grew up, boys. And in a minute or two more -you'll see the greatest little mother on earth--and the -finest dad," he added, swallowing the last of his Scotch -stubbornness. - -"And Sis, I hope," Eddie said wistfully. "I sure hope she's -here." - -Neither Jerry nor Bud answered him at all. Smoky threw up his -head suddenly and gave a shrill whinny, and a horse at the -corrals answered sonorously. - -"Say! That sounds to me like Boise!" Eddie exclaimed, standing -up in his stirrups to look. - -Bud turned pale, then flushed hotly. "Don't holler!" he -muttered, and held Smoky back a little. For just one reason a -young man's heart pounds as Bud's heart pounded then. Jerry -looked at him, took a deep breath and bit his lip -thoughtfully. It may be that Jerry's heartbeats were not -quite normal just then, but no one would ever know. - -They rode slowly to a point near the corner of the table, and -there Bud halted the two with his lifted hand. Bud was -trembling a little--but he was smiling, too. Eddie was frankly -grinning, Jerry's face was the face of a good poker-player-- -it told nothing. - -In a group with their backs to them stood three: Marian, -Bud's mother and his father. Bob Birnie held Boise by the -bridle, and the two women were stroking the brown nose of the -horse that moved uneasily, with little impatient head- -tossings. - -"He doesn't behave like a horse that has made the long trip -he has made," Bud's mother observed admiringly. "You must be -a wonderful little horsewoman, my dear, as well as a -wonderful little woman in every other way. Buddy should never -have sent you on such a trip--just to bring home money, like -a bank messenger! But I'm glad that he did! And I do wish you -would consent to stay--such an afternoon with music I -haven't had since Buddy left us. You could stay with me and -train for the concert work you intend doing. I'm only an old -ranch woman in a slat sunbonnet--but I taught my Buddy--and -have you heard him?" - -"An old woman in a slat sunbonnet--oh, how can you? Why, -you're the most wonderful woman in the whole world." Marian's -voice was almost tearful in its protest. "Yes--I have -heard--your Buddy." - -"'T is the strangest way to go about selling a horse that I -ever saw," Bob Birnie put in dryly, smoothing his beard while -he looked at them. "We'd be glad to have you stay, lass. But -you've asked me to place a price on the horse, and I should -like to ask ye a question or two. How fast did ye say he -could run?" - -Marian laid an arm around the shoulders of the old lady in a -slat sunbonnet and patted her arm while she answered. - -"Well, he beat everything in the country, so they refused to -race against him, until Bud came with his horses," she -replied. "It took Sunfish to outrun him. He 's terribly fast, -Mr. Birnie. I--really, I think he could beat the world's -record--if Bud rode him!" - -Just here you should picture Ed and Jerry with their hands -over their mouths, and Bud wanting to hide his face with his -hat. - -Bob Birnie's beard behaved oddly for a minute, while he -leaned and stroked Boise's flat forelegs, that told of speed. -"Wee-ll," he hesitated, soft-heartedness battling with the -horse-buyer's keenness, "since Bud is na ere to ride him, -he'll make a good horse for the roundup. I'll give ye "--more -battling--"a hundred and fifty dollars for him, if ye care to -sell--" - -"Here, wait a minute before you sell to that old skinflint!" -Bud shouted exuberantly, dismounting with a rush. The rush, I -may say, carried him to the little old lady in the slat -sunbonnet, and to that other little lady who was staring at -him with wide, bright yes. Bud's arms went around his mother. -Perhaps by accident he gathered in Marian also--they were -standing very close, and his arms were very long--and he was -slow to discover his mistake. - -"I'll give you two hundred for Boise, and I'll throw in one -brother, and one long-legged, good-for-nothing cowpuncher--" - -"Meaning yourself, Buddy?" came teasingly from he slat -sunbonnet, whose occupant had not been told just everything. -"I'll be surprised if she'll have you, with that dirty face -and no shave for a week and more. But if she does, you're -luckier than you deserve, for riding up on us like this! -We've heard all about you, Buddy--though you were wise to -send this lassie to gild your faults and make a hero of -you!" - -Now, you want to know how Marian managed to live through -that. I will say that she discovered how tenaciously a young -man's arms may cling when he thinks he is embracing merely -his mother; but she freed herself and ran to Eddie, fairly -pulled him off his horse, and talked very fast and -incoherently to him and Jerry, asking question after question -without waiting for a reply to any of them. All this, I -suppose, in the hope that they would not hear, or, hearing, -would not understand what that terrible, wonderful little -woman was saying so innocently. - -But you cannot faze youth. Eddie had important news for Sis, -and he felt that now was the time to tell it before Marian -blushed any redder, so he pulled her face up to his, put his -lips so close to her ear that his breath tickled, and -whispered--without any preface whatever that she could marry -Bud any time now, because she was a widow. - -"Here! Somebody--Bud--quick! Sis has fainted! Doggone it, I -only told her Lew's dead and she can marry you--shucks! I -thought she'd be glad!" - -Down on the Staked Plains, on an evening much like the -evening when Bud came home with his "stake" and his hopes and -two black sheep who were becoming white as most of us, a -camp-fire began to crackle and wave smoke ribbons this way -and that before it burned steadily under the supper pots of a -certain hungry, happy group which you know. - -"It's somewhere about here that I got lost from camp when I -was a kid," Bud observed, tilting back his hat and lifting a -knee to snap a dry stick over it. "Mother'd know, I bet. I -kinda wish we'd brought her and dad along with us. That's -about eighteen years ago they trailed a herd north--and here -we are, taking our trail--herd north on the same trail! I -kinda wish now I'd picked up a bunch of yearling heifers -along with our two-year-olds. We could have brought another -hundred head just as well as not. They sure drive nice. -Mother would have enjoyed this trip." - -"You think so, do you?" Marian gave him a superior little -smile along with the coffee-boiler. "If you'd heard her talk -about that trip north when there weren't any men around -listening, you'd change your mind. Bud Birnie, you are the -SIMPLEST creature! You think, because a woman doesn't make a -fuss over things, she doesn't mind. Your mother told me that -it was a perfect nightmare. She taught you music just in the -hope that you'd go back to civilization and live there where -there are some modern improvements, and she could visit you! -And here you are--all rapped up in a bunch of young stock, -dirty as pig and your whiskers--ow! Bud! Stop that immediatly, -or I'll go put my face in a cactus just for relief!" - -"Maybe you're dissatisfied yourself with my bunch of cattle. -Maybe you didn't go in raptures over our aim and make more -plans in a day than four men could carry out in a year. Maybe -you wish your husband was a man that was content to pound -piano keys all his life and let his hair grow long instead of -his whiskers. If you hate this, why didn't you say so?" - -"I was speaking," said Marian as dignifiedly as was possible, -"of your mother. She was raised in civilization, and she has -simply made the best of pioneering all her married life. I -was born and raised in cow-country and I love it. As I said -before, you are the SIMPLEST creature! Would you really bring -a father and mother a honeymoon trail--especially when the -bride didn't want them, and they would much rather stay home?" - -"Hey!" cried Eddie disgustedly, coming up from a shallow -creek with a bucket of water and a few dry sticks. "The -coffee's upset and putting the fire out. Gee whiz! Can't you -folks quit love-makin' and tend to business long enough to -cook a meal?" - - - - - -End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Cow-Country, by B. M. Bower - diff --git a/old/cwcnt10.zip b/old/cwcnt10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f629450..0000000 --- a/old/cwcnt10.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-02-18/1723-0.txt b/old/old-2025-02-18/1723-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 290efb1..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-02-18/1723-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7480 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cow-Country, by B. M. Bower - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Cow-Country - -Author: B. M. Bower - -Posting Date: September 26, 2008 [EBook #1723] -Release Date: April, 1999 -Last Updated: March 9, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COW-COUNTRY *** - - - - -Produced by Mary Starr - - - - - -COW-COUNTRY - -By B. M. Bower - - - - -CHAPTERS: - - 1. AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY - 2. THE TRAIL HERD - 3. SOME INDIAN LORE - 4. BUDDY GIVES WARNING - 5. BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE - 6. THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY - 7. BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE - 8. THE MULESHOE - 9. LITTLE LOST - 10. BUD MEETS THE WOMAN - 11. GUILE AGAINST THE WILY - 12. SPORT O' KINGS - 13. THE SINKS - 14. EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP - 15. WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE - 16. WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD - 17. GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING “POINT” - 18. THE CATROCK GANG - 19. BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN - 20. “PICK YOUR FOOTING!” - 21. TRAILS END - - - - -COW-COUNTRY - - - -CHAPTER ONE: AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY - -In hot mid afternoon when the acrid, gray dust cloud kicked up by the -listless plodding of eight thousand cloven hoofs formed the only blot on -the hard blue above the Staked Plains, an ox stumbled and fell awkwardly -under his yoke, and refused to scramble up when his negro driver shouted -and prodded him with the end of a willow gad. - -“Call your master, Ezra,” directed a quiet woman voice gone weary and -toneless with the heat and two restless children. “Don't beat the poor -brute. He can't go any farther and carry the yoke, much less pull the -wagon.” - -Ezra dropped the gad and stepped upon the wagon tongue where he might -squint into the dust cloud and decide which gray, plodding horseman -alongside the herd was Robert Birnie. Far across the sluggish river of -grimy backs, a horse threw up its head with a peculiar sidelong motion, -and Ezra's eyes lightened with recognition. That was the colt, Rattler, -chafing against the slow pace he must keep. Hands cupped around big, -chocolate-colored lips and big, yellow-white teeth, Ezra whoo-ee-ed the -signal that called the nearest riders to the wagon that held the boss's -family. - -Bob Birnie and another man turned and came trotting back, and at the -call a scrambling youngster peered over his mother's shoulder in the -forward opening of the prairie schooner. - -“O-oh, Dulcie! We gonna git a wile cow agin!” - -Dulcie was asleep and did not answer, and the woman in the slat -sun-bonnet pushed back with her elbow the eager, squirming body of her -eldest. “Stay in the wagon, Buddy. Mustn't get down amongst the oxen. -One might kick you. Lie down and take a nap with sister. When you waken -it will be nice and cool again.” - -“Not s'eepy!” objected Buddy for the twentieth time in the past two -hours. But he crawled back, and his mother, relieved of his restless -presence, leaned forward to watch the approach of her husband and the -cowboy. This was the second time in the past two days that an ox had -fallen exhausted, and her eyes showed a trace of anxiety. With the feed -so poor and the water so scarce, it seemed as though the heavy wagon, -loaded with a few household idols too dear to leave behind, a camp -outfit and the necessary clothing and bedding for a woman and two -children, was going to be a real handicap on the drive. - -“Robert, if we had another wagon, I could drive it and make the load -less for these four oxen,” she suggested when her husband came up. “A -lighter wagon, perhaps with one team of strong horses, or even with a -yoke of oxen, I could drive well enough, and relieve these poor brutes.” - She pushed back her sun-bonnet and with it a mass of red-brown hair that -curled damply on her forehead, and smiled disarmingly. “Buddy would be -the happiest baby boy alive if I could let him drive now and then!” she -added humorously. - -“Can't make a wagon and an extra yoke of oxen out of this cactus patch,” - Bob Birnie grinned good humoredly. “Not even to tickle Buddy. I'll see -what I can do when we reach Olathe. But you won't have to take a man's -place and drive, Lassie.” He took the cup of water she drew from a keg -and proffered-water was precious on the Staked Plains, that season-and -his eyes dwelt on her fondly while he drank. Then, giving her hand a -squeeze when he returned the cup, he rode back to scan the herd for an -animal big enough and well-conditioned enough to supplant the worn-out -ox. - -“Aren't you thirsty, Frank Davis? I think a cup of water will do you -good,” she called out to the cowboy, who had dismounted to tighten his -forward cinch in expectation of having to use his rope. - -The cowboy dropped stirrup from saddle horn and came forward -stiff-leggedly, leading his horse. His sun-baked face, grimed with the -dust of the herd, was aglow with heat, and his eyes showed gratitude. -A cup of water from the hand of the boss's wife was worth a gallon from -the barrel slip-slopping along in the lurching chuck-wagon. - -“How's the kids makin' out, Mis' Birnie?” Frank inquired politely when -he had swallowed the last drop and had wiped his mouth with the back of -his hand. “It's right warm and dusty t'day.” - -“They're asleep at last, thank goodness,” she answered, glancing back -at a huddle of pink calico that showed just over the crest of a pile -of crumpled quilts. “Buddy has a hard time of it. He's all man in his -disposition, and all baby in size. He's been teasing to walk with the -niggers and help drive the drag. Is my husband calling?” - -Her husband was, and Frank rode away at a leisurely trot. Haste had -little to do with trailing a herd, where eight miles was called a good -day's journey and six an average achievement. The fallen ox was unyoked -by the mellow-voiced but exasperated Ezra, and since he would not rise, -the three remaining oxen, urged by the gad and Ezra's upbraiding, -swung the wagon to one side and moved it a little farther after the -slow-moving herd, so that the exhausted animal could rest, and the -raw recruit be yoked in where he could do the least harm and would the -speediest learn a new lesson in discomfort. Mrs. Birnie glanced again -at the huddle of pink in the nest of quilts behind a beloved chest of -drawers in the wagon, and sighed with relief because Buddy slept. - -An ambitious man-child already was Buddy, accustomed to certain phrases -that, since he could toddle, had formed inevitable accompaniment to his -investigative footsteps. “L'k-out-dah!” he had for a long time believed -to be his name among the black folk of his world. White folk had varied -it slightly. He knew that “Run-to-mother-now” meant that something he -would delight in but must not watch was going to take place. Spankings -more or less official and not often painful signified that big folks did -not understand him and his activities, or were cross about something. -Now, mother did not want him to watch the wild cow run and jump at the -end of a rope until finally forced to submit to the ox-yoke and help -pull the wagon. Buddy loved to watch them, but he understood that mother -was afraid the wild cow might step on him. Why she should want him to -sleep when he was not sleepy he had not yet discovered, and so disdained -to give it serious consideration. - -“Not s'eepy,” Buddy stated again emphatically as a sort of mental -dismissal of the command, and crawled carefully past Sister and lifted a -flap of the canvas cover. A button--the last button--popped off his pink -apron and the sleeves rumpled down over his hands. It felt all loose and -useless, so Buddy stopped long enough to pull the apron off and throw -it beside Sister before he crawled under the canvas flap and walked down -the spokes of a rear wheel. He did not mean to get in the way of the -wild cow, but he did want action for his restless legs. He thought that -if he went away from the wagon and the herd and played while they were -catching the wild cow, it would be just the same as if he took a nap. -Mother hadn't thought of it, or she might have suggested it. - -So Buddy went away from the wagon and down into a shallow dry wash where -the wild cow would not come, and played. The first thing he saw was -a scorpion-nasty old bug that will bite hard-and he threw rocks at it -until it scuttled under a ledge out of sight. The next thing he saw that -interested him at all was a horned toad; a hawn-toe, he called it, after -Ezra's manner of speaking. Ezra had caught a hawntoe for him a few days -ago, but it had mysteriously disappeared out of the wagon. Buddy did -not connect his mother's lack of enthusiasm with the disappearance. Her -sympathy with his loss had seemed to him real, and he wanted another, -fully believing that in this also mother would be pleased. So he took -after this particular HAWN-toe, that crawled into various hiding places -only to be spied and routed out with small rocks and a sharp stick. - -The dry wash remained shallow, and after a while Buddy, still in hot -pursuit of the horned toad, emerged upon the level where the herd had -passed. The wagon was nowhere in sight, but this did not disturb Buddy. -He was not lost. He knew perfectly that the brown cloud on his narrowed -horizon was the dust over the herd, and that the wagon was just behind, -because the wind that day was blowing from the southwest, and also -because the oxen did not walk as fast as the herd. In the distance he -saw the “Drag” moving lazily along after the dust-cloud, with barefooted -niggers driving the laggard cattle and singing dolefully as they walked. -Emphatically Buddy was not lost. - -He wanted that particular horned toad, however, and he kept after it -until he had it safe in his two hands. - -It happened that when he pounced at last upon the toad he disturbed -with his presence a colony of red ants on moving day. The close ranks -of them, coming and going in a straight line, caught and held Buddy's -attention to the exclusion of everything else--save the horned toad -he had been at such pains to acquire. He tucked the toad inside his -underwaist and ignored its wriggling against his flesh while he squatted -in the hot sunshine and watched the ants, his mind one great question. -Where were they going, and what were they carrying, and why were they -all in such a hurry? - -Buddy had to know. To himself he called trailherd--but father's cattle -did not carry white lumps of stuff on their heads, and furthermore, they -all walked together in the same direction; whereas the ant herd traveled -both ways. Buddy made sure of this, and then started off, following what -he had decided was the real trail of the ants. Most children would have -stirred them up with a stick; Buddy let them alone so that he could see -what they were doing all by themselves. - -The ants led him to a tiny hole with a finely pulverized rim just at the -edge of a sprawly cactus. This last Buddy carefully avoided, for even -at four years old he had long ago learned the sting of cactus thorns. A -rattlesnake buzzed warning when he backed away and the shock to Buddy's -nerves roused within him the fighting spirit. Rattlesnakes he knew also, -as the common enemy of men and cattle. Once a steer had been bitten on -the nose and his head had swollen up so he couldn't eat. Buddy did not -want that to happen to HIM. - -He made sure that the horned toad was safe, chose a rock as large as he -could lift and heave from him, and threw it at the buzzing, gray coil. -He did not wait to see what happened, but picked up another rock, a -terrific buzzing sounding stridently from the coil. He threw another -and another with all the force of his healthy little muscles. For a -four-year-old he aimed well; several of the rocks landed on the coil. - -The snake wriggled feebly from under the rocks and tried to crawl away -and hide, its rattles clicking listlessly. Buddy had another rock in -his hands and in his eyes the blue fire of righteous conquest. He -went close-close enough to have brought a protesting cry from a -grownup-lifted the rock high as he could and brought it down fair on -the battered head of the rattler. The loathsome length of it winced -and thrashed ineffectively, and after a few minutes lay slack, the tail -wriggling aimlessly. - -Buddy stood with his feet far apart and his hands on his hips, as he had -seen the cowboy do whom he had unconsciously imitated in the killing. - -“Snakes like Injuns. Dead'ns is good 'ens,” He observed sententiously, -still playing the part of the cowboy. Then, quite sure that the snake -was dead, he took it by the tail, felt again of the horned toad on his -chest and went back to see what the ants were doing. - -When so responsible a person as a grownup stops to watch the orderly -activities of an army of ants, minutes and hours slip away unnoticed. -Buddy was absolutely fascinated, lost to everything else. When some -instinct born in the very blood of him warned Buddy that time was -passing, he stood up and saw that the sun hung just above the edge of -the world, and that the sky was a glorious jumble of red and purple and -soft rose. - -The first thing Buddy did was to stoop and study attentively the dead -snake, to see if the tail still wiggled. It did not, though he watched -it for a full minute. He looked at the sun--it had not set but glowed -big and yellow as far from the earth as his father was tall. Ezra had -lied to him. Dead snakes did not wiggle their tails until sundown. - -Buddy looked for the dust cloud of the herd, and was surprised to find -it smaller than he had ever seen it, and farther away. Indeed, he could -only guess that the faint smudge on the horizon was the dust he had -followed for more days than he could count. He was not afraid, but he -was hungry and he thought his mother would maybe wonder where he was, -and he knew that the point-riders had already stopped pushing the herd -ahead, and that the cattle were feeding now so that they would bed -down at dusk. The chuckwagon was camped somewhere close by, and old -Step-and-a-Half, the lame cook, was stirring things in his Dutch ovens -over the camp-fire. Buddy could almost smell the beans and the meat -stew, he was so hungry. He turned and took one last, long look at the -endless stream of ants still crawling along, picked up the dead snake by -the tail, cupped the other hand over the horned toad inside his waist, -and started for camp. - -After a while he heard someone shouting, but beyond faint relief that he -was after all near his “Outfit”, Buddy paid no attention. The boys were -always shouting to one another, or yelling at their horses or at the -herd or at the niggers. It did not occur to him that they might -be shouting for him, until from another direction he heard Ezra's -unmistakable, booming voice. Ezra sang a thunderous baritone when the -niggers lifted up their voices in song around their camp-fire, and he -could be heard for half a mile when he called in real earnest. He was -calling now, and Buddy, stopping to listen, fancied that he heard his -name. A little farther on, he was sure of it. - -“OOO-EE! Whah y'all, Buddy? OOO-EEE!” - -“I'm a-comin',” Buddy shrilled impatiently. “What y' all want?” - -His piping voice did not carry to Ezra, who kept on shouting. The -radiant purple and red and gold above him deepened, darkened. The whole -wild expanse of half-barren land became suddenly a place of unearthly -beauty that dulled to the shadows of dusk. Buddy trudged on, keeping -to the deep-worn buffalo trails which the herd had followed and scored -afresh with their hoofs. He could not miss his way-not Buddy, son of Bob -Birnie, owner of the Tomahawk outfit-but his legs were growing pretty -tired, and he was so hungry that he could have sat down on the ground -and cried with the gnawing food-call of his empty little stomach. - -He could hear other voices shouting at intervals now, but Ezra's voice -was the loudest and the closest, and it seemed to Buddy that Ezra never -once stopped calling. Twice Buddy called back that he was a-comin', but -Ezra shouted just the same: “OOO-EE! WHAH Y' ALL, BUDDY? OOO-EE!” - -Imperceptibly dusk deepened to darkness. A gust of anger swept Buddy's -soul because he was tired, because he was hungry and he was yet a long -way from the camp, but chiefly because Ezra persisted in calling after -Buddy had several times answered. He heard someone whom he recognized -as Frank Davis, but by this time he was so angry that he would not say a -word, though he was tempted to ask Frank to take him up on his horse and -let him ride to camp. He heard others-and once the beat of hoofs came -quite close. But there was a wide streak of Scotch stubbornness in -Buddy--along with several other Scotch streaks--and he continued his -stumbling progress, dragging the snake by the tail, his other hand -holding fast the horned toad. - -His heart jumped up and almost choked him when first saw the three -twinkles on the ground which knew were not stars but camp-fires. - -Quite unexpectedly he trudged into the firelight where Step-and-a-Half -was stirring delectable things in the iron pots and stopping every -minute or so to stare anxiously into the gloom. Buddy stood blinking and -sniffing, his eyes fixed upon the Dutch ovens. - -“I'm HUNGRY!” he announced accusingly, gripping the toad that had begun -to squirm at the heat and light. “I kilt a snake an' I'm HUNGRY!” - -“Good gorry!” swore Step-and-a-Half, and whipped out his six-shooter and -fired three shots into the air. - -Footsteps came scurrying. Buddy's mother swept him into her arms, -laughing with a little whimpering sound of tears in the laughter. Buddy -wriggled protestingly in her arms. - -“L'kout! Y' all SKUCSH 'im! I got a HAWN-toe; wight here.” He patted his -chest gloatingly. “An' I got a snake. I kilt 'im. An' I'm HUNGRY.” - -Mother of Buddy though she was, Lassie set him down hurriedly and -surveyed her man-child from a little distance. - -“Buddy! Drop that snake instantly'” - -Buddy obeyed, but he planted a foot close to his kill and pouted his -lips. “'S my snake. I kilt 'im,” He said firmly. He pulled the horned -toad from his waist-front and held it tightly in his two hands. “An's my -hawn-toe. I ketche'd'm. 'Way ova dere,” he added, tilting his tow head -toward the darkness behind him. - -Bob Birnie rode up at a gallop, pulled up his horse in the edge of the -fire glow and dismounted hastily. - -Bob Birnie never needed more than one glance to furnish him the details -of a scene. He saw the very small boy confronting his mother with a dead -snake, a horned toad and a stubborn set to his lips. He saw that the -mother looked rather helpless before the combination--and his brown -mustache hid a smile. He walked up and looked his first-born over. - -“Buddy,” He demanded sternly, “where have you been?” - -“Out dere. Kilt a snake. Ants was trailing a herd. I got a HAWN-toe. An' -I'm hungry!” - -“You know better than to leave the wagon, young man. Didn't you know we -had to get out and hunt you, and mother was scared the wolves might eat -you? Didn't you hear us calling you? Why didn't you answer?” - -Buddy looked up from under his baby eyebrows at his father, who seemed -very tall and very terrible. But his bare foot touched the dead snake -and he took comfort. “I was comin',” he said. “I WASN'T los'. I bringed -my snake and my hawn-toe. An' dey--WASN'T--any--woluffs!” The last word -came muffled, buried in his mother's skirts. - - - -CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAIL HERD - -Day after day the trail herd plodded slowly to the north, following the -buffalo trails that would lead to water, and the crude map of one who -had taken a herd north and had returned with a tale of vast plains and -no rivals. Always through the day the dust cloud hung over the backs of -the cattle, settled into the clothes of those who followed, grimed the -pink aprons of Buddy and his small sister Dulcie so that they were no -longer pink. Whenever a stream was reached, mother searched patiently -for clear water and an untrampled bit of bank where she might do the -family washing, leaving Ezra to mind the children. But even so the crust -and the wear and tear of travel remained to harass her fastidious soul. - -Buddy remembered that drive as he could not remember the comfortable -ranch house of his earlier babyhood. To him afterward it seemed that -life began with the great herd of cattle. He came to know just how low -the sun must slide from the top of the sky before the “point” would -spread out with noses to the ground, pausing wherever a mouthful of -grass was to be found. When these leaders of the herd stopped, the -cattle would scatter and begin feeding. If there was water they would -crowd the banks of the stream or pool, pushing and prodding one another -with their great, sharp horns. Later, when the sun was gone and dusk -crept out of nowhere, the cowboys would ride slowly around the herd, -pushing it quietly into a smaller compass. Then, if Buddy were not too -sleepy, he would watch the cattle lie down to chew their cuds in deep, -sighing content until they slept. It reminded Buddy vaguely of when -mother popped corn in a wire popper, a long time ago-before they all -lived in a wagon and went with the herd. First one and two-then there -would be three, four, five, as many as Buddy could count-then the whole -herd would be lying down. - -Buddy loved the camp-fires. The cowboys would sit around the one where -his father and mother sat--mother with Dulcie in her arms--and they -would smoke and tell stories, until mother told him it was time little -boys were in bed. Buddy always wanted to know what they said after he -had climbed into the big wagon where mother had made a bed, but he never -found out. He could remember lying there listening sometimes to the -niggers singing at their own campfire within call, Ezra always singing -the loudest,--just as a bull always could be heard above the bellowing -of the herd. - -All his life, Ezra's singing and the monotonous bellowing of a herd -reminded Buddy of one mysteriously terrible time when there weren't -any rivers or any ponds or anything along the trail, and they had to be -careful of the water and save it, and he and Dulcie were not asked -to wash their faces. I think that miracle helped to fix the incident -indelibly in Buddy's mind; that, and the bellowing of the cattle. It -seemed a month to Buddy, but as he grew older he learned that it was -three days they went without water. - -The first day he did not remember especially, except that mother had -talked about clean aprons that night, and failed to produce any. The -second he recalled quite clearly. Father came to the wagons sometime in -the night to see if mother was asleep. Their murmured talk wakened Buddy -and he heard father say: - -“We'll hold 'em, all right, Lassie. And there's water ahead. It's marked -on the trail map. Don't you worry--I'll stay up and help the boys. The -cattle are uneasy--but we'll hold 'em.” - -The third day Buddy never forgot. That was the day when mother forgot -that Q stands for Quagga, and permitted Buddy to call it P, just for -fun, because it looked so much like P. And when he said “W is water “, -mother made a funny sound and said right out loud, “Oh God, please!” and -told Buddy to creep back and play with Sister--when Sister was asleep, -and there were still x, y and z to say, let alone that mysterious -And-so-forth which seemed to mean so much and so little and never was -called upon to help spell a word. Never since he began to have lessons -had mother omitted a single letter or cut the study hour down the -teeniest little bit. - -Buddy was afraid of something, but he could not think what it was that -frightened him. He began to think seriously about water, and to listen -uneasily to the constant lowing of the herd. The increased shouting -of the niggers driving the lagging ones held a sudden significance. It -occurred to him that the niggers had their hands full, and that they had -never driven so big a “Drag.” It was hotter than ever, too, and they had -twice stopped to yoke in fresh oxen. Ezra had boasted all along that -ole Bawley would keep his end up till they got clah to Wyoming. But ole -Bawley had stopped, and stopped, and at last had to be taken out of the -yoke. Buddy began to wish they would hurry up and find a river. - -None of the cowboys would take him on the saddle and let him ride, that -day. They looked harassed--Buddy called it cross--when they rode up to -the wagon to give their horses a few mouthfuls of water from the barrel. -Step-and-a-Half couldn't spare any more, they told mother. He had -declared at noon that he needed every drop he had for the cooking, and -there would be no washing of dishes whatever. Later, mother had studied -a map and afterwards had sat for a long while staring out over the backs -of the cattle, her face white. Buddy thought perhaps mother was sick. - -That day lasted hours and hours longer than any other day that Buddy -could remember. His father looked cross, too, when he rode back to them. -Once it was to look at the map which mother had studied. They talked -together afterwards, and Buddy heard his father say that she must not -worry; the cattle had good bottom, and could stand thirst better than a -poor herd, and another dry camp would not really hurt anyone. - -He had uncovered the water barrel and looked in, and had ridden straight -over to the chuck-wagon, his horse walking alongside the high seat where -Step-and-a-Half sat perched listlessly with a long-lashed oxwhip in his -hand. Father had talked for a few minutes, and had ridden back scowling. - -“That old scoundrel has got two ten-gallon kegs that haven't been -touched!” he told mother. “Yo' all mustn't water any more horses out of -your barrel Send the boys to Step-and-a-Half. Yo' all keep what you've -got. The horses have got to have water--to-night it's going to be hell -to hold the herd, and if anybody goes thirsty it'll be the men, not the -horses But yo' all send them to the other wagon, Lassie Mind, now! Not a -drop to anyone.” - -After father rode away, Buddy crept up and put his two short arms around -mother. “Don't cry. I don't have to drink any water,” he soothed her. He -waited a minute and added optimistically, “Dere's a BI--IG wiver comin' -pitty soon. Oxes smells water a hunerd miles. Ezra says so. An' las' -night Crumpy was snuffin' an' snuffin'. I saw 'im do it. He smelt a BIG -wiver. THAT bi-ig!” He spread his short arms as wide apart as they would -reach, and smiled tremulously. - -Mother squeezed Buddy so hard that he grunted. - -“Dear little man, of course there is. WE don't mind, do we? I-was -feeling sorry for the poor cattle.” - -“De're firsty,” Buddy stated solemnly, his eyes big. “De're bawlin' fer -a drink of water. I guess de're AWFUL firsty. Dere's a big wiver comin' -now Crumpy smelt a big wiver.” - -Buddy's mother stared across the arid plain parched into greater -barrenness by the heat that had been unremitting for the past week. -Buddy's faith in the big river she could not share. Somehow they had -drifted off the trail marked on the map drawn by George Williams. - -Williams had warned them to carry as much water as possible in barrels, -as a precaution against suffering if they failed to strike water each -night. He had told them that water was scarce, but that his cowboy -scouts and the deep-worn buffalo trails had been able to bring him -through with water at every camp save two or three. The Staked Plains, -he said, would be the hardest drive. And this was the Staked Plains--and -it was hard driving! - -Buddy did not know all that until afterwards, when he heard father talk -of the drive north. But he would have remembered that day and the night -that followed, even though he had never heard a word about it. -The bawling of the herd became a doleful chant of misery. Even the -phlegmatic oxen that drew the wagons bawled and slavered while they -strained forward, twisting their heads under the heavy yokes. They -stopped oftener than usual to rest, and when Buddy was permitted to walk -with the perspiring Ezra by the leaders, he wondered why the oxen's eyes -were red, like Dulcie's when she had one of her crying spells. - -At night the cowboys did not tie their horses and sit down while they -ate, but stood by their mounts and bolted food hurriedly, one eye always -on the restless cattle, that walked around and around, and would neither -eat nor lie down, but lowed incessantly. Once a few animals came close -enough to smell the water in a bucket where Frank Davis was watering -his sweat-streaked horse, and Step-and-a-Half's wagon was almost upset -before the maddened cattle could be driven back to the main herd. - -“No use camping,” Bob Birnie told the boys gathered around -Step-and-a-Half's Dutch ovens. “The cattle won't stand. We'll wear -ourselves and them out trying to hold 'em-they may as well be hunting -water as running in circles. Step-and-a-Half, keep your cooked grub -handy for the boys, and yo' all pack up and pull out. We'll turn the -cattle loose and follow. If there's any water in this damned country -they'll find it.” - -Years afterwards, Buddy learned that his father had sent men out to -hunt water, and that they had not found any. He was ten when this was -discussed around a spring roundup fire, and he had studied the matter -for a few minutes and then had spoken boldly his mind. - -“You oughta kept your horses as thirsty as the cattle was, and I bet -they'd a' found that water,” he criticized, and was sent to bed for his -tactlessness. Bob Birnie himself had thought of that afterwards, and had -excused the oversight by saying that he had depended on the map, and had -not foreseen a three-day dry drive. - -However that may be, that night was a night of panicky desperation. -Ezra walked beside the oxen and shouted and swung his lash, and the -oxen strained forward bellowing so that not even Dulcie could sleep, -but whimpered fretfully in her mother's arms. Buddy sat up wide-eyed and -watched for the big river, and tried not to be a 'fraid-cat and cry like -Dulcie. - -It was long past starry midnight when a little wind puffed out of the -darkness and the oxen threw up their heads and sniffed, and put a new -note into their “M-baw-aw-aw-mm!” They swung sharply so that the wind -blew straight into the front of the wagon, which lurched forward with a -new impetus. - -“Glo-ory t' Gawd, Missy! dey smells watah, sho 's yo' bawn!” sobbed Ezra -as he broke into a trot beside the wheelers. “'Tain't fur--lookit dat-ah -huhd a-goin' it! No 'm, Missy, DEY ain't woah out--dey smellin' watah -an' dey'm gittin' TO it! 'Tain't fur, Missy.” - -Buddy clung to the back of the seat and stared round-eyed into the -gloom. He never forgot that lumpy shadow which was the herd, traveling -fast in dust that obscured the nearest stars. The shadow humped here -and there as the cattle crowded forward at a shuffling half trot, the -click--awash of their shambling feet treading close on one another. The -rapping tattoo of wide-spread horns clashing against wide-spread horns -filled him with a formless terror, so that he let go the seat to clutch -at mother's dress. He was not afraid of cattle-they were as much a -part of his world as were Ezra and the wagon and the camp-fires-but he -trembled with the dread which no man could name for him. - -These were not the normal, everyday sounds of the herd. The herd had -somehow changed from plodding animals to one overwhelming purpose that -would sweep away anything that came in its path. Two thousand parched -throats and dust-dry tongues-and suddenly the smell of water that would -go gurgling down two thousand eager gullets, and every intervening -second a cursed delay against which the cattle surged blindly. It was -the mob spirit, when the mob was fighting for its very existence. - -Over the bellowing of the cattle a yelling cowboy now and then made -himself heard. The four oxen straining under their yokes broke into -a lumbering gallop lest they be outdistanced by the herd, and Dulcie -screamed when the wagon lurched across a dry wash and almost upset, -while Ezra plied the ox-whip and yelled frantically at first one ox and -then another, inventing names for the new ones. Buddy drew in his breath -and held it until the wagon rolled on four wheels instead of two, but he -did not scream. - -Still the big river did not come. It seemed to Buddy that the cattle -would never stop running. Tangled in the terror was Ezra's shouting -as he ran alongside the wagon and called to Missy that it was “Dat ole -Crumpy actin' the fool”, and that the wagon wouldn't upset. “No'm, dey's -jest in a hurry to git dere fool haids sunk to de eyes in dat watah. Dey -ain't aimin' to run away--no'm, dish yer ain't no stampede!” - -Perhaps Buddy dozed. The next thing he remembered, day was breaking, -with the sun all red, seen through the dust. The herd was still going, -but now it was running and somehow the yoked oxen were keeping close -behind, lumbering along with heads held low and the sweat reeking from -their spent bodies. Buddy heard dimly his mother's sharp command to -Ezra: - -“Stand back, Ezra! We're not going to be caught in that terrible trap. -They're piling over the bank ahead of us. Get away from the leaders. I -am going to shoot.” - -Buddy crawled up a little higher on the blankets behind the seat, and -saw mother steady herself and aim the rifle straight at Crumpy. There -was the familiar, deafening roar, the acrid smell of black powder smoke, -and Crumpy went down loosely, his nose rooting the trampled ground for -a space before the gun belched black smoke again and Crumpy's yoke-mate -pitched forward. The wagon stopped so abruptly that Buddy sprawled -helplessly on his back like an overturned beetle. - -He saw mother stand looking down at the wheelers, that backed and -twisted their necks under their yokes. Her lips were set firmly -together, and her eyes were bright with purple hollows beneath. She held -the rifle for a moment, then set the butt of it on the “jockey box” just -in front of the dashboard. The wheelers, helpless between the weight of -the wagon behind and the dead oxen in front, might twist their necks off -but they could do no damage. - -“Unyoke the wheelers, Ezra, and let the poor creatures have their chance -at the water,” she cried sharply, and Ezra, dodging the horns of the -frantic brutes, made shift to obey. - -Fairly on the bank of the sluggish stream with its flood-worn channel -and its treacherous patches of quicksand, the wagon thus halted by the -sheer nerve and quick-thinking of mother became a very small island in a -troubled sea of weltering backs and tossing horns and staring eyeballs. -Riders shouted and lashed unavailingly with their quirts, trying to -hold back the full bulk of the herd until the foremost had slaked -their thirst and gone on. But the herd was crazy for the water, and -the foremost were plunged headlong into the soft mud where they mired, -trampled under the hoofs of those who came crowding from behind. - -Someone shouted, close to the wagon yet down the bank at the edge of the -water. The words were indistinguishable, but a warning was in the voice. -On the echo of that cry, a man screamed twice. - -“Ezra!” cried mother fiercely. “It's Frank Davis--they've got him down, -somehow. Climb over the backs of the cattle--There's no other way--and -GET HIM!” - -“Yas'm, Missy!” Ezra called back, and then Buddy saw him go over the -herd, scrambling, jumping from back to back. - -Buddy remembered that always, and the funeral they had later in the day, -when the herd was again just trail-weary cattle feeding hungrily on the -scanty grass. Down at the edge of the creek the carcasses of many dead -animals lay half-buried in the mud. Up on a little knoll where a few -stunted trees grew, the negroes dug a long, deep hole. Mother's eyes -were often filled with tears that day, and the cowboys scarcely talked -at all when they gathered at the chuckwagon. - -After a while they all went to the hole which the negroes had dug, and -there was a long Something wrapped up in canvas. Mother wore her best -dress which was black, and father and all the boys had shaved their -faces and looked very sober. The negroes stood back in a group by -themselves, and every few minutes Buddy saw them draw their tattered -shirtsleeves across their faces. And father--Buddy looked once and saw -two tears running down father's cheeks. Buddy was shocked into a stony -calm. He had never dreamed that fathers ever cried. - -Mother read out of her Bible, and all the boys held their hats in front -of them, with their hands clasped, and looked at the ground while she -read. Then mother sang. She sang, “We shall meet beyond the river”, -which Buddy thought was a very queer song, because they were all there -but Frank Davis; then she sang “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” Buddy sang -too, piping the notes accurately, with a vague pronunciation of the -words and a feeling that somehow he was helping mother. - -After that they put the long, canvas-wrapped Something down in the hole, -and mother said “Our Father Who Art in Heaven “, with Buddy repeating it -uncertainly after her and pausing to say “TRETHpatheth” very carefully. -Then mother picked up Dulcie in her arms, took Buddy by the hand and -walked slowly back to the wagon, and would not let him turn to see what -the boys were doing. - -It was from that day that Buddy missed Frank Davis, who had mysteriously -gone to Heaven, according to mother. Buddy's interest in Heaven was -extremely keen for a time, and he asked questions which not even mother -could answer. Then his memory of Frank Davis blurred. But never his -memory of that terrible time when the Tomahawk outfit lost five hundred -cattle in the dry drive and the stampede for water. - - - -CHAPTER THREE: SOME INDIAN LORE - -Buddy knew Indians as he knew cattle, horses, rattlesnakes and -storms--by having them mixed in with his everyday life. He couldn't tell -you where or when he had learned that Indians are tricky. Perhaps his -first ideas on that subject were gleaned from the friendly tribes who -lived along the Chisolm Trail and used to visit the chuck-wagon, their -blankets held close around them and their eyes glancing everywhere while -they grinned and talked and pointed--and ate. Buddy used to sit in the -chuck-wagon, out of harm's way, and watch them eat. - -Step-and-a-Half had a way of entertaining Indians which never failed -to interest Buddy, however often he witnessed it. When Step-and-a-Half -glimpsed Indians coming afar off, he would take his dishpan and dump -into it whatever scraps of food were left over from the preceding meal. -He used to say that Indians could smell grub as far as a buzzard can -smell a dead carcase, and Buddy believed it, for they always arrived at -meal time or shortly afterwards. Step-and-a-Half would make a stew, if -there were scraps enough. If the gleanings were small, he would use the -dishwater--he was a frugal man--and with that for the start-off he would -make soup, which the Indians gulped down with great relish and many -gurgly sounds. - -Buddy watched them eat what he called pig-dinner. When Step-and-a-Half -was not looking he saw them steal whatever their dirty brown hands could -readily snatch and hide under their blankets. So he knew from very early -experience that Indians were not to be trusted. - -Once, when he had again strayed too far from camp, some Indians riding -that way saw him, and one leaned and lifted him from the ground and rode -off with him. Buddy did not struggle much. He saved his breath for the -long, shrill yell of cow-country. Twice he yodled before the Indian -clapped a hand over his mouth. - -Father and some of the cowboys heard and came after, riding hard and -shooting as they came. Buddy's pink apron fluttered a signal flag in the -arms of his captor, and so it happened that the bullets whistled close -to that particular Indian. He gathered a handful of calico between -Buddy's shoulders, held him aloft like a puppy, leaned far over and -deposited him on the ground. - -Buddy rolled over twice and got up, a little dizzy and very indignant, -and shouted to father, “Shoot a sunsyguns!” - -From that time Buddy added hatred to his distrust of Indians. - -From the time when he was four until he was thirteen Buddy's life -contained enough thrills to keep a movie-mad boy of to-day sitting on -the edge of his seat gasping enviously through many a reel, but to Buddy -it was all rather humdrum and monotonous. - -What he wanted to do was to get out and hunt buffalo. Just herding -horses, and watching out for Indians, and killing rattlesnakes was what -any boy in the country would be doing. Still, Buddy himself achieved now -and then a thrill. - -There was one day, when he stood heedlessly on a ridge looking for a -dozen head of lost horses in the draws below. It was all very well to -explain missing horses by the conjecture that the Injuns must have got -them, but Buddy happened to miss old Rattler with the others. Rattler -had come north with the trail herd, and he was wise beyond the wisdom of -most horses. He would drive cattle out of the brush without a rider to -guide him, if only you put a saddle on him. He had helped Buddy to mount -his back--when Buddy was much smaller than now--by lowering his head -until Buddy straddled it, and then lifting it so that Buddy slid down -his neck and over his withers to his back. Even now Buddy sometimes -mounted that way when no one was looking. Many other lovable traits had -Rattler, and to lose him would be a tragedy to the family. - -So Buddy was on the ridge, scanning all the deep little washes and -draws, when a bullet PING-G-GED over his head. Buddy caught the bridle -reins and pulled his horse into the shelter of rocks, untied his rifle -from the saddle and crept back to reconnoitre. It was the first time he -had ever been shot at--except in the army posts, when the Indians -had “broken out”,--and the aim then was generally directed toward his -vicinity rather than his person. - -An Indian on a horse presently appeared cautiously from cover, and -Buddy, trembling with excitement, shot wild; but not so wild that the -Indian could afford to scoff and ride closer. After another ineffectual -shot at Buddy, he whipped his horse down the ridge, and made for Bannock -creek. - -Buddy at thirteen knew more of the wiles of Indians than does the -hardiest Indian fighter on the screen to-day. Father had warned him -never to chase an Indian into cover, where others would probably be -waiting for him. So he stayed where he was, pretty well hidden in the -rocks, and let the bullets he himself had “run” in father's bullet-mold -follow the enemy to the fringe of bushes. His last shot knocked the -Indian off his horse--or so it looked to Buddy. He waited for a long -time, watching the brush and thinking what a fool that Indian was to -imagine Buddy would follow him down there. After a while he saw the -Indian's horse climbing the slope across the creek. There was no rider. - -Buddy rode home without the missing horses, and did not tell anyone -about the Indian, though his thoughts would not leave the subject. - -He wondered what mother would think of it. Mother's interests seemed -mostly confined to teaching Buddy and Dulcie what they were deprived of -learning in schools, and to play the piano--a wonderful old square piano -that had come all the way from Scotland to the Tomahawk ranch, the very -frontier of the West. - -Mother was a wonderful woman, with a soft voice and a slight Scotch -accent, and wit; and a knowledge of things which were little known in -the wilderness. Buddy never dreamed then how strangely culture was mixed -with pure savagery in his life. To him the secret regret that he had not -dared ride into the bushes to scalp the Indian he believed he had shot, -and the fact that his hands were straining at the full chords of -the ANVIL CHORUS on that very evening, was not even to be considered -unusual. Still, certain strains of that classic were always afterward -associated in his mind with the shooting of the Indian--if he had really -shot him. - -While he counted the time with a conscientious regard for the rests, he -debated the wisdom of telling mother, and decided that perhaps he had -better keep that matter to himself, like a man. - - - -CHAPTER FOUR: BUDDY GIVES WARNING - -Buddy swung down from his horse, unsaddled it and went staggering to the -stable wall with the burden of a stock-saddle much too big for him. He -had to stand on his boot-toes to reach and pull the bridle down over the -ears of Whitefoot, which turned with an air of immense relief into the -corral gate and the hay piled at the further end. Buddy gave him -one preoccupied glance and started for the cabin, walking with the -cowpuncher's peculiar, bowlegged gait which comes of wearing chaps and -throwing out the knees to overcome the stiffness of the leather. At -thirteen Buddy was a cowboy from hat-crown to spurs-and at thirteen -Buddy gloried in the fact. To-day, however, his mind was weighted with -matters of more importance than himself. - -“The Utes are having a war-dance, mother,” he announced when he had -closed the stout door of the kitchen behind him. “They mean it this -time. I lay in the brush and watched them last night.” He stood looking -at his mother speculatively, a little grin on his face. “I told you, you -can't change an Injun by learning him to eat with a knife and fork,” he -added. “Colorou ain't any whiter than he was before you set out to learn -him manners. He was hoppin' higher than any of 'em.” - -“Teach, Buddy, not learn. You know better than to say 'learn him -manners.'” - -“Teach him manners,” Buddy corrected himself obediently. “I was thinking -more about what I saw than about grammar. Where's father? I guess I'd -better tell him. He'll want to get the stock out of the mountains, I -should think.” - -“Colorou will send me word before they take the warpath,” mother -observed reassuringly. “He always has. I gave him a whole pound of tea -and a blue ribbon the last time he was here.” - -“Yes, and the last time they broke out they got away with more 'n a -hundred head of cattle. You got to Laramie, all right, but he didn't -tell father in time to make a roundup back in the foothills. They're -DANCING, mother!” - -“Well, I suppose We're due for an outbreak,” sighed mother. “Colorou -says he can't hold his young men off when some of the tribe have been -killed. He himself doesn't countenance the stealing and the occasional -killing of white men. There are bad Indians and good ones.” - -“I know a couple of good ones,” Buddy murmured as he made for the wash -basin. “It's the bad ones that were doing the dancing, mother,” he flung -over his shoulder. “And if I was you I'd take Dulcie and the cats and -hit for Laramie. Colorou might get busy and forget to send word!” - -“If I WAS you?” Mother came up and nipped his ear between thumb and -finger. “Robert, I am discouraged over you. All that I teach you in the -winter seems to evaporate from your mind during the summer when you go -out riding with the boys.” - -Buddy wiped his face with an up-and-down motion on the roller towel and -clanked across to the cupboard which he opened investigatively. “Any -pie?” he questioned as he peered into the corners. “Say, if I had the -handling of those Utes, mother, I'd fix 'em so they wouldn't be breaking -out every few months and making folks leave their homes to be pawed over -and burnt, maybe.” He found a jar of fresh doughnuts and took three. - -“They'll tromp around on your flower-beds--it just makes me SICK when -I think how they'll muss things up around here! I wish now,” He blurted -unthinkingly, “that I hadn't killed the Injun that stole Rattler.” - -“Buddy! Not YOU.” His mother made a swift little run across the kitchen -and caught him on his lean, hard-muscled young shoulders. “You--you -baby! What did you do? You didn't harm an Indian, did you, laddie?” - -Buddy tilted his head downward so that she could not look into his eyes. -“I dunno as I harmed him--much,” he said, wiping doughnut crumbs from -his mouth with one hasty sweep of his forearm. “But his horse came -outa the brush, and he never. I guess I killed him, all right. Anyway, -mother, I had to. He took a shot at me first. It was the day we lost -Rattler and the bronks,” He added accurately. - -Mother did not say anything for a minute, and Buddy hung his head lower, -dreading to see the hurt look which he felt was in her eyes. - -“I have to pack a gun when I ride anywhere,” he reminded her -defensively. “It ain't to balance me on the horse, either. If Injuns -take in after me, the gun's so I can shoot. And a feller don't shoot -up in the air--and if an Injun is hunting trouble he oughta expect that -maybe he might get shot sometime. You--you wouldn't want me to just run -and let them catch me, would you?” - -Mother's hand slipped up to his head and pressed it against her breast -so that Buddy heard her heart beating steady and sweet and true. Mother -wasn't afraid--never, never! - -“I know--it's the dreadful necessity of defending our lives. But you're -so young--just mother's baby man!” - -Buddy looked up at her then, a laugh twinkling in his eyes. After all, -mother understood. - -“I'm going to be your baby man always if you want me to, mother,” He -whispered, closing his arms around her neck in a sturdy hug. “But I'm -father's horse-wrangler, too. And a horse-wrangler has got to hold -up his end. I--I didn't want to kill anybody, honest. But Injuns are -different. You kill rattlers, and they ain't as mean as Injuns. That one -I shot at was shooting at me before I even so much as knew there was one -around. I just shot back. Father would, or anybody else.” - -“I know--I know,” she conceded, the tender womanliness of her sighing -over the need. In the next moment she was all mother, ready to fight for -her young. “Buddy, never, never ride ANYWHERE without your rifle! And a -revolver, too--be sure that it is in perfect condition. And--have you -a knife? You're so LITTLE!” she wailed. “But father will need you, and -he'll take care of you--and Colorou would not let you be hurt if he -knew. But--Buddy, you must be careful, and always watching--never let -them catch you off your guard. I shall be in Laramie before you and -father and the boys, I suppose, if the Indians really do break out. And -you must promise me--” - -“I'll promise, mother. And don't you go and trust old Colorou an inch. -He was jumping higher than any of 'em, and shaking his tomahawk and -yelling--he'd have scalped me right there if he'd seen me watching 'em. -Mother, I'm going to find father and tell him. And you may as well be -packing up, and--don't leave my guitar for them to smash, will you, -mother?” - -His mother laughed then and pushed him toward the door. She had an idea -of her own and she did not want to be hindered now in putting it into -action. Up the creek, in the bank behind a clump of willows, was a -small cave--or a large niche, one might call it--where many household -treasures might be safely hidden, if one went carefully, wading in the -creek to hide the tracks. She followed Buddy out, and called to Ezra -who was chopping wood with a grunt for every fall of the axe and many -rest--periods in the shade of the cottonwood tree. - -At the stable, Buddy looked back and saw her talking earnestly to Ezra, -who stood nodding his head in complete approval. Buddy's knowledge of -women began and ended with his mother. Therefore, to him all women -were wonderful creatures whom men worshipped ardently because they were -created for the adoration of lesser souls. Buddy did not know what his -mother was going to do, but he was sure that whatever she did would be -right; so he hoisted his saddle on the handiest fresh horse, and loped -off to drive in the remuda, feeling certain that his father would move -swiftly to save his cattle that ranged back in the foothills, and that -the saddle horses would be wanted at a moment's notice. - -Also, he reasoned, the range horses (mares and colts and the unbroken -geldings) would not be left to the mercy of the Indians. He did not -quite know how his father would manage it, but he decided that he would -corral the REMUDA first, and then drive in the other horses, that fed -scattered in undisturbed possession of a favorite grassy creek-bottom -farther up the Platte. - -The saddle horses, accustomed to Buddy's driving, were easily corralled. -The other horses were fat and “sassy” and resented his coming among them -with the shrill whoop of authority. They gave him a hot hour's riding -before they finally bunched and went tearing down the river bottom -toward the ranch. Even so, Buddy left two of the wildest careening up -a narrow gulch. He had not attempted to ride after them; not because he -was afraid of Indians, for he was not. The war-dance held every young -buck and every old one in camp beyond the Pass. But the margin of safety -might be narrow, and Buddy was taking no chances that day. - -When he was convinced that it was impossible for one boy to be in half a -dozen places at once, and that the cowboys would be needed to corral the -range bunch, Buddy whooped them all down the creek below the home ranch -and let them go just as his father came riding up to the corral. - -“They're war-dancing, father,” Buddy shouted eagerly, slipping off his -horse and wiping away the trickles of perspiration with a handkerchief -not much redder than his face. “I drove all the horses down, so they'd -be handy. Them range horses are pretty wild. There was two I couldn't -get. What'll I do now?” - -Bob Birnie looked at his youngest rider and smoothed his beard with one -hand. “You're an ambitious lad, Buddy. It's the Utes you're meaning--or -is it the horses?” - -Buddy lifted his head and stared at his father disapprovingly. - -“Colorou is going to break out. I know. They've got their war paint all -on and they're dancing. I saw them myself. I was going after the gloves -Colorou s squaw was making for me,--but I didn't get 'em. I laid in the -brush and watched 'em dance.” He stopped and looked again doubtfully at -his father. “I thought you might want to get the cattle outa the way,” he -added. “I thought I could save some time--” - -“You're sure about the paint?” - -“Yes, I'm sure. And Colorou was just a-going it with his war bonnet on -and shaking his tomahawk and yelling--” - -“Ye did well, lad. We'll be leaving for Big Creek to-night, so run away -now and rest yourself.” - -“Oh, and can I go?” Buddy's voice was shrill with eagerness. - -“I'll need you, lad, to look after the horses. It will give me one more -hand with the cattle. Now go tell Step-and-a-Half to make ready for a -week on the trail, and to have supper early so he can make his start -with the rest.” - -Buddy walked stiffly away to the cook's cabin where Step-and-a-Half sat -leisurely gouging the worst blemishes out of soft, old potatoes with a -chronic tendency to grow sprouts, before he peeled them for supper His -crippled leg was thrust out straight, his hat was perched precariously -over one ear because of the slanting sun rays through the window, and -a half-smoked cigarette waggled uncertainly in the corner of his mouth -while he sang dolefully a most optimistic ditty of the West: - -“O give me a home where the buff-alo roam, Where the deer and the -antelope play, Where never is heard a discouraging word And the sky is -not cloudy all day.” - -“You're going to hear a discouraging word right now,” Buddy broke in -ruthlessly upon the song. Whereupon, with a bit of importance in -his voice and in his manner, he proceeded to spoil Step-and-a-Half's -disposition and to deepen, if that were possible, his loathing of -Indians. Too often had he made dubious soup of his dishwater and the -leavings from a roundup crew's dinner, and watched blanketed bucks -smack lips over the mess, to run from them now without feeling utterly -disgusted with life. Step-and-a-Half's vituperations could be heard -above the clatter of pots and pans as he made ready for the journey. - -That night's ride up the pass through the narrow range of high-peaked -hills to the Tomahawk's farthest range on Big Creek was a tedious -affair to Buddy. A man had been sent on a fast horse to warn the nearest -neighbor, who in turn would warn the next,--until no settler would -be left in ignorance of his danger. Ezra was already on the trail to -Laramie, with mother and Dulcie and the cats and a slat box full of -chickens, and a young sow with little pigs. - -Buddy, whose word no one had questioned, who might pardonably have -considered himself a hero, was concerned chiefly with his mother's -flower garden which he had helped to plant and had watered more or -less faithfully with creek water carried in buckets. He was afraid the -Indians would step on the poppies and the phlox, and trample down the -four o'clocks which were just beginning to branch out and look nice and -bushy, and to blossom. The scent of the four o'clocks had been in his -nostrils when he came out at dusk with his fur overcoat which mother had -told him must not be left behind. Buddy himself merely liked flowers: -but mother talked to them and kissed them just for love, and pitied them -if Buddy forgot and let them go thirsty. He would have stayed to fight -for mother's flower garden, if it would have done any good. - -He was thinking sleepily that next year he would plant flowers in boxes -that could be carried to the cave if the Indians broke out again, when -Tex Farley poked him in the ribs and told him to wake up or he'd fall -off his horse. It was a weary climb to the top of the range that divided -the valley of Big Creek from the North Platte, and a wearier climb down. -Twice Buddy caught himself on the verge of toppling out of the saddle. -For after all he was only a thirteen-year Old boy, growing like any -other healthy young animal. He had been riding hard that day and half of -the preceding night when he had raced back from the Reservation to -give warning of the impending outbreak. He needed sleep, and nature was -determined that he should have it. - - - -CHAPTER FIVE: BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE - -One never could predict with any certainty how long Indians would dance -before they actually took the trail of murder and pillage. So much -depended upon the Medicine, so much on signs and portents. It was even -possible that they might, for some mysterious reason unknown to their -white neighbors, decide at the last moment to bide their time. The -Tomahawk outfit worked from dawn until dark, and combed the foothills -of the Snowies hurriedly, riding into the most frequented, grassy basins -and wide canyons where the grass was lush and sweet and the mountain -streams rushed noisily over rocks. As fast as the cattle were gathered -they were pushed hastily toward the Platte, And though the men rode -warily with rifles as handy as their ropes, they rode in peace. - -Buddy, proud of his job, counting himself as good a man as any of them, -became a small riding demon after rebellious saddle horses, herding them -away from thick undergrowth that might, for all he knew, hold Indians -waiting a chance to scalp him, driving the REMUDA close to the cabins -when night fell, because no man could be spared for night herding, -sleeping lightly as a cat beside a mouse hole. He did not say much, -perhaps because everyone was too busy to talk, himself included. - -Men rode in at night dog-weary, pulled their saddles and hurried stiffly -to the cabin where Step-and-a-Half was showing his true worth as a cook -who could keep the coffee-pot boiling and yet be ready to pack up and -go at the first rifle-shot. They would bolt down enormous quantities of -bannock and boiled beef, swallow their coffee hot enough to scald a hog, -and stretch themselves out immediately to sleep. - -Buddy would be up and on his horse in the clear starlight before dawn, -with a cup of coffee swallowed to hearten him for the chilly ride after -the remuda. Even with the warmth of the coffee his teeth would chatter -just at first, and he would ride with his thin shoulders lifted and a -hand in a pocket. He could not sing or whistle to keep himself company. -He must ride in silence until he had counted every dark, moving shape -and knew that the herd was complete, then ease them quietly to camp. - -On the fourth morning he rode anxiously up the valley, fearing that the -horses had been stolen in the night, yet hoping they had merely strayed -up the creek to find fresh pastures. A light breeze that carried the -keen edge of frost made his nose tingle. His horse trotted steadily -forward, as keen on the trail as Buddy himself; keener, for he would be -sure to give warning of danger. So they rounded a bend in the creek and -came upon the scattered fringe of the remuda cropping steadily at the -meadow grass there. - -Bud circled them, glancing now and then at the ridge beyond the valley. -It seemed somehow unnatural--lower, with the stars showing along its -wooded crest in a row, as if there were no peaks. Then quite suddenly he -knew that the ridge was the same, and that the stars he saw were little, -breakfast camp-fires. His heart gave a jump when he realized how many -little fires there were, and knew that the dance was over. The Indians -had left the reservation and had crossed the ridge yesterday, and had -camped there to wait for the dawn. - -While he gathered his horses together he guessed how old Colorou had -planned to catch the Tomahawk riders when they left camp and scattered, -two by two, on “Circle.” He had held his band well out of sight and -sound of the Big Creek cabin, and if the horses had not strayed up the -creek in the night he would have caught the white men off their guard. - -Buddy looked often over his shoulder while he drove the horses down the -creek. It seemed stranger than luck, that he had been compelled to ride -so far on this particular morning; as if mother's steadfast faith in -prayer and the guardianship of angels was justified by actual facts. -Still, Buddy was too hard-headed to assume easily that angels had driven -the horses up the creek so that he would have to ride up there and -discover the Indian fires. If angels could do that, why hadn't they -stopped Colorou from going on the warpath? It would have been simpler, -in Buddy's opinion. - -He did not mention the angel problem to his father, however. Bob Birnie -was eating breakfast with his men when Buddy rode up to the cabin and -told the news. The boys did not say anything much, but they may have -taken bigger bites by way of filling their stomachs in less time than -usual. - -“I'll go see for myself,” said Bob Birnie. “You boys saddle up and -be ready to start. If it's Indians, we'll head for Laramie and drive -everything before us as we go. But the lad may be wrong.” He took the -reins from Buddy, mounted, and rode away, his booted feet hanging far -below Buddy's short stirrups. - -Speedily he was back, and the scowl on his face told plainly enough that -Buddy had not been mistaken. - -“They're coming off the ridge already,” he announced grimly. “I heard -their horses among the rocks up there. They think to come down on us at -sunrise. There'll be too many for us to hold off, I'm thinking. Get ye a -fresh horse, Buddy, and drive the horses down the creek fast as ye can.” - -Buddy uncoiled his rope and ran with his mouth full to do as he was -told. He did not think he was scared, exactly, but he made three throws -to get the horse he wanted, blaming the poor light for his ill luck; -and then found himself in possession of a tall, uneasy brown that Dick -Grimes had broken and sometimes rode. Buddy would have turned him loose -and caught another, but the horses had sensed the suppressed excitement -of the men and were circling and snorting in the half light of dawn; so -Buddy led out the brown, pulled the saddle from the sweaty horse that -had twice made the trip up the creek, and heaved it hastily on the -brown's back. Dick Grimes called to him, to know if he wanted any help, -and Buddy yelled, “No!” - -“Here they come--damn 'em--turn the bunch loose and ride!” called Bob -Birnie as a shrill, yelling war-whoop, like the yapping of many coyotes, -sounded from the cottonwoods that bordered the creek. “Yuh all right, -Buddy?” - -“Yeah--I'm a-comin',” shrilled Buddy, hastily looping the latigo. Just -then the sharp staccato of rifle-shots mingled with the whooping of the -Indians. Buddy was reaching for the saddle horn when the brown horse -ducked and jerked loose. Before Buddy realized what was happening the -brown horse, the herd and all the riders were pounding away down the -valley, the men firing back at the cottonwoods. - -In the dust and clamor of their departure Buddy stood perfectly still -for a minute, trying to grasp the full significance of his calamity. -Step-and-a-Half had packed hastily and departed ahead of them all. His -father and the cowboys were watching the cottonwood grove many rods to -Buddy's right and well in the background, and they would not glance his -way. Even if they did they would not see him, and if they saw him it -would be madness to ride back--though there was not a man among them who -would not have wheeled in his tracks and returned for Buddy in the very -face of Colorou and his band. - -From the cottonwoods came the pound of galloping hoofs. “Angels -NOTHING!” Cried Buddy in deep disgust and scuttled for the cabin. - -The cabin, he knew as he ran, was just then the worst place in the -world for a boy who wanted very much to go on living. Through its gaping -doorway he saw a few odds and ends of food lying on the table, but he -dared not stop long enough to get them. The Indians were thundering down -to the corral, and as he rounded the cabin's corner he glanced back -and saw the foremost riders whipping their horses on the trail of the -fleeing white men. But some, he knew, would stop. Even the prospect of -fresh scalps could not hold the greedy ones from prowling around a white -man's dwelling place. There might be tobacco or whiskey left behind, -or something with color or a shine to it. Buddy knew well the ways of -Indians. - -He made for the creek, thinking at first to hide somewhere in the brush -along the bank. Then, fearing the brightening light of day and the wide -space he must cross to reach the first fringe of brush, he stopped at a -dugout cellar that had been built into the creek bank above high-water -mark. There was a pole-and-dirt roof, and because the dirt sifted down -between the poles whenever the wind blew--which was always--the place -had been crudely sealed inside with split poles overlapping one another. -The ceiling was more or less flat; the roof had a slight slope. In the -middle of the tiny attic thus formed Buddy managed to worm his body -through a hole in the gable next to the creek. - -He wriggled back to the end next the cabin and lay there very flat and -very quiet, peeping out through a half-inch crack, too wise in the ways -of silence to hold his breath until he must heave a sigh to relieve -his lungs. It was hard to breathe naturally and easily after that swift -dash, but somehow he did it. An Indian had swerved and ridden behind the -cabin, and was leaning and peering in all directions to see if anyone -had remained. Perhaps he suspected an ambush; Buddy was absolutely -certain that the fellow was looking for him, personally, and that he had -seen, Buddy run toward the creek. - -It was not a pleasant thought, and the fact that he knew that buck -Indian by name, and had once traded him a jackknife for a beautifully -tanned wolf skin for his mother, did not make it pleasanter. -Hides-the-face would not let past friendliness stand in the way of a -killing. - -Presently Hides-the-face dismounted and tied his horse to a corner log -of the cabin, and went inside with the others to see what he could find -that could be eaten or carried off. Buddy saw fresh smoke issue from the -stone chimney, and guessed that Step-and-a-Half had left something that -could be cooked. It became evident, in the course of an hour or so, that -his presence was absolutely unsuspected, and Buddy began to watch them -more composedly, silently promising especial forms of punishment to this -one and that one whom he knew. Most of them had been to the ranch many -times, and he could have called to a dozen of them by name. They had sat -in his father's cabin or stood immobile just within the door, and had -listened while his mother played and sang for them. She had fed them -cakes--Buddy remembered the good things which mother had given these -despicable ones who were looting and gobbling and destroying like a -drove of hogs turned loose in a garden, and the thought of her wasted -kindness turned him sick with rage. Mother had believed in their -friendliness. Buddy wished that mother could see them setting fire -to the low, log stable and the corral, and swarming in and out of the -cabin. - -Painted for war they were, with red stripes across their foreheads, -ribs outlined in red which, when they loosened their blankets as the -sun warmed them, gave them a fantastic likeness to the skeletons Buddy -wished they were; red stripes on their arms, the number showing their -rank in the tribe; open-seated, buckskin breeches to their knees where -they met the tightly wrapped leggings; moccasins laced snugly at the -ankle--they were picturesque enough to any eyes but Buddy's. He saw the -ghoulish greed in their eyes, heard it in their voices when they shouted -to one another; and he hated them even more than he feared them. - -Much that they said he understood. They were cursing the Tomahawk -outfit, chiefly because the men had not waited there to be surprised and -killed. They cursed his father in particular, and were half sorry that -they had not ridden on in pursuit with the others. They hoped no white -man would ride alive to Laramie. It made cheerful listening to Buddy, -flat on his stomach in the roof of the dugout! - -After a while, when the cabin had been gutted of everything it contained -save the crude table and benches, a few Indians brought burning brands -from the stable and set it afire. They were very busy inside and out, -making sure that the flames took hold properly. Then, when the dry logs -began to blaze and flames licked the edges of the roof, they stood back -and watched it. - -Buddy saw Hides-the-face glance speculatively toward the dugout, and -slipped his hand back where he could reach his six-shooter. He felt -pretty certain that they meant to demolish the dugout next, and he -knew exactly what he meant to do. He had heard men at the posts talk of -“selling their lives dearly “, and that is what he intended to do. - -He was not going to be in too much of a hurry; he would wait until they -actually began on the dugout--and when they were on the bank within a -few feet of him, and he saw that there was no getting away from death, -he meant to shoot five Indians, and himself last of all. - -Tentatively he felt of his temple where he meant to place the muzzle -of the gun when there was just one bullet left. It was so nice and -smooth--he wondered if God would really help him out, if he said Our -Father with a pure heart and with faith, as his mother said one must -pray. He was slightly doubtful of both conditions, when he came to think -of it seriously. This spring he had felt grown-up enough to swear a -little at the horses, sometimes--and he was not sure that shooting the -Indian that time would not be counted a crime by God, who loved all -His creatures. Mother always stuck to it that Injuns were God's -creatures--which brought Buddy squarely against the incredible -assumption that God must love them. He did not in the least mean to be -irreverent, but when he watched those painted bucks his opinion of God -changed slightly. He decided that he himself was neither pure nor full -of faith, and that he would not pray just yet. He would let God go ahead -and do as He pleased about it; except that Buddy would never let those -Indians get him alive, no matter what God expected. - -Hides-the-face walked over toward the dugout. Buddy crooked his left arm -and laid the gun barrel across it to get a “dead rest” and leave nothing -to chance. Hides-the-face stared at the dugout, moved to one side--and -the muzzle of the gun followed, keeping its aim directly at the left -edge of his breastbone as outlined with the red paint. Hides-the-face -craned, stepped into the path down the bank and passed out of range. -Buddy gritted his teeth malevolently and waited, his ears strained -to catch and interpret the meaning of every soft sound made by -Hides-the-face's moccasins. - -Hides-the-face cautiously pushed open the door of the cellar and looked -in, standing for interminable minutes, as is the leisurely way of -Indians when there is no great need of haste. Ruddy cautiously lowered -his face and peered down like a mouse from the thatch, but he could not -handily bring his gun to bear upon Hides-the-face, who presently turned -back and went up the path, his shoulder-muscles moving snakishly under -his brown skin as he climbed the bank. - -Hides-the-face returned to the others and announced that there was a -place where they could camp. Buddy could not hear all that he said, and -Hides-the-face had his back turned so that not all of his signs were -intelligible; but he gathered that these particular Indians had chosen -or had been ordered to wait here for three suns, and that the cellar -appealed to Hides-the-face as a shelter in case it stormed. - -Buddy did not know whether to rejoice at the news or to mourn. They -would not destroy the dugout, so he need not shoot himself, which was of -course a relief. Still, three suns meant three days and nights, and the -prospect of lying there on his stomach, afraid to move for that length -of time, almost amounted to the same thing in the end. He did not -believe that he could hold out that long, though of course he would try -pretty hard. - -All that day Buddy lay watching through the crack, determined to take -any chance that came his way. None came. The Indians loitered in the -shade, and some slept. But always two or three remained awake; and -although they sat apparently ready to doze off at any minute, Buddy knew -them too well to hope for such good luck. Two Indians rode in toward -evening dragging a calf that had been overlooked in the roundup; and -having improvidently burned the cabin, the meat was cooked over the -embers which still smouldered in places where knots in the logs made -slow fuel. - -Buddy watched them hungrily, wondering how long it took to starve. - -When it was growing dark he tried to keep in mind the exact positions -of the Indians, and to discover whether a guard would be placed over -the camp, or whether they felt safe enough to sleep without a sentinel. -Hides-the-face he had long ago decided was in charge of the party, and -Hides-the-face was seemingly concerned only with gorging himself on -the half-roasted meat. Buddy hoped he would choke himself, but -Hides-the-face was very good at gulping half-chewed hunks and finished -without disaster. - -Then he grunted something to someone in the dark, and there was movement -in the group. Buddy ground his growing “second” teeth together, clenched -his fist and said “Damn it!” three times in a silent crescendo of rage -because he could neither see nor hear what took place; and immediately -he repented his profanity, remembering that God could hear him. -In Buddy's opinion, you never could be sure about God; He bestowed -mysterious mercies and strange punishments, and His ways were past -finding out. Buddy tipped his palms together and repeated all the -prayers his mother had taught him and then, with a flash of memory, -finished with “Oh, God, please!” just as mother had done long ago on the -dry drive. After that he meditated uncomfortably for a few minutes -and added in a faint whisper, “Oh, shucks! You don't want to pay any -attention to a fellow cussing a little when he's mad. I could easy make -that up if you helped me out some way.” - -Buddy believed afterwards that God yielded to persuasion and decided to -give him a chance. For not more than five minutes passed when a far-off -murmur grew to an indefinable roar, and the wind whooped down off the -Snowies so fiercely that even the dugout quivered a little and rattled -dirt down on Buddy through the poles just over his head. - -At first this seemed an unlucky circumstance, for the Indians came down -into the dugout for shelter, and now Buddy was afraid to breathe in -the quiet intervals between the gusts. Just below him he could hear the -occasional mutters of laconic sentences and grunted answers as the bucks -settled themselves for the night, and he had a short, panicky spell of -fearing that the poles would give way beneath him and drop him in upon -them. - -After a while--it seemed hours to Buddy--the wind settled down to a -steady gale. The Indians, so far as he could determine, were all asleep -in the cellar. And Buddy, setting his teeth hard together, began to -slide slowly backward toward the opening through which he had crawled -into the roof. When he had crawled in he had not noticed the springiness -of the poles, but now his imagination tormented him with the sensation -of sagging and swaying. When his feet pushed through the opening he had -to grit his teeth to hold himself steady. It seemed as if someone were -reaching up in the dark to catch him by the legs and pull him out. -Nothing happened, however, and after a little he inched backward until -he hung with his elbows hooked desperately inside the opening, his head -and shoulders within and protesting with every nerve against leaving the -shelter. - -Buddy said afterwards that he guessed he'd have hung there until -daylight, only he was afraid it was about time to change guard, and -somebody might catch him. But he said he was scared to let go and drop, -because it must have been pretty crowded in the cellar, and he knew -the door was open, and some buck might be roosting outside handy to be -stepped on. But he knew he had to do something, because if he ever went -to sleep up in that place he'd snore, maybe; and anyway, he said, he'd -rather run himself to death than starve to death. So he dropped. - -It was two days after that when Buddy shuffled into a mining camp on -the ridge just north of Douglas Pass. He was still on his feet, but -they dragged like an old man's. He had walked twenty-five miles in two -nights, going carefully, in fear of Indians. The first five miles he had -waded along the shore of the creek, he said, in case they might pick up -his tracks at the dugout and try to follow him. He had hidden himself -like a rabbit in the brush through the day, and he had not dared shoot -any meat, wherefore he had not eaten anything. - -“I ain't as hungry as I was at first,” He grinned tremulously. “But I -guess I better--eat. I don' want--to lose the--habit--” Then he went -slack and a man swearing to hide his pity picked him up in his arms and -carried him into the tent. - - - -CHAPTER SIX: THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY - -“You're of age,” said Bob Birnie, sucking hard at his pipe. “You've had -your schooling as your mother wished that you should have it. You've -got the music in your head and your fingers and your toes, and that's as -your mother wished that you should have. - -“Your mother would have you be all for music, and make tunes out of your -own head. She tells me that you have made tunes and written them down on -paper, and that there are those who would buy them and print copies to -sell, with your name at the top of the page. I'll not say what I think -of that--your mother is an angel among women, and she has taught you the -things she loves herself. - -“But my business is with the cattle, and I've had you out with me since -you could climb on the back of a horse. I've watched you, with the rope -and the irons and in the saddle and all. You've been in tight places -that would try the mettle of a man grown--I mind the time ye escaped -Colorou's band, and we thought ye dead 'til ye came to us in Laramie. -You've showed that you're able to hold your own on the range, lad. Your -mother's all for the music--but I leave it to you. - -“Ten thousand dollars I'll give ye, if that's your wish, and you can go -to Europe as she wishes and study and make tunes for others to play. Or -if ye prefer it, I'll brand you a herd of she stock and let ye go your -ways. No son of mine can take orders from his father after he's a man -grown, and I'm not to the age where I can sit with the pipe from morning -to night and let another run my outfit. I've talked it over with your -mother, and she'll bide by your decision, as I shall do. - -“So I put it in a nutshell, Robert. You're twenty-one to-day; a man -grown, and husky as they're made. 'Tis time you faced the world and -lived your life. You've been a good lad--as lads go.” He stopped there -to rub his jaw thoughtfully, perhaps remembering certain incidents -in Buddy's full-flavored past. Buddy--grown to plain Bud among his -fellows--turned red without losing the line of hardness that had come to -his lips. - -“You're of legal age to be called a man, and the future's before ye. -I'll give ye five hundred cows with their calves beside them--you can -choose them yourself, for you've a sharp eye for stock--and you can go -where ye will. Or I'll give ye ten thousand dollars and ye can go to -Europe and make tunes if you're a mind to. And whatever ye choose it'll -be make or break with ye. Ye can sleep on the decision, for I've no wish -that ye should choose hastily and be sorry after.” - -Buddy--grown to Bud--lifted a booted foot and laid it across his other -knee and with his forefinger absently whirled the long-pointed rower on -his spur. The hardness at his lips somehow spread to his eyes, that were -bent on the whirring rower. It was the look that had come into the face -of the baby down on the Staked Plains when Ezra called and called after -he had been answered twice; the look that had held firm the lips of the -boy who had lain very flat on his stomach in the roof of the dugout and -had watched the Utes burning the cabin. - -“There's no need to sleep on it,” he said after a minute. “You've raised -me, and spent some money on me--but I've saved you a man's wages ever -since I was ten. If you think I've evened things up, all right. If you -don't, make out your bill and I'll pay it when I can. There's no reason -why you should give me anything I haven't earned, just because you're my -father. You earned all you've got, and I guess I can do the same. As you -say, I'm a man. I'll go at the future man fashion. And,” he added with a -slight flare of the nostrils, “I'll start in the morning.” - -“And is it to make tunes for other folks to play?” Bob Birnie asked after -a silence, covertly eyeing him. - -“No, sir. There's more money in cattle. I'll make my stake in the -cow-country, same as you've done.” He looked up and grinned a little. -“To the devil with your money and your she-stock! I'll get out all -right--but I'll make my own way.” - -“You're a stubborn fool, Robert. The Scotch now and then shows itself -like that in a man. I got my start from my father and I'm not ashamed of -it. A thousand pounds--and I brought it to America and to Texas, and got -cattle.” - -Bud laughed and got up, hiding how the talk had struck deep into the -soul of him. “Then I'll go you one better, dad. I'll get my own start.” - -“You'll be back home in six months, lad, saying you've changed your -mind,” Bob Birnie predicted sharply, stung by the tone of young Bud. -“That,” he added grimly, “or for a full belly and a clean bed to crawl -into.” - -Bud stood licking the cigarette he had rolled to hide an unaccountable -trembling of his fingers. “When I come back I'll be in a position to buy -you out! I'll borrow Skate and Maverick, if you don't mind, till I get -located somewhere.” He paused while he lighted the cigarette. “It's the -custom,” He reminded his father unnecessarily, “to furnish a man a horse -to ride and one to pack his bed, when he's fired.” - -“Ye've horses of yer own,” Bob Birnie retorted, “and you've no need to -borrow.” - -Bud stood looking down at his father, plainly undecided. “I don't know -whether they're mine or not,” he said after a minute. “I don't know what -it cost you to raise me. Figure it up, if you haven't already, and count -the time I've worked for you. Since you've put me on a business basis, -like raising a calf to shipping age, let's be businesslike about it. You -are good at figuring your profits--I'll leave it to you. And if you find -I've anything coming to me besides my riding outfit and the clothes I've -got, all right; I'll take horses for the balance.” - -He walked off with the swing to his shoulders that had always betrayed -him when he was angry, and Bob Birnie gathered his beard into a handful -and held it while he stared after him. It had been no part of his plan -to set his son adrift on the range without a dollar, but since Bud's -temper was up, it might be a good thing to let him go. - -So Bob Birnie went away to confer with his wife, and Bud was left alone -to nurse his hurt while he packed his few belongings. It did hurt him to -be told in that calm, cold-blooded manner that, now he was of legal age, -he would not be expected to stay on at the Tomahawk. Until his father -had spoken to him about it, Bud had not thought much about what he would -do when his school days were over. He had taken life as it was presented -to him week by week, month by month. He had fulfilled his mother's hopes -and had learned to make music. He had lived up to his father's unspoken -standards of a cowman. He had made a “Hand” ever since his legs were -long enough to reach the stirrups of a saddle. There was not a better -rider, not a better roper on the range than Bud Birnie. Morally he -was cleaner than most young fellows of his age. He hated trickery, he -reverenced all good women; the bad ones he pitied because he believed -that they sorrowed secretly because they were not good, because they -had missed somehow their real purpose in life, which was to be wife and -mother. He had, in fact grown up clean and true to type. He was Buddy, -grown to be Bud. - -And Buddy, now that he was a man, had been told that he was not expected -to stay at home and help his father, and be a comfort to his mother. He -was like a young eagle which, having grown wing-feathers that will bear -the strain of high air currents, has been pecked out of the nest. No -doubt the young eagle resents his unexpected banishment, although in -time he would have felt within himself the urge to go. Leave Bud alone, -and soon or late he would have gone--perhaps with compunctions against -leaving home, and the feeling that he was somehow a disappointment to -his parents. He would have explained to his father, apologized to his -mother. As it was, he resented the alacrity with which his father was -pushing him out. - -So he packed his clothes that night, and pushed his guitar into its case -and buckled the strap with a vicious yank, and went off to the bunkhouse -to eat supper with the boys instead of sitting down to the table where -his mother had placed certain dishes which Buddy loved best--wanting to -show in true woman fashion her love and sympathy for him. - -Later--it was after Bud had gone to bed--mother came and had a long talk -with him. She was very sweet and sensible, and Bud was very tender with -her. But she could not budge him from his determination to go and make -his way without a Birnie dollar to ease the beginning. Other men had -started with nothing and had made a stake, and there was no reason why -he could not do so. - -“Dad put it straight enough, and it's no good arguing. I'd starve before -I'd take anything from him. I'm entitled to my clothes, and maybe a -horse or two for the work I've done for him while I was growing up. I've -figured out pretty close what it cost to put me through the University, -and what I was worth to him during the summers. Father's Scotch--but -he isn't a darned bit more Scotch than I am, mother. Putting it all -in dollars and cents, I think I've earned more than I cost him. In the -winters, I know I earned my board doing chores and riding line. Many a -little bunch of stock I've saved for him by getting out in the foothills -and driving them down below heavy snowline before a storm. You remember -the bunch of horses I found by watching the magpies--the time we tied -hay in canvas and took it up to them 'til they got strength enough to -follow the trail I trampled in the snow? I earned my board and more, -every winter since I was ten. So I don't believe I owe dad a cent, when -it's all figured out. - -“But you've done for me what money can't repay, mother. I'll always be -in debt to you--and I'll square it by being the kind of a man you've -tried to teach me to be. I will, mother. Dad and the dollars are a -different matter. The debt I owe you will never be paid, but I'm going -to make you glad I know there's a debt. I believe there's a God, because -I know there must have been one to make you! And no matter how far away -I may drift in miles, your Buddy is going to be here with you always, -mother, learning from you all there is of goodness and sweetness.” He -held her two hands against his face, and she felt his cheeks wet beneath -her palms. Then he took them away and kissed them many times, like a -lover. - -“If I ever have a wife, she's going to have her work cut out for her,” - He laughed unsteadily. “She'll have to live up to you, mother, if she -wants me to love her.” - -“If you have a wife she'll be well-spoiled, young man! Perhaps it is -wise that you should go--but don't you forget your music, Buddy--and be -a good boy, and remember, mother's going to follow you with her love and -her faith in you, and her prayers.” - -It may have been that Buddy's baby memory of going north whenever the -trail herd started remained to send Bud instinctively northward when he -left the Tomahawk next morning. It had been a case of stubborn father -and stubborn son dickering politely over the net earnings of the son -from the time when he was old enough to leave his mother's lap and climb -into a saddle to ride with his father. Three horses and his personal -belongings had been agreed upon between them as the balance in Bud's -favor; and at that, Bob Birnie dryly remarked, he had been a better -investment as a son than most young fellows, who cost more than they -were worth to raise. - -Bud did not answer the implied praise, but roped the Tomahawk's best -three horses out of the REMUDA corralled for him by his father's riders. -You should have seen the sidelong glances among the boys when they -learned that Bud, just home from the University, was going somewhere -with all his earthly possessions and a look in his face that meant -trouble! - -Two big valises and his blankets he packed on Sunfish, a deceptively -raw-boned young buckskin with much white showing in his eyes--an ornery -looking brute if ever there was one. Bud's guitar and a mandolin in -their cases he tied securely on top of the pack. Smoky, the second -horse, a deep-chested “mouse” with a face almost human in its -expression, he saddled, and put a lead rope on the third, a bay -four-year-old called Stopper, which was the Tomahawk's best rope-horse -and one that would be missed when fast work was wanted in branding. - -“He sure as hell picked himself three top hawses,” a tall puncher -murmured to another. “Wonder where he's headed for? Not repping--this -late in the season.” - -Bud overheard them, and gave no sign. Had they asked him directly he -could not have told them, for he did not know, except that somehow -he felt that he was going to head north. Why north, he could not have -explained, since cow-country lay all around him; nor how far north,--for -cow-country extended to the upper boundary of the States, and beyond -into Canada. - -He left his horses standing by the corral while he went to the house to -tell his mother good-by, and to send a farewell message to Dulcie, -who had been married a year and lived in Laramie. He did not expect to -strike Laramie, he told his mother when she asked him. - -“I'm going till I stop,” He explained, with a squeeze of her shoulders -to reassure her. “I guess it's the way you felt, mother, when you left -Texas behind. You couldn't tell where you folks would wind up. Neither -can I. My trail herd is kinda small, right now; a lot smaller than it -will be later on. But such as it is, it's going to hit the right range -before it stops for good. And I'll write.” - -He took a doughnut in his hand and a package of lunch to slip in his -pocket, kissed her with much cheerfulness in his manner and hurried out, -his big-rowelled spurs burring on the porch just twice before he stepped -off on the gravel. Telling mother good-by had been the one ordeal he -dreaded, and he was glad to have it over with. - -Old Step-and-a-Half hailed him as he went past the chuck-house, and came -limping out, wiping his hands on his apron before he shook hands and -wished him good luck. Ezra, pottering around the tool shed, ambled up -with the eyes of a dog that has been sent back home by his master. -“Ah shoah do wish yo' all good fawtune an' health, Marse Buddy,” Ezra -quavered. “Ah shoah do. It ain' goin' seem lak de same place--and Ah -shoah do hopes yo' all writes frequent lettahs to yo' mothah, boy!” - -Bud promised that he would, and managed to break away from Ezra without -betraying himself. How, he wondered, did everyone seem to know that he -was going for good, this time? He had believed that no one knew of it -save himself, his father and his mother; yet everyone else behaved as -if they never expected to see him again. It was disconcerting, and Bud -hastily untied the two led horses and mounted Smoky, the mouse-colored -horse he himself had broken two years before. - -His father came slowly up to him, straight-backed and with the gait of -the man who has ridden astride a horse more than he has walked on his -own feet. He put up his hand, gloved for riding, and Bud changed the -lead-ropes from his right hand to his left, and shook hands rather -formally. - -“Ye've good weather for travelling,” said Bob Birnie tentatively. “I -have not said it before, lad, but when ye own yourself a fool to take -this way of making your fortune, ten thousand dollars will still be -ready to start ye right. I've no wish to shirk a duty to my family.” - -Bud pressed his lips together while he listened. “If you keep your ten -thousand till it's called for, you'll be drawing interest a long time on -it,” He said. “It's going to be hot to-day. I'll be getting along.” - -He lifted the reins, glanced back to see that the two horses were -showing the proper disposition to follow, and rode off down the -deep-rutted road that followed up the creek to the pass where he had -watched the Utes dancing the war dance one night that he remembered -well. If he winced a little at the familiar landmarks he passed, -he still held fast to the determination to go, and to find fortune -somewhere along the trail of his own making; and to ask help from no -man, least of all his father who had told him to go. - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN: BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE - -“I don't think it matters so much where we light, it's what we do when -we get there,” said Bud to Smoky, his horse, one day as they stopped -where two roads forked at the base of a great, outstanding peak that was -but the point of a mountain range. “This trail straddles the butte and -takes on up two different valleys. It's all cow-country--so what do yuh -say, Smoke? Which trail looks the best to you?” - -Smoky flopped one ear forward and the other one back, and switched at a -pestering fly. Behind him Sunfish and Stopper waited with the patience -they had learned in three weeks of continuous travel over country that -was rough in spots, barren in places, with wind and sun and occasional, -sudden thunderstorms to punctuate the daily grind of travel. - -Bud drew a half dollar from his pocket and regarded it meditatively. -“They're going fast--we'll just naturally have to stop pretty soon, or -we don't eat,” He observed. “Smoke, you're a quitter. What you want to -do is go back--but you won't get the chance. Heads, we take the right -hand trail. I like it better, anyway--it angles more to the north.” - -Heads it was, and Bud leaned from the saddle and recovered the coin, -Smoky turning his head to regard his rider tolerantly. “Right hand -goes--and we camp at the first good water and grass. I can grain the -three of you once more before we hit a town, and that goes for me, too. -G'wan, Smoke, and don't act so mournful.” - -Smoky went on, following the trail that wound in and out around the -butte, hugging close its sheer sides to avoid a fifty-foot drop into the -creek below. It was new country--Bud had never so much as seen a map -of it to give him a clue to what was coming. The last turn of the -deep-rutted, sandy road where it left the river's bank and led straight -between two humpy shoulders of rock to the foot of a platter-shaped -valley brought him to a halt again in sheer astonishment. - -From behind a low hill still farther to the right, where the road forked -again, a bluish haze of smoke indicated that there was a town of -some sort, perhaps. Farther up the valley a brownish cloud hung low-a -roundup, Bud knew at a glance. He hesitated. The town, if it were a -town, could wait; the roundup might not. And a job he must have soon, or -go hungry. He turned and rode toward the dust-cloud, came shortly to a -small stream and a green grass-plot, and stopped there long enough to -throw the pack off Sunfish, unsaddle Smoky and stake them both out to -graze. Stopper he saddled, then knelt and washed his face, beat the -travel dust off his hat, untied his rope and coiled it carefully, -untied his handkerchief and shook it as clean as he could and knotted it -closely again. One might have thought he was preparing to meet a girl; -but the habit of neatness dated back to his pink-apron days and beyond, -the dirt and dust meant discomfort. - -When he mounted Stopper and loped away toward the dust-cloud, he rode -hopefully, sure of himself, carrying his range credentials in his eyes, -in his perfect saddle-poise, in the tan on his face to his eyebrows, and -the womanish softness of his gloved hands, which had all the sensitive -flexibility of a musician. - -His main hope was that the outfit was working short-handed; and when he -rode near enough to distinguish the herd and the riders, he grinned his -satisfaction. - -“Good cow-country, by the look of that bunch of cattle,” He observed -to himself. “And eight men is a small crew to work a herd that size. I -guess I'll tie onto this outfit. Stopper, you'll maybe get a chance to -turn a cow this afternoon.” - -Just how soon the chance would come, Bud had not realized. He had no -more than come within shouting distance of the herd when a big, rollicky -steer broke from the milling cattle and headed straight out past him, -running like a deer. Stopper, famed and named for his prowess with just -such cattle, wheeled in his tracks and lengthened his stride to a run. - -“Tie 'im down!” someone yelled behind Bud. And “Catch 'im and tie 'im -down!” shouted another. - -For answer Bud waved his hand, and reached in his pocket for his knife. -Stopper was artfully circling the steer, forcing it back toward the -herd, and in another hundred yards or so Bud must throw his loop He -sliced off a saddle-string and took it between his teeth, jerked his -rope loose, flipped open the loop as Stopper raced up alongside, dropped -the noose neatly, and took his turns while Stopper planted his forefeet -and braced himself for the shock. Bud's right leg was over the cantle, -all his weight on the left stirrup when the jerk came and the steer fell -with a thump. By good luck--so Bud afterwards asserted--he was off and -had the steer tied before it had recovered its breath to scramble up. -He remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while he went -jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him. - -If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have received a -shock. Other riders had left their posts and were edging up to hear -what happened, and Bud reined up in astonishment before the most amazing -string of unseemly epithets he had ever heard. It began with: “What'd -you throw that critter for?”--which of course is putting it mildly--and -ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to another's face and -expect anything but trouble afterwards. - -Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, and -dismounted. “Get off your horse and take the damnedest licking you ever -had in your life, for that!” He invited vengefully. “You told me to -tie down that steer, and I tied him down. You've got no call to -complain--and there isn't a man on earth I'll take that kinda talk -from. Crawl down, you parrot-faced cow-eater--and leave your gun on the -saddle.” - -The man remained where he was and looked Bud over uncertainly. “Who are -you, and where'd yuh come from?” he demanded more calmly. “I never saw -yuh before.” - -“Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!” Bud snapped. -“If I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You called me something! -Get off that horse or I'll pull you off!” - -“Aw, yuh don't want to mind--” began a tall, lean man pacifically; but -he of the high nose stopped him with a wave of the hand, his eyes still -measuring the face, the form and the fighting spirit of one Bud Birnie, -standing with his coat off, quivering with rage. - -“I guess I'm in the wrong, young fellow--I DID holler 'Tie 'im down.' -But if you'd ever been around this outfit any you 'd have known I didn't -mean it literal.” He stopped and suddenly he laughed. “I've been yellin' -'Tie 'im down' for two years and more, when a critter breaks outa the -bunch, and nobody was ever fool enough to tackle it before. It's just a -sayin' we've got, young man. We--” - -“What about the name you called me?” Bud was still advancing slowly, not -much appeased by the explanation. “I don't give a darn about the steer. -You said tie him, and he's tied. But when you call me--” - -“My mistake, young feller. When I get riled up I don't pick my words.” - He eyed Bud sharply. “You're mighty quick to obey orders,” He added -tentatively. - -“I was brought up to do as I'm told,” Bud retorted stiffly. “Any -objections to make?” - -“Not one in the world. Wish there was more like yuh. You ain't been in -these parts long?” His tone made a question of the statement. - -“Not right here.” Bud had no reason save his temper for not giving -more explicit information, but Bart Nelson--as Bud knew him -afterwards--continued to study him as if he suspected a blotched past. - -“Hunh. That your horse?” - -“I've got a bill of sale for him.” - -“You don't happen to be wanting a job, I s'pose?” - -“I wouldn't refuse to take one.” And then the twinkle came back to Bud's -eyes, because all at once the whole incident struck him as being rather -funny. “I'd want a boss that expected to have his orders carried out, -though. I lack imagination, and I never did try to read a man's mind. -What he says he'd better mean--when he says it to me.” - -Bart Nelson gave a short laugh, turned and sent his riders back to their -work with oaths tingling their ears. Bud judged that cursing was his -natural form of speech. - -“Go let up that steer, and I'll put you to work,” he said to Bud -afterwards. “That's a good rope horse you're riding. If you want to use -him, and if you can hold up to that little sample of roping yuh gave -us, I'll pay yuh sixty a month. And that's partly for doing what you're -told,” he added with a quick look into Bud's eyes. “You didn't say where -you're from----” - -“I was born and raised in cow-country, and nobody's looking for me,” - Bud informed him over his shoulder while he remounted, and let it go at -that. From southern Wyoming to Idaho was too far, he reasoned, to make -it worth while stating his exact place of residence. If they had never -heard of the Tomahawk outfit it would do no good to name it. If they had -heard of it, they would wonder why the son of so rich a cowman as Bob -Birnie should be hiring out as a common cowpuncher so far from home. He -had studied the matter on his way north, and had decided to let people -form their own conclusions. If he could not make good without the name -of Bob Birnie behind him, the sooner he found it out the better. - -He untied the steer, drove it back into the herd and rode over to where -the high-nosed man was helping hold the “Cut.” - -“Can you read brands? We're cuttin' out AJ and AJBar stuff; left -ear-crop on the AJ, and undercut on the AJBar.” - -Bud nodded and eased into the herd, spied an AJ two-year-old and urged -it toward the outer edge, smiling to himself when he saw how Stopper -kept his nose close to the animal's rump. Once in the milling fringe of -the herd, Stopper nipped it into the open, rushed it to the cut herd, -wheeled and went back of his own accord. From the corner of his eye, as -he went, Bud saw that Bart Nelson and one or two others were watching -him. They continued to eye him covertly while he worked the herd with -two other men. He was glad that he had not travelled far that day, -and that he had ridden Smoky and left Stopper fresh and eager for his -favorite pastime, which was making cattle do what they particularly did -not want to do. In that he was adept, and it pleased Bud mightily to see -how much attention Stopper was attracting. - -Not once did it occur to him that it might be himself who occupied the -thoughts of his boss. Buddy--afterwards Bud--had lived his whole life -among friends, his only enemies the Indians who preyed upon the cowmen. -White men he had never learned to distrust, and to be distrusted had -never been his portion. He had always been Bud Birnie, son and heir of -Bob Birnie, as clean-handed a cattle king as ever recorded a brand. Even -at the University his position had been accepted without question. That -the man he mentally called Parrotface was puzzled and even worried about -him was the last thing he would think of. - -But it was true. Bart Nelson watched Bud, that afternoon. A man might -ride up to Bart and assert that he was an old hand with cattle, and Bart -would say nothing, but set him to work, as he had Bud. Then he would -know just how old a “Hand” the fellow was. Fifteen minutes convinced -him that Bud had “growed up in the saddle”, as he would have put it. But -that only mystified him the more. Bart knew the range, and he knew every -man in the country, from Burroback Valley, which was this great valley's -name, to the Black Rim, beyond the mountain range, and beyond the Black -Rim to the Sawtooth country. He knew their ways and he knew their past -records. - -He knew that this young fellow came from farther ranges, and he would -have been at a loss to explain just how he knew it. He would have said -that Bud did not have the “earmarks” of an Idaho rider. Furthermore, the -small Tomahawk brand on the left flank of the horse Bud rode was totally -unknown to Bart. Yet the horse did not bear the marks of long riding. -Bud himself looked as if he had just ridden out from some nearby -ranch--and he had refused to say where he was from. - -Bart swore under his breath and beckoned to him a droopy-mustached, -droopy-shouldered rider who was circling the herd in a droopy, -spiritless manner and chewing tobacco with much industry. - -“Dirk, you know brands from the Panhandle to Cypress Hills. What d' yuh -make of that horse? Where does he come from?” Bart stopped abruptly and -rode forward then to receive and drive farther back a galloping AJBar -cow which Bud and Stopper had just hazed out of the herd. Dirk squinted -at Stopper's brand which showed cleanly in the glossy, new hair of early -summer. He spat carefully with the wind and swung over to meet his boss -when the cow was safely in the cut herd. - -“New one on me, Bart. They's a hatchet brand over close to Jackson's -Hole, somewhere. Where'd the kid say he was from?” - -“He wouldn't say, but he's a sure-enough cowhand.” - -“That there horse ain't been rode down on no long journey,” Dirk -volunteered after further scrutiny. And he added with the unconscious -impertinence of an old and trusted employee, “Yuh goin' to put him on?” - -“Already done it--sixty a month,” Bart confided. “That'll bring out -what's in him; he's liable to turn out good for the outfit. Showed he'll -do what he's told first, and think it over afterwards. I like that there -trait in a man.” - -Dirk pulled his droopy mustache away from his lips as if he wanted to -make sure that his smile would show; though it was not a pretty smile, -on account of his tobacco-stained teeth. - -“'S your fun'ral, Bart. I'd say he's from Jackson's Hole, on a rough -guess--but I wouldn't presume to guess what he's here fur. Mebby he come -across from Black Rim. I can find out, if you say so.” - -Bud was weaving in and out through the herd, scanning the animals -closely. While the two talked he singled out a yearling heifer, let -Stopper nose it out beyond the bunch and drove it close to the boss. - -“Better look that one over,” He called out. “One way, it looks like AJ, -and another way I couldn't name it. And the ear looks as if about half -of it had been frozen off. Didn't want to run it into the cut until you -passed on it.” - -Bart looked first at Bud, and he looked hard. Then he rode over and -inspected the yearling, Dirk close at his heels. - -“Throw 'er back with the bunch,” He ordered. - -“That finishes the cut, then,” Bud announced, rubbing his hand along -Stopper's sweaty neck. “I kept passing this critter up, and I guess the -other boys did the same. But it's the last one, and I thought I'd run -her out for you to look over.” - -Bart grunted. “Dirk, you take a look and see if they've got 'em all. And -you, Kid, can help haze the cut up the Flat--the boys'll show you what -to do.” - -Bud, remembering Smoky and Sunfish and his camp, hesitated. “I've got -a camp down here by the creek,” He said. “If it's all the same to you, -I'll report for work in the morning, if you'll tell me where to head -for. And I'll have to arrange somehow to pasture my horses; I've got a -couple more at camp.” - -Bart studied him for a minute, and Bud thought he was going to change -his mind about the job, or the sixty dollars a month. But Bart merely -told him to ride on up the Flat next morning, and take the first trail -that turned to the left. “The Muleshoe ranch is up there agin that pine -mountain,” he explained. “Bring along your outfit. I guess we can take -care of a couple of horses, all right.” - -That suited Bud very well, and he rode away thinking how lucky he was to -have taken the right fork in the road, that day. He had ridden straight -into a job, and while he was not very enthusiastic over the boss, the -other boys seemed all right, and the wages were a third more than he -had expected to get just at first. It was the first time, he reminded -himself, that he had been really tempted to locate, and he certainly had -struck it lucky. - -He did not know that when he left the roundup his going had been -carefully noted, and that he was no sooner out of sight than Dirk Tracy -was riding cautiously on his trail. While he fed his horses the last bit -of grain he had, and cooked his supper over what promised to be his last -camp-fire, he did not dream that the man with the droopy mustache was -lying amongst the bushes on the other bank of the creek, watching every -move he made. - -He meant to be up before daylight so that he could strike the ranch -of the Muleshoe outfit in time for breakfast, wherefore he went to bed -before the afterglow had left the mountain-tops around him. And being -young and carefree and healthfully weary, he was asleep and snoring -gently within five minutes of his last wriggle into his blankets. But -Dirk Tracy watched him for fully two hours before he decided that the -kid was not artfully pretending, but was really asleep and likely to -remain so for the night. - -Dirk was an extremely cautious man, but he was also tired, and the cold -food he had eaten in place of a hot supper had not been satisfying to -his stomach. He crawled carefully out of the brush, stole up the creek -to where he had left his horse, and rode away. - -He was not altogether sure that he had done his full duty to the -Muleshoe, but it was against human nature for a man nearing forty to -lie uncovered in the brush, and let a numerous family of mosquitoes feed -upon him while he listened to a young man snoring comfortably in a good -camp bed a hundred feet away. - -Dirk, because his conscience was not quite clear, slept in the stable -that night and told his boss a lie next morning. - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT: THE MULESHOE - -The riders of the Muleshoe outfit were eating breakfast when Bud rode -past the long, low-roofed log cabin to the corral which stood nearest -the clutter of stables and sheds. He stopped there and waited to see if -his new boss was anywhere in sight and would come to tell him where to -unpack his belongings. A sandy complexioned young man with red eyelids -and no lashes presently emerged from the stable and came toward him, -his mouth sagging loosely open, his eye; vacuous. He was clad in faded -overalls turned up a foot at the bottom and showing frayed, shoddy -trousers beneath and rusty, run-down shoes that proved he was not a -rider. His hat was peppered with little holes, as if someone had fired a -charge of birdshot at him and had all but bagged him. - -The youth's eyes became fixed upon the guitar and mandolin cases roped -on top of Sunfish's pack, and he pointed and gobbled something which had -the sound speech without being intelligible. Bud cocked an ear toward -him inquiringly, made nothing of the jumble and rode off to the cabin, -leading Sunfish after him. The fellow might or might not be the idiot he -looked, and he might or might not keep his hands off the pack. Bud was -not going to take any chance. - -He heard sounds within the cabin, but no one appeared until he shouted, -“Hello!” twice. The door opened then and Bart Nelson put out his head, -his jaws working over a mouthful of food that seemed tough. - -“Oh, it's you. C'm awn in an' eat,” he invited, and Bud dismounted, -never guessing that his slightest motion had been carefully observed -from the time he had forded the creek at the foot of the slope beyond -the cabin. - -Bart introduced him to the men by the simple method of waving his hand -at the group around the table and saying, “Guess you know the boys. -What'd yuh say we could call yuh?” - -“Bud--ah--Birnie,” Bud answered, swiftly weighing the romantic idea of -using some makeshift name until he had made his fortune, and deciding -against it. A false name might mean future embarrassment, and he was so -far from home that his father would never hear of him anyway. But his -hesitation served to convince every man there that Birnie was not his -name, and that he probably had good cause for concealing his own. Adding -that to Dirk Tracy's guess that he was from Jackson's Hole, the sum -spelled outlaw. - -The Muleshoe boys were careful not to seem curious about Bud's past. -They even refrained from manifesting too much interest in the musical -instruments until Bud himself took them out of their cases that evening -and began tuning them. Then the half-baked, tongue-tied fellow came over -and gobbled at him eagerly. - -“Hen wants yuh to play something,” a man they called Day interpreted. -“Hen's loco on music. If you can sing and play both, Hen'll set and -listen till plumb daylight and never move an eyewinker.” - -Bud looked up, smiled a little because Hen had no eyewinkers to move, -and suddenly felt pity because a man could be so altogether unlikeable -as Hen. Also because his mother's face stood vividly before him for -an instant, leaving him with a queer tightening of the throat and -the feeling that he had been rebuked. He nodded to Hen, laid down the -mandolin and picked up the guitar, turned up the a string a bit, laid -a booted and spurred foot across the other knee, plucked a minor chord -sonorously and began abruptly: - -“Yo' kin talk about you coons a-havin' trouble--Well, Ah think Ah have -enough-a of mah oh-own--” - -Hen's high-pointed Adam's apple slipped up and down in one great gulp of -ecstasy. He eased slowly down upon the edge of the bunk beside Bud and -gazed at him fascinatedly, his lashless eyes never winking, his jaw -dropped so that his mouth hung half open. Day nudged Dirk Tracy, who -parted his droopy mustache and smiled his unlovely smile, lowering his -left eyelid unnecessarily at Bud. The dimple in Bud's chin wrinkled as -he bent his head and plunked the interlude with a swing that set spurred -boots tapping the floor rhythmically. - -“Bart, he's went and hired a show-actor, looks like.” Dirk confided -behind his hand to Shorty McGuire. “That's real singin', if yuh ask me!” - -“Shut up!” grunted Shorty, and prodded Dirk into silence so that he -would miss none of the song. - -Since Buddy had left the pink-apron stage of his adventurous life behind -him, singing songs to please other people had been as much a part of his -life as riding and roping and eating and sleeping. He had always sung or -played or danced when he was asked to do so--accepting without question -his mother's doctrine that it was unkind and ill-bred to refuse when he -really could do those things well, because on the cattle ranges indoor -amusements were few, and those who could furnish real entertainment were -fewer. Even at the University, coon songs and Irish songs and love songs -had been his portion; wherefore his repertoire seemed endless, and if -folks insisted upon it he could sing from dark to dawn, providing his -voice held out. - -Hen sat with his big-jointed hands hanging loosely over his knees and -listened, stared at Bud and grinned vacuously when one song was done, -gulped his Adam's apple and listened again as raptly to the next one. -The others forgot all about having fun watching Hen, and named old -favorites and new ones, heard them sung inimitably and called for more. -At midnight Bud blew on his blistered fingertips and shook the guitar -gently, bottom-side up. - -“I guess that's all the music there is in the darned thing to-night,” he -lamented. “She's made to keep time, and she always strikes, along about -midnight.” - -“Huh-huh!” chortled Hen convulsively, as if he understood the joke. He -closed his mouth and sighed deeply, as one who has just wakened from a -trance. - -After that, Hen followed Bud around like a pet dog, and found time -between stable chores to groom those astonished horses, Stopper and -Smoky and Sunfish, as if they were stall-kept thoroughbreds. He had them -coming up to the pasture gate every day for the few handfuls of grain he -purloined for them, and their sleekness was a joy to behold. - -“Hen, he's adopted yuh, horses and all, looks like,” Dirk observed one -day to Bud when they were riding together. And he tempered the statement -by adding that Hen was trusty enough, even if he didn't have as much -sense as the law allows. “He sure is takin' care of them cayuses of -your'n. D'you tell him to?” - -Bud came out of a homesick revery and looked at him inquiringly. “No, I -didn't tell him anything.” - -“I believe that, all right,” Dirk retorted. “You don't go around tellin' -all yuh know. I like that in a feller. A man never got into trouble -yet by keepin' his mouth shut; but there's plenty that have talked -themselves into the pen. Me, I've got no use for a talker.” - -Bud sent him a sidelong glance of inquiry, and Dirk caught him at it and -grinned. - -“Yuh been here a month, and you ain't said a damn word about where you -come from or anything further back than throwin' and tyin' that critter. -You said cow-country, and that has had to do some folks that might be -curious. Well, she's a tearin' big place--cow-country. She runs from -Canady to Mexico, and from the corn belt to the Pacific Ocean, mighty -near takes in Jackson's Hole, and a lot uh country I know.” He parted -his mustache and spat carefully into the sand. “I'm willin' to tie to a -man, specially a young feller, that can play the game the way you been -playin' it, Bud. Most always,” he complained vaguely, “they carry -their brand too damn main. They either pull their hats down past their -eyebrows and give everybody the bad eye, or else they're too damn ready -to lie about themselves. You throw in with the boys just fine--but you -ain't told a one of 'em where you come from, ner why, ner nothin'.” - -“I'm here because I'm here,” Bud chanted softly, his eyes stubborn even -while he smiled at Dirk. - -“I know--yuh sung that the first night yuh come, and yuh looked straight -at the boss all the while you was singin' it,” Dirk interrupted, and -laughed slyly. “The boys, they took that all in, too. And Bart, he -wasn't asleep, neither. You sure are smooth as they make 'em, Bud. I -guess,” he leaned closer to predict confidentially, “you've just about -passed the probation time, young feller. If I know the signs, the boss -is gittin' ready to raise yuh.” - -He looked at Bud rather sharply. Instantly the training of Buddy rose -within Bud. His memory flashed back unerringly to the day when he had -watched that Indian gallop toward the river, and had sneered because the -Indian evidently expected him to follow into the undergrowth. - -Dirk Tracy did not in the least resemble an Indian, nor did his rambling -flattery bear any likeness to a fleeing enemy; yet it was plain enough -that he was trying in a bungling way to force Bud's confidence, and for -that reason Bud stared straight ahead and said nothing. - -He did not remember having sung that particular ditty during his first -evening at the Muleshoe, nor of staring at the boss while he sung. He -might have done both, he reflected; he had sung one song after another -for about four hours that night, and unless he sang with his eyes shut -he would have to look somewhere. That it should be taken by the -whole outfit as a broad hint to ask no questions seemed to him rather -farfetched. - -Nor did he see why Dirk should compliment him on keeping his mouth -shut, or call him smooth. He did not know that he had been on probation, -except perhaps as that applied to his ability as a cow-hand. And he -could see no valid reason why the boss should contemplate “raising” him. -So far, he had been doing no more than the rest of the boys, except -when there was roping to be done and he and Stopper were called upon -to distinguish themselves by fast rope-work, with never a miss. Sixty -dollars a month was as good pay as he had any right to expect. - -Dirk, he decided, had given him one good tip which he would follow at -once. Dirk had said that no man ever got into trouble by keeping his -mouth shut. Bud closed his for a good half hour, and when he opened it -again he undid all the good he had accomplished by his silence. - -“Where does that trail go, that climbs up over the mountains back of -that peak?” he asked. “Seems to be a stock trail. Have you got grazing -land beyond the mountains?” - -Dirk took time to pry off a fresh chew of tobacco before he replied. -“You mean Thunder Pass? That there crosses over into the Black Rim -country. Yeah--There's a big wide range country over there, but we don't -run any stock on it. Burroback Valley's big enough for the Muleshoe.” - -Bud rolled a cigarette. “I didn't mean that main trail; that's a wagon -road, and Thunder Pass cuts through between Sheepeater peak and this one -ahead of us--Gospel, you call it. What I referred to is that blind trail -that takes off up the canyon behind the corrals, and crosses into the -mountains the other side of Gospel.” - -Dirk eyed him. “I dunno 's I could say, right offhand, what trail yuh -mean,” he parried. “Every canyon 's got a trail that runs up a ways, and -there's canyons all through the mountains; they all lead up to water, or -feed, or something like that, and then quit, most gen'rally; jest peter -out, like.” And he added with heavy sarcasm, “A feller that's lived -on the range oughta know what trails is for, and how they're made. -Cowcritters are curious-same as humans.” - -To this Bud did not reply. He was smoking and staring at the brushy -lower slopes of the mountain ridge before them. He had explained quite -fully which trail he meant. It was, as he had said, a “blind” trail; -that is, the trail lost itself in the creek which watered a string of -corrals. Moreover, Bud had very keen eyes, and he had seen how a panel -of the corral directly across the shale-rock bed of a small stream was -really a set of bars. The round pole corral lent itself easily to hidden -gateways, without any deliberate attempt at disguising their presence. - -The string of four corrals running from this upper one--which, -he remembered, was not seen from nearer the stables-was perhaps a -convenient arrangement in the handling of stock, although it was -unusual. The upper corral had been built to fit snugly into a rocky -recess in the base of the peak called Gospel. It was larger than some -of the others, since it followed the contour of the basin-like recess. -Access to it was had from the fourth corral (which from the ranch -appeared to be the last) and from the creekbed that filled the narrow -mouth of the canyon behind. - -Dirk might not have understood him, Bud thought. He certainly should -have recognized at once the trail Bud meant, for there was no other -canyon back of the corrals, and even that one was not apparent to one -looking at the face of the steep slope. Stock had been over that canyon -trail within the last month or so, however; and Bud's inference that the -Muleshoe must have grazing ground across the mountains was natural; the -obvious explanation of its existence. - -“How 'd you come to be explorin' around Gospel, anyway?” Dirk quizzed -finally. “A person'd think, short-handed as the Muleshoe is this spring, -'t you'd git all the ridin' yuh want without prognosticatin' around -aimless.” - -Now Bud was not a suspicious young man, and he had been no more than -mildly inquisitive about that trail. But neither was he a fool; he -caught the emphasis which Dirk had placed on the word aimless, and his -thoughts paused and took another look at Dirk's whole conversation. -There was something queer about it, something which made Bud sheer off -from his usual unthinking assurance that things were just what they -seemed. - -Immediately, however, he laughed--at himself as well as at Dirk. - -“We've been feeding on sour bread and warmed-over coffee ever since the -cook disappeared and Bart put Hen in the kitchen,” he said. “If I were -you, Dirk, I wouldn't blister my hands shovelling that grub into myself -for a while. You're bilious, old-timer. No man on earth would talk the -way you've been talking to-day unless his whole digestive apparatus were -out of order.” - -Dirk spat angrily at a dead sage bush. “They shore as hell wouldn't talk -the kinda talk you've been talkie' unless they was a born fool or else -huntin' trouble,” he retorted venomously. - -“The doctor said I'd be that way if I lived,” Bud grinned, amiably, -although his face had flushed at Dirk's tone. “He said it wouldn't hurt -me for work.” - -“Yeah--and what kinda work?” Dirk rode so close that his horse -shouldered Bud's leg discomfortingly. “I been edgin' yuh along to see -what-f'r brand yuh carried. And I've got ye now, you damned snoopin' -kioty. Bart, he hired yuh to work-and not to go prowling around lookin' -up trails that ain't there--” - -“You're a dim-brand reader, I don't think! Why you--!” - -Oh, well--remember that Bud was only Buddy grown bigger, and he had -never lacked the spirit to look out for himself. Remember, too, that -he must have acquired something of a vocabulary, in the course -of twenty-one years of absorbing everything that came within his -experience. - -Dirk reached for his gun, but Bud was expecting that. Dirk was not quite -quick enough, and his hand therefore came forward with a jerk when he -saw that he was “covered.” Bud leaned, pulled Dirk's six-shooter from -its holster and sent it spinning into a clump of bushes. He snatched a -wicked-looking knife from Dirk's boot where he had once seen Dirk slip -it sheathed when he dressed in the bunk-house, and sent that after the -gun. - -“Now, you long-eared walrus, you're in a position to play fair. What are -you going to do about it?” He reined away, out of Dirk's reach, took his -handkerchief and wrapped his own gun tightly to protect it from sand, -and threw it after Dirk's gun and the knife. “Am I a snooping coyote?” - he demanded watching Dirk. - -“You air. More 'n all that, you're a damned spy! And I kin lick yuh an' -lass' yuh an' lead yuh to Bart like a sheep!” - -They dismounted, left their horses to stand with reins dropped, threw -off their coats and fought until they were too tired to land another -blow. There were no fatalities. Bud did not come out of the fray -unscathed and proudly conscious of his strength and his skill and the -unquestionable righteousness of his cause. Instead he had three bruised -knuckles and a rapidly swelling ear, and when his anger had cooled a -little he felt rather foolish and wondered what had started them off -that way. They had ridden away from the ranch in a very good humor, and -he had harbored no conscious dislike of Dirk Tracy, who had been one -individual of a type of rangemen which he had known all his life and had -accepted as a matter of course. - -Dirk, on his part, had some trouble in stopping the bleeding of his -nose, and by the time he reached the ranch his left eye was closed -completely. He was taller and heavier than Bud, and he had not expected -such a slugging strength behind Bud's blows. - -He was badly shaken, and when Bud recovered the two guns and the knife -and returned his weapons to him, Dirk was half tempted to shoot. But he -did not--perhaps because Bud had unwrapped his own six-shooter and -was looking it over with the muzzle slanting a wicked eye in Dirk's -direction. - -Late that afternoon, when the boys were loafing around the cabin waiting -for their early supper, Bud packed his worldly goods on Sunfish and -departed from the Muleshoe--“by special request”, he admitted to -himself ruefully--with his wages in gold and silver in his pocket and no -definite idea of what he would do next. - -He wished he knew exactly why Bart had fired him. He did not believe -that it was for fighting, as Bart had declared. He thought that perhaps -Dirk Tracy had some hold on the Muleshoe not apparent to the outsider, -and that he had lied about him to Bart as a sneaking kind of revenge -for being whipped. But that explanation did not altogether satisfy him, -either. - -In his month at the Muleshoe he had gained a very fair general idea of -the extent and resources of Burroback Valley, but he had not made any -acquaintances and he did not know just where to go for his next job. So -for want of something better, he rode down to the little stream which he -now knew was called One Creek, and prepared to spend the night there. -In the morning he would make a fresh start--and because of the streak of -stubbornness he had, he meant to make it in Burroback Valley, under the -very nose of the Muleshoe outfit. - - - -CHAPTER NINE: LITTLE LOST - -Little Lost--somehow the name appealed to Bud, whose instinct for -harmony extended to words and phrases and, for that matter, to -everything in the world that was beautiful. From the time when he first -heard Little Lost mentioned, he had felt a vague regret that chance had -not led him there instead of to the Muleshoe. Brands he had heard all -his life as the familiar, colloquial names for ranch headquarters. The -Muleshoe was merely a brand name. Little Lost was something else, -and because Buddy had been taught to “wait and find out” and to ask -questions only as a last resort, Bud was still in ignorance of the -meaning of Little Lost. He knew, from careless remarks made in his -presence, that the mail came to Little Lost, and that there was some -sort of store where certain everyday necessities were kept, for which -the store-keeper charged “two prices.” But there was also a ranch, for -he sometimes heard the boys mention the Little Lost cattle, and speak of -some man as a rider for the Little Lost. - -So to Little Lost Bud rode blithely next morning, riding Stopper and -leading Smoky, Sunfish and the pack following as a matter of course. -Again his trained instinct served him faithfully. He had a very good -general idea of Burroback Valley, he knew that the Muleshoe occupied a -fair part of the south side, and guessed that he must ride north, toward -the Gold Gap Mountains, to find the place he wanted. - -The trail was easy, his horses were as fat as was good for them. In -two hours of riding at his usual trail pace he came upon another stream -which he knew must be Sunk Creek grown a little wider and deeper in its -journey down the valley. He forded that with a great splashing, climbed -the farther bank, followed a stubby, rocky bit of road that wound -through dense willow and cottonwood growth, came out into a humpy meadow -full of ant hills, gopher holes and soggy wet places where the water -grass grew, crossed that and followed the road around a brushy ridge and -found himself squarely confronting Little Lost. - -There could be no mistake, for “Little Lost Post Office” was unevenly -painted on the high cross-bar of the gate that stood wide open and -permanently warped with long sagging. There was a hitch-rail outside the -gate, and Bud took the hint and left his horses there. From the wisps -of fresh hay strewn along the road, Bud knew that haying had begun at -Little Lost. There were at least four cabins and a somewhat pretentious, -story-and-a-half log house with vines reaching vainly to the high window -sills, and coarse lace curtains. One of these curtains moved slightly, -and Bud's sharp eyes detected the movement and knew that his arrival was -observed in spite of the emptiness of the yard. - -The beaten path led to a screen door which sagged with much slamming, -leaving a wide space at the top through which flies passed in and out -quite comfortably. Bud saw that, also, and his fingers itched to reset -that door, just as he would have done for his mother--supposing his -mother would have tolerated the slamming which had brought the need. Bud -lifted his gloved knuckles to knock, saw that the room within was -grimy and bare and meant for public use, very much like the office of a -country hotel, with a counter and a set of pigeon-holes at the farther -end. He walked in. - -No one appeared, and after ten minutes or so Bud guessed why, and went -back to the door, pushed it wide open and permitted it to fly shut with -a bang. Whereupon a girl opened the door behind the counter and came in, -glancing at Bud with frank curiosity. - -Bud took off his hat and clanked over to the counter and asked if there -was any mail for Bud Birnie--Robert Wallace Birnie. - -The girl looked at him again and smiled, and turned to shuffle a handful -of letters. Bud employed the time in trying to guess just what she meant -by that smile. - -It was not really a smile, he decided, but the beginning of one. And if -that were the beginning, he would very much like to know what the whole -smile would mean. The beginning hinted at things. It was as if she -doubted the reality of the name he gave, and meant to conceal her doubt, -or had heard something amusing about him, or wished to be friends with -him, or was secretly timorous and trying to appear merely indifferent. -Or perhaps---- - -She replaced the letters and turned, and rested her hands on the -counter. She looked at him and again her lips turned at the corners in -that faint, enigmatical beginning of a smile. - -“There isn't a thing,” she said. “The mail comes this noon again. Do you -want yours sent out to any of the outfits? Or shall I just hold it?” - -“Just hold it, when there is any. At least, until I see whether I land a -job here. I wonder where I could find the boss?” Bud was glancing often -at her hands. For a ranch girl her hands were soft and white, but her -fingers were a bit too stubby and her nails were too round and flat. - -“Uncle Dave will be home at noon. He's out in the meadow with the boys. -You might sit down and wait.” - -Bud looked at his watch. Sitting down and waiting for four hours did not -appeal to him, even supposing the girl would keep him company. But he -lingered awhile, leaning with his elbows on the counter near her; and by -those obscure little conversational trails known to youth, he progressed -considerably in his acquaintance with the girl and made her smile often -without once feeling quite certain that he knew what was in her mind. - -He discovered that her name was Honora Krause, and that she was called -Honey “for short.” Her father had been Dutch and her mother a Yankee, -and she lived with her uncle, Dave Truman, who owned Little Lost ranch, -and took care of the mail for him, and attended to the store--which -was nothing more than a supply depot kept for the accommodation of the -neighbors. The store, she said, was in the next room. - -Bud asked her what Little Lost meant, and she replied that she did not -know, but that it might have something to do with Sunk Creek losing -itself in The Sinks. There was a Little Lost river, farther across the -mountains, she said, but it did not run through Little Lost ranch, nor -come anywhere near it. - -After that she questioned him adroitly. Perversely Bud declined to -become confidential, and Honey Krause changed the subject abruptly. - -“There's going to be a dance here next Friday night. It'll be a good -chance to get acquainted with everybody--if you go. There'll be good -music, I guess. Uncle Dave wrote to Crater for the Saunders boys to come -down and play. Do you know anybody in Crater?” - -The question was innocent enough, but perverseness still held Bud. He -smiled and said he did not know anybody anywhere, any more. He said that -if Bobbie Burns had asked him “Should auld acquaintance be forgot,” he'd -have told him yes, and he'd have made it good and strong. But he added -that he was just as willing to make new acquaintance, and thought the -dance would be a good place to begin. - -Honey gave him a provocative glance from under her lashes, and Bud -straightened and stepped back. - -“You let folks stop here, I take it. I've a pack outfit and a couple of -saddle horses with me. Will it be all right to turn them in the corral? -I hate to have them eat post hay all day. Or I could perhaps go back to -the creek and camp.” - -“Oh, just turn your horses in the corral and make yourself at home till -uncle comes,” she told him with that tantalizing half-smile. “We keep -people here--just for accommodation. There has to be some place in the -valley where folks can stop. I can't promise that uncle will give you a -job, but There's going to be chicken and dumplings for dinner. And the -mail will be in, about noon--you'll want to wait for that.” - -She was standing just within the screen door, frankly watching him as -he came past the house with the horses, and she came out and halted him -when she spied the top of the pack. - -“You'd better leave those things here,” she advised him eagerly. “I'll -put them in the sitting-room by the piano. My goodness, you must be a -whole orchestra! If you can play, maybe you and I can furnish the music -for the dance, and save Uncle Dave hiring the Saunders boys. Anyway, we -can play together, and have real good times.” - -Bud had an odd feeling that Honey was talking one thing with her lips, -and thinking an entirely different set of thoughts. He eyed her covertly -while he untied the cases, and he could have sworn that he saw her -signal someone behind the lace curtains of the nearest window. He -glanced carelessly that way, but the curtains were motionless. Honey was -holding out her hands for the guitar and the mandolin when he turned, so -Bud surrendered them and went on to the corrals. - -He did not return to the house. An old man was pottering around a -machine shed that stood backed against a thick fringe of brush, and when -Bud rode by he left his work and came after him, taking short steps and -walking with his back bent stiffly forward and his hands swinging limply -at his sides. - -He had a long black beard streaked with gray, and sharp blue eyes set -deep under tufted white eyebrows. He seemed a friendly old man whose -interest in life remained keen as in his youth, despite the feebleness -of his body. He showed Bud where to turn the horses, and went to work -on the pack rope, his crooked old fingers moving with the sureness of -lifelong habit. He was eager to know all the news that Bud could tell -him, and when he discovered that Bud had just left the Muleshoe, and -that he had been fired because of a fight with Dirk Tracy, the old -fellow cackled gleefully, - -“Well, now, I guess you just about had yore hands full, young man,” he -commented shrewdly. “Dirk ain't so easy to lick.” - -Bud immediately wanted to know why it was taken for granted that he had -whipped Dirk, and grandpa chortled again. “Now if you hadn't of licked -Dirk, you wouldn't of got fired,” he retorted, and proceeded to relate -a good deal of harmless gossip which seemed to bear out the statement. -Dirk Tracy, according to grandpa, was the real boss of the Muleshoe, and -Bart was merely a figure-head. - -All of this did not matter to Bud, but grandpa was garrulous. A good -deal of information Bud received while the two attended to the horses -and loitered at the corral gate. - -Grandpa admired Smoky, and looked him over carefully, with those -caressing smoothings of mane and forelock which betray the lover of good -horseflesh. - -“I reckon he's purty fast,” he said, peering shrewdly into Bud's face. -“The boys has been talking about pulling off some horse races here next -Sunday--we got a good, straight, hard-packed creek-bed up here a piece -that has been cleaned of rocks fer a mile track, and they're goin' to -run a horse er two. Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack. -You might git in on it, if you're around in these parts.” He pushed his -back straight with his palms, turned his head sidewise and squinted at -Smoky through half-closed lids while he fumbled for cigarette material. - -“I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars on that -horse myself,” he observed, “if you say he kin run. You wouldn't go an' -lie to an old feller like me, would yuh, son?” - -Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled. “No, I won't lie to -you, dad,” he grinned. “You know horses too well.” - -“Well, but kin he run? I want yore word on it.” - -“Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow,” Bud admitted -cautiously. - -“Ever run him fer money?” The old man began teetering from his toes to -his heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and back. - -“Well, no, not for money. I've run him once or twice for fun, just -trying to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe.” - -“Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!” The old man spat angrily -into the dust of the corral. Then he thought of something. “Did yuh BEAT -'em?” he demanded sharply. - -“Why, sure, I beat them!” Bud looked at him surprised, seemed about to -say more, and let the statement stand unqualified. - -Grandpa stared at him for a minute, his blue eyes blinking with some -secret excitement. “Young feller,” he began abruptly, “lemme tell yuh -something. Yuh never want to do a thing like that agin. If you got a -horse that can outrun the other feller's horse, figure to make him bring -yuh in something--if it ain't no more'n a quarter! Make him BRING yuh a -little something. That's the way to do with everything yuh turn a hand -to; make it bring yuh in something! It ain't what goes out that'll do -yuh any good--it's what comes in. You mind that. If you let a horse run -agin' another feller's horse, bet on him to come in ahead--and then,” - he cried fiercely, pounding one fist into the other palm, “by Christmas, -make 'im come in ahead!” His voice cracked and went flat with emotion. - -He stopped suddenly and let his arms fall slack, his shoulders sag -forward. He waggled his head and muttered into his beard, and glanced at -Bud with a crafty look. - -“If I'da took that to m'self, I wouldn't be chorin' around here now for -my own son,” he lamented. “I'd of saved the quarters, an' I'd of had a -few dollars now of my own. Uh course,” he made haste to add, “I git holt -of a little, now and agin. Too old to ride--too old to work--jest manage -to pick up a dollar er two now and agin--on a horse that kin run.” - -He went over to Smoky again and ran his hand down over the leg muscles -to the hocks, felt for imperfections and straightened painfully, slapped -the horse approvingly between the forelegs and laid a hand on his -shoulder while he turned slowly to Bud. - -“Young feller, there ain't a man on the place right now but you an' -me. What say you throw yore saddle on this horse and take 'im up to the -track? I'd like to see him run. Seems to me he'd ought to be a purty -good quarter-horse.” - -Bud hesitated. “I wouldn't mind running him, grandpa, if I thought I -could make something on him. I've got my stake to make, and I want to -make it before all my teeth fall out so I can't chew anything but the -cud of reflection on my lost opportunities. If Smoky can run a few -dollars into my pocket, I'm with you.” - -Grandpa teetered forward and put out his hand. “Shake on that, boy!” he -cackled. “Pop Truman ain't too old to have his little joke--and make it -bring him in something, by Christmas! You saddle up and we'll go try him -out on a quarter-mile--mebby a half, if he holds up good.” - -He poked a cigarette-stained forefinger against Bud's chest and -whispered slyly: “My son Dave, he 's got a horse in the stable that's -been cleanin' everything in the valley. I'll slip him out and up the -creektrail to the track, and you run that horse of yourn agin him. Dave, -he can't git a race outa nobody around here, no more, so he won't run -next Sunday. We'll jest see how yore horse runs alongside Boise. I -kin tell purty well how you kin run agin the rest--Pop, he ain't s' -thick-headed they kin fool him much. What say we try it?” - -Bud stood back and looked him over. “You shook hands with me on it,” he -said gravely. “Where I came from, that holds a man like taking oath on -a Bible in court. I'm a stranger here, but I'm going to expect the same -standard of honor, grandpa. You can back out now, and I'll run Smoky -without any tryout, and you can take your chance. I couldn't expect you -to stand by a stranger against your own folks--” - -“Sho! Shucks a'mighty!” Grandpa spat and wagged his head furiously. “My -own forks'd beat me in a horse race if they could, and I wouldn't hold -it agin 'em! Runnin' horses is like playin' poker. Every feller fer -himself an' mercy to-ward none! I knowed what it meant when I shook with -yuh, young feller, and I hold ye to it. I hold ye to it! You lay low if -I tell ye to lay low, and we'll make us a few dollars, mebby. C'm on and -git that horse outa here b'fore somebuddy comes. It's mail day.” - -He waved Bud toward his saddle and took himself off in a shuffling kind -of trot. By the time Bud had saddled Smoky grandpa hailed him cautiously -from the brush-fringe beyond the corral. He motioned toward a small gate -and Bud led Smoky that way, closing the gate after him. - -The old man was mounted on a clean-built bay whose coat shone with -little glints of gold in the dark red. With one sweeping look Bud -observed the points that told of speed, and his eyes went inquiringly to -meet the sharp blue ones, that sparkled under the tufted white eyebrows -of grandpa. - -“Do you expect Smoky to show up the same day that horse arrives?” he -inquired mildly. “Pop, you'll have to prove to me that he won't run -Sunday--” - -Pop snorted. “Seems to me like you do know a speedy horse when you see -one, young feller. Beats me't you been overlookin' what you got under -yore saddle right now. Boise, he's the best runnin' horse in the -valley--and that's why he won't run next Sunday, ner no other Sunday -till somebuddy brings in a strange horse to put agin him. Dave, he won't -crowd ye fur a race, boy. You kin refuse to run yore horse agin him, -like the rest has done. I'll jest lope along t'day and see what yours -kin do.” - -“Well, all right, then.” Bud waited for the old man to ride ahead down -the obscure trail that wound through the brush for half a mile or so -before they emerged into the rough border of the creek bed. Pop reined -in close and explained garrulously to Bud how this particular stream -disappeared into the ground two miles above Little Lost, leaving the -wide, level river bottom bone dry. - -Pop was cautious. He rode up to a rise of ground and scanned the country -suspiciously before he led the way into the creek bed. Even then he kept -close under the bank until they had passed two of the quarter-mile posts -that had been planted in the hard sand. - -Evidently he had been doing a good deal of thinking during the ride; -certainly he had watched Smoky. When he stopped under the bank opposite -the half-mile post he dismounted more spryly than one would have -expected. His eyes were bright, his voice sharp. Pop was forgetting his -age. - -“I guess I'll ride yore horse m'self,” he announced, and they exchanged -horses under the shelter of the bank. “You kin take an' ride Boise-an' -I want you should beat me if you kin.” He looked at Bud appraisingly. -“I'll bet a dollar,” he cried suddenly, “that I kin outrun ye, young -feller! An' you got the fastest horse in Burroback Valley and I don't -know what I got under me. I'm seventy years old come September--when I'm -afoot. Are ye afraid to bet?” - -“I'm scared a dollar's worth that I'll never see you again to-day unless -I ride back to find you,” Bud grinned. - -“Any time you lose ole Pop Truman--shucks almighty! Come on, then--I'll -show ye the way to the quarter-post!” - -“I'm right with you, Pop. You say so, and I'm gone!” - -They reined in with the shadow of the post falling square across the -necks of both horses. Pop gathered up the reins, set his feet in the -stirrups and shrilled, “Go, gol darn ye!” - -They went, like two scared rabbits down the smooth, yellow stretch of -packed sand. Pop's elbows stuck straight out, he held the reins high -and leaned far over Smoky's neck, his eyes glaring. Bud--oh, never worry -about Bud! In the years that lay between thirteen and twenty-one Bud -had learned a good many things, and one of them was how to get out of a -horse all the speed there was in him. - -They went past the quarter-post and a furlong beyond before either could -pull up. Pop was pale and triumphant, and breathing harder than his -mount. - -“Here 's your dollar, Pop--and don't you talk in your sleep!” Bud -admonished, smiling as he held out the dollar, but with an anxious -tone in his voice. “If this is the best running horse you've got in the -valley, I may get some action, next Sunday!” - -Pop dismounted, took the dollar with a grin and mounted Boise--and that -in spite of the fact that Boise was keyed up and stepping around and -snorting for another race. Bud watched Pop queerly, remembering how -feeble had been the old man whom he had met at the corral. - -“Say, Pop, you ought to race a little every day,” he bantered. “You're -fifteen years younger than you were an hour ago.” - -For answer Pop felt of his back and groaned. “Oh, I'll pay fer it, young -feller! I don't look fer much peace with my back fer a week, after this. -But you kin make sure of one thing, and that is, I ain't goin' to talk -in my sleep none. By Christmas, We'll make this horse of yours bring -us in something! I guess you better turn yore horses all out in the -pasture. Dave, he'll give yuh work all right. I'll fix it with Dave. -And you listen to Pop, young feller. I'll show ye a thing or two -about runnin' horses. You'n me'll clean up a nice little bunch of -money-HE-HE!-beat Boise in a quarter dash! Tell that to Dave, an' he -wouldn't b'lieve ye!” - -When Pop got off at the back of the stable he could scarcely move, -he was so stiff. But his mind was working well enough to see that Bud -rubbed the saddle print off Boise and turned his own horses loose in the -pasture, before he let him go on to the house. The last Bud heard from -Pop that forenoon was a senile chuckle and a cackling, “Outrun Boise -in a quarter dash! Shucks a'mighty! But I knew it--I knew he had the -speed--sho! Ye can't fool ole Pop--shucks!” - - - -CHAPTER TEN: BUD MEETS THE WOMAN - -A woman was stooping at the woodpile, filling her arms with crooked -sticks of rough-barked sage. From the color of her hair Bud knew that -she was not Honey, and that she was therefore a stranger to him. But he -swung off the path and went over to her as naturally as he would go to -pick up a baby that had fallen. - -“I'll carry that in for you,” he said, and put out his hand to help her -to her feet. - -Before he touched her she was on her feet and looking at him. Bud could -not remember afterwards that she had done anything else; he seemed to -have seen only her eyes, and into them and beyond them to a soul that -somehow made his heart tremble. - -What she said, what he answered, was of no moment. He could not have -told afterwards what it was. He stooped and filled his arms with wood, -and walked ahead of her up the pathway to the kitchen door, and stopped -when she flitted past him to show him where the wood-box stood. He was -conscious then of her slenderness and of the lightness of her steps. -He dropped the wood into the box behind the stove on which kettles -were steaming. There was the smell of chicken stewing, and the odor of -fresh-baked pies. - -She smiled up at him and offered him a crisp, warn cookie with sugared -top, and he saw her eyes again and felt the same tremor at his heart. -He pulled himself together and smiled back at her, thanked her and went -out, stumbling a little on the doorstep, the cookie untasted in his -fingers. - -He walked down to the corral and began fumbling at his pack, his -thoughts hushed before the revelation that had come to him. - -“Her hands--her poor, little, red hands!” he said in a whisper as the -memory of them came suddenly. But it was her eyes that he was seeing -with his mind; her eyes, and what lay deep within. They troubled him, -shook him, made him want to use his man-strength against something that -was hurting her. He did not know what it could be; he did not know that -there was anything--but oddly the memory of his mother's white face back -in the long ago, and of her tone when she said, “Oh, God, please!” came -back and fitted themselves to the look in this woman's eyes. - -Bud sat down on his canvas-wrapped bed and lifted his hat to rumple his -hair and then smooth it again, as was his habit when worried. He looked -at the cookie, and because he was hungry he ate it with a foolish -feeling that he was being sentimental as the very devil, thinking how -her hands had touched it. He rolled and smoked a cigarette afterwards, -and wondered who she was and whether she was married, and what her first -name was. - -A quiet smoke will bring a fellow to his senses sometimes when -nothing else will, and Bud managed, by smoking two cigarettes in rapid -succession, to restore himself to some degree of sanity. - -“Funny how she made me think of mother, back when I was a kid coming up -from Texas,” he mused. “Mother'd like her.” It was the first time he had -ever thought just that about a girl. “She's no relation to Honey,” he -added. “I'd bet a horse on that.” He recalled how white and soft were -Honey's hands, and he swore a little. “Wouldn't hurt her to get out -there in the kitchen and help with the cooking,” he criticised. Then -suddenly he laughed. “Shucks a'mighty, as Pop says! with those two girls -on the ranch I'll gamble Dave Truman has a full crew of men that are -plumb willing to work for their board!” - -The stage came, and Bud turned to it relievedly. After that, here came -Dave Truman on a deep-cheated roan. Bud knew him by his resemblance to -the old man, who came shuffling bent-backed from the machine-shed as -Dave passed. - -Pop beckoned, and Dave reined his horse that way and stopped at the shed -door. The two talked for a minute and Dave rode on, passing Bud with a -curt nod. Pop came over to where Bud stood leaning against the corral. - -“How are you feeling, dad?” Bud grinned absently. - -“Purty stiff an' sore, boy--my rheumatics is bad to-day.” Pop winked -solemnly. “I spoke to Dave about you wantin' a job, and I guess likely -Dave'll put you on. They's plenty to do--hayin' comin' on and all that.” - He lowered his voice mysteriously, though there was no man save Bud -within a hundred feet of him. “Don't ye go 'n talk horses--not yet. -Don't let on like yore interested much. I'll tell yuh when to take 'em -up.” - -The men came riding in from the hayfield, some in wagons, two astride -harnessed work-horses, and one long-legged fellow in chaps on a mower, -driving a sweaty team that still had life enough to jump sidewise when -they spied Bud's pack by the corral. The stage driver sauntered up and -spoke to the men. Bud went over and began to help unhitch the team from -the mower, and the driver eyed him sharply while he grinned his greeting -across the backs of the horses. - -“Pop says you're looking for work,” Dave Truman observed, coming up. -“Well, if you ain't scared of it, I'll stake yuh to a hayfork after -dinner. Where yuh from?” - -“Just right now, I'm from the Muleshoe. Bud Birnie's my name. I was -telling dad why I quit.” - -“Tell me,” Dave directed briefly. “Pop ain't as reliable as he used to -be. He'd never get it out straight.” - -“I quit,” said Bud, “by special request.” He pulled off his gloves -carefully and held up his puffed knuckles. “I got that on Dirk Tracy.” - -The driver of the mower shot a quick, meaning glance at Dave, and -laughed shortly. Dave grinned a little, but he did not ask what had been -the trouble, as Bud had half expected him to do. Apparently Dave felt -that he had received all the information he needed, for his next remark -had to do with the heat. The day was a “weather breeder”, he declared, -and he was glad to have another man to put at the hauling. - -An iron triangle beside the kitchen door clamored then, and Bud, looking -quickly, saw the slim little woman with the big, troubled eyes striking -the iron bar vigorously. Dave glanced at his watch and led the way to -the house, the hay crew hurrying after him. - -Fourteen men sat down to a long table with a great shuffling of feet and -scraping of benches, and immediately began a voracious attack upon the -heaped platters of chicken and dumplings and the bowls of vegetables. -Bud found a place at the end where he could look into the kitchen, -and his eyes went that way as often as they dared, following the swift -motions of the little woman who poured coffee and filled empty dishes -and said never a word to anyone. - -He was on the point of believing her a daughter of the house when a -square-jawed man of thirty, or thereabout, who sat at Bud's right hand, -called her to him as he might have called his dog, by snapping his -fingers. - -She came and stood beside Bud while the man spoke to her in an arrogant -undertone. - -“Marian, I told yuh I wanted tea for dinner after this. D'you bring me -coffee on purpose, just to be onery? I thought I told yuh to straighten -up and quit that sulkin'. I ain't going to have folks think----” - -“Oh, be quiet! Shame on you, before everyone!” she whispered fiercely -while she lifted the cup and saucer. - -Bud went hot all over. He did not look up when she returned presently -with a cup of tea, but he felt her presence poignantly, as he had never -before sensed the presence of a woman. When he was able to swallow his -wrath and meet calmly the glances of these strangers he turned his head -casually and looked the man over. - -Her husband, he guessed the fellow to be. No other relationship could -account for that tone of proprietorship, and there was no physical -resemblance between the two. A mean devil, Bud called him mentally, -with a narrow forehead, eyes set too far apart and the mouth of a brute. -Someone spoke to the man, calling him Lew, and he answered with rough -good humor, repeating a stale witticism and laughing at it just as -though he had not heard others say it a hundred times. - -Bud looked at him again and hated him, but he did not glance again at -the little woman named Marian; for his own peace of mind he did not -dare. He thought that he knew now what it was he had seen in the depth -of her eyes, but there seemed to be nothing that he could do to help. - -That evening after supper Honey Krause called to him when he was -starting down to the bunk-house with the other men. What she said -was that she still had his guitar and mandolin, and that they needed -exercise. What she looked was the challenge of a born coquette. In the -kitchen dishes were rattling, but after they were washed there would be -a little leisure, perhaps, for the kitchen drudge. Bud's impulse to make -his sore hands an excuse for refusing evaporated. It might not be wise -to place himself deliberately in the way of getting a hurt--but youth -never did stop to consult a sage before following the lure of a woman's -eyes. - -He called back to Honey that those instruments ought to have been put in -the hayfield, where there was more exercise than the men could use. “You -boys ought to come and see me safe through with it,” he added to the -loitering group around him. “I'm afraid of women.” - -They laughed and two or three went with him. Lew went on to the corral -and presently appeared on horseback, riding up to the kitchen and -leaving his horse standing at the corner while he went inside and talked -to the woman he had called Marian. - -Bud was carrying his guitar outside, where it was cooler, when he heard -the fellow's arrogant voice. The dishes ceased rattling for a -minute, and there was a sharp exclamation, stifled but unmistakable. -Involuntarily Bud made a movement in that direction, when Honey's voice -stopped him with a subdued laugh. - -“That's only Lew and Mary Ann,” she explained carelessly. “They have a -spat every time they come within gunshot of each other.” - -The lean fellow who had driven the mower, and whose name was Jerry -Myers, edged carelessly close to Bud and gave him a nudge with his -elbow, and a glance from under his eyebrows by way of emphasis. He -turned his head slightly, saw that Honey had gone into the house, and -muttered just above a whisper, “Don't see or hear anything. It's all the -help you can give her. And for Lord's sake don't let on to Honey like -you--give a cuss whether it rains or not, so long 's it don't pour too -hard the night of the dance.” - -Bud looked up at the darkening sky speculatively, and tried not to hear -the voices in the kitchen, one of which was brutally harsh while the -other told of hate and fear suppressed under gentle forbearance. The -harsh voice was almost continuous, the other infrequent, reluctant to -speak at all. Bud wanted to go in and smash his guitar over the fellow's -head, but Jerry's warning held him. There were other ways, however, to -help; if he must not drive off the tormentor, then he would call him -away. He ignored his bruised knuckles and plucked the guitar strings as -if he held a grudge against them, and then began to sing the first song -that came into his mind--one that started in a rollicky fashion. - -Men came straggling up from the bunk-house before he had finished the -first chorus, and squatted on their heels to listen, their cigarettes -glowing like red fingertips in the dusk. But the voice in the kitchen -talked on. Bud tried another--one of those old-time favorites, a -“laughing coon” song, though he felt little enough in the mood for it. -In the middle of the first laugh he heard the kitchen door slam, and -Lew's footsteps coming around the corner. He listened until the song -was done, then mounted and rode away, Bud's laugh following him -triumphantly--though Lew could not have guessed its meaning. - -Bud sang for two hours expectantly, but Marian did not appear, and Bud -went off to the bunk-house feeling that his attempt to hearten her had -been a failure. Of Honey he did not think at all, except to wonder if -the two women were related in any way, and to feel that if they were -Marian was to be pitied. At that point Jerry overtook him and asked for -a match, which gave him an excuse to hold Bud behind the others. - -“Honey like to have caught me, to-night,” Jerry observed guardedly. -“I had to think quick. I'll tell you the lay of the land, Bud, seeing -you're a stranger here. Marian's man, Lew, he's a damned bully and -somebody is going to draw a fine bead on him some day when he ain't -looking. But he stands in, so the less yuh take notice the better. -Marian, she's a fine little woman that minds her own business, but she's -getting a cold deck slipped into the game right along. Honey's jealous -of her and afraid somebody'll give her a pleasant look. Lew's jealous, -and he watches her like a cat watches a mouse it's caught and wants to -play with. Between the two of 'em Marian has a real nice time of it. I'm -wising you up so you won't hand her any more misery by trying to take -her part. Us boys have learned to keep our mouths shut.” - -“Glad you told me,” Bud muttered. “Otherwise----” - -“Exactly,” Jerry agreed understandingly. “Otherwise any of us would.” - -He stopped and then spoke in a different tone. “If Lew stays off the -ranch long enough, maybe you'll get to hear her sing. Wow-ee, but that -lady has sure got the meadow-larks whipped! But look out for Honey, -old-timer.” - -Bud laughed unmirthfully. “Looks to me as if you aren't crazy over -Honey,” he ventured. “What has she done to you?” - -“Her?” Jerry inspected his cigarette, listened to the whisper of -prudence in his ear, and turned away. “Forget it. I never said a word.” - He swept the whole subject from him with a comprehensive gesture, and -snorted. “I'm gettin' as bad as Pop,” he grinned. “But lemme tell yuh -something. Honey Krause runs more 'n the post-office.” - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN: GUILE AGAINST THE WILY - -Bud liked to have his life run along accustomed lines with a more or -less perfect balance of work and play, friendships and enmities. He -had grown up with the belief that any mystery is merely a synonym for -menace. He had learned to be wary of known enemies such as Indians -and outlaws, and to trust implicitly his friends. To feel now, without -apparent cause, that his friends might be enemies in disguise, was a new -experience that harried him. - -He had come to Little Lost on Tuesday, straight from the Muleshoe -where his presence was no longer desired for some reason not yet -satisfactorily explained to him. You know what happened on Tuesday. That -night the land crouched under a terrific electric storm, with crackling -swords of white death dazzling from inky black clouds, and ear-splitting -thunder close on the heels of it. Bud had known such storms all his -life, yet on this night he was uneasy, vaguely disturbed. He caught -himself wondering if Lew Morris's wife was frightened, and the -realization that he was worrying about her fear worried him more than -ever and held him awake long after the fury of the storm had passed. - -Next day, when he came in at noon, there was Hen, from the Muleshoe, -waiting for dinner before he rode back with the mail. Hen's jaw dropped -when he saw Bud riding on a Little Lost hay-wagon, and his eyes bulged -with what Bud believed was consternation. All through the meal Bud had -caught Hen eyeing him miserably, and looking stealthily from him to the -others. No one paid any attention, and for that Bud was rather thankful; -he did not want the Little Lost fellows to think that perhaps he had -done something which he knew would hang him if it were discovered, -which, he decided, was the mildest interpretation a keen observer would -be apt to make of Hen's behavior. - -When he went out, Hen was at his heels, trying to say something in his -futile, tongue-tied gobble. Bud stopped and looked at him tolerantly. -“Hen, It's no use--you might as well be talking Chinese, for all I -know. If it's important, write it down or I'll never know what's on your -mind.” - -He pulled a note-book and a pencil from his vest-pocket and gave them -to Hen, who looked at him dumbly, worked his Adam's apple violently and -retreated to his horse, fumbled the mail which was tied in the bottom of -a flour sack for safe keeping, sought a sheltered place where he could -sit down, remained there a few minutes, and then returned to his horse -He beckoned to Bud, who was watching him curiously; and when Bud went -over to him said something unintelligible and handed back the note-book, -motioning for caution when Bud would have opened the book at once. - -So Bud thanked him gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes, and waited -until Hen had gone and he was alone before he read the message. It was -mysterious enough, certainly. Hen had written in a fine, cramped, uneven -hand: - -“You bee carful. bern this up and dent let on like you no anything but -i warn you be shure bern this up.” - -Bud tore out the page and burned it as requested, and since he was not -enlightened by the warning he obeyed Hen's instructions and did not “let -on.” But he could not help wondering, and was unconsciously prepared to -observe little things which ordinarily would have passed unnoticed. - -At the dance on Friday night, for instance, there was a good deal of -drinking and mighty little hilarity. Bud had been accustomed to loud -talk and much horseplay outside among the men on such occasions, and -even a fight or two would be accepted as a matter of course. But though -several quart bottles were passed around during the night and thrown -away empty into the bushes, the men went in and danced and came out -again immediately to converse confidentially in small groups, or to -smoke without much speech. The men of Burroback Valley were not running -true to form. - -The women were much like all the women of cow-country: mothers with -small children who early became cross and sleepy and were hushed under -shawls on the most convenient bed, a piece of cake in their hands; -mothers whose faces were lined too soon with work and ill-health, and -with untidy hair that became untidier as the dance progressed. There -were daughters--shy and giggling to hide their shyness--Bud knew their -type very well and made friends with them easily, and immediately became -the centre of a clamoring audience after he had sung a song or two. - -There was Honey, with her inscrutable half smile and her veiled eyes, -condescending to graciousness and quite plainly assuming a proprietary -air toward Bud, whom she put through whatever musical paces pleased her -fancy. Bud, I may say, was extremely tractable. When Honey said sing, -Bud sang; when she said play, Bud sat down to the piano and played -until she asked him to do something else. It was all very pleasant for -Honey--and Bud ultimately won his point--Honey decided to extend her -graciousness a little. - -Why hadn't Bud danced with Marian? He must go right away and ask her -to dance. Just because Lew was gone, Marian need not be slighted--and -besides, there were other fellows who might want a little of Honey's -time. - -So Bud went away and found Marian in the pantry, cutting cakes while the -coffee boiled, and asked her to dance. Marian was too tired, and' she -had not the time to spare; wherefore Bud helped himself to a knife -and proceeded to cut cakes with geometrical precision, and ate all -the crumbs. With his hands busy, he found the courage to talk to her a -little. He made Marian laugh out loud and it was the first time he had -ever heard her do that. - -Marian disclosed a sense of humor, and even teased Bud a little about -Honey. But her teasing lacked that edge of bitterness which Bud had half -expected in retaliation for Honey's little air of superiority. - -“Your precision in cutting cakes is very much like your accurate -fingering of the piano,” she observed irrelevantly, surveying his -work with her lips pursed. “A pair of calipers would prove every piece -exactly, the same width; and even when you play a Meditation? I'm -sure the metronome would waggle in perfect unison with your tempo. I -wonder--” She glanced up at him speculatively. “--I wonder if you think -with such mathematical precision. Do you always find that two and two -make four?” - -“You mean, have I any imagination whatever?” Bud looked away from her -eyes--toward the uncurtained, high little window. A face appeared there, -as if a tall man had glanced in as he was passing by and halted for a -second to look. Bud's eyes met full the eyes of the man outside, who -tilted his head backward in a significant movement and passed on. Marian -turned her head and caught the signal, looked at Bud quickly, a little -flush creeping into her cheeks. - -“I hope you have a little imagination,” she said, lowering her voice -instinctively. “It doesn't require much to see that Jerry is right. The -conventions are strictly observed at Little Lost--in the kitchen, at -least,” she added, under her breath, with a flash of resentment. “Run -along--and the next time Honey asks you to play the piano, will you -please play Lotusblume? And when you have thrown open the prison windows -with that, will you play Schubert's Ave Maria--the way you play it--to -send a breath of cool night air in?” - -She put out the tips of her fingers and pressed them lightly against -Bud's shoulder, turning toward the door. Bud started, stepped into the -kitchen, wheeled about and stood regarding her with a stubborn look in -his eyes. - -“I might kick the door down, too,” he said. “I don't like prisons -nohow.” - -“No-just a window, thank you,” she laughed. - -Bud thought the laugh did not go very deep. “Jerry wants to talk to -you. He's the whitest of the lot, if you can call that--” she stopped -abruptly, put out a hand to the door, gave him a moment to look into her -deep, troubled eyes, and closed the door gently but inexorably in his -face. - -Jerry was standing at the corner of the house smoking negligently. He -waited until Bud had come close alongside him, then led the way slowly -down the path to the corrals. - -“I thought I heard the horses fighting,” he remarked. “There was a noise -down this way.” - -“Is that why you called me outside?” asked Bud, who scorned subterfuge. - -“Yeah. I saw you wasn't dancing or singing or playing the piano--and -I knew Honey'd likely be looking you up to do one or the other, in a -minute. She sure likes you, Bud. She don't, everybody that comes along.” - -Bud did not want to discuss Honey, wherefore he made no reply, and they -walked along in silence, the cool, heavy darkness grateful after the oil -lamps and the heat of crowded rooms. As they neared the corrals a stable -door creaked open and shut, yet there was no wind. Jerry halted, one -hand going to Bud's arm. They stood for a minute, and heard the swish of -the bushes behind the corral, as if a horse were passing through. Jerry -turned back, leading Bud by the arm. They were fifty feet away and the -bushes were still again before Jerry spoke guardedly. - -“I guess I made a mistake. There wasn't nothing,” he said, and dropped -Bud's arm. - -Bud stopped. “There was a man riding off in the brush,” he said bluntly, -“and all the folks that came to the dance rode in through the front -gate. I reckon I'll just take a look where I left my saddle, anyway.” - -“That might have been some loose stock,” Jerry argued, but Bud went -back, wondering a little at Jerry's manner. - -The saddle was all right, and so was everything else, so far as Bud -could determine in the dark, but he was not satisfied. He thought he -understood Jerry's reason for bringing him down to the corrals, but he -could not understand Jerry's attitude toward an incident which any man -would have called suspicious. - -Bud quietly counted noses when he returned to the house and found that -supper was being served, but he could not recall any man who was missing -now. Every guest and every man on the ranch was present except old Pop, -who had a little shack to himself and went to bed at dark every night. - -Bud was mystified, and he hated mysteries. Moreover, he was working for -Dave Truman, and whatever might concern Little Lost concerned him also. -But the men had begun to talk openly of their various “running horses”, -and to exchange jibes and boasts and to bet a little on Sunday's races. -Bud wanted to miss nothing of that, and Jerry's indifference to the -incident at the stable served to reassure him for the time being. He -edged close to the group where the talk was loudest, and listened. - -A man they called Jeff was trying to jeer his neighbors into betting -against a horse called Skeeter, and was finding them too cautious for -his liking. He laughed and, happening to catch Bud's eyes upon him, -strode forward with an empty tin cup in his hand and slapped Bud -friendliwise on the shoulder. - -“Why, I bet this singin' kid, that don't know wha I got ner what you -fellers has got, ain't scared to take, a chance. Are yuh, kid? What d' -yuh think of this pikin' bunch here that has seen Skeeter come in second -and third more times 'n what he beat, and yet is afraid to take a chance -on rosin' two bits? Whatd' yuh think of 'em? Ain't they an onery bunch?” - -“I suppose they hate to lose,” Bud grinned. - -“That's it--money 's more to 'em than the sport of kings, which is -runnin' horses. This bunch, kid belly-ached till Dave took his horse -Boise outa the game, and now, by gosh, they're backin' up from my -Skeeter, that has been beat more times than he won.' - -“When you pulled him, Jeff!” a mocking voice drawled. “And that was when -you wasn't bettin' yourself.” - -Jeff turned injuredly to Bud. “Now don't that sound like a piker?” he -complained. “It ain't reason to claim I'd pull my own horse. Ain't that -the out doinest way to come back at a man that likes a good race?” - -Bud swelled his chest and laid his hand on Jeff's shoulder. “Just -to show you I'm not a piker,” he cried recklessly, “I'll bet you -twenty-five dollars I can beat your Skeeter with my Smoky horse that I -rode in here. Is it a go?” - -Jeff's jaw dropped a little, with surprise. “What fer horse is this here -Smoky horse of yourn?” he wanted to know. - -Bud winked at the group, which cackled gleeful!, “I love the sport of -kings,” he said. “I love it so well I don't have to see your Skeeter -horse till Sunday. From the way these boys sidestep him, I guess he's a -sure-enough running horse. My Smoky's a good little horse, too, but he -never scared a bunch till they had cramps in the pockets. Still,” - he added with a grin, “I'll try anything once. I bet you twenty-five -dollars my Smoky can beat your Skeeter.” - -“Say, kid, honest I hate to take it away from yuh. Honest, I do. The way -you can knock the livin' tar outa that pyanny is a caution to cats. I -c'd listen all night. But when it comes to runnin' horses--” - -“Are you afraid of your money?” Bud asked him arrogantly. “You called -this a bunch of pikers--” - -“Well, by golly, it'll be your own fault, kid. If I take your money away -from yuh, don't go and blame it onto me. Mebbe these fellers has got -some cause to sidestep--” - -“All right, the bet's on. And I won't blame you if I lose. Smoky's -a good little horse. Don't think for a minute I'm giving you my hard -earned coin. You'll have to throw up some dust to get it, old-timer. I -forgot to say I'd like to make it a quarter dash.” - -“A quarter dash it is,” Jeff agreed derisively as Bud turned to answer -the summons of the music which was beginning again. - -The racing enthusiasts lingered outside, and Bud smiled to himself while -he whirled Honey twice around in an old-fashioned waltz. He had them -talking about him, and wondering about his horse. When they saw Smoky -they would perhaps call him a chancey kid. He meant to ask Pop about -Skeeter, though Pop seemed confident that Smoky would win against -anything in the valley. - -But on the other hand, he had seen in his short acquaintance with Little -Lost that Pop was considered childish--that comprehensive accusation -which belittles the wisdom of age. The boys made it a point to humor him -without taking him seriously. Honey pampered him and called him Poppy, -while in Marian's chill courtesy, in her averted glances, Bud had read -her dislike of Pop. He had seen her hand shrink away from contact with -his hand when she set his coffee beside his plate. - -But Bud had heard others speak respectfully of Boise, and regret that -he was too fast to run. Pop might be childish on some subjects, but -Bud rather banked on his judgment of horses--and Pop was penurious and -anxious to win money. - -“What are you thinking about?” Honey demanded when the music stopped. -“Something awful important, I guess, to make you want to keep right on -dancing!” - -“I was thinking of horse-racing,” Bud confessed, glad that he could tell -her the truth. - -“Ah, you! Don't let them make a fool of you. Some of the fellows would -bet the shirt off their backs on a horse-race! You look out for them, -Bud.” - -“They wouldn't bet any more than I would,” Bud boldly declared. “I've -bet already against a horse I've never seen. How 's that?” - -“That's crazy. You'll lose, and serve you right.” She went off to dance -with someone else, and Bud turned smiling to find a passable partner -amongst the older women--for he was inclined to caution where strange -girls were concerned. Much trouble could come to a stranger who danced -with a girl who happened to have a jealous sweetheart, and Bud did -not court trouble of that kind. He much preferred to fight over other -things. Besides, he had no wish to antagonize Honey. - -But his dance with some faded, heavy-footed woman was not to be. Jerry -once more signalled him and drew him outside for a little private -conference. Jerry was ill at ease and inclined to be reproachful and -even condemnatory. - -He wanted first to know why Bud had been such a many kinds of a fool as -to make that bet with Jeff Hall. All the fellows were talking about it. -“They was asking me what kind of a horse you've got--and I wouldn't put -it past Jeff and his bunch to pull some kind of a dirty trick on you,” - he complained. “Bud, on the square, I like you a whole lot. You seem -kinda innocent, in some ways, and in other ways you don't. I wish you'd -tell me just one thing, so I can sleep comfortable. Have you got some -scheme of your own? Or what the devil ails you?” - -“Well, I've just got a notion,” Bud admitted. “I'm going to have some -fun watching those fellows perform, whether I win or lose. I've spent as -much as twenty-five dollars on a circus, before now, and felt that I got -the worth of my money, too. I'm going to enjoy myself real well, next -Sunday.” - -Jerry glanced behind him and lowered his voice, speaking close to Bud's -ear. “Well, there's something I'd like to say that it ain't safe to say, -Bud. I'd hate like hell to see you get in trouble. Go as far as you like -having fun--but--oh, hell! What's the use?” He turned abruptly and went -inside, leaving Bud staring after him rather blankly. - -Jerry did not strike Bud as being the kind of a man who goes -around interfering with every other man's business. He was a quiet, -good-natured young fellow with quizzical eyes of that mixed color which -we call hazel simply because there is more brown than gray or green. He -did not talk much, but he observed much. Bud was strongly inclined -to heed Jerry's warning, but it was too vague to have any practical -value--“about like Hen's note,” Bud concluded. “Well-meaning but hazy. -Like a red danger flag on a railroad crossing where the track is torn -up and moved. I saw one, once and my horse threw a fit at it and almost -piled me. I figured that the red flag created the danger, where I was -concerned. Still, I'd like to oblige Jerry and sidestep something or -other, but...” - -His thoughts grew less distinct, merged into wordless rememberings and -conjectures, clarified again into terse sentences which never reached -the medium of speech. - -“Well, I'll just make sure they don't try out Smoke when I'm not -looking,” he decided, and slipped away in the dark. - -By a roundabout way which avoided the trail he managed to reach the -pasture fence without being seen. No horses grazed in sight, and he -climbed through and went picking his way across the lumpy meadow in the -starlight. At the farther side he found the horses standing out on a -sandy ridge where the mosquitoes were not quite so pestiferous. The -Little Lost horses snorted and took to their heels, his three following -for a short distance. - -Bud stopped and whistled a peculiar call invented long ago when he was -just Buddy, and watched over the Tomahawk REMUDA. Every horse with the -Tomahawk brand knew that summons--though not every horse would obey -it. But these three had come when they were sucking colts, if Buddy -whistled; and in their breaking and training, in the long trip north, -they had not questioned its authority. They turned and trotted back to -him now and nosed Bud's hands which he held out to them. - -He petted them all and talked to them in an affectionate murmur which -they answered by sundry lipnibbles and subdued snorts. Smoky he singled -out finally, rubbing his back and sides with the flat of his hand from -shoulder to flank, and so to the rump and down the thigh to the hock -to the scanty fetlock which told, to those who knew, that here was an -aristocrat among horses. - -Smoky stood quiet, and Bud's hand lingered there, smoothing the slender -ankle. Bud's fingers felt the fine-haired tail, then gave a little -twitch. He was busy for a minute, kneeling in the sand with one knee, -his head bent. Then he stood up, went forward to Smoky's head, and stood -rubbing the horse's nose thoughtfully. - -“I hate to do it, old boy--but I'm working to make's a home--we've got -to work together. And I'm not asking any more of you than I'd be willing -to do myself, if I were a horse and you were a man.” - -He gave the three horses a hasty pat apiece and started back across -the meadow to the fence. They followed him like pet dogs--and when Bud -glanced back over his shoulder he saw in the dim light that Smoky walked -with a slight limp. - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE: SPORT O' KINGS - -Sunday happened to be fair, with not too strong a wind blowing. Before -noon Little Lost ranch was a busy place, and just before dinner it -became busier. Horse-racing seemed to be as popular a sport in the -valley as dancing. Indeed, men came riding in who had not come to the -dance. The dry creek-bed where the horses would run had no road leading -to it, so that all vehicles came to Little Lost and remained there while -the passengers continued on foot to the races. - -At the corral fresh shaven men, in clean shirts to distinguish this as a -dress-up occasion, foregathered, looking over the horses and making bets -and arguing. Pop shambled here and there, smoking cigarettes furiously -and keeping a keen ear toward the loudest betting. He came sidling up to -Bud, who was leading Smoky out of the stable, and his sharp eyes took in -every inch of the horse and went inquiringly to Bud's face. - -“Goin' to run him, young feller--lame as what he is?” he demanded -sharply. - -“Going to try, anyway,” said Bud. “I've got a bet up on him, dad.” - -“Sho! Fixin' to lose, air ye? You kin call it off, like as not. Jeff -ain't so onreason'ble 't he'd make yuh run a lame horse. Air yuh, Jeff?” - -Jeff strolled up and looked Smoky over with critical eyes. “What's the -matter? Ain't the kid game to run him? Looks to me like a good little -goer.” - -“He's got a limp--but I'll run him anyway.” Bud glanced up. “Maybe when -he's warmed up he'll forget about it.” - -“Seen my Skeeter?” - -“Good horse, I should judge,” Bud observed indifferently. “But I ain't -worrying any.” - -“Well, neither am I,” Jeff grinned. - -Pop stood teetering back and forth, plainly uneasy. “I'd rub him right -good with liniment,” he advised Bud. “I'll git some't I know ought t' -help.” - -“What's the matter, Pop? You got money up on that cayuse?” Jeff laughed. - -Pop whirled on him. “I ain't got money up on him, no. But if he wasn't -lame I'd have some! I'd show ye 't I admire gameness in a kid. I would -so.” - -Jeff nudged his neighbor into laughter. “There ain't a gamer old bird -in the valley than Pop,” Jeff cried. “C'm awn, Pop, I'll bet yuh ten -dollars the kid beats me!” - -Pop was shuffling hurriedly out of the corral after the liniment. To -Jeff's challenge he made no reply whatever. The group around Jeff shooed -Smoky gently toward the other side of the corral, thereby convincing -themselves of the limp in his right hind foot. While not so pronounced -as to be crippling, it certainly was no asset to a running horse, and -the wise ones conferred together in undertones. - -“That there kid's a born fool,” Dave Truman stated positively. “The -horse can't run. He's got the look of a speedy little animal--but -shucks! The kid don't know anything about running horses. I've been -talking to him, and I know. Jeff, you're taking the money away from him -if you run that race.” - -“Well, I'm giving the kid a chance to back out,” Jeff hastened to -declare. “He can put it off till his horse gits well, if he wants to. I -ain't going to hold him to it. I never said I was.” - -“That's mighty kind of you,” Bud said, coming up from behind with a -bottle of liniment, and with Pop at his heels. “But I'll run him just -the same. Smoky has favored this foot before, and it never seemed to -hurt him any. You needn't think I'm going to crawfish. You must think -I'm a whining cuss--say! I'll bet another ten dollars that I don't come -in more than a neck behind, lame horse or not!” - -“Now, kid, don't git chancey,” Pop admonished uneasily. “Twenty-five is -enough money to donate to Jeff.” - -“That's right, kid. I like your nerve,” Jeff cut in, emphasizing his -approval with a slap on Bud's shoulder as he bent to lift Smoky's leg. -“I've saw worse horses than this one come in ahead--it wouldn't be no -sport o' kings if nobody took a chance.” - -“I'm taking chance enough,” Bud retorted without looking up. “If I don't -win this time I will the next, maybe.” - -“That's right,” Jeff agreed heartily, winking broadly at the others -behind Bud's back. - -Bud rubbed Smoky's ankle with liniment, listened to various and sundry -self-appointed advisers and, without seeming to think how the sums would -total, took several other small bets on the race. They were small--Pop -began to teeter back and forth and lift his shoulders and pull his -beard--sure signs of perturbation. - -“By Christmas, I'll just put up ten dollars on the kid,” Pop finally -cackled. “I ain't got much to lose--but I'll show yuh old Pop ain't -going to see the young feller stand alone.” He tried to catch Bud's eye, -but that young man was busy saddling Smoky and returning jibe for jibe -with the men around him, and did not glance toward Pop at all. - -“I'll take this bottle in my pocket, Pop,” he said with his back toward -the old man, and mounted carelessly. “I'll ride him around a little and -give him another good rubbing before we run. I'm betting,” he added to -the others frankly, “on the chance that exercise and the liniment will -take the soreness out of that ankle. I don't believe it amounts to -anything at all. So if any of you fellows want to bet--” - -“Shucks! Don't go 'n-” Pop began, and bit the sentence in two, dropping -immediately into a deep study. The kid was getting beyond Pop's -understanding. - -A crowd of perhaps a hundred men and women--with a generous sprinkling -of unruly juveniles--lined the sheer bank of the creek-bed and watched -the horses run, and screamed their cheap witticisms at the losers, and -their approval of those who won. The youngster with the mysterious past -and the foolhardiness to bet on a lame horse they watched and discussed, -the women plainly wishing he would win--because he was handsome and -young, and such a wonderful musician. The men were more cold-blooded. -They could not see that Bud's good looks or the haunting melody of his -voice had any bearing whatever upon his winning a race. They called him -a fool, and either refused to bet at all on such a freak proposition as -a lame horse running against Skeeter, or bet against him. A few of the -wise ones wondered if Jeff and his bunch were merely “stringing the kid -along “; if they might not let him win a little, just to make him more -“chancey.” But they did not think it wise to bet on that probability. - -While three races were being run Bud rode with the Little Lost men, and -Smoky still limped a little. Jerry Myers, still self-appointed guardian -of Bud, herded him apart and called him a fool and implored him to call -the race off and keep his money in his own pocket. - -Bud was thinking just then about a certain little woman who sat on the -creek bank with a wide-brimmed straw hat shading her wonderful eyes, and -a pair of little, high-arched feet tapping heels absently against the -bank wall. Honey sat beside her, and a couple of the valley women whom -Bud had met at the dance. He had ridden close and paused for a few -friendly sentences with the quartette, careful to give Honey the -attention she plainly expected. But it was not Honey who wore the wide -hat and owned the pretty little feet. Bud pulled his thoughts back from -a fruitless wish that he might in some way help that little woman whose -trouble looked from her eyes, and whose lips smiled so bravely. He did -not think of possession when he thought of her; it was the look in her -eyes, and the slighting tones in which Honey spoke of her. - -“Say, come alive! What yuh going off in a trance for, when I'm talking -to yuh for your own good?” Jerry smiled whimsically, but his eyes were -worried. - -Bud pulled himself together and reined closer. - -“Don't bet anything on this race, Jerry,” he advised “Or if you do, -don't bet on Skeeter. But--well, I'll just trade you a little advice for -all you've given me. Don't bet!” - -“What the hell!” surprise jolted out of Jerry. - -“It's my funeral,” Bud laughed. “I'm a chancey kid, you see--but I'd -hate to see you bet on me.” He pulled up to watch the next race--four -nervy little cow-horses of true range breeding, going down to the -quarter post. - -“They 're going to make false starts aplenty,” Bud remarked after the -first fluke. “Jeff and I have it out next. I'll just give Smoke another -treatment.” He dismounted, looked at Jerry undecidedly and slapped him -on the knee. “I'm glad to have a friend like you,” he said impulsively. -“There's a lot of two-faced sinners around here that would steal a man -blind. Don't think I'm altogether a fool.” - -Jerry looked at him queerly, opened his mouth and shut it again so -tightly that his jawbones stood out a little. He watched Bud bathing -Smoky's ankle. When Bud was through and handed Jerry the bottle to keep -for him, Jerry held him for an instant by the hand. - -“Say, for Gawdsake don't talk like that promiscuous, Bud,” he begged. -“You might hit too close--” - -“Ay, Jerry! Ever hear that old Armenian proverb, 'He who tells the truth -should have one foot in the stirrup'? I learned that in school.” - -Jerry let go Bud's hand and took the bottle, Bud's watch that had his -mother's picture pasted in the back, and his vest, a pocket of which -contained a memorandum of his wagers. Bud was stepping out of his chaps, -and he looked up and grinned. “Cheer up, Jerry. You're going to laugh in -a minute.” When Jerry still remained thoughtful, Bud added soberly, “I -appreciate you and old Pop standing by me. I don't know just what you've -got on your mind, but the fact that there's something is hint enough for -me.” Whereupon Jerry's eyes lightened a little. - -The four horses came thundering down the track, throwing tiny pebbles -high into the air as they passed. A trim little sorrel won, and there -was the usual confusion of voices upraised in an effort to be heard. -When that had subsided, interest once more centered on Skeeter and -Smoky, who seemed to have recovered somewhat from his lameness. - -Not a man save Pop and Bud had placed a bet on Smoky, yet every man -there seemed keenly interested in the race. They joshed Bud, who grinned -and took it good-naturedly, and found another five dollars in--his -pocket to bet--this time with Pop, who kept eyeing him sharply--and it -seemed to Bud warningly. But Bud wanted to play his own game, this time, -and he avoided Pop's eyes. - -The two men rode down the hoof-scored sand to the quarter post, -Skeeter dancing sidewise at the prospect of a race, Smoky now and then -tentatively against Bud's steady pressure of the bit. - -“He's not limping now,” Bud gloated as they rode. But Jeff only laughed -tolerantly and made no reply. - -Dave Truman started them with a pistol shot, and the two horses darted -away, Smoky half a jump in the lead. His limp was forgotten, and for -half the distance he ran neck and neck with Skeeter. Then he dropped to -Skeeter's middle, to his flank--then ran with his black nose even -with Skeeter's rump. Even so it was a closer race than the crowd had -expected, and all the cowboys began to yell themselves purple. - -But when they were yet a few leaps from the wire clothes-line stretched -high, from post to post, Bud leaned forward until he lay flat alongside -Smoky's neck, and gave a real Indian war-whoop. Smoky lifted and -lengthened his stride, came up again to Skeeter's middle, to his -shoulder, to his ears--and with the next leap thrust his nose past -Skeeter's as they finished. - -Well, then there was the usual noise, everyone trying to shout louder -than his fellows. Bud rode to where Pop was sitting apart on a pacing -gray horse that he always rode, and paused to say guardedly, - -“I pulled him, Pop. But at that I won, so if I can pry another race -out of this bunch to-day, you can bet all you like. And you owe me five -dollars,” he added thriftily. - -“Sho! Shucks almighty!” spluttered Pop, reaching reluctantly into his -pocket for the money. “Jeff, he done some pullin' himself--I wish I -knowed,” he added pettishly, “just how big a fool you air.” - -“Hey, come over here!” shouted Jeff. “What yuh nagging ole Pop about?” - -“Pop lost five dollars on that race,” Bud called back, and loped over -to the crowd. “But he isn't the only one. Seems to me I've got quite a -bunch of money coming to me, from this crowd!” - -“Jeff, he'd a beat him a mile if his bridle rein had busted,” an -arrogant voice shouted recklessly. “Jeff, you old fox, you know damn -well you pulled Skeeter. You must love to lose, doggone yuh.” - -“If you think I didn't run right,” Jeff retorted, as if a little -nettled, “someone else can ride the horse. That is, if the kid here -ain't scared off with your talk. How about it, Bud? Think you won fair?” - -Bud was collecting his money, and he did not immediately answer the -challenge. When he did it was to offer them another race. He would not, -he said, back down from anyone. He would bet his last cent on -little Smoky. He became slightly vociferative and more than a little -vain-glorious, and within half an hour he had once more staked all the -money he had in the world. The number of men who wanted to bet with -him surprised him a little. Also the fact that the Little Lost men were -betting on Smoky. - -Honey called him over to the bank and scolded him in tones much like her -name, and finally gave him ten dollars which she wanted to wager on -his winning. As he whirled away, Marian beckoned impulsively and leaned -forward, stretching out to him her closed hand. - -“Here's ten,” she smiled, “just to show that the Little Lost stands by -its men--and horses. Put it on Smoky, please.” When Bud was almost out -of easy hearing, she called to him. “Oh--was that a five or a ten dollar -bill I gave you?” - -Bud turned back, unfolding the banknote. A very tightly folded scrap of -paper slid into his palm. - -“Oh, all right--I have the five here in my pocket,” called Marian, and -laughed quite convincingly. “Go on and run! We won't be able to breathe -freely until the race is over.” - -Wherefore Bud turned back, puzzled and with his heart jumping. For some -reason Marian had taken this means of getting a message into his hands. -What it could be he did not conjecture; but he had a vague, unreasoning -hope that she trusted him and was asking him to help her somehow. He -did not think that it concerned the race, so he did not risk opening the -note then, with so many people about. - -A slim, narrow-eyed youth of about Bud's weight was chosen to ride -Skeeter, and together they went back over the course to the quarter -post, with Dave to start them and two or three others to make sure that -the race was fair. Smoky was full now of little prancing steps, and held -his neck arched while his nostrils flared in excitement, showing pink -within. Skeeter persistently danced sidewise, fighting the bit, crazy to -run. - -Skeeter made two false starts, and when the pistol was fired, jumped -high into the air and forward, shaking his head, impatient against the -restraint his rider put upon him. Halfway down the stretch he lunged -sidewise toward Smoky, but that level-headed little horse swerved and -went on, shoulder to shoulder with the other. At the very last Skeeter -rolled a pebble under his foot and stumbled--and again Smoky came in -with his slaty nose in the lead. - -Pop rode into the centre of the yelling crowd, his whiskers bristling. -“Shucks almighty!” he cried. “What fer ridin' do yuh call that there? -Jeff Hall, that feller held Skeeter in worse'n what you did yourself! I -kin prove it! I got a stop watch, an' I timed 'im, I did. An' I kin tell -yuh the time yore horse made when he run agin Dave's Boise. He's three -seconds--yes, by Christmas, he's four seconds slower t'day 'n what he's -ever run before! What fer sport d' you call that?” His voice went up and -cracked at the question mark like a boy in his early teens. - -Jeff stalked forward to Skeeter's side. “Jake, did you pull Skeeter?” - he demanded sternly. “I'll swan if this ain't the belly-achiness bunch -I ever seen! How about it, Jake? Did Skeeter do his durndest, or didn't -he? - -“Shore, he did!” Jake testified warmly. “I'da beat, too, if he hadn't -stumbled right at the last. Didn't yuh see him purty near go down? And -wasn't he within six inches of beatin'? I leave it to the crowd!” - -The crowd was full of argument, and some bets were paid under protest. -But they were paid, just the same. Burroback Valley insisted that the -main points of racing law should be obeyed to the letter. Bud collected -his winnings, the Scotch in him overlooking nothing whatever in the -shape of a dollar. Then, under cover of getting his smoking material, he -dared bring out Marian's note. There were two lines in a fine, even hand -on a cigarette paper, and Bud, relieved at her cleverness, unfolded the -paper and read while he opened his bag of tobacco. The lines were like -those in an old-fashioned copy book: - -“Winners may be losers. Empty pockets, safe owner.” - -And that was all. Bud sifted tobacco into the paper, rolled it into a -cigarette and smoked it to so short a stub that he burnt his lips. -Then he dropped it beside his foot and ground it into the sand while he -talked. - -He would run Smoky no more that day, he declared, but next Sunday he -would give them all a chance to settle their minds and win back their -losings, providing his horse's ankle didn't go bad again with to-day's -running. Pop, Dave, Jeff and a few other wise ones examined the weak -ankle and disagreed over the exact cause and nature of the weakness. It -seemed all right. Smoky did not flinch from rubbing, though he did lift -his foot away from strange hands. They questioned Bud, who could offer -no positive information on the subject, except that once he and Smoky -had rolled down a bluff together, and Smoky had been lame for a while -afterwards. - -It did not occur to anyone to ask Bud which leg had been lamed, and Bud -did not volunteer the detail. An old sprain, they finally decided, and -Bud replaced his saddle, got his chaps and coat from Jerry, who was -smiling over an extra twenty-five dollars, and rode over to give the -girls their winnings. - -He stayed for several minutes talking with them and hoping for a chance -to thank Marian for her friendly warning. But there was none, and he -rode away dissatisfied and wondering uneasily if Marian thought he was -really as friendly with Honey as that young lady made him appear to be. - -He was one of the first to ride back to the ranch, and he turned Smoky -in the pasture and caught up Stopper to ride with Honey, who said she -was going for a ride when the races were over, and that if he liked to -go along she would show him the Sinks. Bud had professed an eagerness -to see the Sinks which he did not feel until Marian had turned her head -toward Honey and said in her quiet voice: - -“Why the Sinks? You know that isn't safe country to ride in, Honey.” - -“That's why I want to ride there,” Honey retorted flippantly. “I hate -safe places and safe things.” - -Marian had glanced at Bud--and it was that glance which he was -remembering now with a puzzled sense that, like the note, it had meant -something definite, something vital to his own welfare if he could only -find the key. First it was Hen, then Jerry, and now Marian, all warning -him vaguely of danger into which he might stumble if he were not -careful. - -Bud was no fool, but on the other hand he was not one to stampede -easily. He had that steadfast courage, perhaps, which could face danger -and still maintain his natural calm--just as his mother had corrected -grammatical slips in the very sentences which told her of an impending -outbreak of Indians long ago Bud saddled Stopper and the horse which -Honey was to ride, led them to the house and went inside to wait until -the girl was ready. While he waited he played--and hoped that Marian, -hearing, would know that he played for her; and that she would come and -explain the cryptic message. Whether Marian heard and appreciated the -music or not, she failed to appear and let him know. It seemed to him -that she might easily have come into the room for a minute when she knew -he was there, and let him have a chance to thank her and ask her just -what she meant. - -He was just finishing the AVE MARIA which Marian had likened to a breath -of cool air, when Honey appeared in riding skirt and light shirtwaist. -She looked very trim and attractive, and Bud smiled upon her -approvingly, and cut short the last strain by four beats, which was one -way of letting Marian know that he considered her rather unappreciative. - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SINKS - -“We can go through the pasture and cut off a couple of miles,” said -Honey when they were mounted. “I hope you don't think I'm crazy, wanting -a ride at this time of day, after all the excitement we've had. But -every Sunday is taken up with horse-racing till late in the afternoon, -and during the week no one has time to go. And,” she added with a -sidelong look at him, “there's something about the Sinks that makes me -love to go there. Uncle Dave won't let me go alone.” - -Bud dismounted to pull down the two top bars of the pasture gate so that -their horses could step over. A little way down the grassy slope Smoky -and Sunfish fed together, the Little Lost horses grouped nearer the -creek. - -“I love that little horse of yours--why, he's gone lame again!” - exclaimed Honey. “Isn't that a shame! You oughtn't to run him if it does -that to him.” - -“He likes it,” said Bud carelessly as he remounted. “And so do I, when I -can clean up the way I did today. I'm over three hundred dollars richer -right now than I was this morning.” - -“And next Sunday, maybe you'll be broke,” Honey added significantly. -“You never know how you are coming out. I think Jeff let you win to-day -on purpose, so you'd bet it all again and lose. He's like that. He don't -care how much he loses one day, because he gets it back some other time. -I don't like it. Some of the boys never do get ahead, and you'll be in -the same fix if you don't look out.” - -“You didn't bring me along to lecture me, I know,” said Bud with a -good-natured smile. “What about the Sinks? Is it a dangerous place -as--Mrs. Morris says?” - -“Oh, Marian? She never does want me to come. She thinks I ought to stay -in the house always, the way she does. The Sinks is--is--queer. There -are caves, and then again deep holes straight down, and tracks of -wildcats and lions. And in some places you can hear gurgles and rumbles. -I love to be there just at sundown, because the shadows are spooky and -it makes you feel--oh, you know--kind of creepy up your back. You don't -know what might happen. I--do you believe in ghosts and haunted places, -Bud?” - -“I'd need a lot of scaring before I did. Are the Sinks haunted?” - -“No-o--but there are funny noises and people have got lost there. Anyway -they never showed up afterwards. The Indians claim it's haunted.” She -smiled that baring smile of hers. “Do you want to turn around and go -back?” - -“Sure. After we've had our ride, and seen the sights.” And he added with -some satisfaction, “The moon 's full to-night, and no clouds.” - -“And I brought sandwiches,” Honey threw in as especial blessing. “Uncle -Dave will be mad, I expect. But I've never seen the Sinks at night, with -moonlight.” - -She was quiet while the horses waded Sunk Creek and picked their way -carefully over a particularly rocky stretch beyond. “But what I'd rather -do,” she said, speaking from her thoughts which had evidently carried -forward in the silence, “is explore Catrock Canyon.” - -“Well, why not, if we have time?” Bud rode up alongside her. “Is it -far?” - -Honey looked at him searchingly. “You must be stranger to these parts,” - she said disbelievingly. “Do you think you can make me swallow that?” - -Bud looked at her inquiringly, which forced her to go on. - -“You must know about Catrock Canyon, Bud Birnie. Don't try to make me -believe you don't.” - -“I don't. I never heard of it before that I remember. What is it makes -you want to explore it?” - -Honey studied him. “You're the queerest specimen I ever did see,” she -exclaimed pettishly. “Why, it's not going to hurt you to admit you know -Catrock Canyon is--unexplorable.” - -“Oh. So you want to explore it because it's unexplorable. Well, why is -it unexplorable?” - -Honey looked around her at the dry sageland they were crossing. “Oh, you -make me TIRED!” she said bluntly, with something of the range roughness -in her voice. “Because it is, that's all.” - -“Then I'd like to explore it myself,” Bud declared. - -“For one thing,” Honey dilated, “there's no way to get in there. Up on -the ridge this side, where the rock is that throws a shadow like a cat's -head on the opposite wall, you can look down a ways. But the two sides -come so close together at the top that you can't see the bottom of the -canyon at all. I've been on the ridge where I could see the cat's head.” - -Bud glanced speculatively up at the sun, and Honey, catching his -meaning, shook her head and smiled. - -“If we get into the Sinks and back to-day, they will do enough talking -about it; or Uncle Dave will, and Marian. I--I thought perhaps you'd be -able to tell me about--Catrock Canyon.” - -“I'm able to say I don't know a thing about it. If no one can get into -it, I should think that's about all, isn't it?” - -“Yes--you'd think so,” Honey agreed enigmatically, and began to talk -of the racing that day, and of the dance, and of other dances and other -races yet to come. Bud discussed these subjects for a while and then -asked boldly, “When's Lew coming back?” - -“Lew?” Honey shot a swift glance at him. “Why?” She looked ahead at the -forbidding, craggy hills toward which she had glanced when she spoke of -Catrock. “Why, I don't know. How should I?” - -Bud saw that he had spoken unwisely. “I was thinking he'd maybe hate -to miss another running match like to-day,” he explained guilelessly. -“Everybody and his dog seemed to be there to-day, and everybody had -money up. All,” he modified, “except the Muleshoe boys. I didn't see any -of them.” - -“You won't,” Honey told him with some emphasis. “Uncle Dave and the -Muleshoe are on the outs. They never come around except for mail and -things from the store. And most always they send Hen. Uncle Dave and -Dirk Tracy had an awful row last winter. It was next thing to a killing. -So of course the outfits ain't on friendly terms.” - -This was more than Pop had gossiped to Bud, and since the whole thing -was of no concern to him, and Honey plainly objected to talking about -Marian's husband, he was quite ready to fix his interest once more upon -the Sinks. He was surprised when they emerged from a cluster of small, -sage-covered knolls, directly upon the edge of what at first sight -seemed to be another dry river bed--sprawled wider, perhaps, with -irregular arms thrust back into the less sterile land. They rode down a -steep, rocky trail and came out into the Sinks. - -It was an odd, forbidding place, and the farther up the gravelly bottom -they rode, the more forbidding it became. Bud thought that in the time -when Indians were dangerous as she-bears the Sinks would not be a place -where a man would want to ride. There were too many jutting crags, too -many unsuspected, black holes that led back--no one knew just where. - -Honey led the way to an irregular circle of waterwashed cobbles and -Bud peered down fifty feet to another dry, gravelly bottom seemingly a -duplicate of the upper surface. She rode on past other caves, and let -him look down into other holes. There were faint rumblings in some of -these, but in none was there any water showing save in stagnant pools in -the rock where the rain had fallen. - -“There's one cave I like to go into,” said Honey at last. “It's a little -farther on, but we have time enough. There's a spring inside, and we -can eat our sandwiches. It isn't dark-there are openings to the top, and -lots of funny, winding passages. That,” she finished thrillingly, “is -the place the Indians claim is haunted.” - -Bud did not shudder convincingly, and they rode slowly forward, picking -their way among the rocks. The cave yawned wide open to the sun, which -hung on the top of Catrock Peak. They dismounted, anchored the reins -with rocks and went inside. - -When Bud had been investigative Buddy, he had explored more caves than -he could count. He had filched candles from his mother and had crept -back and back until the candle flame flickered warning that he was -nearing the “damps” Indians always did believe caves were haunted, -probably because they did not understand the “damps”, and thought evil -spirits had taken those who went in and never returned. Buddy had once -been lost in a cave for four harrowing hours, and had found his way out -by sheer luck, passing the skeleton of an Indian and taking the tomahawk -as a souvenir. - -Wherefore this particular cave, with a spring back fifty feet from the -entrance where a shaft of sunlight struck the rock through some obscure -slit in the rock, had no thrill for him. But the floor was of fine, -white sand, and the ceiling was knobby and grotesque, and he was quite -willing to sit there beside the spring and eat two sandwiches and talk -foolishness with Honey, using that part of his mind which was not busy -with the complexities of winning money on the speed of his horses when -three horses represented his entire business capital, and with wondering -what was wrong with Burroback Valley, that three persons of widely -different viewpoints had felt it necessary to caution him,--and had -couched their admonitions in such general terms that he could not feel -the force of their warning. - -He was thinking back along his life to where false alarms of Indian -outbreaks had played a very large part in the Tomahawk's affairs, and -how little of the ranch work would ever have been done had they listened -to every calamity howler that came along. Honey was talking, and he was -answering partly at random, when she suddenly laughed and got up. - -“You must be in love, Bud Birnie. You just said 'yes' when I asked you -if you didn't think water snakes would be coming out this fall with -their stripes running round them instead of lengthwise! You didn't hear -a word--now, did you?” - -“I heard music,” Bud lied gallantly, “and I knew it was your voice. I'd -probably say yes if you asked me whether the moon wouldn't look better -with a ruffle around it.” - -“I'll say the moon will be wondering where we are, if we don't start -back. The sun's down.” - -Bud got up from sitting cross-legged like a Turk, helped Honey to her -feet--and felt her fingers clinging warmly to his own. He led the way -to the cave's mouth, not looking at her. “Great sunset,” he observed -carelessly, glancing up at the ridge while he held her horse for her to -mount. - -Honey showed that she was perfectly at home in the saddle. She rode on -ahead, leaving Bud to mount and follow. He was just swinging leisurely -into the saddle when Stopper threw his head around, glancing back -toward the level just beyond the cave. At the same instant Bud heard the -familiar, unmistakable swish of a rope headed his way. - -He flattened himself along Stopper's left shoulder as the loop settled -and tightened on the saddle horn, and dropped on to the ground as -Stopper whirled automatically to the right and braced himself against -the strain. Bud turned half kneeling, his gun in his hand ready for the -shot he expected would follow the rope. But Stopper was in action-the -best ropehorse the Tomahawk had ever owned. For a few seconds he stood -braced, his neck arched, his eyes bright and watchful. Then he leaped -forward, straight at the horse and the rider who was in the act of -leveling his gun. The horse hesitated, taken unaware by the onslaught. -When he started to run Stopper was already passing him, turning sharply -to the right again so that the rope raked the horse's front legs. Two -jumps and Stopper had stopped, faced the horse and stood braced again, -his ears perked knowingly while he waited for the flop. - -It came--just as it always did come when Stopper got action on the end -of a rope. Horse and rider came down together. They would not get up -until Bud wished it--he could trust Stopper for that--so Bud walked over -to the heap, his gun ready for action--and that, too, could be trusted -to perform with what speed and precision was necessary. There would be -no hasty shooting, however; Buddy had learned to save his bullets for -real need when ammunition was not to be had for the asking, and grown-up -Bud had never outgrown the habit. - -He picked up the fellow's six-shooter which he had dropped when he fell, -and stood sizing up the situation. - -By the neckerchief drawn across his face it was a straight case of -holdup. Bud stooped and yanked off the mask and looked into the glaring -eyes of one whom he had never before seen. - -“Well, how d'yuh like it, far as you've got?” Bud asked curiously. -“Think you were holding up a pilgrim, or what?” - -Just then, BING-GG sang a rifle bullet from the ridge above the cave. -Bud looked that way and spied a man standing half revealed against the -rosy clouds that were already dulling as dusk crept up from the low -ground. It was a long shot for a six-shooter, but Buddy used to shoot -antelope almost that far, so Bud lifted his arm and straightened it, -just as if he were pointing a finger at the man, and fired. He had the -satisfaction of seeing the figure jerk backward and go off over the -ridge in a stooping kind of run. - -“He'd better hurry back if he wants another shot at me,” Bud grinned. -“It'll be so dark down here in a minute he couldn't pick me up with his -front sight if I was--as big a fool as you are. How about it? I'll just -lead you into camp, I think--but you sure as hell couldn't get a job -roping gateposts, on the strength of this little exhibition.” - -He went over to Stopper and untied his own rope, giving an approving pat -to that business-like animal. “Hope your leg isn't broken or anything,” - he said to the man when he returned and passed the loop over the -fellow's head and shoulders, drawing it rather snugly around his body -and pinning his arms at the elbows. “It would be kind of unpleasant if -they happen to take a notion to make you walk all the way to jail.” - -He beckoned Stopper, who immediately moved up, slackening the rope. The -thrown horse drew up his knees, gave a preliminary heave and scrambled -to his feet, Bud taking care that the man was pulled free and safe. The -fellow stood up sulkily defiant, unable to rest much of his weight on -his left leg. - -Bud had ten busy minutes, and it was not until they were both mounted -and headed for Little Lost, the captive with his arms tied behind him, -his feet tied together under the horse, which Bud led, that Bud had time -to wonder what it was all about. Then he began to look for Honey, who -had disappeared. But in the softened light of the rising moon mingling -with the afterglow of sunset, he saw the deep imprints of her horse's -hoofs where he had galloped homeward. Bud did not think she ran away -because she was frightened; she had seemed too sure of herself for that. -She had probably gone for help. - -A swift suspicion that the attack might have been made from jealousy -died when Bud looked again at his prisoner. The man was swarthy, low of -brow--part Indian, by the look of him. Honey would never give the fellow -a second thought. So that brought him to the supposition that robbery -had been intended, and the inference was made more logical when Bud -remembered that Marian had warned him against something of the sort. -Probably he and Honey had been followed into the Sinks, and even though -Bud had not seen this man at the races, his partner up on the ridge -might have been there. It was all very simple, and Bud, having arrived -at the obvious conclusion, touched Stopper into a lope and arrived at -Little Lost just as Dave Truman and three of his men were riding down -into Sunk Creek ford on their way to the Sinks. They pulled up, staring -hard at Dave and his captive. Dave spoke first. - -“Honey said you was waylaid and robbed or killed--both, we took it, from -her account. How'd yuh come to get the best of it so quick?” - -“Why, his horse got tangled up in the rope and fell down, and fell on -top of him,” Bud explained cheerfully. “I was bringing him in. He's -a bad citizen, I should judge, but he didn't do me any damage, as it -turned out, so I don't know what to do with him. I'll just turn him over -to you, I think.” - -“Hell! I don't want him,” Dave protested. “I'll pass him along to the -sheriff--he may know something about him. Nelse and Charlie, you take -and run him in to Crater and turn him over to Kline. You tell Kline what -he done--or tried to do. Was he alone, Bud?” - -“He had a partner up on the ridge, so far off I couldn't swear to him if -I saw him face to face. I took a shot at him, and I think I nicked him. -He ducked, and there weren't any more rifle bullets coming my way.” - -“You nicked him with your six-shooter? And him so far off you couldn't -recognize him again?” Dave looked at Bud sharply. “That's purty good -shootin', strikes me.” - -“Well, he stood up against the sky-line, and he wasn't more than -seventy-five yards,” Bud explained. “I've dropped antelope that far, -plenty of times. The light was bad, this evening.” - -“Antelope,” Dave repeated meditatively, and winked at his men. “All -right, Bud--we'll let it stand at antelope. Boys, you hit for Crater -with this fellow. You ought to make it there and back by tomorrow noon, -all right.” - -Nelse took the lead rope from Bud and the two started off up the creek, -meaning to strike the road from Little Lost to Crater, the county seat -beyond Gold Gap mountains. Bud rode on to the ranch with his boss, and -tried to answer Dave's questions satisfactorily without relating his own -prowess or divulging too much of Stopper's skill; which was something of -a problem for his wits. - -Honey ran out to meet him and had to be assured over and over that he -was not hurt, and that he had lost nothing but his temper and the ride -home with her in the moonlight. She was plainly upset and anxious that -he should not think her cowardly, to leave him that way. - -“I looked back and saw a man throwing his rope, and you--it looked as if -he had dragged you off the horse. I was sure I saw you falling. So I ran -my horse all the way home, to get Uncle Dave and the boys,” she told -him tremulously. And then she added, with her tantalizing half smile, “I -believe that horse of mine could beat Smoky or Skeeter, if I was scared -that bad at the beginning of a race.” - -Bud, in sheer gratitude for her anxiety over him, patted Honey's hand -and told her she must have broken the record, all right, and that she -had done exactly the right thing. And Honey went to bed happy that -night. - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN: EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP - -Bud wanted to have a little confidential talk with Marian. He hoped that -she would be willing to tell him a great deal more than could be written -on one side of a cigarette paper, and he was curious to hear what it -was. On the other hand, he wanted somehow to let her know that he was -anxious to help her in any way possible. She needed help, of that he was -sure. - -Lew returned on Tuesday, with a vile temper and rheumatism in his left -shoulder so that he could not work, but stayed around the house and too -evidently made his wife miserable by his presence. On Wednesday morning -Marian had her hair dressed so low over her ears that she resembled a -lady of old Colonial days--but she did not quite conceal from Bud's -keen eyes the ugly bruise on her temple. She was pale and her lips were -compressed as if she were afraid to relax lest she burst out in tears or -in a violent denunciation of some kind. Bud dared not look at her, nor -at Lew, who sat glowering at Bud's right hand. He tried to eat, tried to -swallow his coffee, and finally gave up the attempt and left the table. - -In getting up he touched Lew's shoulder with his elbow, and Lew let out -a bellow of pain and an oath, and leaned away from him, his right hand -up to ward off another hurt. - -“Pardon me. I forgot your rheumatism,” Bud apologized perfunctorily, his -face going red at the epithet. Marian, coming toward him with a plate -of biscuits, looked him full in the eyes and turned her glance to her -husband's back while her lips curled in the bitterest, the most scornful -smile Bud had ever seen on a woman's face. She did not speak--speech -was impossible before that tableful of men--but Bud went out feeling as -though she had told him that her contempt for Lew was beyond words, and -that his rheumatism brought no pity whatever. - -Wednesday passed, Thursday came, and still there was no chance to speak -a word in private. The kitchen drudge was hedged about by open ears and -curious eyes, and save at meal-time she was invisible to the men unless -they glimpsed her for a moment in the kitchen door. - -Thursday brought a thunder storm with plenty of rain, and in the drizzle -that held over until Friday noon Bud went out to an old calf shed -which he had discovered in the edge of the pasture, and gathered his -neckerchief full of mushrooms. Bud hated mushrooms, but he carried them -to the machine shed and waited until he was sure that Honey was in the -sitting room playing the piano--and hitting what Bud called a blue note -now and then--and that Lew was in the bunk-house with the other men, and -Dave and old Pop were in Pop's shack. Then, and then only, Bud took long -steps to the kitchen door, carrying his mushrooms as tenderly as though -they were eggs for hatching. - -Marian was up to her dimpled elbows in bread dough when he went in. -Honey was still groping her way lumpily through the Blue Danube Waltz, -and Bud stood so that he could look out through the white-curtained -window over the kitchen table and make sure that no one approached the -house unseen. - -“Here are some mushrooms,” he said guardedly, lest his voice should -carry to Honey. “They're just an excuse. Far as I'm concerned you can -feed them to the hogs. I like things clean and natural and wholesome, -myself. I came to find out what's the matter, Mrs. Morris. Is there -anything I can do? I took the hint you gave me in the note, Sunday, and -I discovered right away you knew what you were talking about. That was a -holdup down in the Sinks. It couldn't have been anything else. But -they wouldn't have got anything. I didn't have more than a dollar in my -pocket.” - -Marian turned her head, and listened to the piano, and glanced up at -him. - -“I also like things clean and natural and wholesome,” she said quietly. -“That's why I tried to put you on your guard. You don't seem to fit in, -somehow, with--the surroundings. I happen to know that the races held -here every Sunday are just thinly veiled attempts to cheat the unwary -out of every cent they have. I should advise you, Mr. Birnie, to be very -careful how you bet on any horses.” - -“I shall,” Bud smiled. “Pop gave me some good advice, too, about running -horses. He says, 'It's every fellow for himself, and mercy toward none.' -I'm playing by their rule, and Pop expects to make a few dollars, too. -He said he'd stand by me.” - -“Oh! He did?” Marian's voice puzzled Bud. She kneaded the bread -vigorously for a minute. “Don't depend too much on Pop. He's--variable. -And don't go around with a dollar in your pocket--unless you don't mind -losing that dollar. There are men in this country who would willingly -dispense with the formality of racing a horse in order to get your -money.” - -“Yes--I've discovered one informal method already. I wish I knew how I -could help YOU.” - -“Help me--in what way?” Marian glanced out of the window again as if -that were a habit she had formed. - -“I don't know. I wish I did. I thought perhaps you had some trouble -that--My mother had the same look in her eyes when we came back to -the ranch after some Indian trouble, and found the house burned and -everything destroyed but the ground itself. She didn't say anything -much. She just began helping father plan how we'd manage until we could -get material and build another cabin, and make our supplies hold out. -She didn't complain. But her eyes had the same look I've seen in yours, -Mrs. Morris. So I feel as if I ought to help you, just as I'd help -mother.” Bud's face had been red and embarrassed when he began, but his -earnestness served to erase his selfconsciousness. - -“You're different--just like mother,” he went on when Marian did not -answer. “You don't belong here drudging in this kitchen. I never saw a -woman doing a man's work before. They ought to have a man cooking for -all these hulking men.” - -“Oh, the kitchen!” Marian exclaimed impatiently. “I don't mind the -cooking. That's the least--” - -“It isn't right, just the same. I--I don't suppose that's it altogether. -I'm not trying to find out what the trouble is--but I wish you'd -remember that I'm ready to do anything in the world that I can. You -won't misunderstand that, I'm sure.” - -“No-o,” said Marian slowly. “But you see, there's nothing that you can -do--except, perhaps, make things worse for me.” Then, to lighten that -statement, she smiled at him. “Just now you can help me very much if you -will go in and play something besides the Blue Danube Waltz. I've had -to listen to that ever since Honora sent away for the music with the -winter's grocery order, last October. Tell Honora you got her some -mushrooms. And don't trust anyone. If you must bet on the horses, do so -with your eyes open. They're cheats--and worse, some of them.” - -Bud's glance followed hers through the window that overlooked the -corrals and the outbuildings. Lew was coming up to the house with a -slicker over his head to keep off the drizzle. - -“Well, remember I'd do anything for you that I'd do for my mother or my -sister Dulcie. And I wish you'd call on me just as they would, if you -get in a pinch and need me. If I know you'll do that I'll feel a lot -better satisfied.” - -“If I need you be sure that I shall let you know. And I'll say -that 'It's a comfort to have met one white man,'” Marian assured him -hurriedly, her anxious eyes on her approaching husband. - -She need not have worried over his coming, so far as Bud was concerned. -For Bud was in the sitting-room and had picked Honey off the piano -stool, had given her a playful shake and was playing the Blue Danube -as its composer intended that it should be played, when Lew entered the -kitchen and kicked the door shut behind him. - -Bud spent the forenoon conscientiously trying to teach Honey that the -rests are quite as important to the tempo of a waltz measure as are the -notes. Honey's talent for music did not measure up to her talent for -coquetry; she received about five dollars' worth of instruction and no -blandishments whatever, and although she no doubt profited thereby, at -last she balked and put her lazy white hands over her ears and refused -to listen to Bud's inexorable “One, two, three, one, two, three-and one, -two, three.” Whereupon Bud laughed and returned to the bunk-house. - -He arrived in the middle of a heated argument over Jeff Hall's tactics -in racing Skeeter, and immediately was called upon for his private, -personal opinion of Sunday's race. Bud's private, personal opinion -being exceedingly private and personal, he threw out a skirmish line of -banter. - -Smoky could run circles around that Skeeter horse, he boasted, and -Jeff's manner of riding was absolutely unimportant, non-essential and -immaterial. He was mighty glad that holdup man had fallen down, last -Sunday, before he got his hands on any money, because that money was -going to talk long and loud to Jeff Hall next Sunday. Now that Bud had -started running his horse for money, working for wages looked foolish -and unprofitable. He was now working merely for healthful exercise and -to pass the time away between Sundays. His real mission in life, he had -discovered, was to teach Jeff's bunch that gambling is a sin. - -The talk was carried enthusiastically to the dinner table, where Bud -ignored the scowling proximity of Lew and repeated his boasts in a -revised form as an indirect means of letting Marian know that he meant -to play the Burroback game in the Burroback way--or as nearly as he -could--and keep his honesty more or less intact. He did not think she -would approve, but he wanted her to know. - -Once, when Buddy was fifteen, four thoroughbred cows and four calves -disappeared mysteriously from the home ranch just before the calves had -reached branding age. Buddy rode the hills and the valleys every spare -minute for two weeks in search of them, and finally, away over the ridge -where an undesirable neighbor was getting a start in cattle, Buddy found -the calves in a fenced field with eight calves belonging--perhaps--to -the undesirable neighbor. - -Buddy did not ride down to the ranch and accuse the neighbor of stealing -the calves. Instead, he painstakingly sought a weak place in the fence, -made a very accidental looking hole and drove out the twelve calves, -took them over the ridge to Tomahawk and left them in a high, mountain -meadow pretty well surrounded by matted thickets. There, because there -was good grass and running water, the calves seemed quite as happy as in -the field. - -Then Buddy hurried home and brought a branding iron and a fresh horse, -and by working very hard and fast, he somehow managed to plant a deep -tomahawk brand on each one of the twelve calves. He returned home very -late and very proud of himself, and met his father face to face as -he was putting away the iron. Explanations and a broken harness strap -mingled painfully in Buddy's memory for a long time afterwards, but the -full effect of the beating was lost because Buddy happened to hear Bob -Birnie confide to mother that the lad had served the old cattle-thief -right, and that any man who could start with one thoroughbred cow and -in four years have sufficient increase from that cow to produce eight -calves a season, ought to lose them all. - -Buddy had not needed his father's opinion to strengthen his own -conviction that he had performed a worthy deed and one of which no man -need feel ashamed. Indeed, Buddy considered the painful incident of -the buggy strap a parental effort at official discipline, and held no -particular grudge against his father after the welts had disappeared -from his person. - -Wherefore Bud, the man, held unswervingly to the ethical standard of -Buddy the boy. If Burroback Valley was scheming to fleece a stranger at -their races and rob him by force if he happened to win, then Bud felt -justified in getting every dollar possible out of the lot of them. At -any rate, he told himself, he would do his darndest. It was plain enough -that Pop was trying to make an opportunity to talk confidentially, but -with a dozen men on the place it was easy enough to avoid being alone -without arousing the old man's suspicions. Marian had told him to -trust no one; and Bud, with his usual thoroughness, applied the warning -literally. - -Sunday morning he caught up Smoky and rode him to the corral. Smoky -had recovered from his lameness, and while Bud groomed him for the -afternoon's running the men of Little Lost gathered round him and -offered advice and encouragement, and even volunteered to lend him money -if he needed it. But Bud told them to put up their own bets, and never -to worry about him. Their advice and their encouragement, however, he -accepted as cheerfully as they were given. - -“Think yuh can beat Skeeter, young feller?” Pop shambled up to inquire -anxiously, his beard brushing Bud's shoulder while he leaned close. -“Remember what I told ye. You stick by me an' I'll stick by you. You -shook on it, don't forgit that, young feller.” - -Bud had forgotten, but he made haste to redeem his promise. “Last -Sunday, Pop, I had to play it alone. To-day-well, if you want to make an -honest dollar, you know what to do, don't you?” - -“Sho! I'm bettin' on yore horse t'day, an' mind ye, I want to see my -money doubled! But that there lameness in his left hind ankle--I don't -see but what that kinda changes my opinion a little mite. You shore he -won't quit on ye in the race, now? Don't lie to ole Pop, young feller!” - -“Say! He 's the gamest little horse in the state, Pop. He never has -quit, and he never will.” Bud stood up and laid a friendly hand on the -old fellow's shoulder. “Pop, I'm running him to-day to win. That's the -truth. I'm going to put all I've got on him. Is that good enough?” - -“Shucks almighty! That's good enough fer me,--plenty good fer me,” Pop -cackled, and trotted off to find someone who had little enough faith in -Smoky to wager a two-to-one against him. - -It seemed to Bud that the crowd was larger than that of a week ago, and -there was no doubt whatever that the betting was more feverish, and that -Jeff meant that day to retrieve his losses. Bud passed up a very good -chance to win on other races, and centred all his betting on Smoky. He -had been throughout the week boastful and full of confidence, and now he -swaggered and lifted his voice in arrogant challenge to all and sundry. -His three hundred dollars was on the race, and incidentally, he never -left Smoky from the time he led him up from pasture until the time came -when he and Jeff Hall rode side by side down to the quarter post. - -They came up in a small whirlwind of speed and dust, and Smoky was under -the wire to his ears when Skeeter's nose showed beyond it. Little Lost -was jubilant. Jeff Hall and his backers were not. - -Bud's three hundred dollars had in less than a minute increased to a -little over nine hundred, though all his bets had been moderate. By the -time he had collected, his pockets were full and his cocksureness had -increased to such an unbearable crowing that Jeff Hall's eyes were -venomous as a snake's. Jeff had been running to win, that day, and he -had taken odds on Skeeter that had seemed to him perfectly safe. - -“I'll run yuh horse for horse!” he bellowed and spat out an epithet that -sent Bud at him white-lipped. - -“Damn yuh, ride down to the quarter post and I'll show you some -running!” Bud yelled back. “And after you've swallowed dust all the way -up the track, you go with me to where the women can't see and I'll lick -the living tar outa you!” - -Jeff swore and wheeled Skeeter toward the starting post, beckoning -Bud to follow. And Bud, hastily tucking in a flapping bulge of striped -shirt, went after him. At that moment he was not Bud, but Buddy in one -of his fighting moods, with his plans forgotten while he avenged an -insult. - -Men lined up at the wire to judge for themselves the finish, and Dave -Truman rode alone to start them. No one doubted but that the start would -be fair--Jeff and Bud would see to that! - -For the first time in months the rein-ends stung Smoky's flanks when he -was in his third jump. Just once Bud struck, and was ashamed of the blow -as it fell. Smoky did not need that urge, but he flattened his ears and -came down the track a full length ahead of Skeeter, and held the pace -to the wire and beyond, where he stopped in a swirl of sand and went -prancing back, ready for another race if they asked it of him. - -“Guess Dave'll have to bring out Boise and take the swellin' outa that -singin' kid's pocket,” a hardfaced man shouted as Jeff slid off -Skeeter and went over to where his cronies stood bunched and conferring -earnestly together. - -“Not to-day, he needn't. I've had all the excitement I want; and I'd -like to have time to count my money before I lose it,” Bud retorted. -“Next Sunday, if it's a clear day and the sign is right, I might run -against Boise if it's worth my while. Say, Jeff, seeing you're playing -hard luck, I won't lick you for what you called me. And just to show my -heart's right, I'll lend you Skeeter to ride home. Or if you want to buy -him back, you can have him for sixty dollars or such a matter. He 's a -nice little horse,--if you aren't in a hurry!” - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE - -“Bud, you're fourteen kinds of a damn fool and I can prove it,” Jerry -announced without prelude of any kind save, perhaps, the viciousness -with which he thrust a pitchfork into a cock of hay. The two were -turning over hay-cocks that had been drenched with another unwelcome -storm, and they had not been talking much. “Forking” soggy hay when -the sun is blistering hot and great, long-billed mosquitoes are boring -indefatigably into the back of one's neck is not a pastime conducive to -polite and animated conversation. - -“Fly at it,” Bud invited, resting his fork while he scratched a smarting -shoulder. “But you can skip some of the evidence. I know seven of the -kinds, and I plead guilty. Any able-bodied man who will deliberately -make a barbecue of himself for a gang of blood-thirsty insects ought to -be hanged. What's the rest?” - -“You can call that mild,” Jerry stated severely. “Bud, you're playing to -lose the shirt off your back. You've got a hundred dollar forfeit up -on next Sunday's running match, so you'll run if you have to race Boise -afoot. That's all right if you want the risk--but did it ever occur to -you that if all the coin in the neighborhood is collected in one man's -pocket, there'll be about as many fellows as there are losers, that will -lay awake till sun-up figuring how to heel him and ride off with the -roll? I ain't over-stocked with courage, myself. I'd rather be broke in -Burroback Valley than owner of wealth. It's healthier.” - -He thrust his fork into another settled heap, lifted it clear of the -ground with one heave of his muscular shoulders, and heard within a -strident buzzing. He held the hay poised until a mottled gray -snake writhed into view, its ugly jaws open and its fangs showing -malevolently. - -“Grab him with your fork, Bud,” Jerry said coolly. “A rattler--the -valley's full of 'em,--some of 'em 's human.” - -The snake was dispatched and the two went on to the next hay-cock. -Bud was turning over more than the hay, and presently he spoke more -seriously than was his habit with Jerry. - -“You're full enough of warnings, Jerry. What do you want me to do about -it?” - -“Drift,” Jerry advised. “There's moral diseases just as catching as -smallpox. This part of the country has been settled up by men that came -here first because they wanted to hide out. They've slipped into darn -crooked ways, and the rest has either followed suit or quit. All through -this rough country. It's the same-over in the Black Rim, across Thunder -Mountains, and beyond that to the Sawtooth, a man that's honest is a -man that's off his range. I'd like to see you pull out--before you're -planted.” - -Bud looked at Jerry, studied him, feature by feature. “Then what are you -doing here?” he demanded bluntly. “Why haven't you pulled out?” - -“Me?” Jerry bit his lip. “Bud, I'm going to take a chance and tell you -the God's-truth. I dassent. I'm protected here because I keep my mouth -shut, and because they know I've got to or they can hand me over. I had -some trouble. I'm on the dodge, and Little Lost is right handy to the -Sinks and--Catrock Canyon. There ain't a sheriff in Idaho that would -have one chance in a thousand of getting me here. But you--say!” He -faced Bud. “You ain't on the dodge, too, are yuh?” - -“Nope,” Bud grinned. “Over at the Muleshoe they seemed to think I was. I -just struck out for myself, and I want to show up at home some day with -a stake I made myself. It's just a little argument with my dad that I -want to settle. And,” he added frankly, “I seem to have struck the -right place to make money quickly. The very fact that they're a bunch of -crooks makes my conscience clear on the point of running my horse. I'm -not cheating them out of a cent. If Jeff's horse is faster than Smoky, -Jeff is privileged to let him out and win if he can. It isn't my fault -if he 's playing to let me win from the whole bunch in the hope that -he can hold me up afterwards and get the roll. It's straight 'give and -take'--and so far I've been taking.” - -Jerry worked for a while, moodily silent. “What I'd like is to see you -take the trail; while the takin's good,” he said later. “I've got to -keep my mouth shut. But I like yuh, Bud. I hate like hell to see you -walking straight into a trap.” - -“Say, I'm as easily trapped as a mountain lion,” Bud told him -confidently. - -Whereat Jerry looked at him pityingly. “You going to that dance up at -Morgan's?” - -“Sure! I'm going to take Honey and--I think Mrs. Morris if she decides -to go. Honey mentioned it last night. Why?” - -“Oh, nothing.” Jerry shouldered his fork and went off to where a jug of -water was buried in the hay beside a certain boulder which marked -the spot. He drank long, stopped for a short gossip with Charley, who -strolled over for a drink, and went to work on another row. - -Bud watched him, and wondered if Jerry had changed rows to avoid -further talk with him; and whether Jerry had merely been trying to get -information from him, and had either learned what he wanted to know, -or had given up the attempt. Bud reviewed mentally their desultory -conversation and decided that he had accidentally been very discreet. -The only real bit of information he had given Jerry was the fact that he -was not “on the dodge”--a criminal in fear of the law--and that surely -could harm no man. - -That he intended to run against Boise on Sunday was common knowledge; -also that he had a hundred dollar forfeit up on the race. And that he -was going to a dance with Honey was of no consequence that he could see. - -Bud was beginning to discount the vague warnings he had received. Unless -something definite came within his knowledge he would go about his -business exactly as if Burroback Valley were a church-going community. -He would not “drift.” - -But after all he did not go to the dance with Honey, or with anyone. He -came to the supper-table freshly shaved and dressed for the occasion, -ate hungrily and straightway became a very sick young man. He did not -care if there were forty dances in the Valley that night. His head was -splitting, his stomach was in a turmoil. He told Jerry to go ahead with -Honey, and if he felt better after a while he would follow. Jerry at -first was inclined to scepticism, and accused Bud of crawfishing at the -last minute. But within ten minutes Bud had convinced him so completely -that Jerry insisted upon staying with him. By then Bud was too sick to -care what was being done, or who did it. So Jerry stayed. - -Honey came to the bunk-house in her dance finery, was met in the doorway -by Jerry and was told that this was no place for a lady, and reluctantly -consented to go without her escort. - -A light shone dimly in the kitchen after the dancers had departed, -wherefore Jerry guessed that Marian had not gone with the others, -and that he could perhaps get hold of mustard for an emetic or a -plaster--Jerry was not sure which remedy would be best, and the -patient, wanting to die, would not be finicky. He found Marian measuring -something drop by drop into half a glass of water. She turned, saw who -had entered, and carefully counted three more drops, corked the bottle -tightly and slid it into her apron pocket, and held out the glass to -Jerry. - -“Give him this,” she said in a soft undertone. “I'm sorry, but I hadn't -a chance to say a word to the boy, and so I couldn't think of any other -way of making sure he would not go up to Morgan's. I put something into -his coffee to make him sick. You may tell him, Jerry, if you like. I -should, if I had the chance. This will counteract the effects of the -other so that he will be all right in a couple of hours.” - -Jerry took the glass and stood looking at her steadily. “That sure was -one way to do it,” he observed, with a quirk of the lips. “It's none of -my business, and I ain't asking any questions, but--” - -“Very sensible, I'm sure,” Marian interrupted him. “I wish he'd leave -the country. Can't you--?” - -“No. I told him to pull out, and he just laughed at me. I knowed they -was figuring on ganging together to-night--” - -Marian closed her hands together with a gesture of impatience. “Jerry, I -wish I knew just how bad you are!” she exclaimed. “Do you dare stand by -him? Because this thing is only beginning. I couldn't bear to see him go -up there to-night, absolutely unsuspecting--and so I made him sick. Tell -that to anyone, and you can make me--” - -“Say, I ain't a damned skunk!” Jerry muttered. “I'm bad enough, maybe. -At any rate you think so.” Then, as usually happened, Jerry decided to -hold his tongue. He turned and lifted the latch of the screen door. “You -sure made a good job of it,” he grinned. “I'll go an' pour this into Bud -'fore he loses his boots!” - -He did so, and saved Bud's boots and half a night's sleep besides. -Moreover, when Bud, fully recovered, searched his memory of that supper -and decided that it was the sliced cucumbers that had disagreed with -him, Jerry gravely assured him that it undoubtedly was the combination -of cucumber and custard pie, and that Bud was lucky to be alive after -such reckless eating. - -Having missed the dance altogether, Bud looked forward with impatience -to Sunday. It is quite possible that others shared with him that -impatience, though we are going to adhere for a while to Bud's point of -view and do no more than guess at the thoughts hidden behind the fair -words of certain men in the Valley. - -Pop's state of mind we are privileged to know, for Pop was seen making -daily pilgrimage to the pasture where he could watch Smoky limping -desultorily here and there with Stopper and Sunfish. On Saturday -afternoon Bud saw Pop trying to get his hands on Smoky, presumably to -examine the lame ankle. But three legs were all Smoky needed to keep him -out of Pop's reach. Pop forgot his rheumatism and ran pretty fast for a -man his age, and when Bud arrived Pop's vocabulary had limbered up to a -more surprising activity than his legs. - -“Want to bet on yourself, Pop?” Bud called out when Pop was running -back and forth, hopefully trying to corner Smoky in a rocky draw. “I'm -willing to risk a dollar on you, anyway.” - -Pop whirled upon him and hurled sentences not written in the book of -Parlor Entertainment. The gist of it was that he had been trying all -the week to have a talk with Bud, and Bud had plainly avoided him after -promising to act upon Pop's advice and run so as to make some money. - -“Well, I made some,” Bud defended. “If you didn't, it's just because you -didn't bet strong enough.” - -“I want to look at that horse's hind foot,” Pop insisted. - -“No use. He's too lame to run against Boise. You can see that yourself.” - -Pop eyed Bud suspiciously, pulling his beard. “Are you fixin' to -double-cross me, young feller?” he wanted to know. “I went and made some -purty big bets on this race. If you think yo're goin' to fool ole Pop, -you 'll wish you hadn't. You got enemies already in this valley, lemme -tell yuh. The Muleshoe ain't any bunch to fool with, and I'm willing -to say 't they're laying fer yuh. They think,” he added shrewdly, “'t -you're a spotter, or something. Air yuh?” - -“Of course I am, Pop! I've spotted a way to make money and have -fun while I do it.” Bud looked at the old man, remembered Marian's -declaration that Pop was not very reliable, and groped mentally for a -way to hearten the old man without revealing anything better kept to -himself, such as the immediate effect of a horse hair tied just above -a horse's hoof, also the immediate result of removing that hair. -Wherefore, he could not think of much to say, except that he would not -attempt to run a lame horse against Boise. - -“All I can say is, to-morrow morning you keep your eyes open, Pop, and -your tongue between your teeth. And no matter what comes up, you use -your own judgment.” - -To-morrow morning Pop showed that he was taking Bud's advice. When the -crowd began to gather--much earlier than usual, by the way, and much -larger than any crowd Bud had seen in the valley--Pop was trotting here -and there, listening and pulling his whiskers and eyeing Bud sharply -whenever that young man appeared in his vicinity. - -Bud led Smoky up at noon--and Smoky was still lame. Dave looked at him -and at Bud, and grinned. “I guess that forfeit money's mine,” he said in -his laconic way. “No use running that horse. I could beat him afoot.” - -This was but the beginning. Others began to banter and jeer Bud, Jeff's -crowd taunting him with malicious glee. The singin' kid was going to -have some of the swelling taken out of his head, they chortled. He had -been crazy enough to put up a forfeit on to-day's race, and now his -horse had just three legs to run on. - -“Git out afoot, kid!” Jeff Hall yelled. “If you kin run half as fast as -you kin talk, you'll beat Boise four lengths in the first quarter!” - -Bud retorted in kind, and led Smoky around the corral as if he hoped -that the horse would recover miraculously just to save his master's -pride. The crowd hooted to see how Smoky hobbled along, barely touching -the toe of his lame foot to the ground. Bud led him back to the manger -piled with new hay, and faced the jeering crowd belligerently. Bud -noticed several of the Muleshoe men in the crowd, no doubt drawn to -Little Lost by the talk of Bud's spectacular winnings for two Sundays. -Hen was there, and Day Masters and Cub. Also there were strangers who -had ridden a long way, judging by their sweaty horses. In the midst of -the talk and laughter Dave led out Boise freshly curried and brushed and -arching his neck proudly. - -“No use, Bud,” he said tolerantly. “I guess you're set back that forfeit -money--unless you want to go through the motions of running a lame -horse.” - -“No, sir, I'm not going to hand over any forfeit money without making -a fight for it!” Bud told him, anger showing in his voice. “I'm no such -piker as that. I won't run Smoky, lame as he is “--Bud probably nudged -his own ribs when he said that!--“but if you'll make it a mile, I'll -catch up my old buckskin packhorse and run the race with him, by -thunder! He's not the quickest horse in the world, but he sure can run a -long while!” - -They yelled and slapped one another on the back, and otherwise comported -themselves as though a great joke had been told them; never dreaming, -poor fools, that a costly joke was being perpetrated. - -“Go it, kid. You run your packhorse, and I'll rive yuh five to one on -him!” a friend of Jeff Hall's yelled derisively. - -“I'll just take you up on that, and I'll make it one hundred dollars,” - Bud shouted back. “I'd run a turtle for a quarter, at those odds!” - -The crowd was having hysterics when Bud straddled a Little Lost horse -and, loudly declaring that he would bring back Sunfish, led Smoky -limping back to the pasture. He returned soon, leading the buckskin. The -crowd surged closer, gave Sunfish a glance and whooped again. Bud's face -was red with apparent anger, his eyes snapped. He faced them defiantly, -his hand on Sunfish's thin, straggling mane. - -“You're such good sports, you'll surely appreciate my feelings when I -say that this horse is mine, and I'm going to run him and back him to -win!” he cried. “I may be a darn fool, but I'm no piker. I know what -this horse can do when I try to catch him up on a frosty morning--and -I'm going to see if he can't go just as fast and just as long when I'm -on him as he can when I'm after him.” - -“We'll go yuh, kid! I'll bet yuh five to one,” a man shouted. “You name -the amount yourself.” - -“Fifty,” said Bud, and the man nodded and jotted down the amount. - -“Bud, you're a damn fool. I'll bet you a hundred and make it ten to -one,” drawled Dave, stroking Boise's face affectionately while he looked -superciliously at Sunfish standing half asleep in the clamor, with his -head sagging at the end of his long, ewe neck. “But if you'll take my -advice, go turn that fool horse back in the pasture and run the bay if -you must run something.” - -“The bay's a rope horse. I don't want to spoil him by running him. That -little horse saved my life, down in the Sinks. No, Sunfish has run times -enough from me--now he 's got to run for me, by thunder. I'll bet on -him, too!” - -Jeff pushed his way through to Bud. He was smiling with that crafty -look in his eyes which should have warned a child that the smile went no -deeper than his lips. - -“Bud, doggone it, I like yore nerve. Besides, you owe me something for -the way you trimmed me last Sunday. I'll just give you fifteen to one, -and you put up Skeeter at seventy-five, and as much money as yo're a -mind to. A pile of it come out of my pocket, so-” - -“Well, don't holler your head off, Jeff. How's two hundred?” - -“Suits me, kid.” He winked at the others, who knew how sure a thing he -had to back his wager. “It 'll be a lot of money if I should lose--” - He turned suddenly to Dave. “How much was that you put up agin the kid, -Dave?” - -“One hundred dollars, and a ten-to-one shot I win,” Dave drawled. “That -ought to satisfy yuh it ain't a frame-up. The kid's crazy, that's all.” - -“Oh! Am I?” Bud turned hotly. “Well, I've bet half of all the money -I have in the world. And I'm game for the other half--” He stopped -abruptly, cast one look at Sunfish and another at Boise, stepping about -uneasily, his shiny coat rippling, beautiful. He turned and combed -Sunfish's scanty mane with his gloved fingers. Those nearest saw that -his lips were trembling a little and mistook his hidden emotion for -anger. - -“You got him going,” a man whispered in Jeff's ear. “The kid's crazy mad. -He'll bet the shirt off his back if yuh egg him on a little more.” - -Jeff must have decided to “egg” Bud on. By the time the crowd had -reached the course, and the first, more commonplace races were over, -the other half of his money was in the hands of the stake-holder, who -happened on this day to be Jerry. And the odds varied from four to one -up to Jeff Hall's scornful fifteen. - -“Bet yuh five hundred dollars against your bay horse,” Lew offered when -Bud confessed that he had not another dollar to bet.-- - -“All right, it's a go with me,” Bud answered recklessly. “Get his -hundred, Jerry, and put down Stopper.” - -“What's that saddle worth?” another asked meaningly. - -“One hundred dollars,” snapped Bud. “And if you want to go further, -there are my chaps and spurs and this silver-mounted bridle-and my boots -and hat-and I'll throw in Sunfish for whatever you say his hide's worth. -Who wants the outfit?” - -“I'll take 'em,” said Jeff, and permitted Jerry and Dave to appraise the -outfit, which Bud piled contemptuously in a heap. - -He mounted Sunfish bareback with a rope halter. Bud was bareheaded and -in his sock feet. His eyes were terribly blue and bright, and his face -was flushed as a drunken man's. He glanced over to the bank where -the women and children were watching. It seemed to him that one woman -fluttered her handkerchief, and his heart beat unevenly for a minute. - -Then he was riding at a walk down the course to the farthest post, and -the crowd was laughing at the contrast between the two horses. Boise -stepped springily, tossing his head, his eyes ablaze with ardor for the -race. Beside him Sunfish walked steadily as if he were carrying a pack. -He was not a pretty horse to look at. His neck was long and thin, his -mane and tail scanty and uneven, a nondescript sorrel. His head looked -large, set on the end of that neck, his nose was dished in and his eyes -had a certain veiled look, as if he were hiding a bad disposition under -those droopy lids. Without a saddle he betrayed his high, thin withers, -the sway in his back, his high hip bones. His front legs were flat, with -long, stringy-looking muscles under his unkempt buckskin hide. Even the -women laughed at Sunfish. - -Beside them two men rode, the starter and another to see that the start -was fair. So they receded down the flat, yellow course and dwindled to -mere miniature figures against the sand, so that one could not tell one -horse from another. - -The crowd bunched, still laughing at how the singin' kid was going to -feel when he rode again to meet them. It would cure him of racing, they -said. It would be a good lesson; serve him right for coming in there and -thinking, because he had cleaned up once or twice, that he could not be -beaten. - -“Here they come,” Jeff Hall announced satisfiedly, and spat into the -sand as a tiny blue puff of smoke showed beside one of the dots, and two -other dots began to grow perceptibly larger within a yellow cloud which -rolled along the earth. - -Men reined this way and that, or stood on their toes if they were afoot, -the better to see the two rolling dots. In a moment one dot seemed -larger than the other. One could glimpse the upflinging of knees as two -horses leaped closer and closer. - -“Well-l-he's keepin' Dave in sight--that's more than what I expected -he'd do,” Jeff observed. - -It was Pop who suddenly gave a whoop that cracked and shrilled into -falsetto. - -“Shucks a'mighty! Dave, he's a-whippin' up to keep the KID in sight!” he -quavered. “Shucks--a'MIGHTY, he 's a-comin'!” - -He was. Lying forward flattened along Sunfish's hard-muscled shoulders, -Bud was gaining and gaining--one length, then two lengths as he shot -under the wire, slowed and rode back to find a silent crowd watching -him. - -He was clothed safely again in chaps, boots, spurs, hat--except that I -have named the articles backward; cowpuncher that he was, Bud put on his -hat before he even reached for his boots--and was collecting his wagers -relentlessly as Shylock ever took his toll, before he paid any attention -to the atmosphere around him. Then, because someone shouted a question -three inches from his ear, Bud turned and laughed as he faced them. - -“Why, sure he's from running stock! I never said he wasn't--because none -of you make-believe horsemen had sense enough to see the speed in him -and get curious. You bush-racers never saw a real race-horse before, I -guess. They aren't always pretty to look at, you know. Sunfish has -all the earmarks of speed if you know how to look for them. He's -thoroughbred; sired by Trump, out of Kansas Chippy--if that means -anything to you fellows.” He looked them over, eyes meeting eyes until -his glance rested on Jeff Hall. “I've got his registration papers in my -grip, if you aren't convinced. And,” he added by way of rubbing it in, -“I guess I've got about all the money there is in this valley.” - -“No, you ain't!” Pop Truman cackled, teetering backward and forward -while he counted his winnings. “I bet on ye, young feller. Brought me in -something, too. It did so!” - - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD - -At supper Bud noticed that Marian, standing at his right side, set down -his cup of coffee with her right hand, and at the same instant he felt -her left hand fumble in his pocket and then touch his elbow. She went -on, and Bud in his haste to get outside drank his coffee so hot that it -scalded his mouth. Jerry rose up and stepped backward over the bench as -Bud passed him, and went out at his heels. - -“Go play the piano for half an hour and then meet me where you got them -mushrooms. And when you quit playing, duck quick. Tell Honey you'll be -back in a minute. Have her hunt for music for yuh while you're out--or -something like that. Don't let on.” - -Bud might have questioned Jerry, but that cautious young man was already -turning back to call something--to Dave, so Bud went around the corner, -glancing into the pantry window as he passed. Marian was not in sight, -nor was Honey at the moment when he stood beside the step of the -post-office. - -Boldness carries its own talisman against danger. Bud went in--without -slamming the door behind him, you may be sure--and drew his small -notebook from his inside pocket. With that to consult frequently, he sat -down by the window where the failing light was strongest, and proceeded -to jot down imaginary figures on the paper he pulled from his coat -pocket and unfolded as if it were of no value whatever to him. The piano -playing ordered by Jerry could wait. - -What Marian had to say on this occasion could not be written upon a -cigarette paper. In effect her note was a preface to Jerry's commands. -Bud saw where she had written words and erased them so thoroughly that -the cheap paper was almost worn through. She had been afraid, poor lady, -but her fear could not prevent the writing. - -“You must leave to-night for Crater and cash the checks given you to pay -the bets. Go to Crater. If you don't know the way, keep due north after -you have crossed Gold Gap. There's the stage road, but they'll watch -that, I'm afraid. They mean to stop payment on the checks. But -first they will kill you if they can. They say you cheated with that -thoroughbred horse. They took their losses so calmly--I knew that they -meant to rob you. To show you how I know, it was Lew you shot on the -ridge that night. His rheumatism was caused by your bullet that nicked -his shoulder. So you see what sort we are--go. Don't wait--go now.” - -Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, smiling at -him. - -“Well, how much is it?” she teased when she saw he had discovered her. - -Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns of figures, -his hat-brim hiding his face. - -“Over eleven thousand dollars,” he announced, and twisted the paper -in his fingers while he went over to her. “Almost enough to start -housekeeping!” - -Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she pretended to -have dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to tuck the paper out of -sight. “I feel pretty much intoxicated to-night, Honey,” he said. “I -think I need soothing, or something--and you know what music does to the -savage breast. Let 's play.” - -“All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought you were -mad,” Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the little gate in the -half partition just as Bud was vaulting the counter, which gave her -a great laugh and a chance for playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and -immediately regretted the caress. - -Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his mandolin and -played that while Honey thumped out chords for him. As he had half -expected, most of the men strayed in and perched here and there -listening just as if there had not been a most unusual horserace to -discuss before they slept. Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost -boys so thoughtful, and this silence struck him all at once as something -sinister, like a beast of prey stalking its kill. - -Two waltzes he played--and then, in the middle of a favorite two-step, -a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and Bud came as close to -swearing as a well-behaved young man may come in the presence of a lady. - -“Now I'll have to go get a new E string,” he complained. “You play the -Danube for the boys--the way I taught you--while I get this fixed. I've -an extra string down in the bunk-house; it won't take five minutes to -get it.” He laid the mandolin down on his chair, bolted out through the -screen door which he slammed after him to let Jerry know that he was -coming, and walked halfway to the bunk-house before he veered off around -the corner of the machine shed and ran. - -Jerry was waiting by the old shed, and without a word he led Bud behind -it where Sunfish was standing saddled and bridled. - -“You got to go, Bud, while the going's good. I'd go with yuh if I -dared,” Jerry mumbled guardedly. “You hit for Crater, Bud, and put that -money in the bank. You can cut into the stage road where it crosses -Oldman Creek, if you go straight up the race track to the far end, and -follow the trail from there. You can't miss it--there ain't but one way -to go. I got yuh this horse because he's worth more'n what the other two -are, and he's faster. And Bud, if anybody rides up on yuh, shoot. Don't -monkey around about it. And you RIDE!” - -“All right,” Bud muttered. “But I'll have to go down in the pasture -and get my money, first. I've got my own private bank down there, and I -haven't enough in my pockets to play penny ante more than one round.” - -“Hell!” Jerry's hand lifted to Bud's shoulder and gripped it for a -minute. “That's right on the road to the Sinks, man!” He stood biting -his lips, thinking deeply, turning his head now and then as little -sounds came from the house: the waltz Honey was playing, the post-office -door slamming shut. - -“You tell me where that money's cached, Bud, and I'll go after it. I -guess you'll have to trust me--I sure wouldn't let yuh go down to the -pasture yourself right now. Where is it?” - -“Look under that flat rock right by the gate post, where the top bars -hit the ground. It's wrapped up in a handkerchief, so just bring -the package. It's been easy to tuck things under the rock when I was -putting up the bars. I'll wait here.” - -“Good enough--I'd sure have felt easier if I'd known you wasn't carrying -all that money.” Whereupon Jerry disappeared, and his going made no -sound. - -Bud stood beside Sunfish, wondering if he had been a fool to trust -Jerry. By his own admission Jerry was living without the law, and this -might easily be a smooth scheme of robbery. He turned and strained his -eyes into the dusk, listening, trying to hear some sound that would -show which way Jerry had gone. He was on the point of following -him--suspicion getting the better of his faith--when Sunfish moved his -head abruptly to one side, bumping Bud's head with his cheek. At the -same instant a hand touched Bud's arm. - -“I saw you from the kitchen window,” Marian whispered tensely. “I was -afraid you hadn't read my note, or perhaps wouldn't pay any attention to -it. I heard you and Jerry--of course he won't dare go with you and show -you the short-cut, even if he knows it. There's a quicker way than -up the creek-bed. I have Boise out in the bushes, and a saddle. I was -afraid to wait at the barn long enough to saddle him. You go--he's -behind that great pile of rocks, back of the corrals. I'll wait for -Jerry.” She gave him a push, and Bud was so astonished that he made no -reply whatever, but did exactly as she had told him to do. - -Boise was standing behind the peaked outcropping of rock, and beside -him was a stock-saddle which must have taxed Marian's strength to carry. -Indeed, Bud thought she must have had wings, to do so much in so short a -space of time; though when he came to estimate that time he decided that -he must have been away from the house ten minutes, at least. If Marian -followed him closely enough to see him duck behind the machine shed and -meet Jerry, she could run behind the corral and get Boise out by way of -the back door of the stable. There was a path, screened from the corral -by a fringe of brush, which went that way. The truth flashed upon him -that one could ride unseen all around Little Lost. - -He was just dropping the stirrup down from the saddle horn when Marian -appeared with Jerry and Sunfish close behind her. Jerry held out the -package. - -“She says she'll show you a short cut,” he whispered. “She says I don't -know anything about it. I guess she's right--there's a lot I don't know. -Lew 's gone, and she says she'll be back before daylight. If they miss -Boise they'll think you stole him. But they won't look. Dave wouldn't -slam around in the night on Boise--he thinks too much of him. Well--beat -it, and I sure wish yuh luck. You be careful, Marian. Come back this -way, and if you see a man's handkerchief hanging on this bush right here -where I'm standing, it'll mean you've been missed.” - -“Thank you, Jerry,” Marian whispered. “I'll look for it. Come, Bud--keep -close behind me, and don't make any noise.” - -Bud would have protested, but Marian did not give him a chance. She -took up the reins, grasped the saddle horn, stuck her slipper toe in -the stirrup and mounted Boise as quickly as Bud could have done it--as -easily, too, making allowance for the difference in their height. Bud -mounted Sunfish and followed her down the trail which led to the race -track; but when they had gone through the brush and could see starlight -beyond, she turned sharply to the left, let Boise pick his way carefully -over a rocky stretch and plunged into the brush again, leaning low in -the saddle so that the higher branches would not claw at her hair and -face. - -When they had once more come into open ground with a shoulder of Catrock -Peak before them, Marian pulled up long enough to untie her apron and -bind it over her hair like a peasant woman. She glanced back at Bud, -and although darkness hid the expression on her face, he saw her eyes -shining in the starlight. She raised her hand and beckoned, and Bud -reined Sunfish close alongside. - -“We're going into a spooky place now,” she leaned toward him to whisper. -“Boise knows the way, and your horse will follow.” - -“All right,” Bud whispered back. “But you'd better tell me the way and -let me go on alone. I'm pretty good at scouting out new trails. I don't -want you to get in trouble--” - -She would not listen to more of that, but pushed him back with the flat -of her bare hand and rode ahead of him again. Straight at the sheer -bluff, that lifted its huge, rocky shape before them, she led the way. -So far as Bud could see she was not following any trail; but was aiming -at a certain point and was sure enough of the ground to avoid detours. - -They came out upon the bank of the dry river-bed. Bud knew it by the -flatness of the foreground and the general contour of the mountains -beyond. But immediately they turned at a sharp angle, travelled for a -few minutes with the river-bed at their backs, and entered a narrow slit -in the mountains where two peaks had been rent asunder in some titanic -upheaval when the world was young. The horses scrambled along the rocky -bottom for a little way, then Boise disappeared. - -Sunfish halted, threw his head this way and that, gave a suspicious -sniff and turned carefully around the corner of a square-faced boulder. -In front was blackness. Bud urged him a little with rein and soft -pressure of the spurs, and Sunfish stepped forward. He seemed reassured -to find firm, smooth sand under his feet, and hurried a little until -Boise was just ahead clicking his feet now and then against a rock. - -“Coming?” Marian's voice sounded subdued, muffled by the close walls of -the tunnel-like crevice. - -“Coming,” Bud assured her quietly “At your heels.” - -“I always used to feel spooky when I was riding through here,” Marian -said, dropping back so that they rode side by side, stirrups touching. -“I was ten when I first made the trip. It was to get away from Indians. -They wouldn't come into these places. Eddie and I found the way through. -We were afraid they were after us, and so we kept going, and our horses -brought us out. Eddie--is my brother.” - -“You grew up here?” Bud did not know how much incredulity was in his -voice. “I was raised amongst the Indians in Wyoming. I thought you were -from the East.” - -“I was in Chicago for three years,” Marian explained. “I studied every -waking minute, I think. I wanted to be a singer. Then--I came home to -help bury mother. Father--Lew and father were partners, and I--married -Lew. I didn't know--it seemed as though I must. Father put it that way. -The old story, Bud. I used to laugh at it in novels, but it does happen. -Lew had a hold over father and Eddie, and he wanted me. I married him, -but it did no good, for father was killed just a little more than a -month afterwards. We had a ranch, up here in the Redwater Valley, about -halfway to Crater. But it went--Lew gambled and drank and--so he took me -to Little Lost. I've been there for two years.” - -The words of pity--and more--that crowded forward for utterance, Bud -knew he must not speak. So he said nothing at all. - -“Lew has always held Eddie over my head,” she went on pouring out her -troubles to him. “There's a gang, called the Catrock Gang, and Lew is -one of them. I told you Lew is the man you shot. I think Dave Truman -is in with them--at any rate he shuts his eyes to whatever goes on, -and gets part of the stealings, I feel sure. That's why Lew is such a -favorite. You see, Eddie is one--I'm trusting you with my life, almost, -when I tell you this. - -“But I couldn't stand by and not lift a hand to save you. I knew they -would kill you. They'd have to, because I felt that you would fight and -never give up. And you are too fine a man for those beasts to murder for -the money you have. I knew, the minute I saw Jeff paying you his losings -with a check, and some of the others doing the same, just what would -happen. Jeff is almost as bad as the Catrockers, except that he is too -cowardly to come out into the open. He gave you a check; and everyone -who was there knew he would hurry up to Crater and stop payment on it, -if he could do it and keep out of your sight. Those cronies of his would -do the same--so they paid with checks. - -“And the Catrock gang knew that. They mean to get hold of you, rob -and-and-kill you, and forge the endorsement on the checks and let one -man cash them in Crater before payment can be stopped. Indeed, the gang -will see to it that Jeff stays away from Crater. Lew hinted that while -they were about it they might as well clean out the bank. It wouldn't be -the first time,” she added bitterly. - -She stopped then and asked for a match, and when Bud gave her one she -lighted a candle and held it up so that she could examine the walls. -“It's a natural tunnel,” she volunteered in a different tone. “Somewhere -along here there is a branch that goes back into the hill and ends in a -blow-hole. But we're all right so far.” - -She blew out the candle and urged Boise forward, edging over to the -right. - -“Wasn't that taking quite a chance, making a light?” Bud asked as they -went on. - -“It was, but not so great a chance as missing the way. Jerry didn't hear -anything of them when he went to the pasture gate, and they may not come -through this way at all. They may not realize at first that you have -left, and even when they did they would not believe at first that you -had gone to Crater. You see”--and in the darkness Bud could picture her -troubled smile--“they think you are an awful fool, in some ways. The -way you bet to-day was pure madness.” - -“It would have been, except that I knew I could win.” - -“They never bet like that. They always 'figure', as they call it, that -the other fellow is going to play some trick on them. Half the time Jeff -bets against his own horse, on the sly. They all do, unless they feel -sure that their own trick is best.” - -“They should have done that to-day,” Bud observed dryly. “But you've -explained it. They thought I'm an awful fool.” - -Out of the darkness came Marian's voice. “It's because you're so -different. They can't understand you.” - -Bud was not interested in his own foolishness just then. Something in -her voice had thrilled him anew with a desire to help her and with the -conviction that he was desperately in need of help. There was a pathetic -patience in her tone when she summarized he whole affair in those last -two sentences. It was as if she were telling him how her whole life -was darkened because she herself was different--because they could not -understand a woman so fine, so true and sweet. - -“What will happen if you are missed? If you go back and discover Jerry's -handkerchief on that bush, what will you do? You can't go back if they -find out--” There was no need for him to finish that sentence. - -“I don't know,” said Marian, “what I shall do. I hadn't thought much -about it.” - -“I haven't thought much about anything else,” Bud told her -straightforwardly. “If Jerry flags you, you 'd better keep going. -Couldn't you go to friends?” - -“I could--if I had any. Bud, you don't understand. Eddie is the only -relative I have on earth, that I know at all. He is--he's with the -Catrockers and Lew dominates him completely. Lew has pushed Ed into -doing things so that I must shield both or neither. And Eddie's just a -boy. So I've no one at all.” - -Bud studied this while they rode on through the defile that was more -frequently a tunnel, since the succession of caves always had an outlet -which Marian found. She had stopped now and dismounted, and they were -leading their horses down a steep, scrambling place with the stars -showing overhead. - -“A blowhole,” Marian informed him briefly. “We'll come into another -cave, soon, and while it's safe if you know it, I'll explain now that -you must walk ahead of your horse and keep your right hand always in -touch with the wall until we see the stars again. There's a ledge-five -feet wide in the narrowest place, if you are nervous about ledges--and -if you should get off that you'd have a drop of ten feet or so. We found -that the ledge makes easier travelling, because the bottom is full of -rocks and nasty depressions that are noticeable only with lights.” - -She started off again, and Bud followed her, his gloved fingers touching -the right wall, his soul humbled before the greatness of this little -woman with the deep, troubled eyes. When they came out into the -starlight she stopped and listened for what seemed to Bud a very long -time. - -“If they are coming, they are a long way behind us,” she said -relievedly, and remounted. “Boise knows his trail and has made -good time. And your horse has proven beyond all doubt that he's a -thoroughbred. I've seen horses balk at going where we have gone.” - -“And I've seen men who counted themselves brave as any, who wouldn't do -what you are doing to-night; Jerry, for instance. I wish you'd go back. -I can't bear having you take this risk.” - -“I can't go back, Bud. Not if they find I've gone.” Then he heard her -laugh quietly. “I can't imagine now why I stayed and endured it all this -while. I think I only needed the psychological moment for rebellion, and -to-night the moment came. So you see you have really done me a service -by getting into this scrape. It's the first time I have been off the -ranch in a year.” - -“If you call that doing you a service, I'm going to ask you to let me -do something also for you.” Bud half smiled to himself in the darkness, -thinking how diplomatic he was. “If you're found out, you'll have to -keep on going, and I take it you wouldn't be particular where you went. -So I wish you 'd take charge of part of this money for me, and if you -leave, go down to my mother, on the Tomahawk ranch, out from Laramie. -Anyone can tell you where it is, when you get down that way If you need -any money use it. And tell mother I sent her the finest cook in the -country. Mother, by the way, is a great musician, Marian. She taught -me all I know of music. You'd get along just fine with mother. And she -needs you, honest. She isn't very strong, yet she can't find anyone to -suit, down there--” - -“I might not suit, either,” said Marian, her voice somewhat muffled. - -“Oh, I'm not afraid of that. And--there's a message I want to send--I -promised mother I'd--” - -“Oh, hush! You're really an awfully poor prevaricator, Bud. This is to -help me, you're planning.” - -“Well--it's to help me that I want you to take part of the money. The -gang won't hold you up, will they? And I want mother to have it. I want -her to have you, too,--to help out when company comes drifting in there, -sometimes fifteen or twenty strong. Especially on Sunday. Mother has to -wait on them and cook for them, and--as long as you are going to cook -for a bunch, you may as well do it where it will be appreciated, and -where you'll be treated like a--like a lady ought to be treated.” - -“You're even worse--” began Marian, laughing softly, and stopped -abruptly, listening, her head turned behind them. “Sh-sh-someone is -coming behind us,” she whispered. “We're almost through--come on, and -don't talk!” - - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING POINT - -They plunged into darkness again, rode at a half trot over smooth, hard -sand, Bud trusting himself wholly to Marian and to the sagacity of the -two horses who could see, he hoped, much better than he himself could. -His keen hearing had caught a faint sound from behind them--far back in -the crevice-like gorge they had just quitted, he believed. For Marian's -sake he stared anxiously ahead, eager for the first faint suggestion of -starlight before them. It came, and he breathed freer and felt of his -gun in its holster, pulling it forward an inch or two. - -“This way, Bud,” Marian murmured, and swung Boise to the left, against -the mountain under and through which they seemed to have passed. She led -him into another small gorge whose extent he could not see, and stopped -him with a hand pressed against Sunfish's shoulder. - -“We'd better get down and hold our horses quiet,” she cautioned. “Boise -may try to whinny, and he mustn't.” - -They stood side by side at their horses' heads, holding the animals -close. For a time there were no sounds at all save the breathing of the -horses and once a repressed sigh from Marian. Bud remembered suddenly -how tired she must be. At six o'clock that morning she had fed twelve -men a substantial breakfast. At noon there had been dinner for several -more than twelve, and supper again at six--and here she was, risking -her life when she should be in bed. He felt for her free hand, found it -hanging listlessly by her side and took it in his own and held it there, -just as one holds the hand of a timid child. Yet Marian was not timid. - -A subdued mutter of voices, the click of hoofs striking against stone, -and the pursuers passed within thirty feet of them. Boise had lifted -his head to nicker a salute, but Marian's jerk on the reins stopped him. -They stood very still, not daring so much as a whisper until the sounds -had receded and silence came again. - -“They took the side-hill trail,” whispered Marian, pushing Boise -backward to turn him in the narrow defile. “You'll have to get down -the hill into the creek-bed and follow that until you come to the stage -road. There may be others coming that way, but they will be two or three -miles behind you. This tunnel trail cuts off at least five miles but we -had to go slower, you see. - -“Right here you can lead Sunfish down the bluff to the creek. It's all -dry, and around the first bend you will see where the road crosses. Turn -to the left on that and ride! This horse of yours will have to show the -stuff that's in him. Get to Crater ahead of these men that took the hill -trail. They'll not ride fast--they never dreamed you had come through -here, but they came to cut off the distance and to head you off. With -others behind, you must beat them all in or you'll be trapped between.” - -She had left Boise tied hastily to a bush and was walking ahead of Bud -down the steep, rocky hillside to show him the easiest way amongst the -boulders Halfway down, Bud caught her shoulder and stopped her. - -“I'm not a kid,” he said firmly. “I can make it from here alone. Not -another step, young lady. If you can get back home You'll be doing -enough. Take this--it's money, but I don't know how much. And watch your -chance and go down to mother with that message. Birnie, of the Tomahawk -outfit--you'll find out in Laramie where to go. And tell mother I'm all -right, and she'll see me some day--when I've made my stake. God bless -you, little woman. You're the truest, sweetest little woman in the -world. There's just one more like you--that's mother. Now go back--and -for God's sake he careful!” - -He pressed money into her two hands, held them tightly together, kissed -them both hurriedly and plunged down the hill with Sunfish slipping and -sliding after him. For her safety, if not for his own, he meant to get -away from there as quickly as possible. - -In the creek bed he mounted and rode away at a sharp gallop, glad that -Sunfish, thoroughbred though he was, had not been raised tenderly in -stall and corral, but had run free with the range horses and had learned -to keep his feet under him in rough country or smooth. When he reached -the crossing of the stage road he turned to the left as Marian had -commanded and put Sunfish to a pace that slid the miles behind him. - -With his thoughts clinging to Marian, to the harshness which life had -shown her who was all goodness and sweetness and courage, Bud forgot to -keep careful watch behind him, or to look for the place where the hill -trail joined the road, as it probably did some distance from Crater. -It would be a blind trail, of course--since only the Catrock gang and -Marian knew of it. - -They came into the road not far behind him, out of rock-strewn, brushy -wilderness that sloped up steeply to the rugged sides of Gold Gap -mountains. Sunfish discovered them first, and gave Bud warning just -before they identified him and began to shoot. - -Bud laid himself along the shoulder of his horse with a handful of mane -to steady him while he watched his chance and fired back at them. There -were four, just the number he had guessed from the sounds as they came -out of the tunnel. A horse ran staggering toward him with the others, -faltered and fell. Bud was sorry for that. It had been no part of his -plan to shoot down the horses. - -The three came on, leaving the fourth to his own devices--and that, too, -was quite in keeping with the type of human vultures they were. They -kept firing at Bud, and once he felt Sunfish wince and leap forward as -if a spur had raked him. Bud shot again, and thought he saw one horseman -lurch backward. But he could not be sure--they were going at a terrific -pace now, and Sunfish was leaving them farther and farther behind. They -were outclassed, hopelessly out of pistol range, and they must have -known it, for although they held to the chase they fired no more shots. - -Then a dog barked, and Bud knew that he was passing a ranch. He could -smell the fresh hay in the stacks, and a moment later he descried the -black hulk of ranch buildings. Sunfish was running easily, his breath -unlabored. Bud stood in the stirrups and looked back. They were still -coming, for he could hear the pound of hoofs. - -The ranch was behind him. Clear starlight was all around, and the bulk -of near mountains. The road seemed sandy, yielding beneath the pound -of Sunfish's hoofs. Bud leaned forward again in the saddle, and planned -what he would do when he reached Crater; found time, also, to hope that -Marian had gone back, and had not heard the shooting. - -Another dog barked, this time on the right. Bud saw that they were -passing a picket fence. The barking of this dog started another farther -ahead and to the left. Houses so close together could only mean that -he was approaching Crater. Bud began to pull Sunfish down to a more -conventional pace. He did not particularly want to see heads thrust -from windows, and questions shouted to him. The Catrock gang might have -friends up this way. It would be strange, Bud thought, if they hadn't. - -He loped along the road grown broader now and smoother. Many houses he -passed, and the mouths of obscure lanes. Dogs ran out at him. Bud slowed -to a walk and turned in the saddle, listening. Away back, where he had -first met the signs of civilization, the dog he had aroused was barking -again, his deep baying blurred by the distance. Bud grinned to himself -and rode on at a walk, speaking now and then to an inquiring dog and -calling him Purp in a tone that soothed. - -Crater, he discovered in a cursory patrol of the place, was no more than -an overgrown village. The court-house and jail stood on the main street, -and just beyond was the bank. Bud rode here and there, examining closely -the fronts of various buildings before he concluded that there was only -the one bank in Crater. When he was quite sure of that he chose place -near by the rear of the bank, where one horse and a cow occupied a -comfortable corral together with hay. He unsaddled Sunfish and turned -him there, himself returning to the bank before those other night-riders -had more than reached the first straggling suburbs of the town. - -On the porch of the court-house, behind a jutting corner pillar that -seemed especially designed for the concealment of a man in Bud's -situation, he rolled cigarette which he meant to smoke later on when the -way was clear, and waited for the horsemen to appear. - -Presently they came, rode to a point opposite the court-house and bank -with no more than a careless glance that way, and halted in front of an -uninviting hotel across the street. Two remained on their horses while -the third pounded on the door and shook it by the knob and finally -raised the landlord from his sleep. There was a conference which Bud -witnessed with much interest. A lamp had been lighted in the bare -office, and against the yellow glow Bud distinctly saw the landlord nod -his head twice--which plainly betokened some sort of understanding. - -He was glad that he had not stopped at the hotel. He felt much more -comfortable on the court-house porch. “Mother's guardian angels must be -riding 'point' to-night,” he mused. - -The horsemen rode back to a livery stable which Bud had observed but had -not entered. There they also sought for news of him, it would appear. -You will recall, however, that Bud had ridden slowly into the business -district of Crater, and his passing had been unmarked except by the -barking of dogs that spent their nights in yammering at every sound -and so were never taken seriously. The three horsemen were plainly -nonplussed and conferred together in low tones before they rode on. It -was evident that they meant to find Bud if they could. What they meant -to do with him Bud did not attempt to conjecture. He did not intend to -be found. - -After a while the horsemen rode back to the hotel, got the landlord out -with less difficulty than before and had another talk with him. - -“He stole a horse from Dave Truman,” Bud heard one of the three say -distinctly. “That there running horse Dave had.” - -The landlord tucked in his shirt and exclaimed at the news, and Bud -heard him mention the sheriff. But nothing came of that evidently. They -talked further and reined their horses to ride back whence they came. - -“He likely's give us the slip outside of town, some place,” one man -concluded. “We'll ride back and see. If he shows up, he'll likely want -to eat... And send Dick out to the Stivers place. We'll come a-running.” - He had lowered his voice so that Bud could not hear what was to happen -before the landlord sent Dick, but he decided he would not pry into the -matter and try to fill that gap in the conversation. - -He sat where he was until the three had ridden back down the sandy road -which served as a street. Then he slipped behind the court-house and -smoked his cigarette, and went and borrowed hay from the cow and the -horse in the corral and made himself some sort of bed with his saddle -blanket to help out, and slept until morning. - - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE CATROCK GANG - -A woman with a checkered apron and a motherly look came to let her -chickens out and milk the cow, and woke Bud so that she could tell him -she believed he had been on a “toot”, or he never would have taken such -a liberty with her corral. Bud agreed to the toot, and apologized, and -asked for breakfast. And the woman, after one good look at him, handed -him the milk bucket and asked him how he liked his eggs. - -“All the way from barn to breakfast,” Bud grinned, and the woman -chuckled and called him Smarty, and told him to come in as soon as the -cow was milked. - -Bud had a great breakfast with the widow Hanson. She talked, and Bud -learned a good deal about Crater and its surroundings, and when he spoke -of holdup gangs she seemed to know immediately what he meant, and -told him a great deal more about the Catrockers than Marian had done. -Everything from murdering and robbing a peddler to looting the banks at -Crater and Lava was laid to the Catrockers. They were the human buzzards -that watched over the country and swooped down wherever there was money. -The sheriff couldn't do anything with them, and no one expected him to, -so far as Bud could discover. - -He hesitated a long time before he asked about Marian Morris. Mrs. -Hanson wept while she related Marian's history, which in substance was -exactly what Marian herself had told Bud. Mrs. Hanson, however, told how -Marian had fought to save her father and Ed, and how she had married Lew -Morris as a part of her campaign for honesty and goodness. Now she was -down at Little Lost cooking for a gang of men, said Mrs. Hanson, when -she ought to be out in the world singing for thousands and her in silks -and diamonds instead of gingham dresses and not enough of them. - -“Marian Collier is the sweetest thing that ever grew up in this -country,” the old lady sniffled. “She's one in a thousand and when she -was off to school she showed that she wasn't no common trash. She wanted -to be an opery singer, but then her mother died and Marian done what -looked to be her duty. A bird in a trap is what I call her.” - -Bud regretted having opened the subject, and praised the cooking by way -of turning his hostess's thoughts into a different channel. He asked -her if she would accept him as a boarder while he was in town, and was -promptly accepted. - -He did not want to appear in public until the bank was opened, and -he was a bit troubled over identification. There could be no harm, he -reflected, in confiding to Mrs. Hanson as much as was necessary of -his adventures. Wherefore he dried the dishes for her and told her his -errand in town, and why it was that he and his horse had slept in her -corral instead of patronizing hotel and livery stable. He showed her the -checks he wanted to cash, and asked her, with flattering eagerness for -her advice, what he should do. He had been warned, he said, that Jeff -and his friends might try to beat him yet by stopping payment, and he -knew that he had been followed by them to town. - -“What You'll do will be what I tell ye,” Mrs Hanson replied with -decision. “The cashier is a friend to me--I was with his wife last month -with her first baby, and they swear by me now, for I gave her good care. -We'll go over there this minute, and have talk with him. He'll do what -he can for ye, and he'll do it for my sake.” - -“You don't know me, remember,” Bud reminded her honestly. - -The widow Hanson gave him a scornful smile and toss of her head. “And -do I not?” she demanded. “Do you think I've buried three husbands and -thinking now of the fourth, without knowing what's wrote a man's face? -Three I buried, and only one died his bed. I can tell if a man's honest -or not, without giving him the second look. If you've got them checks -you should get the money on them--for I know their stripe. Come on with -me to Jimmy Lawton's house. He's likely holding the baby while Minie -does the dishes.” - -Mrs. Hanson guessed shrewdly. The cashier of the Crater County Bank was -doing exactly what she said he would be doing. He was sitting in the -kitchen, rocking a pink baby wrapped in white outing flannel with blue -border, when Mrs. Hanson, without the formality of more than one warning -tap on the screen door, walked in with Bud. She held out her hands for -the baby while she introduced the cashier to Bud. In the next breath she -was explaining what was wanted of the bank. - -“They've done it before, and ye know it's plain thievery and ought to be -complained about. So now get your wits to work, Jimmy, for this friend -of mine is entitled to his money and should have it if it is there to be -had.” - -“Oh, it's there,” said Jimmy. He looked at his watch, looked at the -kitchen clock, looked at Bud and winked. “We open at nine, in this -town,” he said. “It lacks half an hour--but let me see those checks.” - -Very relievedly Bud produced them, watched the cashier scan each one to -make sure that they were right, and quaked when Jimmy scowled at Jeff -Hall's signature on the largest check of all. “He had a notion to use -the wrong signature, but he may have lost his nerve. It's all right, Mr. -Birnie. Just endorse these, and I'll take them into the bank and attend -to them the first thing I do after the door is open. You'd better come -in when I open up--” - -“The gang had some talk about cleaning out the bank while they 're about -it,” Bud remembered suddenly. “Can't you appoint me something, or hire -me as a guard and let me help out? How many men do you have here in this -bank?” - -“Two, except when the president's in his office in the rear. That's fine -of you to offer. We've been held up, once--and they cleaned us out of -cash.” Jimmy turned to Mrs. Hanson. “Mother, can't you run over and -have Jess come and swear Mr. Birnie in as a deputy? If I go, or he goes, -someone may notice it and tip the gang off.” - -Mrs. Hanson hastily deposited the baby in its cradle and went to call -“Jess”, her face pink with excitement. - -“You're lucky you stopped at her house instead of some other place,” - Jimmy observed. “She's a corking good woman. As a deputy sheriff, you'll -come in mighty handy if they do try anything, Mr. Birnie--if you're the -kind of a man you look to be. I'll bet you can shoot. Can you?” - -“If you scare me badly enough, I might get a cramp in my trigger -finger,” Bud confessed. Jimmy grinned and went back to considering his -own part. - -“I'll cash these checks for you the first thing I do. And as deputy you -can go with me. I'll have to unlock the door on time, and if they mean -to stop payment, and clean the bank too, it will probably be done all -at once. It has been a year since they bothered us, so they may need a -little change. If Jess isn't busy he may stick around.” - -“No one expects him to round up the gang, I heard.” - -“No one expects him to go into Catrock Canyon after them. He'll round -them up, quick enough, if he can catch them far enough from their -holes.” - -Jess returned with Mrs. Hanson, swore in a new deputy, eyed Bud -curiously, and agreed to remain hidden across the road from the bank -with a rifle. He nodded understandingly when Bud warned him that the -looting was a matter of hearsay on his part, and departed with an -awkward compliment to Mrs. Jim about hoping that the baby was going to -look like her. - -Jim lived just behind the bank, and a high board fence between the two -buildings served to hide his coming and going. But Bud took off his hat -and walked stooping,--by special request of Mrs. Hanson--to make sure -that he was not observed. - -“I think I'll stand out in front of the window,” said Bud when they were -inside. “It will look more natural, and if any of these fellows show up -I'd just as soon not show my brand the first thing.” - -They showed up, all right, within two minutes of the unlocking of the -bank and the rolling up of the shades. Jeff Hall was the first man -to walk in, and he stopped short when he saw Bud lounging before the -teller's window and the cashier busy within. Other men were straggling -up on the porch, and two of them entered. Jeff walked over to Bud, who -shifted his position enough to bring him facing Jeff, whom he did not -trust at all. - -“Mr. Lawton,” Jeff began hurriedly, “I want to stop payment on a check -this young feller got from me by fraud. It's for five thousand eight -hundred dollars, and I notify you--” - -“Too late, Mr. Hall. I have already accepted the checks. Where did the -fraud come in? You can bring suit, of course, to recover.” - -“I'll tell you, Jimmy. He bet that my horse couldn't beat Dave Truman's -Boise. A good many bet on the same thing. But my horse proved to have -more speed, so a lot of them are sore.” Bud chuckled as other Sunday -losers came straggling in. - -“Well, it's too late. I have honored the checks,” Jimmy said crisply, -and turned to hand a sealed manila envelope to the bookkeeper with -whispered instructions. The bookkeeper, who had just entered from the -rear of the office, turned on his heel and left again. - -Jeff muttered something to his friends and went outside as if their -business were done for the day. - -“I gave you five thousand in currency and the balance in a cashier's -check,” Jimmy whispered through he wicket. “Sent it to the house, We -don't keep a great deal--ten thousand's our limit in cash, and I don't -think you want to pack gold or silver--” - -“No, I didn't. I'd rather--” - -Two men came in, one going over to the desk where he apparently wrote -a check, the other came straight to the window. Bud looked into the -heavily bearded face of a man who had the eyes of Lew Morris. He shifted -his position a little so that he faced the man's right side. The one at -the desk was glancing slyly over his shoulder at the bookkeeper, who had -just returned to his work. - -“Can you change this twenty so I can get seven dollars and a quarter -out of it?” asked the man at he window. As he slid the bill through the -wicket he started to sneeze, and reached backward--for his handkerchief, -apparently. - -“Here's one,” said Bud. “Don't sneeze too hard, old-timer, or you're -liable to sneeze your whiskers all off. It's happened before.” - -Someone outside fired a shot in at Bud, clipping his hatband in front. -At the sound of the shot the whiskered one snatched his gun out, and the -cashier shot him. Bud had sent a shot through the outside window and hit -somebody--whom, he did not know, for he had no time to look. The young -fellow at the desk had whirled, and was pointing a gun shakily, first -at he cashier and then at Bud. Bud fired and knocked he gun out of his -hand, then stepped over the man he suspected was Lew and caught the -young fellow by the wrist. - -“You're Ed Collier--by your eyes and your mouth,” Bud said in a rapid -undertone. “I'm going to get you out of this, if you'll do what I say. -Will you?” - -“He got me in here, honest,” the young fellow quaked. He couldn't be -more than nineteen, Bud guessed swiftly. - -“Let me through, Jimmy,” Bud ordered hurriedly. “You got the man that -put up this job. I'll take the kid out the back way, if you don't mind.” - -Jimmy opened the steel-grilled door and let them through. - -“Ed Collier,” he said in a tone of recognition. “I heard he was -trailing--” - -“Forget it, Jimmy. If the sheriff asks about him, say he got out. Now, -Ed, I'm going to take you over to Mrs. Hanson's. She'll keep an eye on -you for a while.” - -Eddie was looking at the dead man on the floor, and trembling so that he -did not attempt to reply; and by way of Jimmy's back fence and the widow -Hanson's barn and corral, Bud got Eddie safe into the kitchen just as -that determined lady was leaving home with a shotgun to help defend the -honor of the town. - -Bud took her by the shoulder and told her what he wanted her to do. -“He's Marian's brother, and too young to be with that gang. So keep him -here, safe and out of sight, until I come. Then I'll want to borrow your -horse. Shall I tie the kid?” - -“And me an able-bodied woman that could turn him acrost my knee?” Mrs. -Hanson's eyes snapped. - -“It's more likely the boy needs his breakfast. Get along with ye!” - -Bud got along, slipping into the bank by the rear door and taking a hand -in the desultory firing in the street. The sheriff had a couple of men -ironed and one man down and the landlord of the hotel was doing a great -deal of explaining that he had never seen the bandits before. Just by -way of stimulating his memory Bud threw a bullet close to his heels, -and the landlord thereupon grovelled and wept while he protested his -innocence. - -“He's a damn liar, sheriff,” Bud called across the hoof-scarred road. -“He was talking to them about eleven o'clock last night. There were -three that chased me into town, and they got him up out of bed to find -out whether I'd stopped there. I hadn't, luckily for me. If I had he'd -have showed them the way to my room, and he'd have had a dead boarder -this morning. Keep right on shedding tears, you old cut-throat! I was -sitting on the court-house porch, last night, and I heard every word -that passed between you and the Catrockers!” - -“I've been suspicioning here was where they got their information -right along,” the sheriff commented, and slipped the handcuffs on -the landlord. Investigation proved that Jeff Hall and his friends had -suddenly decided that they had no business with the bank that day, and -had mounted and galloped out of town when the first shot was fired. -Which simplified matters a bit for Bud. - -In Jimmy Lawton's kitchen he received his money, and when the prisoners -were locked up he saved himself some trouble with the sheriff by -hunting him up and explaining just why he had taken the Collier boy into -custody. - -“You know yourself he's just a kid, and if you send him over the road -he's a criminal for life. I believe I can make a decent man of him. I -want to try, anyway. So you just leave me this deputy's badge, and make -my commission regular and permanent, and I'll keep an eye on him. Give -me a paper so I can get a requisition and bring him back to stand trial, -any time he breaks out. I'll be responsible for him, sheriff.” - -“And who in blazes are you?” the sheriff inquired, with a grin to remove -the sting of suspicion. “Name sounded familiar, too!” - -“Bud Birnie of the Tomahawk, down near Laramie; Telegraph Laramie if you -like and find out about me. - -“Good Lord! I know the Tomahawk like a book!” cried the sheriff. “And -you're Bob Birnie's boy! Say! D'you remember dragging into camp on the -summit one time when you was about twelve years old--been hidin' out -from Injuns about three days? Well, say! I'm the feller that packed you -into the tent, and fed yuh when yuh come to. Remember the time I rode -down and stayed over night at yore place, the time Bill Nye come down -from his prospect hole up in the Snowies, bringin' word the Injuns was -up again?” The sheriff grabbed Bud's hand and held it, shaking it up and -down now and then to emphasize his words. - -“Folks called you Buddy, then. I remember yuh, helpin' your mother cook -'n' wash dishes for us fellers. I kinda felt like I had a claim on yuh, -Buddy. - -“Say, Bill Nye, he's famous now. Writin' books full of jokes, and all -that. He always was a comical cuss. Don't you remember how the bunch -of us laughed at him when he drifted in about dark, him and four -burros--that one he called Boomerang, that he named his paper after in -Laramie? I've told lots of times what he said when he come stoopin' into -the kitchen--how Colorou had sent him word that he'd give Bill just -four sleeps to get outa there. An, 'Hell!' says Bill. 'I didn't need -any sleeps!' An' we all turned to and cooked a hull beef yore dad had -butchered that day--and Bill loaded up with the first chunks we had -ready, and pulled his freight. He sure didn't need any sleeps--” - -“Yes, you bet I remember. Jesse Cummings is your name. I sure ought -to remember you, for you and your partner saved my life, I expect. I -thought I'd seen you before, when you made me deputy. How about the kid? -Can I have him? Lew Morris, the man that kept him on the wrong side of -the law, is dead, I heard the doctor say. Jimmy got him when he pulled -his gun.” - -“Why, yes--if the town don't git onto me turnin' him loose, I guess you -can have the kid for all I care. He didn't take any part in the holdup, -did he Buddy?” - -“He was over by the customers' desk when Lew started, to hold up the -cashier.” - -“Well I got enough prisoners so I guess he won't be missed. But you look -out how yuh git him outa town. Better wait til kinda late to-night. I -sure would like to see him git a show. Them two Collier kids never did -have a square deal, far as I've heard. But be careful, youngster. I want -another term off this county if I can get it. Don't go get me in bad.” - -“I won't,” Bud promised and hurried back to Mrs. Hanson's house. - -That estimable lady was patting butter in a wooden bowl when Bud went -in. She turned and brushed a wisp of gray hair from her face with her -fore arm and sh-shed him into silent stepping, motioning toward an inner -room. Bud tiptoed and looked, saw Ed Collier fast asleep, swaddled in a -blanket, and grinned his approval. - -He made sure that the sleep was genuine, also that the blanket swaddling -was efficient. Moreover, he discovered that Mrs. Hanson had very -prudently attached a thin wire to the foot of the blanket cocoon, -had passed the wire through a knot hole in a cupboard set into the -partition, and to a sheep bell which she no doubt expected to ring upon -provocation--such as a prisoner struggling to release his feet from a -gray blanket fastened with many large safety pins. - -“He went right to sleep, the minute I'd fed him and tied him snug,” - Mrs. Hanson murmured. “He was a sulky divvle and wouldn't give a decent -answer to me till he had his stomach filled. From the way he waded into -the ham and eggs, I guess a square meal and him has been strangers for a -long time.” - -Sleep and Ed Collier must have been strangers also, for Bud attended the -inquest of Lew Morris, visited afterwards with Sheriff Cummings, who -was full of reminiscence and wanted to remind Bud of everything that had -ever happened within his knowledge during the time when they had been -neighbors with no more than forty miles or so between them. The sheriff -offered Bud a horse and saddle, which he promised to deliver to the -widow's corral after the citizens of Crater had gone to bed. And while -he did not say that it would be Ed's horse, Bud guessed shrewdly that -it would. After that, Bud carefully slit the lining of his boots tucked -money and checks into the opening he had made, and did a very neat -repair job. - -All that while Ed Collier slept. When Bud returned for his supper Ed had -evidently just awakened and was lying on his back biting his lip while -he eyed the wire that ran from his feet to the parting of a pair of -calico curtains. He did not see Bud, who was watching him through a -crack in the door at the head of the bed. Ed was plainly puzzled at the -wire and a bit resentful. He lifted his feet until the wire was well -slackened, held them poised for a minute and deliberately brought them -down hard on the floor. - -The result was all that he could possibly have expected. Somewhere was -a vicious clang, the rattle of a tin pan and the approaching outcry of -a woman. Bud retreated to the kitchen to view the devastation and -discovered that a sheep bell not too clean had been dislodged from a -nail and dragged through one pan of milk into another, where it was -rolling on its edge, stirring the cream that had risen. As Mrs. Hanson -rushed in from the back yard, Bud returned to the angry captive's side. - -“I've got him safe,” he soothed Mrs. Hanson and her shotgun. “He just -had a nightmare. Perhaps that breakfast you fed him was too hearty. -I'll look after him now, Mrs. Hanson. We won't be bothering you long, -anyway.” - -Mrs. Hanson was talking to herself when she went to her milk pans, and -Bud released Eddie Collier, guessing how humiliating it must be to be -a young fellow pinned into a blanket with safety pins, and knowing from -certain experiences of his own that humiliation is quite as apt to breed -trouble as any other emotion. - -Eddie sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at Bud. His eyes were -like Marian's in shape and color, but their expression was suspicion, -defiance, and watchfulness blended into one compelling stare that -spelled Fear. Or so Bud read it, having trapped animals of various -grades ever since he had caught the “HAWNTOAD”, and seen that look many, -many times in the eyes of his catch. - -“How'd you like to take a trip with me--as a kind of a partner?” Bud -began carelessly, pulling a splinter off the homemade bed for which Mrs. -Hanson would not thank him--and beginning to whittle it to a sharp point -aimlessly, as men have a way of doing when their minds are at work upon -a problem which requires--much constructive thinking. - -“Pardner in what?” Eddie countered sullenly. - -“Pardner in what I am planning to do to make money. I can make money, -you know--and stay on friendly terms with the sheriff, too. That's -better than your bunch has been able to do. I don't mind telling -you--it's stale news, I guess--that I cleaned up close to twelve -thousand dollars in less than a month, off a working capital of three -thoroughbred horses and about sixty dollars cash. And I'll add the -knowledge that I was playing against men that would slip a cold deck -if they played solitaire, they were so crooked. And if that doesn't -recommend me sufficiently, I'll say I'm a deputy sheriff of Crater -County, and Jesse Cummings knows my past. I want to hire you to go with -me and make some money, and I'll pay you forty a month and five per cent -bonus on my profits at the end of two years. The first year may not show -any profits, but the second year will. How does it sound to you?” - -He had been rolling a cigarette, and now he offered the “makings” to Ed, -who accepted them mechanically, his eyes still staring hard at Bud. He -glanced toward the door and the one little window where wild cucumber -vines were thickly matted, and Bud interpreted his glance. - -“Lew and another Catrocker--the one that tried to rope me down in the -Sinks--are dead, and three more are in jail. Business won't be very -brisk with the Catrock gang for a while.” - -“If you're trying to bribe me into squealing on the rest, you're a damn -fool,” said Eddie harshly. “I ain't the squealing kind. You can lead me -over to jail first. I'd rather take my chances with the others.” He was -breathing hard when he finished. - -“Rather than work for me?” Bud sliced off the sharp point which he had -so carefully whittled, and began to sharpen a new one. Eddie watched him -fascinatedly. - -“Rather than squeal on the bunch. There's no other reason in God's world -why you'd make me an offer like that. I ain't a fool quite, if my head -does run up to a peak.” - -Bud chewed his lip, whittled, and finally threw the splinter away. When -he turned toward Eddie his eyes were shiny. - -“Kid, you're breaking your sister's heart, following this trail. I'd -like to see you give her a chance to speak your name without blinking -back tears. I'd like to see her smile all the way from her dimples to -her eyes when she thinks of you. That's why I made the offer--that and -because I think you'd earn your wages.” - -Eddie looked at him, looked away, staring vacantly at the wall. His -eyelashes were blinking very fast, his lip began to tremble. “You--I--I -never wanted to--I ain't worth saving--oh, hell! I never had a chance -before--” He dropped sidewise on the bed, buried his face in his arms -and sobbed hoarsely, like the boy he was. - - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN: BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN - -“You'll have to show me the trail, pardner,” said Bud when they were -making their way cautiously out of town by way of the tin can suburbs. -“I could figure out the direction all right, and make it by morning; but -seeing you grew up here, I'll let you pilot.” - -“You'll have to tell me where you want to go, first,” said Eddie with a -good deal of sullenness still in his voice. - -“Little Lost.” Without intending to do so, Bud put a good deal of -meaning in his voice. - -Eddie did not say anything, but veered to the right, climbing higher -on the slope than Bud would have gone. “We can take the high trail,” he -volunteered when they stopped to rest the horses. “It takes up over the -summit and down Burroback Valley. It's longer, but the stage road -edges along the Sinks and--it might be rough going, after we get down a -piece.” - -“How about the side-hill trail, through Catrock Peak?” - -Eddie turned sharply. In the starlight Bud was watching him, wondering -what he was thinking. - -“How'd you get next to any side-hill trail?” Eddie asked after a minute. -“You been over it?” - -“I surely have. And I expect to go again, to-nigh! A young fellow about -your size is going to act a pilot, and get me to Little Lost as quick as -possible. It'll be daylight at that.” - -“If you got another day coming, it better be before daylight we get -there,” Eddie retorted glumly. H hesitated, turned his horse and led the -way down the slope, angling down away from the well-travelled trail over -the summit of Gold Gap. - -That hesitation told Bud, without words, how tenuous was his hold -upon Eddie. He possessed sufficient imagination to know that his own -carefully discipline past, sheltered from actual contact with evil, had -given him little enough by which to measure the soul of a youth like -Eddie Collier. - -How long Eddie had supped and slept with thieves and murderers, Bud -could only guess. From the little that Marian had told him, Eddie's -father had been one of the gang. At least, she had plainly stated that -he and Lew had been partners--though Collier might have been ranching -innocently enough, and ignorant of Lew's real nature. - -At all events, Eddie was a lad well schooled in inequity such as the -wilderness fosters in sturdy fashion. Wide spaces give room for great -virtues and great wickedness. Bud felt that he was betting large odds on -an unknown quantity. He was placing himself literally in the hands of an -acknowledged Catrocker, because of the clean gaze of a pair of eyes, the -fine curve of the mouth. - -For a long time they rode without speech. Eddie in the lead, Bud -following, alert to every little movement in the sage, every little -sound of the night. That was what we rather naively call “second -nature”, habit born of Bud's growing years amongst dangers which every -pioneer family knows. Alert he was, yet deeply dreaming; a tenuous dream -too sweet to come true, he told himself; a dream which he never dared to -dream until the cool stars, and the little night wind began to whisper -to him that Marian was free from the brute that had owned her. He -scarcely dared think of it yet. Shyly he remembered how he had held -her hand to give her courage while they rode in darkness; her poor -work-roughened little hand, that had been old when he took it first, -and had warmed in his clasp. He remembered how he had pressed her hands -together when they parted--why, surely it was longer ago than last -night!--and had kissed them reverently as he would kiss the fingers of a -queen. - -“Hell's too good for Lew Morris,” he blurted unexpectedly, the thought -of Marian's bruised cheek coming like a blow. - -“Want to go and tell him so? If you don't yuh better shut up,” Eddie -whispered fierce warning. “You needn't think all the Catrockers are dead -or in jail. They's a few left and they'd kill yuh quicker'n they'd take -a drink.” - -Bud, embarrassed at the emotion behind his statement, rather than -ashamed of the remark itself, made no reply. - -Much as Eddie desired silence, he himself pulled up and spoke again when -Bud had ridden close. - -“I guess you come through the Gap,” he whispered. “They's a shorter way -than that--Sis don't know it. It's one the bunch uses a lot--if they -catch us--I can save my hide by makin' out I led you into a trap. You'll -get yours, anyway. How much sand you got?” - -Bud leaned and spat into the darkness. “Not much. Maybe enough to get -through this scary short-cut of yours.” - -“You tell the truth when you say scary. It's so darn crazy to go down -Catrock Canyon maybe they won't think we'd tackle it. And if they catch -us, I'll say I led yuh in--and then--say, I'm kinda bettin' on your -luck. The way you cleaned up on them horses, maybe luck'll stay with -you. And I'll help all I can, honest.” - -“Fine.” Bud reached over and closed his fingers around Eddie's thin, -boyish arm. “You didn't tell me yet why the other trail isn't good -enough.” - -“I heard a sound in the Gap tunnel, that's why. You maybe didn't -know what it was. I know them echoes to a fare-ye-well. Somebody's -there--likely posted waiting.” He was motionless for a space, listening. - -“Get off-easy. Take off your spurs.” Eddie was down, whispering eagerly -to Bud. “There's a draft of air from the blow-holes that comes this way. -Sound comes outa there a lot easier than it goes in. Sis and I found -that out. Lead your horse--if they jump us, give him a lick with the -quirt and hide in the brush.” - -Like Indians the two made their way down a rambling slope not far from -where Marian had guided Bud. To-night, however, Eddie led the way to the -right instead of the left, which seemed to Bud a direction that would -bring them down Oldman creek, that dry river bed, and finally, perhaps, -to the race track. - -Eddie never did explain just how he made his way through a maze of -water-cut pillars and heaps of sandstone so bewildering that Bud -afterward swore that in spite of the fact that he was leading Sunfish, -he frequently found himself at that patient animal's tail, where they -were doubled around some freakish pillar. Frequently Eddie stopped and -peered past his horse to make sure that Bud had not lost the trail. -And finally, because he was no doubt worried over that possibility, he -knotted his rope to his saddle horn, brought back a length that reached -a full pace behind the tail of the horse, and placed the end in Bud's -hand. - -“If yuh lose me you're a goner,” he whispered. “So hang onto that, no -matter what comes. And don't yuh speak to me. This is hell's corral and -we're walking the top trail right now.” He made sure that Bud had the -loop in his hand, then slipped back past his horse and went on, walking -more quickly. - -Bud admitted afterwards that he was perfectly willing to be led like a -tame squirrel around the top of “hell's corral”, whatever that was. All -that Bud saw was an intricate assembly of those terrific pillars, whose -height he did not know, since he had no time to glance up and estimate -the distance. There was no method, no channel worn through in anything -that could be called a line. Whatever primeval torrent had honeycombed -the ledge had left it so before ever its waters had formed a straight -passage through. How Eddie knew the way he could only conjecture, -remembering how he himself had ridden devious trails down on the -Tomahawk range when he was a boy. It rather hurt his pride to realize -that never had he seen anything approaching this madman's trail. - -Without warning they plunged into darkness again. Darkness so black -that Bud knew they had entered another of those mysterious, subterranean -passages which had created such names as abounded in the country: -the “Sinks”, “Little Lost”, and Sunk River itself which disappeared -mysteriously. He was beginning to wonder with a grim kind of humor if he -himself was not about to follow the example of the rivers and disappear, -when the soft padding of their footfalls blurred under the whistling of -wind. Fine particles of sand stung him, a blast full against him -halted him for a second. But the rope pulled steadily and he went on, -half-dragged into starlight again. - -They were in a canyon; deep, sombre in its night shadows, its width made -known to him by the strip of starlight overhead. Directly before them, -not more than a hundred yards, a light shone through a window. - -The rope slackened in his hands, and Eddie slipped back to him shivering -a little as Bud discovered when he laid a hand on his arm. - -“I guess I better tie yuh--but it won't be so yuh can't shoot. Get on, -and let me tie your feet into the stirrups. I--I guess maybe we can get -past, all right--I'll try--I want to go and take that job you said you'd -give me!” - -“What's the matter, son? Is that where the Catrockers hang out?” Bud -swung into the saddle. “I trust you, kid. You're her brother.” - -“I--I want to live like Sis wants me to. But I've got to tie yuh, Mr. -Birnie, and that looks--But they'd k--you don't know how they kill -traitors. I saw one--” He leaned against Bud's leg, one hand reaching up -to the saddle horn and gripping it in a passing frenzy. “If you say so,” - he whispered rapidly, “we'll sneak up and shoot 'em through the window -before they get a chance--” - -Bud reached out his hand and patted Eddie on the shoulder. “That job of -yours don't call for any killing we can avoid,” he said. “Go ahead and -tie me. No use of wasting lead on two men when one will do. It's all -right. I trust you, pardner.” - -Eddie's shoulders stiffened. He stood up, looked toward the light and -gripped Bud's hand. “I thought they'd be asleep--what was home,” - he said. “We got to ride past the cabin to get out through another -water-wash. But you take your coat and tie your horse's feet, and I'll -tie mine. I--can't tie you, Mr. Birnie. We'll chance it together.” - -Bud did not say anything at all, for which Eddie seemed grateful. They -muffled eight hoofs, rode across the canyon's bottom and passed the -cabin so closely that the light of a smoky lantern on a table was -plainly visible to Bud, as was the shaggy profile of a man who sat with -his arms folded, glowering over a pipe. He heard nothing. Bud halted -Sunfish and looked again to make sure, while Eddie beckoned frantically. -They went on undisturbed--the Catrockers kept no dogs. - -They passed a couple of corrals, rode over springy sod where Bud dimly -discerned hay stubble. Eddie let down a set of bars, replaced them -carefully, and they crossed another meadow. It struck Bud that the -Catrockers were fairly well entrenched in their canyon, with plenty of -horse feed at least. - -They followed a twisting trail along the canyon's wall, rode into -another pit of darkness, came out into a sandy stretch that seemed -hazily familiar to Bud. They crossed this, dove into the bushes -following a dim trail, and in ten minutes Eddie's horse backed suddenly -against Sunfish's nose. Bud stood in his stirrups, reins held firmly in -his left hand, and in his right his six-shooter with the hammer lifted, -ready to snap down. - -A tall figure stepped away from the peaked rocks and paused at Bud's -side. - -“I been waiting for Marian,” he said bluntly. “You know anything about -her?” - -“She turned back last night after she had shown me the way.” Bud's -throat went dry. “Did they miss her?” He leaned aggressively. - -“Not till breakfast time, they didn't. I was waiting here, most all -night--except right after you folks left. She wasn't missed, and I never -flagged her--and she ain't showed up yet!” - -Bud sat there stunned, trying to think what might have happened. Those -dark passages through the mountains--the ledge-- “Ed, you know that -trail she took me over? She was coming back that way. She could get -lost--” - -“No she couldn't--not Sis. If her horse didn't act the fool--what horse -was it she rode?” Ed turned to Jerry as if he would know. - -“Boise,” Bud spoke quickly, as though seconds were precious. “She said -he knew the way.” - -“He sure ought to,” Eddie replied emphatically. “Boise belongs to Sis, -by rights. The mare got killed and Dad gave him to Sis when he was a -suckin' colt, and Sis raised him on cow's milk and broke him herself. -She rode him all over. Lew took and sold him to Dave, and gambled the -money, and Sis never signed no bill of sale. They couldn't make her. -Sis has got spunk, once you stir her up. She'll tackle anything. She's -always claimed Boise is hers. Boise knows the Gap like a book. Sis -couldn't get off the trail if she rode him.” - -“Something happened, then,” Bud muttered stubbornly. “Four men came -through behind us, and we waited out in the dark to let them pass. Then -she sent me down to the creek-bottom, and she turned back. If they got -her--” He turned Sunfish in the narrow brush trail. “She's hurt, or they -got her--I'm going back!” he said grimly. - -“Hell! you can't do any good alone,” Eddie protested, coming after him. -“We'll go look for her, Mr. Birnie, but we've got to have something so -we can see. If Jerry could dig up a couple of lanterns--” - -“You wait. I'm coming along,” Jerry called guardedly. “I'll bring -lanterns.” - -To Bud that time of waiting was torment. He had faced danger and tragedy -since he could toddle, and fear had never overridden the titillating -sense of adventure. But then the danger had been for himself. Now terror -conjured pictures whose horror set him trembling. Twenty-four hours and -more had passed since he had kissed Marian's hand and let her go--to -what? The inky blackness of those tunnelled caverns in the Gap -confronted his mind like a nightmare. He could not speak of it--he dared -not think of it, and yet he must. - -Jerry came on horseback, with three unlighted lanterns held in a cluster -by their wire handles. Eddie immediately urged his horse into the brushy -edge of the trail so that he might pass Bud and take the lead. “You sure -made quick time,” he remarked approvingly to Jerry. - -“I raided Dave's cache of whiskey or I'd have been here quicker,” Jerry -explained. “We might need some.” - -Bud gritted his teeth. “Ride, why don't yuh?” he urged Eddie harshly. -“What the hell ails that horse of yours? You got him hobbled?” - -Eddie glanced back over his bobbing shoulder as his horse trotted along -the blind trail through the brush. “This here ain't no race track,” he -expostulated. “We'll make it quicker without no broken legs.” - -There was justice in his protest and Bud said nothing. But Sunfish's -head bumped the tail of Eddie's horse many times during that ride. Once -in the Gap, with a lighted lantern in his rein hand and his six-shooter -in the other--because it was ticklish riding, in there with lights -revealing them to anyone who might be coming through--he was content to -go slowly, peering this way and that as he rode. - -Once Eddie halted and turned to speak to them. “I know Boise wouldn't -leave the trail. If Sis had to duck off and hide from somebody, he'd -come back to the trail. Loose, he'd do that. Sis and I used to explore -around in here just for fun, and kept it for our secret till Lew found -out. She always rode Boise. I'm dead sure he'd bring her out all right.” - -“She hasn't come out--yet. Go on,” said Bud, and Eddie rode forward -obediently. - -Three hours it took them to search the various passages where Eddie -thought it possible that Marian had turned aside. Bud saw that the trail -through was safe as any such trail could be, and he wondered at the -nerve and initiative of the girl and the boy who had explored the place -and found where certain queer twists and turns would lead. Afterwards he -learned that Marian was twelve and Eddie ten when first they had hidden -there from Indians, and they had been five years in finding where every -passage led. Also, in daytime the place was not so fearsome, since -sunlight slanted down into many a passageway through the blow-holes high -above. - -“She ain't here. I knew she wasn't,” Eddie announced when the final -tunnel let them into the graying light of dawn beyond the Peak. - -“In that case--” Bud glanced from him to Jerry, who was blowing out his -lantern. - -Jerry let down the globe carefully, at the same time glancing soberly -at Bud. “The kid knows better than we do what would happen if Lew met up -with her and Boise.” - -Eddie shook his head miserably, his eyes fixed helpessly upon Bud. “Lew -never, Mr. Birnie. I was with him every minute from dark till--till the -cashier, shot him. We come up the way I took you through the canyon. Lew -never knew she was gone any more than I did.” - -Jerry bit his lip. “Kid, what if the gang run acrost her, KNOWING Lew -was dead?” he grated. “And her on Boise? The word's out that Bud stole -Boise. Dave and the boys rode out to round him up--and they ain't done -it, so they're still riding--we'll hope. Kid, you know damn well your -gang would double-cross Dave in a minute, now Lew's killed. If they got -hold of the horse, do yuh think they'd turn him over to Dave?” - -“No, you bet your life they wouldn't!” Eddie retorted. - -“And what about HER?” Bud cut in with ominous calm. “She's your sister, -kid. Would you be worried if you knew they had HER and the horse?” - -Eddie gulped and looked away. “They wouldn't hurt her unless they knew't -Lew was dead,” he said. “And them that went to Crater was killed or -jailed, so--” He hesitated. “It looked to me like Anse was setting up -waiting for the bunch to get back from Crater. He--he's always jumpy -when they go off and stay, and it'd be just like him to set there and -wait till daylight. It looks to me, Mr. Birnie, like him and--and the -rest don't know yet that the Crater job was a fizzle. They wouldn't -think of such a thing as taking Sis, or Boise either, unless they knew -Lew was dead.” - -“Are you sure of that?” Bud had him in a grip that widened the boy's -eyes with something approaching fear. - -“Yes sir, Mr. Birnie, I'm sure. What didn't go to Crater stayed in -camp--or was gone on some other trip. No, I'm sure!” He jerked away with -sudden indignation at Bud's disbelief. “Say! Do you think I'm bad enough -to let my sister get into trouble with the Catrockers? I know they never -got her. More'n likely it's Dave.” - -“Dave went up Burroback Valley,” Jerry stated flatly. “Him and the boys -wasn't on this side the ridge. They had it sized up that Bud might go -from Crater straight across into Black Rim, and they rode up to catch -him as he comes back across.” Jerry grinned a little. “They wanted that -money you peeled off the crowd Sunday, Bud. They was willing you should -get to Crater and cash them checks before they overhauled yuh and strung -yuh up.” - -“You don't suppose they'd hurt Marian if they found her with the horse? -She might have followed along to Crater--” - -“She never,” Eddie contradicted. And Jerry declared in the same breath, -“She'd be too much afraid of Lew. No, if they found her with the horse -they'd take him away from her and send her back on another one to do -the kitchen work,” he conjectured with some contempt. “If they found YOU -without the horse--well--men have been hung on suspicion, Bud. Money's -something everybody wants, and there ain't a man in the valley but what -has figured your winnings down to the last two-bit piece. It's just a -runnin' match now to see what bunch gets to yuh first.” - -“Oh, the money! I'd give the whole of it to anyone that would tell me -Marian 's safe,” Bud cried unguardedly in his misery. Whereat Jerry and -Ed looked at each other queerly. - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY: “PICK YOUR FOOTING!” - -The three sat irresolutely on their horses at the tunnel's end of the -Gap, staring out over the valley of the Redwater and at the mountains -beyond. Bud's face was haggard and the lines of his mouth were hard. It -was so vast a country in which to look for one little woman who had not -gone back to see Jerry's signal! - -“I'll bet yuh Sis cleared out,” Eddie blurted, looking at Bud eagerly, -as if he had been searching for some comforting word. “Sis has got lots -of sand. She used to call me a 'fraid cat all the time when I didn't -want to go where she did. I'll bet she just took Boise and run off with -him. She would, if she made up her mind--and I guess she'd had about as -much as she could stand, cookin' at Little Lost--” - -Bud lifted his head and looked at Eddie like a man newly awakened. “I -gave her money to take home for me, to my mother, down Laramie way. I -begged her to go if she was liable to be in trouble over leaving the -ranch. But she said she wouldn't go--not unless she was missed. She knew -I'd come back to the ranch. I just piled her hands full of bills in the -dark and told her to use them if she had to--” - -“She might have done it,” Jerry hazarded hopefully. “Maybe she did sneak -in some other way and get her things. She'd have to take some clothes -along. Women folks always have to pack. By gosh, she could hide Boise -out somewhere and--” - -For a young man in danger of being lynched by his boss for horse -stealing and waylaid and robbed by a gang notorious in the country, -Bud's appetite for risk seemed insatiable that morning. For he added the -extreme possibility of breaking his neck by reckless riding in the next -hour. - -He swung Sunfish about and jabbed him with the spurs, ducking into the -gloom of the Gap as if the two who rode behind were assassins on his -trail. Once he spoke, and that was to Sunfish. His tone was savage. - -“Damn your lazy hide, you've been through here twice and you've got -daylight to help--now pick up your feet and travel!” - -Sunfish travelled; and the pace he set sent even Jerry gasping now and -then when he came to the worst places, with the sound of galloping hoofs -in the distance before him, and Eddie coming along behind and lifting -his voice warningly now and then. Even the Catrockers had held the Gap -in respect, and had ridden its devious trail cautiously. But caution was -a meaningless word to Bud just then while a small flame of hope burned -steadily before him. - -The last turn, where on the first trip Sunfish lost Boise and balked for -a minute, he made so fast that Sunfish left a patch of yellowish hair -on a pointed rock and came into the open snorting fire of wrath. He went -over the rough ground like a bouncing antelope, simply because he was -too mad to care how many legs he broke. At the peak of rocks he showed -an inclination to stop, and Bud, who had been thinking and planning -while he hoped, pulled him to a stand and waited for the others to come -up. They could not go nearer the corrals without incurring the danger of -being overheard, and that must not happen. - -“You damn fool,” gritted Jerry when he came up with Bud. “If I'd knowed -you wanted to commit suicide I'd a caved your head in with a rock and -saved myself the craziest ride I ever took in m' life!” - -“Oh, shut up!” Bud snapped impatiently. “We're here, aren't we? Now -listen to me, boys. You catch up my horses--Jerry, are you coming along -with me? You may as well. I'm a deputy sheriff, and if anybody stops you -for whatever you've done, I'll show a warrant for your arrest. And by -thunder,” he declared with a faint grin, “I'll serve it if I have to -to keep you with me. I don't know what you've done, and I don't care. I -want you. So catch up my horses--and Jerry, you can pack my war-bag and -roll your bed and mine, if I'm too busy while I'm here.” - -“You're liable to be busy, all right,” Jerry interpolated grimly. - -“Well, they won't bother you. Ed, you better get the horses. Take -Sunfish, here, and graze him somewhere outa sight. We'll keep going, and -we might have to start suddenly.” - -“How about Sis? I thought--” - -“I'm going to turn Little Lost upside down to find her, if she's here. -If she isn't, I'm kinda hoping she went down to mother. She said there -was no other place where she could go. And she'd feel that she had to -deliver the money, perhaps--because I must have given her a couple of -thousand dollars. It was quite a roll, mostly in fifties and hundreds, -and I'm short that much. I'm just gambling that the size of made her -feel she must go.” - -“That'd be Sis all over, Mr. Birnie.” Eddie glanced around him uneasily. -The sun was shining level in his eyes, and sunlight to Eddie had long -meant danger. “I guess we better hurry, then. I'll get the horses down -outa sight, and come back here afoot and wait.” - -“Do that, kid,” said Bud, slipping wearily off Sunfish. He gave the -reins into Eddie's hand, motioned Jerry with his head to follow, and -hurried down the winding path to the corrals. The cool brilliance of the -morning, the cheerful warbling of little, wild canaries in the bushes -as he passed, for once failed to thrill him with joy of life. He was -wondering whether to go straight to the house and search it if necessary -to make sure that she had not been there, or whether Indian cunning -would serve him best. His whole being ached for direct action; his heart -trembled with fear lest he should jeopardize Marian's safety by his -impetuous haste to help her. - -Pop, coming from the stable just as Bud was crossing the corral, settled -the question for him. Pop peered at him sharply, put a hand to the small -of his back and came stepping briskly toward him, his jaw working like a -sheep eating hay. - -“Afoot, air ye?” he exclaimed curiously. “What-fer idea yuh got in yore -head now, young feller? Comin' back here afoot when ye rid two fast -horses? Needn't be afraid of ole Pop--not unless yuh lie to 'im and try -to git somethin' fur nothin'. Made off with Lew's wife, too, didn't ye? -Oh, there ain't much gits past ole Pop, even if he ain't the man he used -to be. I seen yuh lookin' at her when yuh oughta been eatin'. I seen -yuh! An' her watchin' you when she thought nobuddy'd ketch her at it! -Sho! Shucks a'mighty! You been playin' hell all around, now, ain't ye? -Needn't lie--I know what my own eyes tells me!” - -“You know a lot, then, that I wish I knew. I've been in Crater all the -time, Pop. Did you know Lew was mixed up in a bank robbery yesterday, -and the cashier of the bank shot him? The rest of the gang is dead or in -jail. The sheriff did some good work there for a few minutes.” - -Pop pinched in his lips and stared at Bud unwinkingly for a minute. -“Don't lie to me,” he warned petulantly. “Went to Crater, did ye? Cashed -them checks, I expect.” - -Bud pulled his mouth into a rueful grin. “Yes, Pop, I cashed the checks, -all right--and here's what's left of the money. I guess,” he went -on while he pulled out a small roll of bills and licked his finger -preparatory to counting them, “I might better have stuck to running my -horses. Poker's sure a fright. The way it can eat into a man's pocket--” - -“Went and lost all that money on poker, did ye?” Pop's voice was shrill. -“After me tellin' yuh how to git it--and showin' yuh how yuh could beat -Boise--” the old man's rage choked him. He thrust his face close to -Bud's and glared venomously. - -“Yes, and just to show you I appreciate it, I'm going to give you what's -left after I've counted off enough to see me through to Spokane. I feel -sick, Pop. I want change of air. And as for riding two fast horses to -Crater--” he paused while he counted slowly, Pop licking his lips avidly -as he watched,--“why I don't know what you mean. I only ride one horse -at a time, Pop, when I'm sober. And I was sober till I hit Crater.” - -He stopped counting when he reached fifty dollars and gave the rest to -Pop, who thumbed the bank notes in a frenzy of greed until he saw that -he had two hundred dollars in his possession. The glee which he tried -to hide, the crafty suspicion that this was not all of it the returning -conviction that Bud was actually almost penniless, and the cunning -assumption of senility, was pictured on his face. Pop's poor, miserly -soul was for a minute shamelessly revealed. Distraught though he was, -Bud stared and shuddered a little at the spectacle. - -“I always said 't you're a good, honest, well-meaning boy,” Pop cackled, -slyly putting the money out of sight while he patted Bud on the -shoulder. “Dave he thought mebby you took and stole Boise--and if I was -you, Bud, I'd git to Spokane quick as I could and not let Dave ketch ye. -Dave's out now lookin' for ye. If he suspicioned you'd have the gall to -come right back to Little Lost, I expect mebby he'd string yuh up, young -feller. Dave's got a nasty temper--he has so!” - -“There's something else, Pop, that I don't like very well to be accused -of. You say Mrs. Morris is gone. I don't know a thing about that, or -about the horse being gone. I've been in Crater. I'd just got my money -out of the bank when it was held up, and Lew was shot.” - -Pop teetered and gummed his tobacco and grinned foxily. “Shucks! I don't -care nothin' about Lew's wife goin', ner I don't care nothin' much about -the horse. They ain't no funral uh mine, Bud. Dave an' Lew, let 'em look -after their own belongin's.” - -“They'll have to, far as I'm concerned,” said Bud. “What would I want -of a horse I can beat any time I want to run mine? Dave must think I'm -scared to ride fast, since Sunday! And Pop, I've got troubles enough -without having a woman on my hands. Are you sure Marian's gone?” - -“SURE?” Pop snorted. “Honey, she's had to do the cookin' for me an' -Jerry--and if I ain't sure--” - -Bud did not wait to hear him out. There was Honey, whom he would very -much like to avoid meeting; so the sooner he made certain of Marian's -deliberate flight the better, since Honey was not an early riser. He -went to the house and entered by way of the kitchen, feeling perfectly -sure all the while that Pop was watching him. The disorder there was -sufficiently convincing that Marian was gone, so he tip-toed across the -room to a door through which he had never seen any one pass save Lew and -Marian. - -It was her bedroom, meagrely furnished, but in perfect order. On the -goods-box dresser with a wavy-glassed mirror above it, her hair brush, -comb and a few cheap toilet necessities lay, with the comb across a -nail file as if she had put it down hurriedly before going out to serve -supper to the men. Marian, then, had not stolen home to pack things -for the journey, as Jerry had declared a woman would do. Bud sent a -lingering glance around the room and closed the door. Hope was still -with him, but it was darkened now with doubts. - -In the kitchen again he hesitated, wanting his guitar and mandolin and -yet aware of the foolishness of burdening himself with them now. Food -was a different matter, however. Dave owed him for more than three weeks -of hard work in the hayfield, so Bud collected from the pantry as much -as he could carry, and left the house like a burglar. - -Pop was fiddling with the mower that stood in front of the machine shed, -plainly waiting for whatever night transpire. And since the bunk-house -door was in plain view and not so far away as Bud wished it, he went -boldly over to the old man, carrying his plunder on his shoulder. - -“Dave owes me for work, Pop, so I took what grub I needed,” he explained -with elaborate candor. “I'll show you what I've got, so you'll know I'm -not taking anything that I've no right to.” He set down the sack, -opened it and looked up into what appeared to be the largest-muzzled -six-shooter he had ever seen in his life. Sheer astonishment held him -there gaping, half stooped over the sack. - -“No ye don't, young feller!” Pop snarled vindictively. “Yuh think -I'd let a horse thief git off 'n this ranch whilst I'm able to pull a -trigger? You fork her that money you got on ye, first thing yuh do! it's -mine by rights--I told yuh I'd help ye to win money off 'n the valley -crowd, and I done it. An' what does you do? Never pay a mite of -attention to me after I'd give ye all the inside workin's of the -game--never offer to give me my share--no, by Christmas, you go steal a -horse of my son's and hide him out somewheres, and go lose mighty near -all I helped yuh win, playin' poker! Think I'm goin' to stand for that? -Think two hundred dollars is goin' to even things up when I helped ye to -win a fortune? Hand over that fifty you got on yuh!” - -Very meekly, his face blank, Bud reached into his pocket and got the -money. Without a word he pulled two or three dollars in silver from his -trousers pockets and added that to the lot. “Now what?” he wanted to -know. - -“Now You'll wait till Dave gits here to hang yuh fer horse-stealing!” - shrilled Pop. “Jerry! Oh, Jerry! Where be yuh? I got 'im, by -Christmas--I got the horse thief--caught him carryin good grub right -outa the house!” - -“Look out, Jerry!” called Bud, glancing quickly toward the bunk-house. - -Now, Pop had without doubt been a man difficult to trick in his youth, -but he was old, and he was excited, tickled over his easy triumph. He -turned to see what was wrong with Jerry. - -“Look out, Pop, you old fool, You'll bust a blood-vessel if you don't -quiet down,” Bud censured mockingly, wresting the gun from the clawing, -struggling old man in his arms. He was surprised at the strength and -agility of Pop, and though he was forcing him backward step by step into -the machine shed, and knew that he was master of the situation, he had -his hands full. - -“Wildcats is nothing to Pop when he gets riled,” Jerry grinned, coming -up on the run. “I kinda expected something like this. What yuh want done -with him, Bud?” - -“Gag him so he can't holler his head off, and then take him along--when -I've got my money back,” Bud panted. “Pop, you're about as appreciative -as a buck Injun.” - -“Going to be hard to pack him so he'll ride,” Jerry observed quizzically -when Pop, bound and gagged, lay glaring at them behind the bunk-house. -“He don't quite balance your two grips, Bud. And we do need hat grub.” - -“You bring the grub--I'll take Pop--” Bud stopped in the act of -lifting the old man and listened. Honey's voice was calling Pop, with -embellishments such Bud would never have believed a part of Honey's -vocabulary. From her speech, she was coming after him, and Pop's jaws -worked frantically behind Bud's handkerchief. - -Jerry tilted his head toward the luggage he had made a second trip for, -picked up Pop, clamped his hand over the mouth that was trying to betray -them, and slipped away through the brush glancing once over his shoulder -to make sure that Bud was following him. - -They reached the safe screen of branches and stopped there for a minute, -listening to Honey's vituperations and her threats of what she would do -to Pop if he did not come up and start a fire. - -She stopped, and hoofbeats sounded from the main road. Dave and his men -were coming. - -In his heart Bud thanked Little Lost for that hidden path through the -bushes. He heard Dave asking Honey what was the matter with her, heard -the unwomanly reply of the girl, heard her curse Pop for his neglect -of the kitchen stove at that hour of the morning. Heard, too, her -questioning of Dave. Had they found Bud, or Marian? - -“If you got 'em together, and didn't string 'em both up to the nearest -tree--” - -Bud bit his lip and went on, his face aflame with rage at the -brutishness of a girl he had half respected. “Honey!” he whispered -contemptuously. “What a name for that little beast!” - -At the rocks Eddie was waiting with Stopper, upon whom they hurriedly -packed the beds and Bud's luggage. They spoke in whispers when they -spoke at all, and to insure the horse's remaining quiet Eddie had tied a -cotton rope snugly around its muzzle. - -“I'll take Pop,” Bud whispered, but Jerry shook his head and once more -shouldered the old fellow as he would carry a bag of grain. So they -slipped back down the trail, took a turn which Bud did not know, and -presently Bud found that Jerry was keeping straight on. Bud made an -Indian sign on the chance that Jerry would understand it, and with his -free hand Jerry replied. He was taking Pop somewhere. They were to wait -for him when they had reached the horses. So they separated for a space. - -“This is sure a great country for hideouts, Mr. Birnie,” Eddie ventured -when they had put half a mile between themselves and Little Lost, and -had come upon Smoky, Sunfish and Eddie's horse feeding quietly in a -tiny, spring-watered basin half surrounded with rocks. “If you know the -country you can keep dodgin' sheriffs all your life--if you just have -grub enough to last.” - -“Looks to me as if there aren't many wasted opportunities here,” Bud -answered with some irony. “Is there an honest man in the whole country, -Ed? I'd just like to know.” - -Eddie hesitated, his eyes anxiously trying to read Bud's meaning and his -mood. “Not right around the Sinks, I guess,” he replied truthfully. “Up -at Crater there are some, and over to Jumpoff. But I guess this valley -would be called pretty tough, all right. It's so full of caves and -queer places it kinda attracts the ones that want to hide out.” Then he -grinned. “It's lucky for you it's like that, Mr. Birnie, or I don't see -how you'd get away. Now I can show you how to get clear away from here -without getting caught. But I guess we ought to have breakfast first. -I'm pretty hungry. Ain't you? I can build a fire against that crack in -the ledge over there, and the smoke will go away back underneath so -it won't show. There's a blow-hole somewhere that draws smoke like a -chimney.” - -Jerry came after a little, sniffing bacon. He threw himself down beside -the fire and drew a long breath. “That old skunk's heavier than what you -might think,” he observed whimsically. “I packed him down into one of -them sink holes and untied his feet and left him to scramble out best -way he can. It'll take him longer'n it took me. Having the use of your -hands helps quite a lot. And the use of your mouth to cuss a little. -But he'll make it in an hour or two--I'm afraid.” He looked at Bud, a -half-shamed tenderness in his eyes. “It sure was hard to leave him like -I did. It was like walking on your toes past a rattler curled up asleep -somewhere, afraid you might spoil his nap. Only Pop wasn't asleep.” - He sat up and reached his hand for a cup of coffee which Eddie was -offering. “Anyway, I had the fun of telling the old devil what I -thought about him,” he added, and blew away the steam and took another -satisfying nip. - -“He'll put them on our trail, I suppose,” said Bud, biting into a ragged -piece of bread with a half-burned slice of hot bacon on it. - -“When he gets to the ranch he will. His poison fangs was sure loaded -when I left. He said he wanted to cut your heart out for robbing him, -and so forth, ad swearum. We'd best not leave any trail.” - -“We ain't going to,” Eddie assured him eagerly. “I'm glad being with -the Catrockers is going to do some good, Mr. Birnie. It'll help you git -away, and that'll help find Sis. I guess she hit down where you live, -maybe. How far can your horse travel to-day--if he has to?” - -Bud looked across to where Sunfish, having rolled in a wet spot near -the spring and muddied himself to his satisfaction, was greedily at work -upon a patch of grass. “If he has to, till he drops in his tracks. And -that won't be for many a mile, kid. He's thoroughbred; a thoroughbred -never knows when to quit.” - -“Well, there ain't any speedy trail ahead of us today,” Eddie vouchsafed -cheeringly. “There's half-a mile maybe where we can gallop, and the rest -is a case of picking your footing.” - -“Let's begin picking it, then,” said Bud, and got up, reaching for his -bridle. - -By devious ways it was that Eddie led them out of that sinister country -surrounding the Sinks. In the beginning Bud and Jerry exchanged glances, -and looked at their guns, believing that it would be through Catrock -Canyon they would have to ride. Eddie, riding soberly in the lead, had -yet a certain youthful sense of his importance. “They'll never think of -following yuh this way, unless old Pop Truman gits back in time to tell -'em I'm travelling with yuh,” he observed once when they had penetrated -beyond the neighborhood of caves and blow-holes and were riding safely -down a canyon that offered few chances of their being observed save from -the front, which did not concern them. - -“I guess you don't know old Pop is about the ringeader of the -Catrockers. Er he was, till he began to git kinda childish about -hoarding money, and then Dave stepped in. And Mr. Birnie, I guess you'd -have been dead when you first came there, if it hadn't been that Dave -and Pop wanted to give you a chance to get a lot of money off of Jeff's -bunch. Lew was telling how you kept cleaning up, and he said right along -that they was taking too much risk having you around. Lew said he bet -you was a detective. Are you, Mr. Birnie?” - -Bud was riding with his shoulders sagged forward, his thoughts with -Marian--wherever she was. He had been convinced that she was not at -Little Lost, that she had started for Laramie. But now that he was away -from that evil spot his doubts returned. What if she were still in the -neighborhood--what if they found her? Memory of Honey's vindictiveness -made him shiver, Honey was the kind of woman who would kill. - -“I am, from now on, kid,” he said despondently. “We're going to ride -till we find your sister. And if those hell-hounds got her--” - -“They didn't, from the way Honey talked,” Jerry comforted. “We'll find -her at Laramie, don't you ever think we won't!” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: TRAILS END - -At the last camp, just north of the Platte, Bud's two black sheep -balked. Bud himself, worn by sleepless nights and long hours in the -saddle, turned furiously when Jerry announced that he guessed he and Ed -wouldn't go any farther. - -“Well, damn you both for ungrateful hounds!” grated Bud, hurt to the -quick. “I hope you don't think I brought you this far to help hold me in -the saddle; I made it north alone, without any mishap. I think I could -have come back all right. But if you want to quit here, all right. You -can high-tail it back to your outlaws--” - -“Well, if you go 'n put it that way!” Jerry expostulated, lifting both -hands high in the air in a vain attempt to pull the situation toward the -humorous. “You're a depity sheriff, and you got the drop.” He grinned, -saw that Bud's eyes were still hard and his mouth unyielding, and -lowered his hands, looking crestfallen as a kicked pup that had tried to -be friendly. - -“You can see for yourself we ain't fit to go 'n meet your mother -and your father like we was--like we'd went straight,” Eddie put in -explanatorily. “You've been raised good, and--say, it makes a man want -to BE good to see how a feller don't have to be no preacher to live -right. But it don't seem square to let you take us right home with you, -just because you're so darned kind you'd do it and never think a thing -about it. We ain't ungrateful--I know I ain't. But--but--” - -“The kid's said it, Bud,” Jerry came to the rescue. “We come along -because it was a ticklish trip you had ahead. And I've knowed as good -riders as you are, that could stand a little holding in the saddle when -some freak had tried to shoot 'em out of it. But you're close to home -now and you don't need us no more, and so we ain't going to horn in on -the prodigal calf's milkbucket. Marian, She's likely there--” - -“If Sis ain't with your folks we'll hunt her up,” Eddie interrupted -eagerly. “Sis is your kind--she--she's good enough for yuh, Bud, and I -hope she--ll--well if she's got any sense she will--well, if it comes to -the narrying point, I--well, darn it, I'd like to see Sis git as good a -man as you are!” Eddie, having bluntered that far, went headlong as if -he were afraid to stop. “Sis is educated, and she's an awful good singer -and a fine girl, only I'm her brother. But I'm going to live honest from -now on, Bud, and I hope you won't hold off on account of me. I -ain't going to have sis feel like crying when she thinks about me! -You--you--said something that hurt like a knife, Bud, when you told me -that, up in Crater. And she wasn't to blame for marryn' Lew--and she -done that outa goodness, the kind you showed to Jerry and me. And we -don't want to go spoilin' everything by letting your folks see what -you're bringin' home with yuh! And it might hurt Sis with your folks, if -they found out that I'm--” - -Bud had been standing by his horse, looking from one to the other, -listening, watching their faces, measuring the full depth of their -manhood. “Say! you remind me of a story the folks tell on me,” he said, -his eyes shining, while his voice strove to make light of it all. “Once, -when I was a kid in pink-aprons, I got lost from the trail-herd my folks -were bringing up from Texas. It was comin' dark, and they had the whole -outfit out hunting me, and everybody scared to death. When they were all -about crazy, they claim I came walking up to the camp-fire dragging -a dead snake by the tail, and carrying a horn toad in my shirt, and -claiming they were mine because I 'ketched 'em.' I'm not branding that -yarn with any moral--but figure it out for yourself, boys.” - -The two looked at each other and grinned. “I ain't dead yet,” Eddie -made sheepish comment. “Mebbe you kinda look on me as being a horn toad, -Bud.” - -“When you bear in mind that my folks raised that kid, You'll realize -that it takes a good deal to stampede mother.” Bud swung into the saddle -to avoid subjecting his emotions to the cramped, inadequate limitations -of speech. “Let's go, boys. She's a long trail to take the kinks out of -before supper-time.” - -They stood still, making no move to follow. Bud reined Smoky around so -that he faced them, reached laboriously into that mysterious pocket of -a cowpuncher's trousers which is always held closed by the belt of his -chaps, and which invariably holds in its depths the things he wants in a -hurry. They watched him curiously, resolutely refusing to interpret his -bit of autobiography, wondering perhaps why he did not go. - -“Here she is.” Bud had disinterred the deputy sheriff's badge, and began -to polish it by the primitive but effectual method of spitting on it and -then rubbing vigorously on his sleeve. “You're outside of Crater County, -but by thunder you're both guilty of resisting an officer, and county -lines don't count!” He had pinned the badge at random on his coat while -he was speaking, and now, before the two realized what he was about, he -had his six-shooter out and aimed straight at them. - -Bud had never lived in fear of the law. Instantly was sorry when he -saw the involuntary stiffening of their muscles, the quick wordless -suspicion and defiance that sent their eyes in shifty glances to right -and left before their hands lifted a little. Trust him, love him they -might, there was that latent fear of capture driven deep into their -souls; so deep that even he had not erased it. - -Bud saw--and so he laughed. - -“I've got to show my folks that I've made a gathering,” he said. “You -can't quit, boys. And I'm going to take you to the end of the trail, now -you've started.” He eyed them, saw that they were still stubborn, and -drew in his breath sharply, manfully meeting the question in their -minds. - -“We've left more at the Sinks than the gnashing of teeth,” he said -whimsically. “A couple of bad names, for instance. You're two bully -good friends of mine, and--damn it, Marian will want to see both of you -fellows, if she's there. If she isn't--we'll maybe have a big circle -to ride, finding her. I'll need you, no matter what's ahead.” He looked -from one to the other, gave a snort and added impatiently, “Aw, fork -your horses and don't stand there looking like a couple of damn fools!” - -Whereupon Jerry shook his head dissentingly, grinned and gave Eddie so -emphatic an impulse toward his horse that the kid went sprawling. - -“Guess We're up against it, all right--but I do wish yo 'd lose that -badge!” Jerry surrendered, and flipped the bridle reins over the neck of -his horse. “Horn toad is right, the way you're scabbling around amongst -them rocks,” he called light-heartedly to the kid. “Ever see a purtier -sunrise? I never!” - -I don't know what they thought of the sunset. Gorgeous it was, with many -soft colors blended into unnamable tints and translucencies, and the -songs of birds in the thickets as they passed. Smoky, Sunfish and -Stopper walked briskly, ears perked forward, heads up, eyes eager to -catch the familiar landmarks that meant home. Bud's head was up, also, -his eyes went here and there, resting with a careless affection on those -same landmarks which spelled home. He would have let Smoky's reins have -a bit more slack and would have led his little convoy to the corrals -at a gallop, had not hope begun to tremble and shrink from meeting -certainty face to face. Had you asked him then, I think Bud would have -owned himself a coward. Until he had speech with home-folk he would -merely be hoping that Marian was there; but until he had speech with -them he need not hear that they knew nothing of her. Bud--like, however, -he tried to cover his trepidation with a joke. - -“We'll sneak up on 'em,” he said to Ed and Jerry when the roofs of -house and stables came into view. - -“Here's where I grew up, boys. And in a minute or two more you'll see -the greatest little mother on earth--and the finest dad,” he added, -swallowing the last of his Scotch stubbornness. - -“And Sis, I hope,” Eddie said wistfully. “I sure hope she's here.” - -Neither Jerry nor Bud answered him at all. Smoky threw up his head -suddenly and gave a shrill whinny, and a horse at the corrals answered -sonorously. - -“Say! That sounds to me like Boise!” Eddie exclaimed, standing up in his -stirrups to look. - -Bud turned pale, then flushed hotly. “Don't holler!” he muttered, and -held Smoky back a little. For just one reason a young man's heart pounds -as Bud's heart pounded then. Jerry looked at him, took a deep breath -and bit his lip thoughtfully. It may be that Jerry's heartbeats were not -quite normal just then, but no one would ever know. - -They rode slowly to a point near the corner of the table, and there Bud -halted the two with his lifted hand. Bud was trembling a little--but he -was smiling, too. Eddie was frankly grinning, Jerry's face was the face -of a good poker-player--it told nothing. - -In a group with their backs to them stood three: Marian, Bud's mother -and his father. Bob Birnie held Boise by the bridle, and the two women -were stroking the brown nose of the horse that moved uneasily, with -little impatient head-tossings. - -“He doesn't behave like a horse that has made the long trip he has -made,” Bud's mother observed admiringly. “You must be a wonderful little -horsewoman, my dear, as well as a wonderful little woman in every other -way. Buddy should never have sent you on such a trip--just to bring home -money, like a bank messenger! But I'm glad that he did! And I do wish -you would consent to stay--such an afternoon with music I haven't had -since Buddy left us. You could stay with me and train for the -concert work you intend doing. I'm only an old ranch woman in a slat -sunbonnet--but I taught my Buddy--and have you heard him?” - -“An old woman in a slat sunbonnet--oh, how can you? Why, you're the most -wonderful woman in the whole world.” Marian's voice was almost tearful -in its protest. “Yes--I have heard--your Buddy.” - -“'T is the strangest way to go about selling a horse that I ever saw,” - Bob Birnie put in dryly, smoothing his beard while he looked at them. -“We'd be glad to have you stay, lass. But you've asked me to place a -price on the horse, and I should like to ask ye a question or two. How -fast did ye say he could run?” - -Marian laid an arm around the shoulders of the old lady in a slat -sunbonnet and patted her arm while she answered. - -“Well, he beat everything in the country, so they refused to race -against him, until Bud came with his horses,” she replied. “It took -Sunfish to outrun him. He 's terribly fast, Mr. Birnie. I--really, I -think he could beat the world's record--if Bud rode him!” - -Just here you should picture Ed and Jerry with their hands over their -mouths, and Bud wanting to hide his face with his hat. - -Bob Birnie's beard behaved oddly for a minute, while he leaned and -stroked Boise's flat forelegs, that told of speed. “Wee-ll,” he -hesitated, soft-heartedness battling with the horse-buyer's keenness, -“since Bud is na ere to ride him, he'll make a good horse for the -roundup. I'll give ye “--more battling--“a hundred and fifty dollars for -him, if ye care to sell--” - -“Here, wait a minute before you sell to that old skinflint!” Bud shouted -exuberantly, dismounting with a rush. The rush, I may say, carried him -to the little old lady in the slat sunbonnet, and to that other little -lady who was staring at him with wide, bright yes. Bud's arms went -around his mother. Perhaps by accident he gathered in Marian also--they -were standing very close, and his arms were very long--and he was slow -to discover his mistake. - -“I'll give you two hundred for Boise, and I'll throw in one brother, and -one long-legged, good-for-nothing cowpuncher--” - -“Meaning yourself, Buddy?” came teasingly from he slat sunbonnet, whose -occupant had not been told just everything. “I'll be surprised if she'll -have you, with that dirty face and no shave for a week and more. But -if she does, you're luckier than you deserve, for riding up on us like -this! We've heard all about you, Buddy--though you were wise to send -this lassie to gild your faults and make a hero of you!” - -Now, you want to know how Marian managed to live through that. I will -say that she discovered how tenaciously a young man's arms may cling -when he thinks he is embracing merely his mother; but she freed herself -and ran to Eddie, fairly pulled him off his horse, and talked very -fast and incoherently to him and Jerry, asking question after question -without waiting for a reply to any of them. All this, I suppose, in the -hope that they would not hear, or, hearing, would not understand what -that terrible, wonderful little woman was saying so innocently. - -But you cannot faze youth. Eddie had important news for Sis, and he felt -that now was the time to tell it before Marian blushed any redder, so -he pulled her face up to his, put his lips so close to her ear that his -breath tickled, and whispered--without any preface whatever that she -could marry Bud any time now, because she was a widow. - -“Here! Somebody--Bud--quick! Sis has fainted! Doggone it, I only told -her Lew's dead and she can marry you--shucks! I thought she'd be glad!” - -Down on the Staked Plains, on an evening much like the evening when Bud -came home with his “stake” and his hopes and two black sheep who were -becoming white as most of us, a camp-fire began to crackle and wave -smoke ribbons this way and that before it burned steadily under the -supper pots of a certain hungry, happy group which you know. - -“It's somewhere about here that I got lost from camp when I was a kid,” - Bud observed, tilting back his hat and lifting a knee to snap a dry -stick over it. “Mother'd know, I bet. I kinda wish we'd brought her and -dad along with us. That's about eighteen years ago they trailed a herd -north--and here we are, taking our trail--herd north on the same trail! -I kinda wish now I'd picked up a bunch of yearling heifers along with -our two-year-olds. We could have brought another hundred head just as -well as not. They sure drive nice. Mother would have enjoyed this trip.” - -“You think so, do you?” Marian gave him a superior little smile along -with the coffee-boiler. “If you'd heard her talk about that trip north -when there weren't any men around listening, you'd change your mind. -Bud Birnie, you are the SIMPLEST creature! You think, because a woman -doesn't make a fuss over things, she doesn't mind. Your mother told me -that it was a perfect nightmare. She taught you music just in the hope -that you'd go back to civilization and live there where there are some -modern improvements, and she could visit you! And here you are--all -rapped up in a bunch of young stock, dirty as pig and your whiskers--ow! -Bud! Stop that immediatly, or I'll go put my face in a cactus just for -relief!” - -“Maybe you're dissatisfied yourself with my bunch of cattle. Maybe you -didn't go in raptures over our aim and make more plans in a day than -four men could carry out in a year. Maybe you wish your husband was a -man that was content to pound piano keys all his life and let his hair -grow long instead of his whiskers. If you hate this, why didn't you say -so?” - -“I was speaking,” said Marian as dignifiedly as was possible, “of your -mother. She was raised in civilization, and she has simply made the best -of pioneering all her married life. I was born and raised in cow-country -and I love it. As I said before, you are the SIMPLEST creature! Would -you really bring a father and mother a honeymoon trail--especially when -the bride didn't want them, and they would much rather stay home?” - -“Hey!” cried Eddie disgustedly, coming up from a shallow creek with a -bucket of water and a few dry sticks. “The coffee's upset and putting -the fire out. Gee whiz! Can't you folks quit love-makin' and tend to -business long enough to cook a meal?” - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cow-Country, by B. M. 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Bower - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cow-Country, by B. M. Bower - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Cow-Country - -Author: B. M. Bower - -Release Date: September 26, 2008 [EBook #1723] -Last Updated: March 9, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COW-COUNTRY *** - - - - -Produced by Mary Starr, and David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h1> - COW-COUNTRY - </h1> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h2> - By B. M. Bower - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>COW-COUNTRY</b></big> </a> <br /><br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER ONE: </a> AN AMBITIOUS - MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER TWO: - </a> THE TRAIL HERD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> - CHAPTER THREE: </a> SOME INDIAN LORE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FOUR: </a> BUDDY GIVES WARNING - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER FIVE: </a> BUDDY - RUNS TRUE TO TYPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SIX: </a> THE - YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER SEVEN: - </a> BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER EIGHT: </a> THE MULESHOE <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER NINE: </a> LITTLE LOST <br /><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER TEN: </a> BUD MEETS THE - WOMAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER ELEVEN: </a> GUILE - AGAINST THE WILY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER TWELVE: - </a> SPORT O' KINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> - CHAPTER THIRTEEN: </a> THE SINKS <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN: </a> EVEN MUSHROOMS - HELP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN: </a> WHY - BUD MISSED A DANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN: - </a> WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: </a> GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING POINT - <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: </a> THE - CATROCK GANG <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER NINETEEN: </a> BUD - RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> - CHAPTER TWENTY: </a> "PICK YOUR FOOTING!” <br /><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: </a> TRAILS - END <br /><br /> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - COW-COUNTRY - </h1> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER ONE: AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY - </h2> - <p> - In hot mid afternoon when the acrid, gray dust cloud kicked up by the - listless plodding of eight thousand cloven hoofs formed the only blot on - the hard blue above the Staked Plains, an ox stumbled and fell awkwardly - under his yoke, and refused to scramble up when his negro driver shouted - and prodded him with the end of a willow gad. - </p> - <p> - “Call your master, Ezra,” directed a quiet woman voice gone weary and - toneless with the heat and two restless children. “Don't beat the poor - brute. He can't go any farther and carry the yoke, much less pull the - wagon.” - </p> - <p> - Ezra dropped the gad and stepped upon the wagon tongue where he might - squint into the dust cloud and decide which gray, plodding horseman - alongside the herd was Robert Birnie. Far across the sluggish river of - grimy backs, a horse threw up its head with a peculiar sidelong motion, - and Ezra's eyes lightened with recognition. That was the colt, Rattler, - chafing against the slow pace he must keep. Hands cupped around big, - chocolate-colored lips and big, yellow-white teeth, Ezra whoo-ee-ed the - signal that called the nearest riders to the wagon that held the boss's - family. - </p> - <p> - Bob Birnie and another man turned and came trotting back, and at the call - a scrambling youngster peered over his mother's shoulder in the forward - opening of the prairie schooner. - </p> - <p> - “O-oh, Dulcie! We gonna git a wile cow agin!” - </p> - <p> - Dulcie was asleep and did not answer, and the woman in the slat sun-bonnet - pushed back with her elbow the eager, squirming body of her eldest. “Stay - in the wagon, Buddy. Mustn't get down amongst the oxen. One might kick - you. Lie down and take a nap with sister. When you waken it will be nice - and cool again.” - </p> - <p> - “Not s'eepy!” objected Buddy for the twentieth time in the past two hours. - But he crawled back, and his mother, relieved of his restless presence, - leaned forward to watch the approach of her husband and the cowboy. This - was the second time in the past two days that an ox had fallen exhausted, - and her eyes showed a trace of anxiety. With the feed so poor and the - water so scarce, it seemed as though the heavy wagon, loaded with a few - household idols too dear to leave behind, a camp outfit and the necessary - clothing and bedding for a woman and two children, was going to be a real - handicap on the drive. - </p> - <p> - “Robert, if we had another wagon, I could drive it and make the load less - for these four oxen,” she suggested when her husband came up. “A lighter - wagon, perhaps with one team of strong horses, or even with a yoke of - oxen, I could drive well enough, and relieve these poor brutes.” She - pushed back her sun-bonnet and with it a mass of red-brown hair that - curled damply on her forehead, and smiled disarmingly. “Buddy would be the - happiest baby boy alive if I could let him drive now and then!” she added - humorously. - </p> - <p> - “Can't make a wagon and an extra yoke of oxen out of this cactus patch,” - Bob Birnie grinned good humoredly. “Not even to tickle Buddy. I'll see - what I can do when we reach Olathe. But you won't have to take a man's - place and drive, Lassie.” He took the cup of water she drew from a keg and - proffered-water was precious on the Staked Plains, that season-and his - eyes dwelt on her fondly while he drank. Then, giving her hand a squeeze - when he returned the cup, he rode back to scan the herd for an animal big - enough and well-conditioned enough to supplant the worn-out ox. - </p> - <p> - “Aren't you thirsty, Frank Davis? I think a cup of water will do you - good,” she called out to the cowboy, who had dismounted to tighten his - forward cinch in expectation of having to use his rope. - </p> - <p> - The cowboy dropped stirrup from saddle horn and came forward - stiff-leggedly, leading his horse. His sun-baked face, grimed with the - dust of the herd, was aglow with heat, and his eyes showed gratitude. A - cup of water from the hand of the boss's wife was worth a gallon from the - barrel slip-slopping along in the lurching chuck-wagon. - </p> - <p> - “How's the kids makin' out, Mis' Birnie?” Frank inquired politely when he - had swallowed the last drop and had wiped his mouth with the back of his - hand. “It's right warm and dusty t'day.” - </p> - <p> - “They're asleep at last, thank goodness,” she answered, glancing back at a - huddle of pink calico that showed just over the crest of a pile of - crumpled quilts. “Buddy has a hard time of it. He's all man in his - disposition, and all baby in size. He's been teasing to walk with the - niggers and help drive the drag. Is my husband calling?” - </p> - <p> - Her husband was, and Frank rode away at a leisurely trot. Haste had little - to do with trailing a herd, where eight miles was called a good day's - journey and six an average achievement. The fallen ox was unyoked by the - mellow-voiced but exasperated Ezra, and since he would not rise, the three - remaining oxen, urged by the gad and Ezra's upbraiding, swung the wagon to - one side and moved it a little farther after the slow-moving herd, so that - the exhausted animal could rest, and the raw recruit be yoked in where he - could do the least harm and would the speediest learn a new lesson in - discomfort. Mrs. Birnie glanced again at the huddle of pink in the nest of - quilts behind a beloved chest of drawers in the wagon, and sighed with - relief because Buddy slept. - </p> - <p> - An ambitious man-child already was Buddy, accustomed to certain phrases - that, since he could toddle, had formed inevitable accompaniment to his - investigative footsteps. “L'k-out-dah!” he had for a long time believed to - be his name among the black folk of his world. White folk had varied it - slightly. He knew that “Run-to-mother-now” meant that something he would - delight in but must not watch was going to take place. Spankings more or - less official and not often painful signified that big folks did not - understand him and his activities, or were cross about something. Now, - mother did not want him to watch the wild cow run and jump at the end of a - rope until finally forced to submit to the ox-yoke and help pull the - wagon. Buddy loved to watch them, but he understood that mother was afraid - the wild cow might step on him. Why she should want him to sleep when he - was not sleepy he had not yet discovered, and so disdained to give it - serious consideration. - </p> - <p> - “Not s'eepy,” Buddy stated again emphatically as a sort of mental - dismissal of the command, and crawled carefully past Sister and lifted a - flap of the canvas cover. A button—the last button—popped off - his pink apron and the sleeves rumpled down over his hands. It felt all - loose and useless, so Buddy stopped long enough to pull the apron off and - throw it beside Sister before he crawled under the canvas flap and walked - down the spokes of a rear wheel. He did not mean to get in the way of the - wild cow, but he did want action for his restless legs. He thought that if - he went away from the wagon and the herd and played while they were - catching the wild cow, it would be just the same as if he took a nap. - Mother hadn't thought of it, or she might have suggested it. - </p> - <p> - So Buddy went away from the wagon and down into a shallow dry wash where - the wild cow would not come, and played. The first thing he saw was a - scorpion-nasty old bug that will bite hard-and he threw rocks at it until - it scuttled under a ledge out of sight. The next thing he saw that - interested him at all was a horned toad; a hawn-toe, he called it, after - Ezra's manner of speaking. Ezra had caught a hawntoe for him a few days - ago, but it had mysteriously disappeared out of the wagon. Buddy did not - connect his mother's lack of enthusiasm with the disappearance. Her - sympathy with his loss had seemed to him real, and he wanted another, - fully believing that in this also mother would be pleased. So he took - after this particular HAWN-toe, that crawled into various hiding places - only to be spied and routed out with small rocks and a sharp stick. - </p> - <p> - The dry wash remained shallow, and after a while Buddy, still in hot - pursuit of the horned toad, emerged upon the level where the herd had - passed. The wagon was nowhere in sight, but this did not disturb Buddy. He - was not lost. He knew perfectly that the brown cloud on his narrowed - horizon was the dust over the herd, and that the wagon was just behind, - because the wind that day was blowing from the southwest, and also because - the oxen did not walk as fast as the herd. In the distance he saw the - “Drag” moving lazily along after the dust-cloud, with barefooted niggers - driving the laggard cattle and singing dolefully as they walked. - Emphatically Buddy was not lost. - </p> - <p> - He wanted that particular horned toad, however, and he kept after it until - he had it safe in his two hands. - </p> - <p> - It happened that when he pounced at last upon the toad he disturbed with - his presence a colony of red ants on moving day. The close ranks of them, - coming and going in a straight line, caught and held Buddy's attention to - the exclusion of everything else—save the horned toad he had been at - such pains to acquire. He tucked the toad inside his underwaist and - ignored its wriggling against his flesh while he squatted in the hot - sunshine and watched the ants, his mind one great question. Where were - they going, and what were they carrying, and why were they all in such a - hurry? - </p> - <p> - Buddy had to know. To himself he called trailherd—but father's - cattle did not carry white lumps of stuff on their heads, and furthermore, - they all walked together in the same direction; whereas the ant herd - traveled both ways. Buddy made sure of this, and then started off, - following what he had decided was the real trail of the ants. Most - children would have stirred them up with a stick; Buddy let them alone so - that he could see what they were doing all by themselves. - </p> - <p> - The ants led him to a tiny hole with a finely pulverized rim just at the - edge of a sprawly cactus. This last Buddy carefully avoided, for even at - four years old he had long ago learned the sting of cactus thorns. A - rattlesnake buzzed warning when he backed away and the shock to Buddy's - nerves roused within him the fighting spirit. Rattlesnakes he knew also, - as the common enemy of men and cattle. Once a steer had been bitten on the - nose and his head had swollen up so he couldn't eat. Buddy did not want - that to happen to HIM. - </p> - <p> - He made sure that the horned toad was safe, chose a rock as large as he - could lift and heave from him, and threw it at the buzzing, gray coil. He - did not wait to see what happened, but picked up another rock, a terrific - buzzing sounding stridently from the coil. He threw another and another - with all the force of his healthy little muscles. For a four-year-old he - aimed well; several of the rocks landed on the coil. - </p> - <p> - The snake wriggled feebly from under the rocks and tried to crawl away and - hide, its rattles clicking listlessly. Buddy had another rock in his hands - and in his eyes the blue fire of righteous conquest. He went close-close - enough to have brought a protesting cry from a grownup-lifted the rock - high as he could and brought it down fair on the battered head of the - rattler. The loathsome length of it winced and thrashed ineffectively, and - after a few minutes lay slack, the tail wriggling aimlessly. - </p> - <p> - Buddy stood with his feet far apart and his hands on his hips, as he had - seen the cowboy do whom he had unconsciously imitated in the killing. - </p> - <p> - “Snakes like Injuns. Dead'ns is good 'ens,” He observed sententiously, - still playing the part of the cowboy. Then, quite sure that the snake was - dead, he took it by the tail, felt again of the horned toad on his chest - and went back to see what the ants were doing. - </p> - <p> - When so responsible a person as a grownup stops to watch the orderly - activities of an army of ants, minutes and hours slip away unnoticed. - Buddy was absolutely fascinated, lost to everything else. When some - instinct born in the very blood of him warned Buddy that time was passing, - he stood up and saw that the sun hung just above the edge of the world, - and that the sky was a glorious jumble of red and purple and soft rose. - </p> - <p> - The first thing Buddy did was to stoop and study attentively the dead - snake, to see if the tail still wiggled. It did not, though he watched it - for a full minute. He looked at the sun—it had not set but glowed - big and yellow as far from the earth as his father was tall. Ezra had lied - to him. Dead snakes did not wiggle their tails until sundown. - </p> - <p> - Buddy looked for the dust cloud of the herd, and was surprised to find it - smaller than he had ever seen it, and farther away. Indeed, he could only - guess that the faint smudge on the horizon was the dust he had followed - for more days than he could count. He was not afraid, but he was hungry - and he thought his mother would maybe wonder where he was, and he knew - that the point-riders had already stopped pushing the herd ahead, and that - the cattle were feeding now so that they would bed down at dusk. The - chuckwagon was camped somewhere close by, and old Step-and-a-Half, the - lame cook, was stirring things in his Dutch ovens over the camp-fire. - Buddy could almost smell the beans and the meat stew, he was so hungry. He - turned and took one last, long look at the endless stream of ants still - crawling along, picked up the dead snake by the tail, cupped the other - hand over the horned toad inside his waist, and started for camp. - </p> - <p> - After a while he heard someone shouting, but beyond faint relief that he - was after all near his “Outfit”, Buddy paid no attention. The boys were - always shouting to one another, or yelling at their horses or at the herd - or at the niggers. It did not occur to him that they might be shouting for - him, until from another direction he heard Ezra's unmistakable, booming - voice. Ezra sang a thunderous baritone when the niggers lifted up their - voices in song around their camp-fire, and he could be heard for half a - mile when he called in real earnest. He was calling now, and Buddy, - stopping to listen, fancied that he heard his name. A little farther on, - he was sure of it. - </p> - <p> - “OOO-EE! Whah y'all, Buddy? OOO-EEE!” - </p> - <p> - “I'm a-comin',” Buddy shrilled impatiently. “What y' all want?” - </p> - <p> - His piping voice did not carry to Ezra, who kept on shouting. The radiant - purple and red and gold above him deepened, darkened. The whole wild - expanse of half-barren land became suddenly a place of unearthly beauty - that dulled to the shadows of dusk. Buddy trudged on, keeping to the - deep-worn buffalo trails which the herd had followed and scored afresh - with their hoofs. He could not miss his way-not Buddy, son of Bob Birnie, - owner of the Tomahawk outfit-but his legs were growing pretty tired, and - he was so hungry that he could have sat down on the ground and cried with - the gnawing food-call of his empty little stomach. - </p> - <p> - He could hear other voices shouting at intervals now, but Ezra's voice was - the loudest and the closest, and it seemed to Buddy that Ezra never once - stopped calling. Twice Buddy called back that he was a-comin', but Ezra - shouted just the same: “OOO-EE! WHAH Y' ALL, BUDDY? OOO-EE!” - </p> - <p> - Imperceptibly dusk deepened to darkness. A gust of anger swept Buddy's - soul because he was tired, because he was hungry and he was yet a long way - from the camp, but chiefly because Ezra persisted in calling after Buddy - had several times answered. He heard someone whom he recognized as Frank - Davis, but by this time he was so angry that he would not say a word, - though he was tempted to ask Frank to take him up on his horse and let him - ride to camp. He heard others-and once the beat of hoofs came quite close. - But there was a wide streak of Scotch stubbornness in Buddy—along - with several other Scotch streaks—and he continued his stumbling - progress, dragging the snake by the tail, his other hand holding fast the - horned toad. - </p> - <p> - His heart jumped up and almost choked him when first saw the three - twinkles on the ground which knew were not stars but camp-fires. - </p> - <p> - Quite unexpectedly he trudged into the firelight where Step-and-a-Half was - stirring delectable things in the iron pots and stopping every minute or - so to stare anxiously into the gloom. Buddy stood blinking and sniffing, - his eyes fixed upon the Dutch ovens. - </p> - <p> - “I'm HUNGRY!” he announced accusingly, gripping the toad that had begun to - squirm at the heat and light. “I kilt a snake an' I'm HUNGRY!” - </p> - <p> - “Good gorry!” swore Step-and-a-Half, and whipped out his six-shooter and - fired three shots into the air. - </p> - <p> - Footsteps came scurrying. Buddy's mother swept him into her arms, laughing - with a little whimpering sound of tears in the laughter. Buddy wriggled - protestingly in her arms. - </p> - <p> - “L'kout! Y' all SKUCSH 'im! I got a HAWN-toe; wight here.” He patted his - chest gloatingly. “An' I got a snake. I kilt 'im. An' I'm HUNGRY.” - </p> - <p> - Mother of Buddy though she was, Lassie set him down hurriedly and surveyed - her man-child from a little distance. - </p> - <p> - “Buddy! Drop that snake instantly'” - </p> - <p> - Buddy obeyed, but he planted a foot close to his kill and pouted his lips. - “'S my snake. I kilt 'im,” He said firmly. He pulled the horned toad from - his waist-front and held it tightly in his two hands. “An's my hawn-toe. I - ketche'd'm. 'Way ova dere,” he added, tilting his tow head toward the - darkness behind him. - </p> - <p> - Bob Birnie rode up at a gallop, pulled up his horse in the edge of the - fire glow and dismounted hastily. - </p> - <p> - Bob Birnie never needed more than one glance to furnish him the details of - a scene. He saw the very small boy confronting his mother with a dead - snake, a horned toad and a stubborn set to his lips. He saw that the - mother looked rather helpless before the combination—and his brown - mustache hid a smile. He walked up and looked his first-born over. - </p> - <p> - “Buddy,” He demanded sternly, “where have you been?” - </p> - <p> - “Out dere. Kilt a snake. Ants was trailing a herd. I got a HAWN-toe. An' - I'm hungry!” - </p> - <p> - “You know better than to leave the wagon, young man. Didn't you know we - had to get out and hunt you, and mother was scared the wolves might eat - you? Didn't you hear us calling you? Why didn't you answer?” - </p> - <p> - Buddy looked up from under his baby eyebrows at his father, who seemed - very tall and very terrible. But his bare foot touched the dead snake and - he took comfort. “I was comin',” he said. “I WASN'T los'. I bringed my - snake and my hawn-toe. An' dey—WASN'T—any—woluffs!” The - last word came muffled, buried in his mother's skirts. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAIL HERD - </h2> - <p> - Day after day the trail herd plodded slowly to the north, following the - buffalo trails that would lead to water, and the crude map of one who had - taken a herd north and had returned with a tale of vast plains and no - rivals. Always through the day the dust cloud hung over the backs of the - cattle, settled into the clothes of those who followed, grimed the pink - aprons of Buddy and his small sister Dulcie so that they were no longer - pink. Whenever a stream was reached, mother searched patiently for clear - water and an untrampled bit of bank where she might do the family washing, - leaving Ezra to mind the children. But even so the crust and the wear and - tear of travel remained to harass her fastidious soul. - </p> - <p> - Buddy remembered that drive as he could not remember the comfortable ranch - house of his earlier babyhood. To him afterward it seemed that life began - with the great herd of cattle. He came to know just how low the sun must - slide from the top of the sky before the “point” would spread out with - noses to the ground, pausing wherever a mouthful of grass was to be found. - When these leaders of the herd stopped, the cattle would scatter and begin - feeding. If there was water they would crowd the banks of the stream or - pool, pushing and prodding one another with their great, sharp horns. - Later, when the sun was gone and dusk crept out of nowhere, the cowboys - would ride slowly around the herd, pushing it quietly into a smaller - compass. Then, if Buddy were not too sleepy, he would watch the cattle lie - down to chew their cuds in deep, sighing content until they slept. It - reminded Buddy vaguely of when mother popped corn in a wire popper, a long - time ago-before they all lived in a wagon and went with the herd. First - one and two-then there would be three, four, five, as many as Buddy could - count-then the whole herd would be lying down. - </p> - <p> - Buddy loved the camp-fires. The cowboys would sit around the one where his - father and mother sat—mother with Dulcie in her arms—and they - would smoke and tell stories, until mother told him it was time little - boys were in bed. Buddy always wanted to know what they said after he had - climbed into the big wagon where mother had made a bed, but he never found - out. He could remember lying there listening sometimes to the niggers - singing at their own campfire within call, Ezra always singing the - loudest,—just as a bull always could be heard above the bellowing of - the herd. - </p> - <p> - All his life, Ezra's singing and the monotonous bellowing of a herd - reminded Buddy of one mysteriously terrible time when there weren't any - rivers or any ponds or anything along the trail, and they had to be - careful of the water and save it, and he and Dulcie were not asked to wash - their faces. I think that miracle helped to fix the incident indelibly in - Buddy's mind; that, and the bellowing of the cattle. It seemed a month to - Buddy, but as he grew older he learned that it was three days they went - without water. - </p> - <p> - The first day he did not remember especially, except that mother had - talked about clean aprons that night, and failed to produce any. The - second he recalled quite clearly. Father came to the wagons sometime in - the night to see if mother was asleep. Their murmured talk wakened Buddy - and he heard father say: - </p> - <p> - “We'll hold 'em, all right, Lassie. And there's water ahead. It's marked - on the trail map. Don't you worry—I'll stay up and help the boys. - The cattle are uneasy—but we'll hold 'em.” - </p> - <p> - The third day Buddy never forgot. That was the day when mother forgot that - Q stands for Quagga, and permitted Buddy to call it P, just for fun, - because it looked so much like P. And when he said “W is water “, mother - made a funny sound and said right out loud, “Oh God, please!” and told - Buddy to creep back and play with Sister—when Sister was asleep, and - there were still x, y and z to say, let alone that mysterious And-so-forth - which seemed to mean so much and so little and never was called upon to - help spell a word. Never since he began to have lessons had mother omitted - a single letter or cut the study hour down the teeniest little bit. - </p> - <p> - Buddy was afraid of something, but he could not think what it was that - frightened him. He began to think seriously about water, and to listen - uneasily to the constant lowing of the herd. The increased shouting of the - niggers driving the lagging ones held a sudden significance. It occurred - to him that the niggers had their hands full, and that they had never - driven so big a “Drag.” It was hotter than ever, too, and they had twice - stopped to yoke in fresh oxen. Ezra had boasted all along that ole Bawley - would keep his end up till they got clah to Wyoming. But ole Bawley had - stopped, and stopped, and at last had to be taken out of the yoke. Buddy - began to wish they would hurry up and find a river. - </p> - <p> - None of the cowboys would take him on the saddle and let him ride, that - day. They looked harassed—Buddy called it cross—when they rode - up to the wagon to give their horses a few mouthfuls of water from the - barrel. Step-and-a-Half couldn't spare any more, they told mother. He had - declared at noon that he needed every drop he had for the cooking, and - there would be no washing of dishes whatever. Later, mother had studied a - map and afterwards had sat for a long while staring out over the backs of - the cattle, her face white. Buddy thought perhaps mother was sick. - </p> - <p> - That day lasted hours and hours longer than any other day that Buddy could - remember. His father looked cross, too, when he rode back to them. Once it - was to look at the map which mother had studied. They talked together - afterwards, and Buddy heard his father say that she must not worry; the - cattle had good bottom, and could stand thirst better than a poor herd, - and another dry camp would not really hurt anyone. - </p> - <p> - He had uncovered the water barrel and looked in, and had ridden straight - over to the chuck-wagon, his horse walking alongside the high seat where - Step-and-a-Half sat perched listlessly with a long-lashed oxwhip in his - hand. Father had talked for a few minutes, and had ridden back scowling. - </p> - <p> - “That old scoundrel has got two ten-gallon kegs that haven't been - touched!” he told mother. “Yo' all mustn't water any more horses out of - your barrel Send the boys to Step-and-a-Half. Yo' all keep what you've - got. The horses have got to have water—to-night it's going to be - hell to hold the herd, and if anybody goes thirsty it'll be the men, not - the horses But yo' all send them to the other wagon, Lassie Mind, now! Not - a drop to anyone.” - </p> - <p> - After father rode away, Buddy crept up and put his two short arms around - mother. “Don't cry. I don't have to drink any water,” he soothed her. He - waited a minute and added optimistically, “Dere's a BI—IG wiver - comin' pitty soon. Oxes smells water a hunerd miles. Ezra says so. An' - las' night Crumpy was snuffin' an' snuffin'. I saw 'im do it. He smelt a - BIG wiver. THAT bi-ig!” He spread his short arms as wide apart as they - would reach, and smiled tremulously. - </p> - <p> - Mother squeezed Buddy so hard that he grunted. - </p> - <p> - “Dear little man, of course there is. WE don't mind, do we? I-was feeling - sorry for the poor cattle.” - </p> - <p> - “De're firsty,” Buddy stated solemnly, his eyes big. “De're bawlin' fer a - drink of water. I guess de're AWFUL firsty. Dere's a big wiver comin' now - Crumpy smelt a big wiver.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy's mother stared across the arid plain parched into greater - barrenness by the heat that had been unremitting for the past week. - Buddy's faith in the big river she could not share. Somehow they had - drifted off the trail marked on the map drawn by George Williams. - </p> - <p> - Williams had warned them to carry as much water as possible in barrels, as - a precaution against suffering if they failed to strike water each night. - He had told them that water was scarce, but that his cowboy scouts and the - deep-worn buffalo trails had been able to bring him through with water at - every camp save two or three. The Staked Plains, he said, would be the - hardest drive. And this was the Staked Plains—and it was hard - driving! - </p> - <p> - Buddy did not know all that until afterwards, when he heard father talk of - the drive north. But he would have remembered that day and the night that - followed, even though he had never heard a word about it. The bawling of - the herd became a doleful chant of misery. Even the phlegmatic oxen that - drew the wagons bawled and slavered while they strained forward, twisting - their heads under the heavy yokes. They stopped oftener than usual to - rest, and when Buddy was permitted to walk with the perspiring Ezra by the - leaders, he wondered why the oxen's eyes were red, like Dulcie's when she - had one of her crying spells. - </p> - <p> - At night the cowboys did not tie their horses and sit down while they ate, - but stood by their mounts and bolted food hurriedly, one eye always on the - restless cattle, that walked around and around, and would neither eat nor - lie down, but lowed incessantly. Once a few animals came close enough to - smell the water in a bucket where Frank Davis was watering his - sweat-streaked horse, and Step-and-a-Half's wagon was almost upset before - the maddened cattle could be driven back to the main herd. - </p> - <p> - “No use camping,” Bob Birnie told the boys gathered around - Step-and-a-Half's Dutch ovens. “The cattle won't stand. We'll wear - ourselves and them out trying to hold 'em-they may as well be hunting - water as running in circles. Step-and-a-Half, keep your cooked grub handy - for the boys, and yo' all pack up and pull out. We'll turn the cattle - loose and follow. If there's any water in this damned country they'll find - it.” - </p> - <p> - Years afterwards, Buddy learned that his father had sent men out to hunt - water, and that they had not found any. He was ten when this was discussed - around a spring roundup fire, and he had studied the matter for a few - minutes and then had spoken boldly his mind. - </p> - <p> - “You oughta kept your horses as thirsty as the cattle was, and I bet - they'd a' found that water,” he criticized, and was sent to bed for his - tactlessness. Bob Birnie himself had thought of that afterwards, and had - excused the oversight by saying that he had depended on the map, and had - not foreseen a three-day dry drive. - </p> - <p> - However that may be, that night was a night of panicky desperation. Ezra - walked beside the oxen and shouted and swung his lash, and the oxen - strained forward bellowing so that not even Dulcie could sleep, but - whimpered fretfully in her mother's arms. Buddy sat up wide-eyed and - watched for the big river, and tried not to be a 'fraid-cat and cry like - Dulcie. - </p> - <p> - It was long past starry midnight when a little wind puffed out of the - darkness and the oxen threw up their heads and sniffed, and put a new note - into their “M-baw-aw-aw-mm!” They swung sharply so that the wind blew - straight into the front of the wagon, which lurched forward with a new - impetus. - </p> - <p> - “Glo-ory t' Gawd, Missy! dey smells watah, sho 's yo' bawn!” sobbed Ezra - as he broke into a trot beside the wheelers. “'Tain't fur—lookit - dat-ah huhd a-goin' it! No 'm, Missy, DEY ain't woah out—dey - smellin' watah an' dey'm gittin' TO it! 'Tain't fur, Missy.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy clung to the back of the seat and stared round-eyed into the gloom. - He never forgot that lumpy shadow which was the herd, traveling fast in - dust that obscured the nearest stars. The shadow humped here and there as - the cattle crowded forward at a shuffling half trot, the click—awash - of their shambling feet treading close on one another. The rapping tattoo - of wide-spread horns clashing against wide-spread horns filled him with a - formless terror, so that he let go the seat to clutch at mother's dress. - He was not afraid of cattle-they were as much a part of his world as were - Ezra and the wagon and the camp-fires-but he trembled with the dread which - no man could name for him. - </p> - <p> - These were not the normal, everyday sounds of the herd. The herd had - somehow changed from plodding animals to one overwhelming purpose that - would sweep away anything that came in its path. Two thousand parched - throats and dust-dry tongues-and suddenly the smell of water that would go - gurgling down two thousand eager gullets, and every intervening second a - cursed delay against which the cattle surged blindly. It was the mob - spirit, when the mob was fighting for its very existence. - </p> - <p> - Over the bellowing of the cattle a yelling cowboy now and then made - himself heard. The four oxen straining under their yokes broke into a - lumbering gallop lest they be outdistanced by the herd, and Dulcie - screamed when the wagon lurched across a dry wash and almost upset, while - Ezra plied the ox-whip and yelled frantically at first one ox and then - another, inventing names for the new ones. Buddy drew in his breath and - held it until the wagon rolled on four wheels instead of two, but he did - not scream. - </p> - <p> - Still the big river did not come. It seemed to Buddy that the cattle would - never stop running. Tangled in the terror was Ezra's shouting as he ran - alongside the wagon and called to Missy that it was “Dat ole Crumpy actin' - the fool”, and that the wagon wouldn't upset. “No'm, dey's jest in a hurry - to git dere fool haids sunk to de eyes in dat watah. Dey ain't aimin' to - run away—no'm, dish yer ain't no stampede!” - </p> - <p> - Perhaps Buddy dozed. The next thing he remembered, day was breaking, with - the sun all red, seen through the dust. The herd was still going, but now - it was running and somehow the yoked oxen were keeping close behind, - lumbering along with heads held low and the sweat reeking from their spent - bodies. Buddy heard dimly his mother's sharp command to Ezra: - </p> - <p> - “Stand back, Ezra! We're not going to be caught in that terrible trap. - They're piling over the bank ahead of us. Get away from the leaders. I am - going to shoot.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy crawled up a little higher on the blankets behind the seat, and saw - mother steady herself and aim the rifle straight at Crumpy. There was the - familiar, deafening roar, the acrid smell of black powder smoke, and - Crumpy went down loosely, his nose rooting the trampled ground for a space - before the gun belched black smoke again and Crumpy's yoke-mate pitched - forward. The wagon stopped so abruptly that Buddy sprawled helplessly on - his back like an overturned beetle. - </p> - <p> - He saw mother stand looking down at the wheelers, that backed and twisted - their necks under their yokes. Her lips were set firmly together, and her - eyes were bright with purple hollows beneath. She held the rifle for a - moment, then set the butt of it on the “jockey box” just in front of the - dashboard. The wheelers, helpless between the weight of the wagon behind - and the dead oxen in front, might twist their necks off but they could do - no damage. - </p> - <p> - “Unyoke the wheelers, Ezra, and let the poor creatures have their chance - at the water,” she cried sharply, and Ezra, dodging the horns of the - frantic brutes, made shift to obey. - </p> - <p> - Fairly on the bank of the sluggish stream with its flood-worn channel and - its treacherous patches of quicksand, the wagon thus halted by the sheer - nerve and quick-thinking of mother became a very small island in a - troubled sea of weltering backs and tossing horns and staring eyeballs. - Riders shouted and lashed unavailingly with their quirts, trying to hold - back the full bulk of the herd until the foremost had slaked their thirst - and gone on. But the herd was crazy for the water, and the foremost were - plunged headlong into the soft mud where they mired, trampled under the - hoofs of those who came crowding from behind. - </p> - <p> - Someone shouted, close to the wagon yet down the bank at the edge of the - water. The words were indistinguishable, but a warning was in the voice. - On the echo of that cry, a man screamed twice. - </p> - <p> - “Ezra!” cried mother fiercely. “It's Frank Davis—they've got him - down, somehow. Climb over the backs of the cattle—There's no other - way—and GET HIM!” - </p> - <p> - “Yas'm, Missy!” Ezra called back, and then Buddy saw him go over the herd, - scrambling, jumping from back to back. - </p> - <p> - Buddy remembered that always, and the funeral they had later in the day, - when the herd was again just trail-weary cattle feeding hungrily on the - scanty grass. Down at the edge of the creek the carcasses of many dead - animals lay half-buried in the mud. Up on a little knoll where a few - stunted trees grew, the negroes dug a long, deep hole. Mother's eyes were - often filled with tears that day, and the cowboys scarcely talked at all - when they gathered at the chuckwagon. - </p> - <p> - After a while they all went to the hole which the negroes had dug, and - there was a long Something wrapped up in canvas. Mother wore her best - dress which was black, and father and all the boys had shaved their faces - and looked very sober. The negroes stood back in a group by themselves, - and every few minutes Buddy saw them draw their tattered shirtsleeves - across their faces. And father—Buddy looked once and saw two tears - running down father's cheeks. Buddy was shocked into a stony calm. He had - never dreamed that fathers ever cried. - </p> - <p> - Mother read out of her Bible, and all the boys held their hats in front of - them, with their hands clasped, and looked at the ground while she read. - Then mother sang. She sang, “We shall meet beyond the river”, which Buddy - thought was a very queer song, because they were all there but Frank - Davis; then she sang “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” Buddy sang too, piping the - notes accurately, with a vague pronunciation of the words and a feeling - that somehow he was helping mother. - </p> - <p> - After that they put the long, canvas-wrapped Something down in the hole, - and mother said “Our Father Who Art in Heaven “, with Buddy repeating it - uncertainly after her and pausing to say “TRETHpatheth” very carefully. - Then mother picked up Dulcie in her arms, took Buddy by the hand and - walked slowly back to the wagon, and would not let him turn to see what - the boys were doing. - </p> - <p> - It was from that day that Buddy missed Frank Davis, who had mysteriously - gone to Heaven, according to mother. Buddy's interest in Heaven was - extremely keen for a time, and he asked questions which not even mother - could answer. Then his memory of Frank Davis blurred. But never his memory - of that terrible time when the Tomahawk outfit lost five hundred cattle in - the dry drive and the stampede for water. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER THREE: SOME INDIAN LORE - </h2> - <p> - Buddy knew Indians as he knew cattle, horses, rattlesnakes and storms—by - having them mixed in with his everyday life. He couldn't tell you where or - when he had learned that Indians are tricky. Perhaps his first ideas on - that subject were gleaned from the friendly tribes who lived along the - Chisolm Trail and used to visit the chuck-wagon, their blankets held close - around them and their eyes glancing everywhere while they grinned and - talked and pointed—and ate. Buddy used to sit in the chuck-wagon, - out of harm's way, and watch them eat. - </p> - <p> - Step-and-a-Half had a way of entertaining Indians which never failed to - interest Buddy, however often he witnessed it. When Step-and-a-Half - glimpsed Indians coming afar off, he would take his dishpan and dump into - it whatever scraps of food were left over from the preceding meal. He used - to say that Indians could smell grub as far as a buzzard can smell a dead - carcase, and Buddy believed it, for they always arrived at meal time or - shortly afterwards. Step-and-a-Half would make a stew, if there were - scraps enough. If the gleanings were small, he would use the dishwater—he - was a frugal man—and with that for the start-off he would make soup, - which the Indians gulped down with great relish and many gurgly sounds. - </p> - <p> - Buddy watched them eat what he called pig-dinner. When Step-and-a-Half was - not looking he saw them steal whatever their dirty brown hands could - readily snatch and hide under their blankets. So he knew from very early - experience that Indians were not to be trusted. - </p> - <p> - Once, when he had again strayed too far from camp, some Indians riding - that way saw him, and one leaned and lifted him from the ground and rode - off with him. Buddy did not struggle much. He saved his breath for the - long, shrill yell of cow-country. Twice he yodled before the Indian - clapped a hand over his mouth. - </p> - <p> - Father and some of the cowboys heard and came after, riding hard and - shooting as they came. Buddy's pink apron fluttered a signal flag in the - arms of his captor, and so it happened that the bullets whistled close to - that particular Indian. He gathered a handful of calico between Buddy's - shoulders, held him aloft like a puppy, leaned far over and deposited him - on the ground. - </p> - <p> - Buddy rolled over twice and got up, a little dizzy and very indignant, and - shouted to father, “Shoot a sunsyguns!” - </p> - <p> - From that time Buddy added hatred to his distrust of Indians. - </p> - <p> - From the time when he was four until he was thirteen Buddy's life - contained enough thrills to keep a movie-mad boy of to-day sitting on the - edge of his seat gasping enviously through many a reel, but to Buddy it - was all rather humdrum and monotonous. - </p> - <p> - What he wanted to do was to get out and hunt buffalo. Just herding horses, - and watching out for Indians, and killing rattlesnakes was what any boy in - the country would be doing. Still, Buddy himself achieved now and then a - thrill. - </p> - <p> - There was one day, when he stood heedlessly on a ridge looking for a dozen - head of lost horses in the draws below. It was all very well to explain - missing horses by the conjecture that the Injuns must have got them, but - Buddy happened to miss old Rattler with the others. Rattler had come north - with the trail herd, and he was wise beyond the wisdom of most horses. He - would drive cattle out of the brush without a rider to guide him, if only - you put a saddle on him. He had helped Buddy to mount his back—when - Buddy was much smaller than now—by lowering his head until Buddy - straddled it, and then lifting it so that Buddy slid down his neck and - over his withers to his back. Even now Buddy sometimes mounted that way - when no one was looking. Many other lovable traits had Rattler, and to - lose him would be a tragedy to the family. - </p> - <p> - So Buddy was on the ridge, scanning all the deep little washes and draws, - when a bullet PING-G-GED over his head. Buddy caught the bridle reins and - pulled his horse into the shelter of rocks, untied his rifle from the - saddle and crept back to reconnoitre. It was the first time he had ever - been shot at—except in the army posts, when the Indians had “broken - out”,—and the aim then was generally directed toward his vicinity - rather than his person. - </p> - <p> - An Indian on a horse presently appeared cautiously from cover, and Buddy, - trembling with excitement, shot wild; but not so wild that the Indian - could afford to scoff and ride closer. After another ineffectual shot at - Buddy, he whipped his horse down the ridge, and made for Bannock creek. - </p> - <p> - Buddy at thirteen knew more of the wiles of Indians than does the hardiest - Indian fighter on the screen to-day. Father had warned him never to chase - an Indian into cover, where others would probably be waiting for him. So - he stayed where he was, pretty well hidden in the rocks, and let the - bullets he himself had “run” in father's bullet-mold follow the enemy to - the fringe of bushes. His last shot knocked the Indian off his horse—or - so it looked to Buddy. He waited for a long time, watching the brush and - thinking what a fool that Indian was to imagine Buddy would follow him - down there. After a while he saw the Indian's horse climbing the slope - across the creek. There was no rider. - </p> - <p> - Buddy rode home without the missing horses, and did not tell anyone about - the Indian, though his thoughts would not leave the subject. - </p> - <p> - He wondered what mother would think of it. Mother's interests seemed - mostly confined to teaching Buddy and Dulcie what they were deprived of - learning in schools, and to play the piano—a wonderful old square - piano that had come all the way from Scotland to the Tomahawk ranch, the - very frontier of the West. - </p> - <p> - Mother was a wonderful woman, with a soft voice and a slight Scotch - accent, and wit; and a knowledge of things which were little known in the - wilderness. Buddy never dreamed then how strangely culture was mixed with - pure savagery in his life. To him the secret regret that he had not dared - ride into the bushes to scalp the Indian he believed he had shot, and the - fact that his hands were straining at the full chords of the ANVIL CHORUS - on that very evening, was not even to be considered unusual. Still, - certain strains of that classic were always afterward associated in his - mind with the shooting of the Indian—if he had really shot him. - </p> - <p> - While he counted the time with a conscientious regard for the rests, he - debated the wisdom of telling mother, and decided that perhaps he had - better keep that matter to himself, like a man. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER FOUR: BUDDY GIVES WARNING - </h2> - <p> - Buddy swung down from his horse, unsaddled it and went staggering to the - stable wall with the burden of a stock-saddle much too big for him. He had - to stand on his boot-toes to reach and pull the bridle down over the ears - of Whitefoot, which turned with an air of immense relief into the corral - gate and the hay piled at the further end. Buddy gave him one preoccupied - glance and started for the cabin, walking with the cowpuncher's peculiar, - bowlegged gait which comes of wearing chaps and throwing out the knees to - overcome the stiffness of the leather. At thirteen Buddy was a cowboy from - hat-crown to spurs-and at thirteen Buddy gloried in the fact. To-day, - however, his mind was weighted with matters of more importance than - himself. - </p> - <p> - “The Utes are having a war-dance, mother,” he announced when he had closed - the stout door of the kitchen behind him. “They mean it this time. I lay - in the brush and watched them last night.” He stood looking at his mother - speculatively, a little grin on his face. “I told you, you can't change an - Injun by learning him to eat with a knife and fork,” he added. “Colorou - ain't any whiter than he was before you set out to learn him manners. He - was hoppin' higher than any of 'em.” - </p> - <p> - “Teach, Buddy, not learn. You know better than to say 'learn him - manners.'” - </p> - <p> - “Teach him manners,” Buddy corrected himself obediently. “I was thinking - more about what I saw than about grammar. Where's father? I guess I'd - better tell him. He'll want to get the stock out of the mountains, I - should think.” - </p> - <p> - “Colorou will send me word before they take the warpath,” mother observed - reassuringly. “He always has. I gave him a whole pound of tea and a blue - ribbon the last time he was here.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and the last time they broke out they got away with more 'n a - hundred head of cattle. You got to Laramie, all right, but he didn't tell - father in time to make a roundup back in the foothills. They're DANCING, - mother!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I suppose We're due for an outbreak,” sighed mother. “Colorou says - he can't hold his young men off when some of the tribe have been killed. - He himself doesn't countenance the stealing and the occasional killing of - white men. There are bad Indians and good ones.” - </p> - <p> - “I know a couple of good ones,” Buddy murmured as he made for the wash - basin. “It's the bad ones that were doing the dancing, mother,” he flung - over his shoulder. “And if I was you I'd take Dulcie and the cats and hit - for Laramie. Colorou might get busy and forget to send word!” - </p> - <p> - “If I WAS you?” Mother came up and nipped his ear between thumb and - finger. “Robert, I am discouraged over you. All that I teach you in the - winter seems to evaporate from your mind during the summer when you go out - riding with the boys.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy wiped his face with an up-and-down motion on the roller towel and - clanked across to the cupboard which he opened investigatively. “Any pie?” - he questioned as he peered into the corners. “Say, if I had the handling - of those Utes, mother, I'd fix 'em so they wouldn't be breaking out every - few months and making folks leave their homes to be pawed over and burnt, - maybe.” He found a jar of fresh doughnuts and took three. - </p> - <p> - “They'll tromp around on your flower-beds—it just makes me SICK when - I think how they'll muss things up around here! I wish now,” He blurted - unthinkingly, “that I hadn't killed the Injun that stole Rattler.” - </p> - <p> - “Buddy! Not YOU.” His mother made a swift little run across the kitchen - and caught him on his lean, hard-muscled young shoulders. “You—you - baby! What did you do? You didn't harm an Indian, did you, laddie?” - </p> - <p> - Buddy tilted his head downward so that she could not look into his eyes. - “I dunno as I harmed him—much,” he said, wiping doughnut crumbs from - his mouth with one hasty sweep of his forearm. “But his horse came outa - the brush, and he never. I guess I killed him, all right. Anyway, mother, - I had to. He took a shot at me first. It was the day we lost Rattler and - the bronks,” He added accurately. - </p> - <p> - Mother did not say anything for a minute, and Buddy hung his head lower, - dreading to see the hurt look which he felt was in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I have to pack a gun when I ride anywhere,” he reminded her defensively. - “It ain't to balance me on the horse, either. If Injuns take in after me, - the gun's so I can shoot. And a feller don't shoot up in the air—and - if an Injun is hunting trouble he oughta expect that maybe he might get - shot sometime. You—you wouldn't want me to just run and let them - catch me, would you?” - </p> - <p> - Mother's hand slipped up to his head and pressed it against her breast so - that Buddy heard her heart beating steady and sweet and true. Mother - wasn't afraid—never, never! - </p> - <p> - “I know—it's the dreadful necessity of defending our lives. But - you're so young—just mother's baby man!” - </p> - <p> - Buddy looked up at her then, a laugh twinkling in his eyes. After all, - mother understood. - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to be your baby man always if you want me to, mother,” He - whispered, closing his arms around her neck in a sturdy hug. “But I'm - father's horse-wrangler, too. And a horse-wrangler has got to hold up his - end. I—I didn't want to kill anybody, honest. But Injuns are - different. You kill rattlers, and they ain't as mean as Injuns. That one I - shot at was shooting at me before I even so much as knew there was one - around. I just shot back. Father would, or anybody else.” - </p> - <p> - “I know—I know,” she conceded, the tender womanliness of her sighing - over the need. In the next moment she was all mother, ready to fight for - her young. “Buddy, never, never ride ANYWHERE without your rifle! And a - revolver, too—be sure that it is in perfect condition. And—have - you a knife? You're so LITTLE!” she wailed. “But father will need you, and - he'll take care of you—and Colorou would not let you be hurt if he - knew. But—Buddy, you must be careful, and always watching—never - let them catch you off your guard. I shall be in Laramie before you and - father and the boys, I suppose, if the Indians really do break out. And - you must promise me—” - </p> - <p> - “I'll promise, mother. And don't you go and trust old Colorou an inch. He - was jumping higher than any of 'em, and shaking his tomahawk and yelling—he'd - have scalped me right there if he'd seen me watching 'em. Mother, I'm - going to find father and tell him. And you may as well be packing up, and—don't - leave my guitar for them to smash, will you, mother?” - </p> - <p> - His mother laughed then and pushed him toward the door. She had an idea of - her own and she did not want to be hindered now in putting it into action. - Up the creek, in the bank behind a clump of willows, was a small cave—or - a large niche, one might call it—where many household treasures - might be safely hidden, if one went carefully, wading in the creek to hide - the tracks. She followed Buddy out, and called to Ezra who was chopping - wood with a grunt for every fall of the axe and many rest—periods in - the shade of the cottonwood tree. - </p> - <p> - At the stable, Buddy looked back and saw her talking earnestly to Ezra, - who stood nodding his head in complete approval. Buddy's knowledge of - women began and ended with his mother. Therefore, to him all women were - wonderful creatures whom men worshipped ardently because they were created - for the adoration of lesser souls. Buddy did not know what his mother was - going to do, but he was sure that whatever she did would be right; so he - hoisted his saddle on the handiest fresh horse, and loped off to drive in - the remuda, feeling certain that his father would move swiftly to save his - cattle that ranged back in the foothills, and that the saddle horses would - be wanted at a moment's notice. - </p> - <p> - Also, he reasoned, the range horses (mares and colts and the unbroken - geldings) would not be left to the mercy of the Indians. He did not quite - know how his father would manage it, but he decided that he would corral - the REMUDA first, and then drive in the other horses, that fed scattered - in undisturbed possession of a favorite grassy creek-bottom farther up the - Platte. - </p> - <p> - The saddle horses, accustomed to Buddy's driving, were easily corralled. - The other horses were fat and “sassy” and resented his coming among them - with the shrill whoop of authority. They gave him a hot hour's riding - before they finally bunched and went tearing down the river bottom toward - the ranch. Even so, Buddy left two of the wildest careening up a narrow - gulch. He had not attempted to ride after them; not because he was afraid - of Indians, for he was not. The war-dance held every young buck and every - old one in camp beyond the Pass. But the margin of safety might be narrow, - and Buddy was taking no chances that day. - </p> - <p> - When he was convinced that it was impossible for one boy to be in half a - dozen places at once, and that the cowboys would be needed to corral the - range bunch, Buddy whooped them all down the creek below the home ranch - and let them go just as his father came riding up to the corral. - </p> - <p> - “They're war-dancing, father,” Buddy shouted eagerly, slipping off his - horse and wiping away the trickles of perspiration with a handkerchief not - much redder than his face. “I drove all the horses down, so they'd be - handy. Them range horses are pretty wild. There was two I couldn't get. - What'll I do now?” - </p> - <p> - Bob Birnie looked at his youngest rider and smoothed his beard with one - hand. “You're an ambitious lad, Buddy. It's the Utes you're meaning—or - is it the horses?” - </p> - <p> - Buddy lifted his head and stared at his father disapprovingly. - </p> - <p> - “Colorou is going to break out. I know. They've got their war paint all on - and they're dancing. I saw them myself. I was going after the gloves - Colorou s squaw was making for me,—but I didn't get 'em. I laid in - the brush and watched 'em dance.” He stopped and looked again doubtfully - at his father. “I thought you might want to get the cattle outa the way,” - he added. “I thought I could save some time—” - </p> - <p> - “You're sure about the paint?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I'm sure. And Colorou was just a-going it with his war bonnet on and - shaking his tomahawk and yelling—” - </p> - <p> - “Ye did well, lad. We'll be leaving for Big Creek to-night, so run away - now and rest yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, and can I go?” Buddy's voice was shrill with eagerness. - </p> - <p> - “I'll need you, lad, to look after the horses. It will give me one more - hand with the cattle. Now go tell Step-and-a-Half to make ready for a week - on the trail, and to have supper early so he can make his start with the - rest.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy walked stiffly away to the cook's cabin where Step-and-a-Half sat - leisurely gouging the worst blemishes out of soft, old potatoes with a - chronic tendency to grow sprouts, before he peeled them for supper His - crippled leg was thrust out straight, his hat was perched precariously - over one ear because of the slanting sun rays through the window, and a - half-smoked cigarette waggled uncertainly in the corner of his mouth while - he sang dolefully a most optimistic ditty of the West: - </p> - <p> - “O give me a home where the buff-alo roam, Where the deer and the antelope - play, Where never is heard a discouraging word And the sky is not cloudy - all day.” - </p> - <p> - “You're going to hear a discouraging word right now,” Buddy broke in - ruthlessly upon the song. Whereupon, with a bit of importance in his voice - and in his manner, he proceeded to spoil Step-and-a-Half's disposition and - to deepen, if that were possible, his loathing of Indians. Too often had - he made dubious soup of his dishwater and the leavings from a roundup - crew's dinner, and watched blanketed bucks smack lips over the mess, to - run from them now without feeling utterly disgusted with life. - Step-and-a-Half's vituperations could be heard above the clatter of pots - and pans as he made ready for the journey. - </p> - <p> - That night's ride up the pass through the narrow range of high-peaked - hills to the Tomahawk's farthest range on Big Creek was a tedious affair - to Buddy. A man had been sent on a fast horse to warn the nearest - neighbor, who in turn would warn the next,—until no settler would be - left in ignorance of his danger. Ezra was already on the trail to Laramie, - with mother and Dulcie and the cats and a slat box full of chickens, and a - young sow with little pigs. - </p> - <p> - Buddy, whose word no one had questioned, who might pardonably have - considered himself a hero, was concerned chiefly with his mother's flower - garden which he had helped to plant and had watered more or less - faithfully with creek water carried in buckets. He was afraid the Indians - would step on the poppies and the phlox, and trample down the four - o'clocks which were just beginning to branch out and look nice and bushy, - and to blossom. The scent of the four o'clocks had been in his nostrils - when he came out at dusk with his fur overcoat which mother had told him - must not be left behind. Buddy himself merely liked flowers: but mother - talked to them and kissed them just for love, and pitied them if Buddy - forgot and let them go thirsty. He would have stayed to fight for mother's - flower garden, if it would have done any good. - </p> - <p> - He was thinking sleepily that next year he would plant flowers in boxes - that could be carried to the cave if the Indians broke out again, when Tex - Farley poked him in the ribs and told him to wake up or he'd fall off his - horse. It was a weary climb to the top of the range that divided the - valley of Big Creek from the North Platte, and a wearier climb down. Twice - Buddy caught himself on the verge of toppling out of the saddle. For after - all he was only a thirteen-year Old boy, growing like any other healthy - young animal. He had been riding hard that day and half of the preceding - night when he had raced back from the Reservation to give warning of the - impending outbreak. He needed sleep, and nature was determined that he - should have it. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER FIVE: BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE - </h2> - <p> - One never could predict with any certainty how long Indians would dance - before they actually took the trail of murder and pillage. So much - depended upon the Medicine, so much on signs and portents. It was even - possible that they might, for some mysterious reason unknown to their - white neighbors, decide at the last moment to bide their time. The - Tomahawk outfit worked from dawn until dark, and combed the foothills of - the Snowies hurriedly, riding into the most frequented, grassy basins and - wide canyons where the grass was lush and sweet and the mountain streams - rushed noisily over rocks. As fast as the cattle were gathered they were - pushed hastily toward the Platte, And though the men rode warily with - rifles as handy as their ropes, they rode in peace. - </p> - <p> - Buddy, proud of his job, counting himself as good a man as any of them, - became a small riding demon after rebellious saddle horses, herding them - away from thick undergrowth that might, for all he knew, hold Indians - waiting a chance to scalp him, driving the REMUDA close to the cabins when - night fell, because no man could be spared for night herding, sleeping - lightly as a cat beside a mouse hole. He did not say much, perhaps because - everyone was too busy to talk, himself included. - </p> - <p> - Men rode in at night dog-weary, pulled their saddles and hurried stiffly - to the cabin where Step-and-a-Half was showing his true worth as a cook - who could keep the coffee-pot boiling and yet be ready to pack up and go - at the first rifle-shot. They would bolt down enormous quantities of - bannock and boiled beef, swallow their coffee hot enough to scald a hog, - and stretch themselves out immediately to sleep. - </p> - <p> - Buddy would be up and on his horse in the clear starlight before dawn, - with a cup of coffee swallowed to hearten him for the chilly ride after - the remuda. Even with the warmth of the coffee his teeth would chatter - just at first, and he would ride with his thin shoulders lifted and a hand - in a pocket. He could not sing or whistle to keep himself company. He must - ride in silence until he had counted every dark, moving shape and knew - that the herd was complete, then ease them quietly to camp. - </p> - <p> - On the fourth morning he rode anxiously up the valley, fearing that the - horses had been stolen in the night, yet hoping they had merely strayed up - the creek to find fresh pastures. A light breeze that carried the keen - edge of frost made his nose tingle. His horse trotted steadily forward, as - keen on the trail as Buddy himself; keener, for he would be sure to give - warning of danger. So they rounded a bend in the creek and came upon the - scattered fringe of the remuda cropping steadily at the meadow grass - there. - </p> - <p> - Bud circled them, glancing now and then at the ridge beyond the valley. It - seemed somehow unnatural—lower, with the stars showing along its - wooded crest in a row, as if there were no peaks. Then quite suddenly he - knew that the ridge was the same, and that the stars he saw were little, - breakfast camp-fires. His heart gave a jump when he realized how many - little fires there were, and knew that the dance was over. The Indians had - left the reservation and had crossed the ridge yesterday, and had camped - there to wait for the dawn. - </p> - <p> - While he gathered his horses together he guessed how old Colorou had - planned to catch the Tomahawk riders when they left camp and scattered, - two by two, on “Circle.” He had held his band well out of sight and sound - of the Big Creek cabin, and if the horses had not strayed up the creek in - the night he would have caught the white men off their guard. - </p> - <p> - Buddy looked often over his shoulder while he drove the horses down the - creek. It seemed stranger than luck, that he had been compelled to ride so - far on this particular morning; as if mother's steadfast faith in prayer - and the guardianship of angels was justified by actual facts. Still, Buddy - was too hard-headed to assume easily that angels had driven the horses up - the creek so that he would have to ride up there and discover the Indian - fires. If angels could do that, why hadn't they stopped Colorou from going - on the warpath? It would have been simpler, in Buddy's opinion. - </p> - <p> - He did not mention the angel problem to his father, however. Bob Birnie - was eating breakfast with his men when Buddy rode up to the cabin and told - the news. The boys did not say anything much, but they may have taken - bigger bites by way of filling their stomachs in less time than usual. - </p> - <p> - “I'll go see for myself,” said Bob Birnie. “You boys saddle up and be - ready to start. If it's Indians, we'll head for Laramie and drive - everything before us as we go. But the lad may be wrong.” He took the - reins from Buddy, mounted, and rode away, his booted feet hanging far - below Buddy's short stirrups. - </p> - <p> - Speedily he was back, and the scowl on his face told plainly enough that - Buddy had not been mistaken. - </p> - <p> - “They're coming off the ridge already,” he announced grimly. “I heard - their horses among the rocks up there. They think to come down on us at - sunrise. There'll be too many for us to hold off, I'm thinking. Get ye a - fresh horse, Buddy, and drive the horses down the creek fast as ye can.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy uncoiled his rope and ran with his mouth full to do as he was told. - He did not think he was scared, exactly, but he made three throws to get - the horse he wanted, blaming the poor light for his ill luck; and then - found himself in possession of a tall, uneasy brown that Dick Grimes had - broken and sometimes rode. Buddy would have turned him loose and caught - another, but the horses had sensed the suppressed excitement of the men - and were circling and snorting in the half light of dawn; so Buddy led out - the brown, pulled the saddle from the sweaty horse that had twice made the - trip up the creek, and heaved it hastily on the brown's back. Dick Grimes - called to him, to know if he wanted any help, and Buddy yelled, “No!” - </p> - <p> - “Here they come—damn 'em—turn the bunch loose and ride!” - called Bob Birnie as a shrill, yelling war-whoop, like the yapping of many - coyotes, sounded from the cottonwoods that bordered the creek. “Yuh all - right, Buddy?” - </p> - <p> - “Yeah—I'm a-comin',” shrilled Buddy, hastily looping the latigo. - Just then the sharp staccato of rifle-shots mingled with the whooping of - the Indians. Buddy was reaching for the saddle horn when the brown horse - ducked and jerked loose. Before Buddy realized what was happening the - brown horse, the herd and all the riders were pounding away down the - valley, the men firing back at the cottonwoods. - </p> - <p> - In the dust and clamor of their departure Buddy stood perfectly still for - a minute, trying to grasp the full significance of his calamity. - Step-and-a-Half had packed hastily and departed ahead of them all. His - father and the cowboys were watching the cottonwood grove many rods to - Buddy's right and well in the background, and they would not glance his - way. Even if they did they would not see him, and if they saw him it would - be madness to ride back—though there was not a man among them who - would not have wheeled in his tracks and returned for Buddy in the very - face of Colorou and his band. - </p> - <p> - From the cottonwoods came the pound of galloping hoofs. “Angels NOTHING!” - Cried Buddy in deep disgust and scuttled for the cabin. - </p> - <p> - The cabin, he knew as he ran, was just then the worst place in the world - for a boy who wanted very much to go on living. Through its gaping doorway - he saw a few odds and ends of food lying on the table, but he dared not - stop long enough to get them. The Indians were thundering down to the - corral, and as he rounded the cabin's corner he glanced back and saw the - foremost riders whipping their horses on the trail of the fleeing white - men. But some, he knew, would stop. Even the prospect of fresh scalps - could not hold the greedy ones from prowling around a white man's dwelling - place. There might be tobacco or whiskey left behind, or something with - color or a shine to it. Buddy knew well the ways of Indians. - </p> - <p> - He made for the creek, thinking at first to hide somewhere in the brush - along the bank. Then, fearing the brightening light of day and the wide - space he must cross to reach the first fringe of brush, he stopped at a - dugout cellar that had been built into the creek bank above high-water - mark. There was a pole-and-dirt roof, and because the dirt sifted down - between the poles whenever the wind blew—which was always—the - place had been crudely sealed inside with split poles overlapping one - another. The ceiling was more or less flat; the roof had a slight slope. - In the middle of the tiny attic thus formed Buddy managed to worm his body - through a hole in the gable next to the creek. - </p> - <p> - He wriggled back to the end next the cabin and lay there very flat and - very quiet, peeping out through a half-inch crack, too wise in the ways of - silence to hold his breath until he must heave a sigh to relieve his - lungs. It was hard to breathe naturally and easily after that swift dash, - but somehow he did it. An Indian had swerved and ridden behind the cabin, - and was leaning and peering in all directions to see if anyone had - remained. Perhaps he suspected an ambush; Buddy was absolutely certain - that the fellow was looking for him, personally, and that he had seen, - Buddy run toward the creek. - </p> - <p> - It was not a pleasant thought, and the fact that he knew that buck Indian - by name, and had once traded him a jackknife for a beautifully tanned wolf - skin for his mother, did not make it pleasanter. Hides-the-face would not - let past friendliness stand in the way of a killing. - </p> - <p> - Presently Hides-the-face dismounted and tied his horse to a corner log of - the cabin, and went inside with the others to see what he could find that - could be eaten or carried off. Buddy saw fresh smoke issue from the stone - chimney, and guessed that Step-and-a-Half had left something that could be - cooked. It became evident, in the course of an hour or so, that his - presence was absolutely unsuspected, and Buddy began to watch them more - composedly, silently promising especial forms of punishment to this one - and that one whom he knew. Most of them had been to the ranch many times, - and he could have called to a dozen of them by name. They had sat in his - father's cabin or stood immobile just within the door, and had listened - while his mother played and sang for them. She had fed them cakes—Buddy - remembered the good things which mother had given these despicable ones - who were looting and gobbling and destroying like a drove of hogs turned - loose in a garden, and the thought of her wasted kindness turned him sick - with rage. Mother had believed in their friendliness. Buddy wished that - mother could see them setting fire to the low, log stable and the corral, - and swarming in and out of the cabin. - </p> - <p> - Painted for war they were, with red stripes across their foreheads, ribs - outlined in red which, when they loosened their blankets as the sun warmed - them, gave them a fantastic likeness to the skeletons Buddy wished they - were; red stripes on their arms, the number showing their rank in the - tribe; open-seated, buckskin breeches to their knees where they met the - tightly wrapped leggings; moccasins laced snugly at the ankle—they - were picturesque enough to any eyes but Buddy's. He saw the ghoulish greed - in their eyes, heard it in their voices when they shouted to one another; - and he hated them even more than he feared them. - </p> - <p> - Much that they said he understood. They were cursing the Tomahawk outfit, - chiefly because the men had not waited there to be surprised and killed. - They cursed his father in particular, and were half sorry that they had - not ridden on in pursuit with the others. They hoped no white man would - ride alive to Laramie. It made cheerful listening to Buddy, flat on his - stomach in the roof of the dugout! - </p> - <p> - After a while, when the cabin had been gutted of everything it contained - save the crude table and benches, a few Indians brought burning brands - from the stable and set it afire. They were very busy inside and out, - making sure that the flames took hold properly. Then, when the dry logs - began to blaze and flames licked the edges of the roof, they stood back - and watched it. - </p> - <p> - Buddy saw Hides-the-face glance speculatively toward the dugout, and - slipped his hand back where he could reach his six-shooter. He felt pretty - certain that they meant to demolish the dugout next, and he knew exactly - what he meant to do. He had heard men at the posts talk of “selling their - lives dearly “, and that is what he intended to do. - </p> - <p> - He was not going to be in too much of a hurry; he would wait until they - actually began on the dugout—and when they were on the bank within a - few feet of him, and he saw that there was no getting away from death, he - meant to shoot five Indians, and himself last of all. - </p> - <p> - Tentatively he felt of his temple where he meant to place the muzzle of - the gun when there was just one bullet left. It was so nice and smooth—he - wondered if God would really help him out, if he said Our Father with a - pure heart and with faith, as his mother said one must pray. He was - slightly doubtful of both conditions, when he came to think of it - seriously. This spring he had felt grown-up enough to swear a little at - the horses, sometimes—and he was not sure that shooting the Indian - that time would not be counted a crime by God, who loved all His - creatures. Mother always stuck to it that Injuns were God's creatures—which - brought Buddy squarely against the incredible assumption that God must - love them. He did not in the least mean to be irreverent, but when he - watched those painted bucks his opinion of God changed slightly. He - decided that he himself was neither pure nor full of faith, and that he - would not pray just yet. He would let God go ahead and do as He pleased - about it; except that Buddy would never let those Indians get him alive, - no matter what God expected. - </p> - <p> - Hides-the-face walked over toward the dugout. Buddy crooked his left arm - and laid the gun barrel across it to get a “dead rest” and leave nothing - to chance. Hides-the-face stared at the dugout, moved to one side—and - the muzzle of the gun followed, keeping its aim directly at the left edge - of his breastbone as outlined with the red paint. Hides-the-face craned, - stepped into the path down the bank and passed out of range. Buddy gritted - his teeth malevolently and waited, his ears strained to catch and - interpret the meaning of every soft sound made by Hides-the-face's - moccasins. - </p> - <p> - Hides-the-face cautiously pushed open the door of the cellar and looked - in, standing for interminable minutes, as is the leisurely way of Indians - when there is no great need of haste. Ruddy cautiously lowered his face - and peered down like a mouse from the thatch, but he could not handily - bring his gun to bear upon Hides-the-face, who presently turned back and - went up the path, his shoulder-muscles moving snakishly under his brown - skin as he climbed the bank. - </p> - <p> - Hides-the-face returned to the others and announced that there was a place - where they could camp. Buddy could not hear all that he said, and - Hides-the-face had his back turned so that not all of his signs were - intelligible; but he gathered that these particular Indians had chosen or - had been ordered to wait here for three suns, and that the cellar appealed - to Hides-the-face as a shelter in case it stormed. - </p> - <p> - Buddy did not know whether to rejoice at the news or to mourn. They would - not destroy the dugout, so he need not shoot himself, which was of course - a relief. Still, three suns meant three days and nights, and the prospect - of lying there on his stomach, afraid to move for that length of time, - almost amounted to the same thing in the end. He did not believe that he - could hold out that long, though of course he would try pretty hard. - </p> - <p> - All that day Buddy lay watching through the crack, determined to take any - chance that came his way. None came. The Indians loitered in the shade, - and some slept. But always two or three remained awake; and although they - sat apparently ready to doze off at any minute, Buddy knew them too well - to hope for such good luck. Two Indians rode in toward evening dragging a - calf that had been overlooked in the roundup; and having improvidently - burned the cabin, the meat was cooked over the embers which still - smouldered in places where knots in the logs made slow fuel. - </p> - <p> - Buddy watched them hungrily, wondering how long it took to starve. - </p> - <p> - When it was growing dark he tried to keep in mind the exact positions of - the Indians, and to discover whether a guard would be placed over the - camp, or whether they felt safe enough to sleep without a sentinel. - Hides-the-face he had long ago decided was in charge of the party, and - Hides-the-face was seemingly concerned only with gorging himself on the - half-roasted meat. Buddy hoped he would choke himself, but Hides-the-face - was very good at gulping half-chewed hunks and finished without disaster. - </p> - <p> - Then he grunted something to someone in the dark, and there was movement - in the group. Buddy ground his growing “second” teeth together, clenched - his fist and said “Damn it!” three times in a silent crescendo of rage - because he could neither see nor hear what took place; and immediately he - repented his profanity, remembering that God could hear him. In Buddy's - opinion, you never could be sure about God; He bestowed mysterious mercies - and strange punishments, and His ways were past finding out. Buddy tipped - his palms together and repeated all the prayers his mother had taught him - and then, with a flash of memory, finished with “Oh, God, please!” just as - mother had done long ago on the dry drive. After that he meditated - uncomfortably for a few minutes and added in a faint whisper, “Oh, shucks! - You don't want to pay any attention to a fellow cussing a little when he's - mad. I could easy make that up if you helped me out some way.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy believed afterwards that God yielded to persuasion and decided to - give him a chance. For not more than five minutes passed when a far-off - murmur grew to an indefinable roar, and the wind whooped down off the - Snowies so fiercely that even the dugout quivered a little and rattled - dirt down on Buddy through the poles just over his head. - </p> - <p> - At first this seemed an unlucky circumstance, for the Indians came down - into the dugout for shelter, and now Buddy was afraid to breathe in the - quiet intervals between the gusts. Just below him he could hear the - occasional mutters of laconic sentences and grunted answers as the bucks - settled themselves for the night, and he had a short, panicky spell of - fearing that the poles would give way beneath him and drop him in upon - them. - </p> - <p> - After a while—it seemed hours to Buddy—the wind settled down - to a steady gale. The Indians, so far as he could determine, were all - asleep in the cellar. And Buddy, setting his teeth hard together, began to - slide slowly backward toward the opening through which he had crawled into - the roof. When he had crawled in he had not noticed the springiness of the - poles, but now his imagination tormented him with the sensation of sagging - and swaying. When his feet pushed through the opening he had to grit his - teeth to hold himself steady. It seemed as if someone were reaching up in - the dark to catch him by the legs and pull him out. Nothing happened, - however, and after a little he inched backward until he hung with his - elbows hooked desperately inside the opening, his head and shoulders - within and protesting with every nerve against leaving the shelter. - </p> - <p> - Buddy said afterwards that he guessed he'd have hung there until daylight, - only he was afraid it was about time to change guard, and somebody might - catch him. But he said he was scared to let go and drop, because it must - have been pretty crowded in the cellar, and he knew the door was open, and - some buck might be roosting outside handy to be stepped on. But he knew he - had to do something, because if he ever went to sleep up in that place - he'd snore, maybe; and anyway, he said, he'd rather run himself to death - than starve to death. So he dropped. - </p> - <p> - It was two days after that when Buddy shuffled into a mining camp on the - ridge just north of Douglas Pass. He was still on his feet, but they - dragged like an old man's. He had walked twenty-five miles in two nights, - going carefully, in fear of Indians. The first five miles he had waded - along the shore of the creek, he said, in case they might pick up his - tracks at the dugout and try to follow him. He had hidden himself like a - rabbit in the brush through the day, and he had not dared shoot any meat, - wherefore he had not eaten anything. - </p> - <p> - “I ain't as hungry as I was at first,” He grinned tremulously. “But I - guess I better—eat. I don' want—to lose the—habit—” - Then he went slack and a man swearing to hide his pity picked him up in - his arms and carried him into the tent. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER SIX: THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY - </h2> - <p> - “You're of age,” said Bob Birnie, sucking hard at his pipe. “You've had - your schooling as your mother wished that you should have it. You've got - the music in your head and your fingers and your toes, and that's as your - mother wished that you should have. - </p> - <p> - “Your mother would have you be all for music, and make tunes out of your - own head. She tells me that you have made tunes and written them down on - paper, and that there are those who would buy them and print copies to - sell, with your name at the top of the page. I'll not say what I think of - that—your mother is an angel among women, and she has taught you the - things she loves herself. - </p> - <p> - “But my business is with the cattle, and I've had you out with me since - you could climb on the back of a horse. I've watched you, with the rope - and the irons and in the saddle and all. You've been in tight places that - would try the mettle of a man grown—I mind the time ye escaped - Colorou's band, and we thought ye dead 'til ye came to us in Laramie. - You've showed that you're able to hold your own on the range, lad. Your - mother's all for the music—but I leave it to you. - </p> - <p> - “Ten thousand dollars I'll give ye, if that's your wish, and you can go to - Europe as she wishes and study and make tunes for others to play. Or if ye - prefer it, I'll brand you a herd of she stock and let ye go your ways. No - son of mine can take orders from his father after he's a man grown, and - I'm not to the age where I can sit with the pipe from morning to night and - let another run my outfit. I've talked it over with your mother, and - she'll bide by your decision, as I shall do. - </p> - <p> - “So I put it in a nutshell, Robert. You're twenty-one to-day; a man grown, - and husky as they're made. 'Tis time you faced the world and lived your - life. You've been a good lad—as lads go.” He stopped there to rub - his jaw thoughtfully, perhaps remembering certain incidents in Buddy's - full-flavored past. Buddy—grown to plain Bud among his fellows—turned - red without losing the line of hardness that had come to his lips. - </p> - <p> - “You're of legal age to be called a man, and the future's before ye. I'll - give ye five hundred cows with their calves beside them—you can - choose them yourself, for you've a sharp eye for stock—and you can - go where ye will. Or I'll give ye ten thousand dollars and ye can go to - Europe and make tunes if you're a mind to. And whatever ye choose it'll be - make or break with ye. Ye can sleep on the decision, for I've no wish that - ye should choose hastily and be sorry after.” - </p> - <p> - Buddy—grown to Bud—lifted a booted foot and laid it across his - other knee and with his forefinger absently whirled the long-pointed rower - on his spur. The hardness at his lips somehow spread to his eyes, that - were bent on the whirring rower. It was the look that had come into the - face of the baby down on the Staked Plains when Ezra called and called - after he had been answered twice; the look that had held firm the lips of - the boy who had lain very flat on his stomach in the roof of the dugout - and had watched the Utes burning the cabin. - </p> - <p> - “There's no need to sleep on it,” he said after a minute. “You've raised - me, and spent some money on me—but I've saved you a man's wages ever - since I was ten. If you think I've evened things up, all right. If you - don't, make out your bill and I'll pay it when I can. There's no reason - why you should give me anything I haven't earned, just because you're my - father. You earned all you've got, and I guess I can do the same. As you - say, I'm a man. I'll go at the future man fashion. And,” he added with a - slight flare of the nostrils, “I'll start in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - “And is it to make tunes for other folks to play?” Bob Birnie asked after - a silence, covertly eyeing him. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir. There's more money in cattle. I'll make my stake in the - cow-country, same as you've done.” He looked up and grinned a little. “To - the devil with your money and your she-stock! I'll get out all right—but - I'll make my own way.” - </p> - <p> - “You're a stubborn fool, Robert. The Scotch now and then shows itself like - that in a man. I got my start from my father and I'm not ashamed of it. A - thousand pounds—and I brought it to America and to Texas, and got - cattle.” - </p> - <p> - Bud laughed and got up, hiding how the talk had struck deep into the soul - of him. “Then I'll go you one better, dad. I'll get my own start.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll be back home in six months, lad, saying you've changed your mind,” - Bob Birnie predicted sharply, stung by the tone of young Bud. “That,” he - added grimly, “or for a full belly and a clean bed to crawl into.” - </p> - <p> - Bud stood licking the cigarette he had rolled to hide an unaccountable - trembling of his fingers. “When I come back I'll be in a position to buy - you out! I'll borrow Skate and Maverick, if you don't mind, till I get - located somewhere.” He paused while he lighted the cigarette. “It's the - custom,” He reminded his father unnecessarily, “to furnish a man a horse - to ride and one to pack his bed, when he's fired.” - </p> - <p> - “Ye've horses of yer own,” Bob Birnie retorted, “and you've no need to - borrow.” - </p> - <p> - Bud stood looking down at his father, plainly undecided. “I don't know - whether they're mine or not,” he said after a minute. “I don't know what - it cost you to raise me. Figure it up, if you haven't already, and count - the time I've worked for you. Since you've put me on a business basis, - like raising a calf to shipping age, let's be businesslike about it. You - are good at figuring your profits—I'll leave it to you. And if you - find I've anything coming to me besides my riding outfit and the clothes - I've got, all right; I'll take horses for the balance.” - </p> - <p> - He walked off with the swing to his shoulders that had always betrayed him - when he was angry, and Bob Birnie gathered his beard into a handful and - held it while he stared after him. It had been no part of his plan to set - his son adrift on the range without a dollar, but since Bud's temper was - up, it might be a good thing to let him go. - </p> - <p> - So Bob Birnie went away to confer with his wife, and Bud was left alone to - nurse his hurt while he packed his few belongings. It did hurt him to be - told in that calm, cold-blooded manner that, now he was of legal age, he - would not be expected to stay on at the Tomahawk. Until his father had - spoken to him about it, Bud had not thought much about what he would do - when his school days were over. He had taken life as it was presented to - him week by week, month by month. He had fulfilled his mother's hopes and - had learned to make music. He had lived up to his father's unspoken - standards of a cowman. He had made a “Hand” ever since his legs were long - enough to reach the stirrups of a saddle. There was not a better rider, - not a better roper on the range than Bud Birnie. Morally he was cleaner - than most young fellows of his age. He hated trickery, he reverenced all - good women; the bad ones he pitied because he believed that they sorrowed - secretly because they were not good, because they had missed somehow their - real purpose in life, which was to be wife and mother. He had, in fact - grown up clean and true to type. He was Buddy, grown to be Bud. - </p> - <p> - And Buddy, now that he was a man, had been told that he was not expected - to stay at home and help his father, and be a comfort to his mother. He - was like a young eagle which, having grown wing-feathers that will bear - the strain of high air currents, has been pecked out of the nest. No doubt - the young eagle resents his unexpected banishment, although in time he - would have felt within himself the urge to go. Leave Bud alone, and soon - or late he would have gone—perhaps with compunctions against leaving - home, and the feeling that he was somehow a disappointment to his parents. - He would have explained to his father, apologized to his mother. As it - was, he resented the alacrity with which his father was pushing him out. - </p> - <p> - So he packed his clothes that night, and pushed his guitar into its case - and buckled the strap with a vicious yank, and went off to the bunkhouse - to eat supper with the boys instead of sitting down to the table where his - mother had placed certain dishes which Buddy loved best—wanting to - show in true woman fashion her love and sympathy for him. - </p> - <p> - Later—it was after Bud had gone to bed—mother came and had a - long talk with him. She was very sweet and sensible, and Bud was very - tender with her. But she could not budge him from his determination to go - and make his way without a Birnie dollar to ease the beginning. Other men - had started with nothing and had made a stake, and there was no reason why - he could not do so. - </p> - <p> - “Dad put it straight enough, and it's no good arguing. I'd starve before - I'd take anything from him. I'm entitled to my clothes, and maybe a horse - or two for the work I've done for him while I was growing up. I've figured - out pretty close what it cost to put me through the University, and what I - was worth to him during the summers. Father's Scotch—but he isn't a - darned bit more Scotch than I am, mother. Putting it all in dollars and - cents, I think I've earned more than I cost him. In the winters, I know I - earned my board doing chores and riding line. Many a little bunch of stock - I've saved for him by getting out in the foothills and driving them down - below heavy snowline before a storm. You remember the bunch of horses I - found by watching the magpies—the time we tied hay in canvas and - took it up to them 'til they got strength enough to follow the trail I - trampled in the snow? I earned my board and more, every winter since I was - ten. So I don't believe I owe dad a cent, when it's all figured out. - </p> - <p> - “But you've done for me what money can't repay, mother. I'll always be in - debt to you—and I'll square it by being the kind of a man you've - tried to teach me to be. I will, mother. Dad and the dollars are a - different matter. The debt I owe you will never be paid, but I'm going to - make you glad I know there's a debt. I believe there's a God, because I - know there must have been one to make you! And no matter how far away I - may drift in miles, your Buddy is going to be here with you always, - mother, learning from you all there is of goodness and sweetness.” He held - her two hands against his face, and she felt his cheeks wet beneath her - palms. Then he took them away and kissed them many times, like a lover. - </p> - <p> - “If I ever have a wife, she's going to have her work cut out for her,” He - laughed unsteadily. “She'll have to live up to you, mother, if she wants - me to love her.” - </p> - <p> - “If you have a wife she'll be well-spoiled, young man! Perhaps it is wise - that you should go—but don't you forget your music, Buddy—and - be a good boy, and remember, mother's going to follow you with her love - and her faith in you, and her prayers.” - </p> - <p> - It may have been that Buddy's baby memory of going north whenever the - trail herd started remained to send Bud instinctively northward when he - left the Tomahawk next morning. It had been a case of stubborn father and - stubborn son dickering politely over the net earnings of the son from the - time when he was old enough to leave his mother's lap and climb into a - saddle to ride with his father. Three horses and his personal belongings - had been agreed upon between them as the balance in Bud's favor; and at - that, Bob Birnie dryly remarked, he had been a better investment as a son - than most young fellows, who cost more than they were worth to raise. - </p> - <p> - Bud did not answer the implied praise, but roped the Tomahawk's best three - horses out of the REMUDA corralled for him by his father's riders. You - should have seen the sidelong glances among the boys when they learned - that Bud, just home from the University, was going somewhere with all his - earthly possessions and a look in his face that meant trouble! - </p> - <p> - Two big valises and his blankets he packed on Sunfish, a deceptively - raw-boned young buckskin with much white showing in his eyes—an - ornery looking brute if ever there was one. Bud's guitar and a mandolin in - their cases he tied securely on top of the pack. Smoky, the second horse, - a deep-chested “mouse” with a face almost human in its expression, he - saddled, and put a lead rope on the third, a bay four-year-old called - Stopper, which was the Tomahawk's best rope-horse and one that would be - missed when fast work was wanted in branding. - </p> - <p> - “He sure as hell picked himself three top hawses,” a tall puncher murmured - to another. “Wonder where he's headed for? Not repping—this late in - the season.” - </p> - <p> - Bud overheard them, and gave no sign. Had they asked him directly he could - not have told them, for he did not know, except that somehow he felt that - he was going to head north. Why north, he could not have explained, since - cow-country lay all around him; nor how far north,—for cow-country - extended to the upper boundary of the States, and beyond into Canada. - </p> - <p> - He left his horses standing by the corral while he went to the house to - tell his mother good-by, and to send a farewell message to Dulcie, who had - been married a year and lived in Laramie. He did not expect to strike - Laramie, he told his mother when she asked him. - </p> - <p> - “I'm going till I stop,” He explained, with a squeeze of her shoulders to - reassure her. “I guess it's the way you felt, mother, when you left Texas - behind. You couldn't tell where you folks would wind up. Neither can I. My - trail herd is kinda small, right now; a lot smaller than it will be later - on. But such as it is, it's going to hit the right range before it stops - for good. And I'll write.” - </p> - <p> - He took a doughnut in his hand and a package of lunch to slip in his - pocket, kissed her with much cheerfulness in his manner and hurried out, - his big-rowelled spurs burring on the porch just twice before he stepped - off on the gravel. Telling mother good-by had been the one ordeal he - dreaded, and he was glad to have it over with. - </p> - <p> - Old Step-and-a-Half hailed him as he went past the chuck-house, and came - limping out, wiping his hands on his apron before he shook hands and - wished him good luck. Ezra, pottering around the tool shed, ambled up with - the eyes of a dog that has been sent back home by his master. “Ah shoah do - wish yo' all good fawtune an' health, Marse Buddy,” Ezra quavered. “Ah - shoah do. It ain' goin' seem lak de same place—and Ah shoah do hopes - yo' all writes frequent lettahs to yo' mothah, boy!” - </p> - <p> - Bud promised that he would, and managed to break away from Ezra without - betraying himself. How, he wondered, did everyone seem to know that he was - going for good, this time? He had believed that no one knew of it save - himself, his father and his mother; yet everyone else behaved as if they - never expected to see him again. It was disconcerting, and Bud hastily - untied the two led horses and mounted Smoky, the mouse-colored horse he - himself had broken two years before. - </p> - <p> - His father came slowly up to him, straight-backed and with the gait of the - man who has ridden astride a horse more than he has walked on his own - feet. He put up his hand, gloved for riding, and Bud changed the - lead-ropes from his right hand to his left, and shook hands rather - formally. - </p> - <p> - “Ye've good weather for travelling,” said Bob Birnie tentatively. “I have - not said it before, lad, but when ye own yourself a fool to take this way - of making your fortune, ten thousand dollars will still be ready to start - ye right. I've no wish to shirk a duty to my family.” - </p> - <p> - Bud pressed his lips together while he listened. “If you keep your ten - thousand till it's called for, you'll be drawing interest a long time on - it,” He said. “It's going to be hot to-day. I'll be getting along.” - </p> - <p> - He lifted the reins, glanced back to see that the two horses were showing - the proper disposition to follow, and rode off down the deep-rutted road - that followed up the creek to the pass where he had watched the Utes - dancing the war dance one night that he remembered well. If he winced a - little at the familiar landmarks he passed, he still held fast to the - determination to go, and to find fortune somewhere along the trail of his - own making; and to ask help from no man, least of all his father who had - told him to go. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER SEVEN: BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE - </h2> - <p> - “I don't think it matters so much where we light, it's what we do when we - get there,” said Bud to Smoky, his horse, one day as they stopped where - two roads forked at the base of a great, outstanding peak that was but the - point of a mountain range. “This trail straddles the butte and takes on up - two different valleys. It's all cow-country—so what do yuh say, - Smoke? Which trail looks the best to you?” - </p> - <p> - Smoky flopped one ear forward and the other one back, and switched at a - pestering fly. Behind him Sunfish and Stopper waited with the patience - they had learned in three weeks of continuous travel over country that was - rough in spots, barren in places, with wind and sun and occasional, sudden - thunderstorms to punctuate the daily grind of travel. - </p> - <p> - Bud drew a half dollar from his pocket and regarded it meditatively. - “They're going fast—we'll just naturally have to stop pretty soon, - or we don't eat,” He observed. “Smoke, you're a quitter. What you want to - do is go back—but you won't get the chance. Heads, we take the right - hand trail. I like it better, anyway—it angles more to the north.” - </p> - <p> - Heads it was, and Bud leaned from the saddle and recovered the coin, Smoky - turning his head to regard his rider tolerantly. “Right hand goes—and - we camp at the first good water and grass. I can grain the three of you - once more before we hit a town, and that goes for me, too. G'wan, Smoke, - and don't act so mournful.” - </p> - <p> - Smoky went on, following the trail that wound in and out around the butte, - hugging close its sheer sides to avoid a fifty-foot drop into the creek - below. It was new country—Bud had never so much as seen a map of it - to give him a clue to what was coming. The last turn of the deep-rutted, - sandy road where it left the river's bank and led straight between two - humpy shoulders of rock to the foot of a platter-shaped valley brought him - to a halt again in sheer astonishment. - </p> - <p> - From behind a low hill still farther to the right, where the road forked - again, a bluish haze of smoke indicated that there was a town of some - sort, perhaps. Farther up the valley a brownish cloud hung low-a roundup, - Bud knew at a glance. He hesitated. The town, if it were a town, could - wait; the roundup might not. And a job he must have soon, or go hungry. He - turned and rode toward the dust-cloud, came shortly to a small stream and - a green grass-plot, and stopped there long enough to throw the pack off - Sunfish, unsaddle Smoky and stake them both out to graze. Stopper he - saddled, then knelt and washed his face, beat the travel dust off his hat, - untied his rope and coiled it carefully, untied his handkerchief and shook - it as clean as he could and knotted it closely again. One might have - thought he was preparing to meet a girl; but the habit of neatness dated - back to his pink-apron days and beyond, the dirt and dust meant - discomfort. - </p> - <p> - When he mounted Stopper and loped away toward the dust-cloud, he rode - hopefully, sure of himself, carrying his range credentials in his eyes, in - his perfect saddle-poise, in the tan on his face to his eyebrows, and the - womanish softness of his gloved hands, which had all the sensitive - flexibility of a musician. - </p> - <p> - His main hope was that the outfit was working short-handed; and when he - rode near enough to distinguish the herd and the riders, he grinned his - satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “Good cow-country, by the look of that bunch of cattle,” He observed to - himself. “And eight men is a small crew to work a herd that size. I guess - I'll tie onto this outfit. Stopper, you'll maybe get a chance to turn a - cow this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - Just how soon the chance would come, Bud had not realized. He had no more - than come within shouting distance of the herd when a big, rollicky steer - broke from the milling cattle and headed straight out past him, running - like a deer. Stopper, famed and named for his prowess with just such - cattle, wheeled in his tracks and lengthened his stride to a run. - </p> - <p> - “Tie 'im down!” someone yelled behind Bud. And “Catch 'im and tie 'im - down!” shouted another. - </p> - <p> - For answer Bud waved his hand, and reached in his pocket for his knife. - Stopper was artfully circling the steer, forcing it back toward the herd, - and in another hundred yards or so Bud must throw his loop He sliced off a - saddle-string and took it between his teeth, jerked his rope loose, - flipped open the loop as Stopper raced up alongside, dropped the noose - neatly, and took his turns while Stopper planted his forefeet and braced - himself for the shock. Bud's right leg was over the cantle, all his weight - on the left stirrup when the jerk came and the steer fell with a thump. By - good luck—so Bud afterwards asserted—he was off and had the - steer tied before it had recovered its breath to scramble up. He - remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while he went - jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him. - </p> - <p> - If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have received a shock. - Other riders had left their posts and were edging up to hear what - happened, and Bud reined up in astonishment before the most amazing string - of unseemly epithets he had ever heard. It began with: “What'd you throw - that critter for?”—which of course is putting it mildly—and - ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to another's face and - expect anything but trouble afterwards. - </p> - <p> - Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, and - dismounted. “Get off your horse and take the damnedest licking you ever - had in your life, for that!” He invited vengefully. “You told me to tie - down that steer, and I tied him down. You've got no call to complain—and - there isn't a man on earth I'll take that kinda talk from. Crawl down, you - parrot-faced cow-eater—and leave your gun on the saddle.” - </p> - <p> - The man remained where he was and looked Bud over uncertainly. “Who are - you, and where'd yuh come from?” he demanded more calmly. “I never saw yuh - before.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!” Bud snapped. “If - I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You called me something! Get off - that horse or I'll pull you off!” - </p> - <p> - “Aw, yuh don't want to mind—” began a tall, lean man pacifically; - but he of the high nose stopped him with a wave of the hand, his eyes - still measuring the face, the form and the fighting spirit of one Bud - Birnie, standing with his coat off, quivering with rage. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'm in the wrong, young fellow—I DID holler 'Tie 'im down.' - But if you'd ever been around this outfit any you 'd have known I didn't - mean it literal.” He stopped and suddenly he laughed. “I've been yellin' - 'Tie 'im down' for two years and more, when a critter breaks outa the - bunch, and nobody was ever fool enough to tackle it before. It's just a - sayin' we've got, young man. We—” - </p> - <p> - “What about the name you called me?” Bud was still advancing slowly, not - much appeased by the explanation. “I don't give a darn about the steer. - You said tie him, and he's tied. But when you call me—” - </p> - <p> - “My mistake, young feller. When I get riled up I don't pick my words.” He - eyed Bud sharply. “You're mighty quick to obey orders,” He added - tentatively. - </p> - <p> - “I was brought up to do as I'm told,” Bud retorted stiffly. “Any - objections to make?” - </p> - <p> - “Not one in the world. Wish there was more like yuh. You ain't been in - these parts long?” His tone made a question of the statement. - </p> - <p> - “Not right here.” Bud had no reason save his temper for not giving more - explicit information, but Bart Nelson—as Bud knew him afterwards—continued - to study him as if he suspected a blotched past. - </p> - <p> - “Hunh. That your horse?” - </p> - <p> - “I've got a bill of sale for him.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't happen to be wanting a job, I s'pose?” - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn't refuse to take one.” And then the twinkle came back to Bud's - eyes, because all at once the whole incident struck him as being rather - funny. “I'd want a boss that expected to have his orders carried out, - though. I lack imagination, and I never did try to read a man's mind. What - he says he'd better mean—when he says it to me.” - </p> - <p> - Bart Nelson gave a short laugh, turned and sent his riders back to their - work with oaths tingling their ears. Bud judged that cursing was his - natural form of speech. - </p> - <p> - “Go let up that steer, and I'll put you to work,” he said to Bud - afterwards. “That's a good rope horse you're riding. If you want to use - him, and if you can hold up to that little sample of roping yuh gave us, - I'll pay yuh sixty a month. And that's partly for doing what you're told,” - he added with a quick look into Bud's eyes. “You didn't say where you're - from——” - </p> - <p> - “I was born and raised in cow-country, and nobody's looking for me,” Bud - informed him over his shoulder while he remounted, and let it go at that. - From southern Wyoming to Idaho was too far, he reasoned, to make it worth - while stating his exact place of residence. If they had never heard of the - Tomahawk outfit it would do no good to name it. If they had heard of it, - they would wonder why the son of so rich a cowman as Bob Birnie should be - hiring out as a common cowpuncher so far from home. He had studied the - matter on his way north, and had decided to let people form their own - conclusions. If he could not make good without the name of Bob Birnie - behind him, the sooner he found it out the better. - </p> - <p> - He untied the steer, drove it back into the herd and rode over to where - the high-nosed man was helping hold the “Cut.” - </p> - <p> - “Can you read brands? We're cuttin' out AJ and AJBar stuff; left ear-crop - on the AJ, and undercut on the AJBar.” - </p> - <p> - Bud nodded and eased into the herd, spied an AJ two-year-old and urged it - toward the outer edge, smiling to himself when he saw how Stopper kept his - nose close to the animal's rump. Once in the milling fringe of the herd, - Stopper nipped it into the open, rushed it to the cut herd, wheeled and - went back of his own accord. From the corner of his eye, as he went, Bud - saw that Bart Nelson and one or two others were watching him. They - continued to eye him covertly while he worked the herd with two other men. - He was glad that he had not travelled far that day, and that he had ridden - Smoky and left Stopper fresh and eager for his favorite pastime, which was - making cattle do what they particularly did not want to do. In that he was - adept, and it pleased Bud mightily to see how much attention Stopper was - attracting. - </p> - <p> - Not once did it occur to him that it might be himself who occupied the - thoughts of his boss. Buddy—afterwards Bud—had lived his whole - life among friends, his only enemies the Indians who preyed upon the - cowmen. White men he had never learned to distrust, and to be distrusted - had never been his portion. He had always been Bud Birnie, son and heir of - Bob Birnie, as clean-handed a cattle king as ever recorded a brand. Even - at the University his position had been accepted without question. That - the man he mentally called Parrotface was puzzled and even worried about - him was the last thing he would think of. - </p> - <p> - But it was true. Bart Nelson watched Bud, that afternoon. A man might ride - up to Bart and assert that he was an old hand with cattle, and Bart would - say nothing, but set him to work, as he had Bud. Then he would know just - how old a “Hand” the fellow was. Fifteen minutes convinced him that Bud - had “growed up in the saddle”, as he would have put it. But that only - mystified him the more. Bart knew the range, and he knew every man in the - country, from Burroback Valley, which was this great valley's name, to the - Black Rim, beyond the mountain range, and beyond the Black Rim to the - Sawtooth country. He knew their ways and he knew their past records. - </p> - <p> - He knew that this young fellow came from farther ranges, and he would have - been at a loss to explain just how he knew it. He would have said that Bud - did not have the “earmarks” of an Idaho rider. Furthermore, the small - Tomahawk brand on the left flank of the horse Bud rode was totally unknown - to Bart. Yet the horse did not bear the marks of long riding. Bud himself - looked as if he had just ridden out from some nearby ranch—and he - had refused to say where he was from. - </p> - <p> - Bart swore under his breath and beckoned to him a droopy-mustached, - droopy-shouldered rider who was circling the herd in a droopy, spiritless - manner and chewing tobacco with much industry. - </p> - <p> - “Dirk, you know brands from the Panhandle to Cypress Hills. What d' yuh - make of that horse? Where does he come from?” Bart stopped abruptly and - rode forward then to receive and drive farther back a galloping AJBar cow - which Bud and Stopper had just hazed out of the herd. Dirk squinted at - Stopper's brand which showed cleanly in the glossy, new hair of early - summer. He spat carefully with the wind and swung over to meet his boss - when the cow was safely in the cut herd. - </p> - <p> - “New one on me, Bart. They's a hatchet brand over close to Jackson's Hole, - somewhere. Where'd the kid say he was from?” - </p> - <p> - “He wouldn't say, but he's a sure-enough cowhand.” - </p> - <p> - “That there horse ain't been rode down on no long journey,” Dirk - volunteered after further scrutiny. And he added with the unconscious - impertinence of an old and trusted employee, “Yuh goin' to put him on?” - </p> - <p> - “Already done it—sixty a month,” Bart confided. “That'll bring out - what's in him; he's liable to turn out good for the outfit. Showed he'll - do what he's told first, and think it over afterwards. I like that there - trait in a man.” - </p> - <p> - Dirk pulled his droopy mustache away from his lips as if he wanted to make - sure that his smile would show; though it was not a pretty smile, on - account of his tobacco-stained teeth. - </p> - <p> - “'S your fun'ral, Bart. I'd say he's from Jackson's Hole, on a rough guess—but - I wouldn't presume to guess what he's here fur. Mebby he come across from - Black Rim. I can find out, if you say so.” - </p> - <p> - Bud was weaving in and out through the herd, scanning the animals closely. - While the two talked he singled out a yearling heifer, let Stopper nose it - out beyond the bunch and drove it close to the boss. - </p> - <p> - “Better look that one over,” He called out. “One way, it looks like AJ, - and another way I couldn't name it. And the ear looks as if about half of - it had been frozen off. Didn't want to run it into the cut until you - passed on it.” - </p> - <p> - Bart looked first at Bud, and he looked hard. Then he rode over and - inspected the yearling, Dirk close at his heels. - </p> - <p> - “Throw 'er back with the bunch,” He ordered. - </p> - <p> - “That finishes the cut, then,” Bud announced, rubbing his hand along - Stopper's sweaty neck. “I kept passing this critter up, and I guess the - other boys did the same. But it's the last one, and I thought I'd run her - out for you to look over.” - </p> - <p> - Bart grunted. “Dirk, you take a look and see if they've got 'em all. And - you, Kid, can help haze the cut up the Flat—the boys'll show you - what to do.” - </p> - <p> - Bud, remembering Smoky and Sunfish and his camp, hesitated. “I've got a - camp down here by the creek,” He said. “If it's all the same to you, I'll - report for work in the morning, if you'll tell me where to head for. And - I'll have to arrange somehow to pasture my horses; I've got a couple more - at camp.” - </p> - <p> - Bart studied him for a minute, and Bud thought he was going to change his - mind about the job, or the sixty dollars a month. But Bart merely told him - to ride on up the Flat next morning, and take the first trail that turned - to the left. “The Muleshoe ranch is up there agin that pine mountain,” he - explained. “Bring along your outfit. I guess we can take care of a couple - of horses, all right.” - </p> - <p> - That suited Bud very well, and he rode away thinking how lucky he was to - have taken the right fork in the road, that day. He had ridden straight - into a job, and while he was not very enthusiastic over the boss, the - other boys seemed all right, and the wages were a third more than he had - expected to get just at first. It was the first time, he reminded himself, - that he had been really tempted to locate, and he certainly had struck it - lucky. - </p> - <p> - He did not know that when he left the roundup his going had been carefully - noted, and that he was no sooner out of sight than Dirk Tracy was riding - cautiously on his trail. While he fed his horses the last bit of grain he - had, and cooked his supper over what promised to be his last camp-fire, he - did not dream that the man with the droopy mustache was lying amongst the - bushes on the other bank of the creek, watching every move he made. - </p> - <p> - He meant to be up before daylight so that he could strike the ranch of the - Muleshoe outfit in time for breakfast, wherefore he went to bed before the - afterglow had left the mountain-tops around him. And being young and - carefree and healthfully weary, he was asleep and snoring gently within - five minutes of his last wriggle into his blankets. But Dirk Tracy watched - him for fully two hours before he decided that the kid was not artfully - pretending, but was really asleep and likely to remain so for the night. - </p> - <p> - Dirk was an extremely cautious man, but he was also tired, and the cold - food he had eaten in place of a hot supper had not been satisfying to his - stomach. He crawled carefully out of the brush, stole up the creek to - where he had left his horse, and rode away. - </p> - <p> - He was not altogether sure that he had done his full duty to the Muleshoe, - but it was against human nature for a man nearing forty to lie uncovered - in the brush, and let a numerous family of mosquitoes feed upon him while - he listened to a young man snoring comfortably in a good camp bed a - hundred feet away. - </p> - <p> - Dirk, because his conscience was not quite clear, slept in the stable that - night and told his boss a lie next morning. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER EIGHT: THE MULESHOE - </h2> - <p> - The riders of the Muleshoe outfit were eating breakfast when Bud rode past - the long, low-roofed log cabin to the corral which stood nearest the - clutter of stables and sheds. He stopped there and waited to see if his - new boss was anywhere in sight and would come to tell him where to unpack - his belongings. A sandy complexioned young man with red eyelids and no - lashes presently emerged from the stable and came toward him, his mouth - sagging loosely open, his eye; vacuous. He was clad in faded overalls - turned up a foot at the bottom and showing frayed, shoddy trousers beneath - and rusty, run-down shoes that proved he was not a rider. His hat was - peppered with little holes, as if someone had fired a charge of birdshot - at him and had all but bagged him. - </p> - <p> - The youth's eyes became fixed upon the guitar and mandolin cases roped on - top of Sunfish's pack, and he pointed and gobbled something which had the - sound speech without being intelligible. Bud cocked an ear toward him - inquiringly, made nothing of the jumble and rode off to the cabin, leading - Sunfish after him. The fellow might or might not be the idiot he looked, - and he might or might not keep his hands off the pack. Bud was not going - to take any chance. - </p> - <p> - He heard sounds within the cabin, but no one appeared until he shouted, - “Hello!” twice. The door opened then and Bart Nelson put out his head, his - jaws working over a mouthful of food that seemed tough. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it's you. C'm awn in an' eat,” he invited, and Bud dismounted, never - guessing that his slightest motion had been carefully observed from the - time he had forded the creek at the foot of the slope beyond the cabin. - </p> - <p> - Bart introduced him to the men by the simple method of waving his hand at - the group around the table and saying, “Guess you know the boys. What'd - yuh say we could call yuh?” - </p> - <p> - “Bud—ah—Birnie,” Bud answered, swiftly weighing the romantic - idea of using some makeshift name until he had made his fortune, and - deciding against it. A false name might mean future embarrassment, and he - was so far from home that his father would never hear of him anyway. But - his hesitation served to convince every man there that Birnie was not his - name, and that he probably had good cause for concealing his own. Adding - that to Dirk Tracy's guess that he was from Jackson's Hole, the sum - spelled outlaw. - </p> - <p> - The Muleshoe boys were careful not to seem curious about Bud's past. They - even refrained from manifesting too much interest in the musical - instruments until Bud himself took them out of their cases that evening - and began tuning them. Then the half-baked, tongue-tied fellow came over - and gobbled at him eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Hen wants yuh to play something,” a man they called Day interpreted. - “Hen's loco on music. If you can sing and play both, Hen'll set and listen - till plumb daylight and never move an eyewinker.” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked up, smiled a little because Hen had no eyewinkers to move, and - suddenly felt pity because a man could be so altogether unlikeable as Hen. - Also because his mother's face stood vividly before him for an instant, - leaving him with a queer tightening of the throat and the feeling that he - had been rebuked. He nodded to Hen, laid down the mandolin and picked up - the guitar, turned up the a string a bit, laid a booted and spurred foot - across the other knee, plucked a minor chord sonorously and began - abruptly: - </p> - <p> - “Yo' kin talk about you coons a-havin' trouble—Well, Ah think Ah - have enough-a of mah oh-own—” - </p> - <p> - Hen's high-pointed Adam's apple slipped up and down in one great gulp of - ecstasy. He eased slowly down upon the edge of the bunk beside Bud and - gazed at him fascinatedly, his lashless eyes never winking, his jaw - dropped so that his mouth hung half open. Day nudged Dirk Tracy, who - parted his droopy mustache and smiled his unlovely smile, lowering his - left eyelid unnecessarily at Bud. The dimple in Bud's chin wrinkled as he - bent his head and plunked the interlude with a swing that set spurred - boots tapping the floor rhythmically. - </p> - <p> - “Bart, he's went and hired a show-actor, looks like.” Dirk confided behind - his hand to Shorty McGuire. “That's real singin', if yuh ask me!” - </p> - <p> - “Shut up!” grunted Shorty, and prodded Dirk into silence so that he would - miss none of the song. - </p> - <p> - Since Buddy had left the pink-apron stage of his adventurous life behind - him, singing songs to please other people had been as much a part of his - life as riding and roping and eating and sleeping. He had always sung or - played or danced when he was asked to do so—accepting without - question his mother's doctrine that it was unkind and ill-bred to refuse - when he really could do those things well, because on the cattle ranges - indoor amusements were few, and those who could furnish real entertainment - were fewer. Even at the University, coon songs and Irish songs and love - songs had been his portion; wherefore his repertoire seemed endless, and - if folks insisted upon it he could sing from dark to dawn, providing his - voice held out. - </p> - <p> - Hen sat with his big-jointed hands hanging loosely over his knees and - listened, stared at Bud and grinned vacuously when one song was done, - gulped his Adam's apple and listened again as raptly to the next one. The - others forgot all about having fun watching Hen, and named old favorites - and new ones, heard them sung inimitably and called for more. At midnight - Bud blew on his blistered fingertips and shook the guitar gently, - bottom-side up. - </p> - <p> - “I guess that's all the music there is in the darned thing to-night,” he - lamented. “She's made to keep time, and she always strikes, along about - midnight.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh-huh!” chortled Hen convulsively, as if he understood the joke. He - closed his mouth and sighed deeply, as one who has just wakened from a - trance. - </p> - <p> - After that, Hen followed Bud around like a pet dog, and found time between - stable chores to groom those astonished horses, Stopper and Smoky and - Sunfish, as if they were stall-kept thoroughbreds. He had them coming up - to the pasture gate every day for the few handfuls of grain he purloined - for them, and their sleekness was a joy to behold. - </p> - <p> - “Hen, he's adopted yuh, horses and all, looks like,” Dirk observed one day - to Bud when they were riding together. And he tempered the statement by - adding that Hen was trusty enough, even if he didn't have as much sense as - the law allows. “He sure is takin' care of them cayuses of your'n. D'you - tell him to?” - </p> - <p> - Bud came out of a homesick revery and looked at him inquiringly. “No, I - didn't tell him anything.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe that, all right,” Dirk retorted. “You don't go around tellin' - all yuh know. I like that in a feller. A man never got into trouble yet by - keepin' his mouth shut; but there's plenty that have talked themselves - into the pen. Me, I've got no use for a talker.” - </p> - <p> - Bud sent him a sidelong glance of inquiry, and Dirk caught him at it and - grinned. - </p> - <p> - “Yuh been here a month, and you ain't said a damn word about where you - come from or anything further back than throwin' and tyin' that critter. - You said cow-country, and that has had to do some folks that might be - curious. Well, she's a tearin' big place—cow-country. She runs from - Canady to Mexico, and from the corn belt to the Pacific Ocean, mighty near - takes in Jackson's Hole, and a lot uh country I know.” He parted his - mustache and spat carefully into the sand. “I'm willin' to tie to a man, - specially a young feller, that can play the game the way you been playin' - it, Bud. Most always,” he complained vaguely, “they carry their brand too - damn main. They either pull their hats down past their eyebrows and give - everybody the bad eye, or else they're too damn ready to lie about - themselves. You throw in with the boys just fine—but you ain't told - a one of 'em where you come from, ner why, ner nothin'.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm here because I'm here,” Bud chanted softly, his eyes stubborn even - while he smiled at Dirk. - </p> - <p> - “I know—yuh sung that the first night yuh come, and yuh looked - straight at the boss all the while you was singin' it,” Dirk interrupted, - and laughed slyly. “The boys, they took that all in, too. And Bart, he - wasn't asleep, neither. You sure are smooth as they make 'em, Bud. I - guess,” he leaned closer to predict confidentially, “you've just about - passed the probation time, young feller. If I know the signs, the boss is - gittin' ready to raise yuh.” - </p> - <p> - He looked at Bud rather sharply. Instantly the training of Buddy rose - within Bud. His memory flashed back unerringly to the day when he had - watched that Indian gallop toward the river, and had sneered because the - Indian evidently expected him to follow into the undergrowth. - </p> - <p> - Dirk Tracy did not in the least resemble an Indian, nor did his rambling - flattery bear any likeness to a fleeing enemy; yet it was plain enough - that he was trying in a bungling way to force Bud's confidence, and for - that reason Bud stared straight ahead and said nothing. - </p> - <p> - He did not remember having sung that particular ditty during his first - evening at the Muleshoe, nor of staring at the boss while he sung. He - might have done both, he reflected; he had sung one song after another for - about four hours that night, and unless he sang with his eyes shut he - would have to look somewhere. That it should be taken by the whole outfit - as a broad hint to ask no questions seemed to him rather farfetched. - </p> - <p> - Nor did he see why Dirk should compliment him on keeping his mouth shut, - or call him smooth. He did not know that he had been on probation, except - perhaps as that applied to his ability as a cow-hand. And he could see no - valid reason why the boss should contemplate “raising” him. So far, he had - been doing no more than the rest of the boys, except when there was roping - to be done and he and Stopper were called upon to distinguish themselves - by fast rope-work, with never a miss. Sixty dollars a month was as good - pay as he had any right to expect. - </p> - <p> - Dirk, he decided, had given him one good tip which he would follow at - once. Dirk had said that no man ever got into trouble by keeping his mouth - shut. Bud closed his for a good half hour, and when he opened it again he - undid all the good he had accomplished by his silence. - </p> - <p> - “Where does that trail go, that climbs up over the mountains back of that - peak?” he asked. “Seems to be a stock trail. Have you got grazing land - beyond the mountains?” - </p> - <p> - Dirk took time to pry off a fresh chew of tobacco before he replied. “You - mean Thunder Pass? That there crosses over into the Black Rim country. - Yeah—There's a big wide range country over there, but we don't run - any stock on it. Burroback Valley's big enough for the Muleshoe.” - </p> - <p> - Bud rolled a cigarette. “I didn't mean that main trail; that's a wagon - road, and Thunder Pass cuts through between Sheepeater peak and this one - ahead of us—Gospel, you call it. What I referred to is that blind - trail that takes off up the canyon behind the corrals, and crosses into - the mountains the other side of Gospel.” - </p> - <p> - Dirk eyed him. “I dunno 's I could say, right offhand, what trail yuh - mean,” he parried. “Every canyon 's got a trail that runs up a ways, and - there's canyons all through the mountains; they all lead up to water, or - feed, or something like that, and then quit, most gen'rally; jest peter - out, like.” And he added with heavy sarcasm, “A feller that's lived on the - range oughta know what trails is for, and how they're made. Cowcritters - are curious-same as humans.” - </p> - <p> - To this Bud did not reply. He was smoking and staring at the brushy lower - slopes of the mountain ridge before them. He had explained quite fully - which trail he meant. It was, as he had said, a “blind” trail; that is, - the trail lost itself in the creek which watered a string of corrals. - Moreover, Bud had very keen eyes, and he had seen how a panel of the - corral directly across the shale-rock bed of a small stream was really a - set of bars. The round pole corral lent itself easily to hidden gateways, - without any deliberate attempt at disguising their presence. - </p> - <p> - The string of four corrals running from this upper one—which, he - remembered, was not seen from nearer the stables-was perhaps a convenient - arrangement in the handling of stock, although it was unusual. The upper - corral had been built to fit snugly into a rocky recess in the base of the - peak called Gospel. It was larger than some of the others, since it - followed the contour of the basin-like recess. Access to it was had from - the fourth corral (which from the ranch appeared to be the last) and from - the creekbed that filled the narrow mouth of the canyon behind. - </p> - <p> - Dirk might not have understood him, Bud thought. He certainly should have - recognized at once the trail Bud meant, for there was no other canyon back - of the corrals, and even that one was not apparent to one looking at the - face of the steep slope. Stock had been over that canyon trail within the - last month or so, however; and Bud's inference that the Muleshoe must have - grazing ground across the mountains was natural; the obvious explanation - of its existence. - </p> - <p> - “How 'd you come to be explorin' around Gospel, anyway?” Dirk quizzed - finally. “A person'd think, short-handed as the Muleshoe is this spring, - 't you'd git all the ridin' yuh want without prognosticatin' around - aimless.” - </p> - <p> - Now Bud was not a suspicious young man, and he had been no more than - mildly inquisitive about that trail. But neither was he a fool; he caught - the emphasis which Dirk had placed on the word aimless, and his thoughts - paused and took another look at Dirk's whole conversation. There was - something queer about it, something which made Bud sheer off from his - usual unthinking assurance that things were just what they seemed. - </p> - <p> - Immediately, however, he laughed—at himself as well as at Dirk. - </p> - <p> - “We've been feeding on sour bread and warmed-over coffee ever since the - cook disappeared and Bart put Hen in the kitchen,” he said. “If I were - you, Dirk, I wouldn't blister my hands shovelling that grub into myself - for a while. You're bilious, old-timer. No man on earth would talk the way - you've been talking to-day unless his whole digestive apparatus were out - of order.” - </p> - <p> - Dirk spat angrily at a dead sage bush. “They shore as hell wouldn't talk - the kinda talk you've been talkie' unless they was a born fool or else - huntin' trouble,” he retorted venomously. - </p> - <p> - “The doctor said I'd be that way if I lived,” Bud grinned, amiably, - although his face had flushed at Dirk's tone. “He said it wouldn't hurt me - for work.” - </p> - <p> - “Yeah—and what kinda work?” Dirk rode so close that his horse - shouldered Bud's leg discomfortingly. “I been edgin' yuh along to see - what-f'r brand yuh carried. And I've got ye now, you damned snoopin' - kioty. Bart, he hired yuh to work-and not to go prowling around lookin' up - trails that ain't there—” - </p> - <p> - “You're a dim-brand reader, I don't think! Why you—!” - </p> - <p> - Oh, well—remember that Bud was only Buddy grown bigger, and he had - never lacked the spirit to look out for himself. Remember, too, that he - must have acquired something of a vocabulary, in the course of twenty-one - years of absorbing everything that came within his experience. - </p> - <p> - Dirk reached for his gun, but Bud was expecting that. Dirk was not quite - quick enough, and his hand therefore came forward with a jerk when he saw - that he was “covered.” Bud leaned, pulled Dirk's six-shooter from its - holster and sent it spinning into a clump of bushes. He snatched a - wicked-looking knife from Dirk's boot where he had once seen Dirk slip it - sheathed when he dressed in the bunk-house, and sent that after the gun. - </p> - <p> - “Now, you long-eared walrus, you're in a position to play fair. What are - you going to do about it?” He reined away, out of Dirk's reach, took his - handkerchief and wrapped his own gun tightly to protect it from sand, and - threw it after Dirk's gun and the knife. “Am I a snooping coyote?” he - demanded watching Dirk. - </p> - <p> - “You air. More 'n all that, you're a damned spy! And I kin lick yuh an' - lass' yuh an' lead yuh to Bart like a sheep!” - </p> - <p> - They dismounted, left their horses to stand with reins dropped, threw off - their coats and fought until they were too tired to land another blow. - There were no fatalities. Bud did not come out of the fray unscathed and - proudly conscious of his strength and his skill and the unquestionable - righteousness of his cause. Instead he had three bruised knuckles and a - rapidly swelling ear, and when his anger had cooled a little he felt - rather foolish and wondered what had started them off that way. They had - ridden away from the ranch in a very good humor, and he had harbored no - conscious dislike of Dirk Tracy, who had been one individual of a type of - rangemen which he had known all his life and had accepted as a matter of - course. - </p> - <p> - Dirk, on his part, had some trouble in stopping the bleeding of his nose, - and by the time he reached the ranch his left eye was closed completely. - He was taller and heavier than Bud, and he had not expected such a - slugging strength behind Bud's blows. - </p> - <p> - He was badly shaken, and when Bud recovered the two guns and the knife and - returned his weapons to him, Dirk was half tempted to shoot. But he did - not—perhaps because Bud had unwrapped his own six-shooter and was - looking it over with the muzzle slanting a wicked eye in Dirk's direction. - </p> - <p> - Late that afternoon, when the boys were loafing around the cabin waiting - for their early supper, Bud packed his worldly goods on Sunfish and - departed from the Muleshoe—“by special request”, he admitted to - himself ruefully—with his wages in gold and silver in his pocket and - no definite idea of what he would do next. - </p> - <p> - He wished he knew exactly why Bart had fired him. He did not believe that - it was for fighting, as Bart had declared. He thought that perhaps Dirk - Tracy had some hold on the Muleshoe not apparent to the outsider, and that - he had lied about him to Bart as a sneaking kind of revenge for being - whipped. But that explanation did not altogether satisfy him, either. - </p> - <p> - In his month at the Muleshoe he had gained a very fair general idea of the - extent and resources of Burroback Valley, but he had not made any - acquaintances and he did not know just where to go for his next job. So - for want of something better, he rode down to the little stream which he - now knew was called One Creek, and prepared to spend the night there. In - the morning he would make a fresh start—and because of the streak of - stubbornness he had, he meant to make it in Burroback Valley, under the - very nose of the Muleshoe outfit. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER NINE: LITTLE LOST - </h2> - <p> - Little Lost—somehow the name appealed to Bud, whose instinct for - harmony extended to words and phrases and, for that matter, to everything - in the world that was beautiful. From the time when he first heard Little - Lost mentioned, he had felt a vague regret that chance had not led him - there instead of to the Muleshoe. Brands he had heard all his life as the - familiar, colloquial names for ranch headquarters. The Muleshoe was merely - a brand name. Little Lost was something else, and because Buddy had been - taught to “wait and find out” and to ask questions only as a last resort, - Bud was still in ignorance of the meaning of Little Lost. He knew, from - careless remarks made in his presence, that the mail came to Little Lost, - and that there was some sort of store where certain everyday necessities - were kept, for which the store-keeper charged “two prices.” But there was - also a ranch, for he sometimes heard the boys mention the Little Lost - cattle, and speak of some man as a rider for the Little Lost. - </p> - <p> - So to Little Lost Bud rode blithely next morning, riding Stopper and - leading Smoky, Sunfish and the pack following as a matter of course. Again - his trained instinct served him faithfully. He had a very good general - idea of Burroback Valley, he knew that the Muleshoe occupied a fair part - of the south side, and guessed that he must ride north, toward the Gold - Gap Mountains, to find the place he wanted. - </p> - <p> - The trail was easy, his horses were as fat as was good for them. In two - hours of riding at his usual trail pace he came upon another stream which - he knew must be Sunk Creek grown a little wider and deeper in its journey - down the valley. He forded that with a great splashing, climbed the - farther bank, followed a stubby, rocky bit of road that wound through - dense willow and cottonwood growth, came out into a humpy meadow full of - ant hills, gopher holes and soggy wet places where the water grass grew, - crossed that and followed the road around a brushy ridge and found himself - squarely confronting Little Lost. - </p> - <p> - There could be no mistake, for “Little Lost Post Office” was unevenly - painted on the high cross-bar of the gate that stood wide open and - permanently warped with long sagging. There was a hitch-rail outside the - gate, and Bud took the hint and left his horses there. From the wisps of - fresh hay strewn along the road, Bud knew that haying had begun at Little - Lost. There were at least four cabins and a somewhat pretentious, - story-and-a-half log house with vines reaching vainly to the high window - sills, and coarse lace curtains. One of these curtains moved slightly, and - Bud's sharp eyes detected the movement and knew that his arrival was - observed in spite of the emptiness of the yard. - </p> - <p> - The beaten path led to a screen door which sagged with much slamming, - leaving a wide space at the top through which flies passed in and out - quite comfortably. Bud saw that, also, and his fingers itched to reset - that door, just as he would have done for his mother—supposing his - mother would have tolerated the slamming which had brought the need. Bud - lifted his gloved knuckles to knock, saw that the room within was grimy - and bare and meant for public use, very much like the office of a country - hotel, with a counter and a set of pigeon-holes at the farther end. He - walked in. - </p> - <p> - No one appeared, and after ten minutes or so Bud guessed why, and went - back to the door, pushed it wide open and permitted it to fly shut with a - bang. Whereupon a girl opened the door behind the counter and came in, - glancing at Bud with frank curiosity. - </p> - <p> - Bud took off his hat and clanked over to the counter and asked if there - was any mail for Bud Birnie—Robert Wallace Birnie. - </p> - <p> - The girl looked at him again and smiled, and turned to shuffle a handful - of letters. Bud employed the time in trying to guess just what she meant - by that smile. - </p> - <p> - It was not really a smile, he decided, but the beginning of one. And if - that were the beginning, he would very much like to know what the whole - smile would mean. The beginning hinted at things. It was as if she doubted - the reality of the name he gave, and meant to conceal her doubt, or had - heard something amusing about him, or wished to be friends with him, or - was secretly timorous and trying to appear merely indifferent. Or perhaps—— - </p> - <p> - She replaced the letters and turned, and rested her hands on the counter. - She looked at him and again her lips turned at the corners in that faint, - enigmatical beginning of a smile. - </p> - <p> - “There isn't a thing,” she said. “The mail comes this noon again. Do you - want yours sent out to any of the outfits? Or shall I just hold it?” - </p> - <p> - “Just hold it, when there is any. At least, until I see whether I land a - job here. I wonder where I could find the boss?” Bud was glancing often at - her hands. For a ranch girl her hands were soft and white, but her fingers - were a bit too stubby and her nails were too round and flat. - </p> - <p> - “Uncle Dave will be home at noon. He's out in the meadow with the boys. - You might sit down and wait.” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked at his watch. Sitting down and waiting for four hours did not - appeal to him, even supposing the girl would keep him company. But he - lingered awhile, leaning with his elbows on the counter near her; and by - those obscure little conversational trails known to youth, he progressed - considerably in his acquaintance with the girl and made her smile often - without once feeling quite certain that he knew what was in her mind. - </p> - <p> - He discovered that her name was Honora Krause, and that she was called - Honey “for short.” Her father had been Dutch and her mother a Yankee, and - she lived with her uncle, Dave Truman, who owned Little Lost ranch, and - took care of the mail for him, and attended to the store—which was - nothing more than a supply depot kept for the accommodation of the - neighbors. The store, she said, was in the next room. - </p> - <p> - Bud asked her what Little Lost meant, and she replied that she did not - know, but that it might have something to do with Sunk Creek losing itself - in The Sinks. There was a Little Lost river, farther across the mountains, - she said, but it did not run through Little Lost ranch, nor come anywhere - near it. - </p> - <p> - After that she questioned him adroitly. Perversely Bud declined to become - confidential, and Honey Krause changed the subject abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “There's going to be a dance here next Friday night. It'll be a good - chance to get acquainted with everybody—if you go. There'll be good - music, I guess. Uncle Dave wrote to Crater for the Saunders boys to come - down and play. Do you know anybody in Crater?” - </p> - <p> - The question was innocent enough, but perverseness still held Bud. He - smiled and said he did not know anybody anywhere, any more. He said that - if Bobbie Burns had asked him “Should auld acquaintance be forgot,” he'd - have told him yes, and he'd have made it good and strong. But he added - that he was just as willing to make new acquaintance, and thought the - dance would be a good place to begin. - </p> - <p> - Honey gave him a provocative glance from under her lashes, and Bud - straightened and stepped back. - </p> - <p> - “You let folks stop here, I take it. I've a pack outfit and a couple of - saddle horses with me. Will it be all right to turn them in the corral? I - hate to have them eat post hay all day. Or I could perhaps go back to the - creek and camp.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, just turn your horses in the corral and make yourself at home till - uncle comes,” she told him with that tantalizing half-smile. “We keep - people here—just for accommodation. There has to be some place in - the valley where folks can stop. I can't promise that uncle will give you - a job, but There's going to be chicken and dumplings for dinner. And the - mail will be in, about noon—you'll want to wait for that.” - </p> - <p> - She was standing just within the screen door, frankly watching him as he - came past the house with the horses, and she came out and halted him when - she spied the top of the pack. - </p> - <p> - “You'd better leave those things here,” she advised him eagerly. “I'll put - them in the sitting-room by the piano. My goodness, you must be a whole - orchestra! If you can play, maybe you and I can furnish the music for the - dance, and save Uncle Dave hiring the Saunders boys. Anyway, we can play - together, and have real good times.” - </p> - <p> - Bud had an odd feeling that Honey was talking one thing with her lips, and - thinking an entirely different set of thoughts. He eyed her covertly while - he untied the cases, and he could have sworn that he saw her signal - someone behind the lace curtains of the nearest window. He glanced - carelessly that way, but the curtains were motionless. Honey was holding - out her hands for the guitar and the mandolin when he turned, so Bud - surrendered them and went on to the corrals. - </p> - <p> - He did not return to the house. An old man was pottering around a machine - shed that stood backed against a thick fringe of brush, and when Bud rode - by he left his work and came after him, taking short steps and walking - with his back bent stiffly forward and his hands swinging limply at his - sides. - </p> - <p> - He had a long black beard streaked with gray, and sharp blue eyes set deep - under tufted white eyebrows. He seemed a friendly old man whose interest - in life remained keen as in his youth, despite the feebleness of his body. - He showed Bud where to turn the horses, and went to work on the pack rope, - his crooked old fingers moving with the sureness of lifelong habit. He was - eager to know all the news that Bud could tell him, and when he discovered - that Bud had just left the Muleshoe, and that he had been fired because of - a fight with Dirk Tracy, the old fellow cackled gleefully, - </p> - <p> - “Well, now, I guess you just about had yore hands full, young man,” he - commented shrewdly. “Dirk ain't so easy to lick.” - </p> - <p> - Bud immediately wanted to know why it was taken for granted that he had - whipped Dirk, and grandpa chortled again. “Now if you hadn't of licked - Dirk, you wouldn't of got fired,” he retorted, and proceeded to relate a - good deal of harmless gossip which seemed to bear out the statement. Dirk - Tracy, according to grandpa, was the real boss of the Muleshoe, and Bart - was merely a figure-head. - </p> - <p> - All of this did not matter to Bud, but grandpa was garrulous. A good deal - of information Bud received while the two attended to the horses and - loitered at the corral gate. - </p> - <p> - Grandpa admired Smoky, and looked him over carefully, with those caressing - smoothings of mane and forelock which betray the lover of good horseflesh. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon he's purty fast,” he said, peering shrewdly into Bud's face. - “The boys has been talking about pulling off some horse races here next - Sunday—we got a good, straight, hard-packed creek-bed up here a - piece that has been cleaned of rocks fer a mile track, and they're goin' - to run a horse er two. Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack. - You might git in on it, if you're around in these parts.” He pushed his - back straight with his palms, turned his head sidewise and squinted at - Smoky through half-closed lids while he fumbled for cigarette material. - </p> - <p> - “I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars on that horse - myself,” he observed, “if you say he kin run. You wouldn't go an' lie to - an old feller like me, would yuh, son?” - </p> - <p> - Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled. “No, I won't lie to you, - dad,” he grinned. “You know horses too well.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, but kin he run? I want yore word on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow,” Bud admitted cautiously. - </p> - <p> - “Ever run him fer money?” The old man began teetering from his toes to his - heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and back. - </p> - <p> - “Well, no, not for money. I've run him once or twice for fun, just trying - to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe.” - </p> - <p> - “Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!” The old man spat angrily into - the dust of the corral. Then he thought of something. “Did yuh BEAT 'em?” - he demanded sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sure, I beat them!” Bud looked at him surprised, seemed about to say - more, and let the statement stand unqualified. - </p> - <p> - Grandpa stared at him for a minute, his blue eyes blinking with some - secret excitement. “Young feller,” he began abruptly, “lemme tell yuh - something. Yuh never want to do a thing like that agin. If you got a horse - that can outrun the other feller's horse, figure to make him bring yuh in - something—if it ain't no more'n a quarter! Make him BRING yuh a - little something. That's the way to do with everything yuh turn a hand to; - make it bring yuh in something! It ain't what goes out that'll do yuh any - good—it's what comes in. You mind that. If you let a horse run agin' - another feller's horse, bet on him to come in ahead—and then,” he - cried fiercely, pounding one fist into the other palm, “by Christmas, make - 'im come in ahead!” His voice cracked and went flat with emotion. - </p> - <p> - He stopped suddenly and let his arms fall slack, his shoulders sag - forward. He waggled his head and muttered into his beard, and glanced at - Bud with a crafty look. - </p> - <p> - “If I'da took that to m'self, I wouldn't be chorin' around here now for my - own son,” he lamented. “I'd of saved the quarters, an' I'd of had a few - dollars now of my own. Uh course,” he made haste to add, “I git holt of a - little, now and agin. Too old to ride—too old to work—jest - manage to pick up a dollar er two now and agin—on a horse that kin - run.” - </p> - <p> - He went over to Smoky again and ran his hand down over the leg muscles to - the hocks, felt for imperfections and straightened painfully, slapped the - horse approvingly between the forelegs and laid a hand on his shoulder - while he turned slowly to Bud. - </p> - <p> - “Young feller, there ain't a man on the place right now but you an' me. - What say you throw yore saddle on this horse and take 'im up to the track? - I'd like to see him run. Seems to me he'd ought to be a purty good - quarter-horse.” - </p> - <p> - Bud hesitated. “I wouldn't mind running him, grandpa, if I thought I could - make something on him. I've got my stake to make, and I want to make it - before all my teeth fall out so I can't chew anything but the cud of - reflection on my lost opportunities. If Smoky can run a few dollars into - my pocket, I'm with you.” - </p> - <p> - Grandpa teetered forward and put out his hand. “Shake on that, boy!” he - cackled. “Pop Truman ain't too old to have his little joke—and make - it bring him in something, by Christmas! You saddle up and we'll go try - him out on a quarter-mile—mebby a half, if he holds up good.” - </p> - <p> - He poked a cigarette-stained forefinger against Bud's chest and whispered - slyly: “My son Dave, he 's got a horse in the stable that's been cleanin' - everything in the valley. I'll slip him out and up the creektrail to the - track, and you run that horse of yourn agin him. Dave, he can't git a race - outa nobody around here, no more, so he won't run next Sunday. We'll jest - see how yore horse runs alongside Boise. I kin tell purty well how you kin - run agin the rest—Pop, he ain't s' thick-headed they kin fool him - much. What say we try it?” - </p> - <p> - Bud stood back and looked him over. “You shook hands with me on it,” he - said gravely. “Where I came from, that holds a man like taking oath on a - Bible in court. I'm a stranger here, but I'm going to expect the same - standard of honor, grandpa. You can back out now, and I'll run Smoky - without any tryout, and you can take your chance. I couldn't expect you to - stand by a stranger against your own folks—” - </p> - <p> - “Sho! Shucks a'mighty!” Grandpa spat and wagged his head furiously. “My - own forks'd beat me in a horse race if they could, and I wouldn't hold it - agin 'em! Runnin' horses is like playin' poker. Every feller fer himself - an' mercy to-ward none! I knowed what it meant when I shook with yuh, - young feller, and I hold ye to it. I hold ye to it! You lay low if I tell - ye to lay low, and we'll make us a few dollars, mebby. C'm on and git that - horse outa here b'fore somebuddy comes. It's mail day.” - </p> - <p> - He waved Bud toward his saddle and took himself off in a shuffling kind of - trot. By the time Bud had saddled Smoky grandpa hailed him cautiously from - the brush-fringe beyond the corral. He motioned toward a small gate and - Bud led Smoky that way, closing the gate after him. - </p> - <p> - The old man was mounted on a clean-built bay whose coat shone with little - glints of gold in the dark red. With one sweeping look Bud observed the - points that told of speed, and his eyes went inquiringly to meet the sharp - blue ones, that sparkled under the tufted white eyebrows of grandpa. - </p> - <p> - “Do you expect Smoky to show up the same day that horse arrives?” he - inquired mildly. “Pop, you'll have to prove to me that he won't run Sunday—” - </p> - <p> - Pop snorted. “Seems to me like you do know a speedy horse when you see - one, young feller. Beats me't you been overlookin' what you got under yore - saddle right now. Boise, he's the best runnin' horse in the valley—and - that's why he won't run next Sunday, ner no other Sunday till somebuddy - brings in a strange horse to put agin him. Dave, he won't crowd ye fur a - race, boy. You kin refuse to run yore horse agin him, like the rest has - done. I'll jest lope along t'day and see what yours kin do.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all right, then.” Bud waited for the old man to ride ahead down the - obscure trail that wound through the brush for half a mile or so before - they emerged into the rough border of the creek bed. Pop reined in close - and explained garrulously to Bud how this particular stream disappeared - into the ground two miles above Little Lost, leaving the wide, level river - bottom bone dry. - </p> - <p> - Pop was cautious. He rode up to a rise of ground and scanned the country - suspiciously before he led the way into the creek bed. Even then he kept - close under the bank until they had passed two of the quarter-mile posts - that had been planted in the hard sand. - </p> - <p> - Evidently he had been doing a good deal of thinking during the ride; - certainly he had watched Smoky. When he stopped under the bank opposite - the half-mile post he dismounted more spryly than one would have expected. - His eyes were bright, his voice sharp. Pop was forgetting his age. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I'll ride yore horse m'self,” he announced, and they exchanged - horses under the shelter of the bank. “You kin take an' ride Boise-an' I - want you should beat me if you kin.” He looked at Bud appraisingly. “I'll - bet a dollar,” he cried suddenly, “that I kin outrun ye, young feller! An' - you got the fastest horse in Burroback Valley and I don't know what I got - under me. I'm seventy years old come September—when I'm afoot. Are - ye afraid to bet?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm scared a dollar's worth that I'll never see you again to-day unless I - ride back to find you,” Bud grinned. - </p> - <p> - “Any time you lose ole Pop Truman—shucks almighty! Come on, then—I'll - show ye the way to the quarter-post!” - </p> - <p> - “I'm right with you, Pop. You say so, and I'm gone!” - </p> - <p> - They reined in with the shadow of the post falling square across the necks - of both horses. Pop gathered up the reins, set his feet in the stirrups - and shrilled, “Go, gol darn ye!” - </p> - <p> - They went, like two scared rabbits down the smooth, yellow stretch of - packed sand. Pop's elbows stuck straight out, he held the reins high and - leaned far over Smoky's neck, his eyes glaring. Bud—oh, never worry - about Bud! In the years that lay between thirteen and twenty-one Bud had - learned a good many things, and one of them was how to get out of a horse - all the speed there was in him. - </p> - <p> - They went past the quarter-post and a furlong beyond before either could - pull up. Pop was pale and triumphant, and breathing harder than his mount. - </p> - <p> - “Here 's your dollar, Pop—and don't you talk in your sleep!” Bud - admonished, smiling as he held out the dollar, but with an anxious tone in - his voice. “If this is the best running horse you've got in the valley, I - may get some action, next Sunday!” - </p> - <p> - Pop dismounted, took the dollar with a grin and mounted Boise—and - that in spite of the fact that Boise was keyed up and stepping around and - snorting for another race. Bud watched Pop queerly, remembering how feeble - had been the old man whom he had met at the corral. - </p> - <p> - “Say, Pop, you ought to race a little every day,” he bantered. “You're - fifteen years younger than you were an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - For answer Pop felt of his back and groaned. “Oh, I'll pay fer it, young - feller! I don't look fer much peace with my back fer a week, after this. - But you kin make sure of one thing, and that is, I ain't goin' to talk in - my sleep none. By Christmas, We'll make this horse of yours bring us in - something! I guess you better turn yore horses all out in the pasture. - Dave, he'll give yuh work all right. I'll fix it with Dave. And you listen - to Pop, young feller. I'll show ye a thing or two about runnin' horses. - You'n me'll clean up a nice little bunch of money-HE-HE!-beat Boise in a - quarter dash! Tell that to Dave, an' he wouldn't b'lieve ye!” - </p> - <p> - When Pop got off at the back of the stable he could scarcely move, he was - so stiff. But his mind was working well enough to see that Bud rubbed the - saddle print off Boise and turned his own horses loose in the pasture, - before he let him go on to the house. The last Bud heard from Pop that - forenoon was a senile chuckle and a cackling, “Outrun Boise in a quarter - dash! Shucks a'mighty! But I knew it—I knew he had the speed—sho! - Ye can't fool ole Pop—shucks!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER TEN: BUD MEETS THE WOMAN - </h2> - <p> - A woman was stooping at the woodpile, filling her arms with crooked sticks - of rough-barked sage. From the color of her hair Bud knew that she was not - Honey, and that she was therefore a stranger to him. But he swung off the - path and went over to her as naturally as he would go to pick up a baby - that had fallen. - </p> - <p> - “I'll carry that in for you,” he said, and put out his hand to help her to - her feet. - </p> - <p> - Before he touched her she was on her feet and looking at him. Bud could - not remember afterwards that she had done anything else; he seemed to have - seen only her eyes, and into them and beyond them to a soul that somehow - made his heart tremble. - </p> - <p> - What she said, what he answered, was of no moment. He could not have told - afterwards what it was. He stooped and filled his arms with wood, and - walked ahead of her up the pathway to the kitchen door, and stopped when - she flitted past him to show him where the wood-box stood. He was - conscious then of her slenderness and of the lightness of her steps. He - dropped the wood into the box behind the stove on which kettles were - steaming. There was the smell of chicken stewing, and the odor of - fresh-baked pies. - </p> - <p> - She smiled up at him and offered him a crisp, warn cookie with sugared - top, and he saw her eyes again and felt the same tremor at his heart. He - pulled himself together and smiled back at her, thanked her and went out, - stumbling a little on the doorstep, the cookie untasted in his fingers. - </p> - <p> - He walked down to the corral and began fumbling at his pack, his thoughts - hushed before the revelation that had come to him. - </p> - <p> - “Her hands—her poor, little, red hands!” he said in a whisper as the - memory of them came suddenly. But it was her eyes that he was seeing with - his mind; her eyes, and what lay deep within. They troubled him, shook - him, made him want to use his man-strength against something that was - hurting her. He did not know what it could be; he did not know that there - was anything—but oddly the memory of his mother's white face back in - the long ago, and of her tone when she said, “Oh, God, please!” came back - and fitted themselves to the look in this woman's eyes. - </p> - <p> - Bud sat down on his canvas-wrapped bed and lifted his hat to rumple his - hair and then smooth it again, as was his habit when worried. He looked at - the cookie, and because he was hungry he ate it with a foolish feeling - that he was being sentimental as the very devil, thinking how her hands - had touched it. He rolled and smoked a cigarette afterwards, and wondered - who she was and whether she was married, and what her first name was. - </p> - <p> - A quiet smoke will bring a fellow to his senses sometimes when nothing - else will, and Bud managed, by smoking two cigarettes in rapid succession, - to restore himself to some degree of sanity. - </p> - <p> - “Funny how she made me think of mother, back when I was a kid coming up - from Texas,” he mused. “Mother'd like her.” It was the first time he had - ever thought just that about a girl. “She's no relation to Honey,” he - added. “I'd bet a horse on that.” He recalled how white and soft were - Honey's hands, and he swore a little. “Wouldn't hurt her to get out there - in the kitchen and help with the cooking,” he criticised. Then suddenly he - laughed. “Shucks a'mighty, as Pop says! with those two girls on the ranch - I'll gamble Dave Truman has a full crew of men that are plumb willing to - work for their board!” - </p> - <p> - The stage came, and Bud turned to it relievedly. After that, here came - Dave Truman on a deep-cheated roan. Bud knew him by his resemblance to the - old man, who came shuffling bent-backed from the machine-shed as Dave - passed. - </p> - <p> - Pop beckoned, and Dave reined his horse that way and stopped at the shed - door. The two talked for a minute and Dave rode on, passing Bud with a - curt nod. Pop came over to where Bud stood leaning against the corral. - </p> - <p> - “How are you feeling, dad?” Bud grinned absently. - </p> - <p> - “Purty stiff an' sore, boy—my rheumatics is bad to-day.” Pop winked - solemnly. “I spoke to Dave about you wantin' a job, and I guess likely - Dave'll put you on. They's plenty to do—hayin' comin' on and all - that.” He lowered his voice mysteriously, though there was no man save Bud - within a hundred feet of him. “Don't ye go 'n talk horses—not yet. - Don't let on like yore interested much. I'll tell yuh when to take 'em - up.” - </p> - <p> - The men came riding in from the hayfield, some in wagons, two astride - harnessed work-horses, and one long-legged fellow in chaps on a mower, - driving a sweaty team that still had life enough to jump sidewise when - they spied Bud's pack by the corral. The stage driver sauntered up and - spoke to the men. Bud went over and began to help unhitch the team from - the mower, and the driver eyed him sharply while he grinned his greeting - across the backs of the horses. - </p> - <p> - “Pop says you're looking for work,” Dave Truman observed, coming up. - “Well, if you ain't scared of it, I'll stake yuh to a hayfork after - dinner. Where yuh from?” - </p> - <p> - “Just right now, I'm from the Muleshoe. Bud Birnie's my name. I was - telling dad why I quit.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me,” Dave directed briefly. “Pop ain't as reliable as he used to be. - He'd never get it out straight.” - </p> - <p> - “I quit,” said Bud, “by special request.” He pulled off his gloves - carefully and held up his puffed knuckles. “I got that on Dirk Tracy.” - </p> - <p> - The driver of the mower shot a quick, meaning glance at Dave, and laughed - shortly. Dave grinned a little, but he did not ask what had been the - trouble, as Bud had half expected him to do. Apparently Dave felt that he - had received all the information he needed, for his next remark had to do - with the heat. The day was a “weather breeder”, he declared, and he was - glad to have another man to put at the hauling. - </p> - <p> - An iron triangle beside the kitchen door clamored then, and Bud, looking - quickly, saw the slim little woman with the big, troubled eyes striking - the iron bar vigorously. Dave glanced at his watch and led the way to the - house, the hay crew hurrying after him. - </p> - <p> - Fourteen men sat down to a long table with a great shuffling of feet and - scraping of benches, and immediately began a voracious attack upon the - heaped platters of chicken and dumplings and the bowls of vegetables. Bud - found a place at the end where he could look into the kitchen, and his - eyes went that way as often as they dared, following the swift motions of - the little woman who poured coffee and filled empty dishes and said never - a word to anyone. - </p> - <p> - He was on the point of believing her a daughter of the house when a - square-jawed man of thirty, or thereabout, who sat at Bud's right hand, - called her to him as he might have called his dog, by snapping his - fingers. - </p> - <p> - She came and stood beside Bud while the man spoke to her in an arrogant - undertone. - </p> - <p> - “Marian, I told yuh I wanted tea for dinner after this. D'you bring me - coffee on purpose, just to be onery? I thought I told yuh to straighten up - and quit that sulkin'. I ain't going to have folks think——” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, be quiet! Shame on you, before everyone!” she whispered fiercely - while she lifted the cup and saucer. - </p> - <p> - Bud went hot all over. He did not look up when she returned presently with - a cup of tea, but he felt her presence poignantly, as he had never before - sensed the presence of a woman. When he was able to swallow his wrath and - meet calmly the glances of these strangers he turned his head casually and - looked the man over. - </p> - <p> - Her husband, he guessed the fellow to be. No other relationship could - account for that tone of proprietorship, and there was no physical - resemblance between the two. A mean devil, Bud called him mentally, with a - narrow forehead, eyes set too far apart and the mouth of a brute. Someone - spoke to the man, calling him Lew, and he answered with rough good humor, - repeating a stale witticism and laughing at it just as though he had not - heard others say it a hundred times. - </p> - <p> - Bud looked at him again and hated him, but he did not glance again at the - little woman named Marian; for his own peace of mind he did not dare. He - thought that he knew now what it was he had seen in the depth of her eyes, - but there seemed to be nothing that he could do to help. - </p> - <p> - That evening after supper Honey Krause called to him when he was starting - down to the bunk-house with the other men. What she said was that she - still had his guitar and mandolin, and that they needed exercise. What she - looked was the challenge of a born coquette. In the kitchen dishes were - rattling, but after they were washed there would be a little leisure, - perhaps, for the kitchen drudge. Bud's impulse to make his sore hands an - excuse for refusing evaporated. It might not be wise to place himself - deliberately in the way of getting a hurt—but youth never did stop - to consult a sage before following the lure of a woman's eyes. - </p> - <p> - He called back to Honey that those instruments ought to have been put in - the hayfield, where there was more exercise than the men could use. “You - boys ought to come and see me safe through with it,” he added to the - loitering group around him. “I'm afraid of women.” - </p> - <p> - They laughed and two or three went with him. Lew went on to the corral and - presently appeared on horseback, riding up to the kitchen and leaving his - horse standing at the corner while he went inside and talked to the woman - he had called Marian. - </p> - <p> - Bud was carrying his guitar outside, where it was cooler, when he heard - the fellow's arrogant voice. The dishes ceased rattling for a minute, and - there was a sharp exclamation, stifled but unmistakable. Involuntarily Bud - made a movement in that direction, when Honey's voice stopped him with a - subdued laugh. - </p> - <p> - “That's only Lew and Mary Ann,” she explained carelessly. “They have a - spat every time they come within gunshot of each other.” - </p> - <p> - The lean fellow who had driven the mower, and whose name was Jerry Myers, - edged carelessly close to Bud and gave him a nudge with his elbow, and a - glance from under his eyebrows by way of emphasis. He turned his head - slightly, saw that Honey had gone into the house, and muttered just above - a whisper, “Don't see or hear anything. It's all the help you can give - her. And for Lord's sake don't let on to Honey like you—give a cuss - whether it rains or not, so long 's it don't pour too hard the night of - the dance.” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked up at the darkening sky speculatively, and tried not to hear - the voices in the kitchen, one of which was brutally harsh while the other - told of hate and fear suppressed under gentle forbearance. The harsh voice - was almost continuous, the other infrequent, reluctant to speak at all. - Bud wanted to go in and smash his guitar over the fellow's head, but - Jerry's warning held him. There were other ways, however, to help; if he - must not drive off the tormentor, then he would call him away. He ignored - his bruised knuckles and plucked the guitar strings as if he held a grudge - against them, and then began to sing the first song that came into his - mind—one that started in a rollicky fashion. - </p> - <p> - Men came straggling up from the bunk-house before he had finished the - first chorus, and squatted on their heels to listen, their cigarettes - glowing like red fingertips in the dusk. But the voice in the kitchen - talked on. Bud tried another—one of those old-time favorites, a - “laughing coon” song, though he felt little enough in the mood for it. In - the middle of the first laugh he heard the kitchen door slam, and Lew's - footsteps coming around the corner. He listened until the song was done, - then mounted and rode away, Bud's laugh following him triumphantly—though - Lew could not have guessed its meaning. - </p> - <p> - Bud sang for two hours expectantly, but Marian did not appear, and Bud - went off to the bunk-house feeling that his attempt to hearten her had - been a failure. Of Honey he did not think at all, except to wonder if the - two women were related in any way, and to feel that if they were Marian - was to be pitied. At that point Jerry overtook him and asked for a match, - which gave him an excuse to hold Bud behind the others. - </p> - <p> - “Honey like to have caught me, to-night,” Jerry observed guardedly. “I had - to think quick. I'll tell you the lay of the land, Bud, seeing you're a - stranger here. Marian's man, Lew, he's a damned bully and somebody is - going to draw a fine bead on him some day when he ain't looking. But he - stands in, so the less yuh take notice the better. Marian, she's a fine - little woman that minds her own business, but she's getting a cold deck - slipped into the game right along. Honey's jealous of her and afraid - somebody'll give her a pleasant look. Lew's jealous, and he watches her - like a cat watches a mouse it's caught and wants to play with. Between the - two of 'em Marian has a real nice time of it. I'm wising you up so you - won't hand her any more misery by trying to take her part. Us boys have - learned to keep our mouths shut.” - </p> - <p> - “Glad you told me,” Bud muttered. “Otherwise——” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly,” Jerry agreed understandingly. “Otherwise any of us would.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped and then spoke in a different tone. “If Lew stays off the ranch - long enough, maybe you'll get to hear her sing. Wow-ee, but that lady has - sure got the meadow-larks whipped! But look out for Honey, old-timer.” - </p> - <p> - Bud laughed unmirthfully. “Looks to me as if you aren't crazy over Honey,” - he ventured. “What has she done to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Her?” Jerry inspected his cigarette, listened to the whisper of prudence - in his ear, and turned away. “Forget it. I never said a word.” He swept - the whole subject from him with a comprehensive gesture, and snorted. “I'm - gettin' as bad as Pop,” he grinned. “But lemme tell yuh something. Honey - Krause runs more 'n the post-office.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER ELEVEN: GUILE AGAINST THE WILY - </h2> - <p> - Bud liked to have his life run along accustomed lines with a more or less - perfect balance of work and play, friendships and enmities. He had grown - up with the belief that any mystery is merely a synonym for menace. He had - learned to be wary of known enemies such as Indians and outlaws, and to - trust implicitly his friends. To feel now, without apparent cause, that - his friends might be enemies in disguise, was a new experience that - harried him. - </p> - <p> - He had come to Little Lost on Tuesday, straight from the Muleshoe where - his presence was no longer desired for some reason not yet satisfactorily - explained to him. You know what happened on Tuesday. That night the land - crouched under a terrific electric storm, with crackling swords of white - death dazzling from inky black clouds, and ear-splitting thunder close on - the heels of it. Bud had known such storms all his life, yet on this night - he was uneasy, vaguely disturbed. He caught himself wondering if Lew - Morris's wife was frightened, and the realization that he was worrying - about her fear worried him more than ever and held him awake long after - the fury of the storm had passed. - </p> - <p> - Next day, when he came in at noon, there was Hen, from the Muleshoe, - waiting for dinner before he rode back with the mail. Hen's jaw dropped - when he saw Bud riding on a Little Lost hay-wagon, and his eyes bulged - with what Bud believed was consternation. All through the meal Bud had - caught Hen eyeing him miserably, and looking stealthily from him to the - others. No one paid any attention, and for that Bud was rather thankful; - he did not want the Little Lost fellows to think that perhaps he had done - something which he knew would hang him if it were discovered, which, he - decided, was the mildest interpretation a keen observer would be apt to - make of Hen's behavior. - </p> - <p> - When he went out, Hen was at his heels, trying to say something in his - futile, tongue-tied gobble. Bud stopped and looked at him tolerantly. - “Hen, It's no use—you might as well be talking Chinese, for all I - know. If it's important, write it down or I'll never know what's on your - mind.” - </p> - <p> - He pulled a note-book and a pencil from his vest-pocket and gave them to - Hen, who looked at him dumbly, worked his Adam's apple violently and - retreated to his horse, fumbled the mail which was tied in the bottom of a - flour sack for safe keeping, sought a sheltered place where he could sit - down, remained there a few minutes, and then returned to his horse He - beckoned to Bud, who was watching him curiously; and when Bud went over to - him said something unintelligible and handed back the note-book, motioning - for caution when Bud would have opened the book at once. - </p> - <p> - So Bud thanked him gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes, and waited - until Hen had gone and he was alone before he read the message. It was - mysterious enough, certainly. Hen had written in a fine, cramped, uneven - hand: - </p> - <p> - “You bee carful. bern this up and dent let on like you no anything but i - warn you be shure bern this up.” - </p> - <p> - Bud tore out the page and burned it as requested, and since he was not - enlightened by the warning he obeyed Hen's instructions and did not “let - on.” But he could not help wondering, and was unconsciously prepared to - observe little things which ordinarily would have passed unnoticed. - </p> - <p> - At the dance on Friday night, for instance, there was a good deal of - drinking and mighty little hilarity. Bud had been accustomed to loud talk - and much horseplay outside among the men on such occasions, and even a - fight or two would be accepted as a matter of course. But though several - quart bottles were passed around during the night and thrown away empty - into the bushes, the men went in and danced and came out again immediately - to converse confidentially in small groups, or to smoke without much - speech. The men of Burroback Valley were not running true to form. - </p> - <p> - The women were much like all the women of cow-country: mothers with small - children who early became cross and sleepy and were hushed under shawls on - the most convenient bed, a piece of cake in their hands; mothers whose - faces were lined too soon with work and ill-health, and with untidy hair - that became untidier as the dance progressed. There were daughters—shy - and giggling to hide their shyness—Bud knew their type very well and - made friends with them easily, and immediately became the centre of a - clamoring audience after he had sung a song or two. - </p> - <p> - There was Honey, with her inscrutable half smile and her veiled eyes, - condescending to graciousness and quite plainly assuming a proprietary air - toward Bud, whom she put through whatever musical paces pleased her fancy. - Bud, I may say, was extremely tractable. When Honey said sing, Bud sang; - when she said play, Bud sat down to the piano and played until she asked - him to do something else. It was all very pleasant for Honey—and Bud - ultimately won his point—Honey decided to extend her graciousness a - little. - </p> - <p> - Why hadn't Bud danced with Marian? He must go right away and ask her to - dance. Just because Lew was gone, Marian need not be slighted—and - besides, there were other fellows who might want a little of Honey's time. - </p> - <p> - So Bud went away and found Marian in the pantry, cutting cakes while the - coffee boiled, and asked her to dance. Marian was too tired, and' she had - not the time to spare; wherefore Bud helped himself to a knife and - proceeded to cut cakes with geometrical precision, and ate all the crumbs. - With his hands busy, he found the courage to talk to her a little. He made - Marian laugh out loud and it was the first time he had ever heard her do - that. - </p> - <p> - Marian disclosed a sense of humor, and even teased Bud a little about - Honey. But her teasing lacked that edge of bitterness which Bud had half - expected in retaliation for Honey's little air of superiority. - </p> - <p> - “Your precision in cutting cakes is very much like your accurate fingering - of the piano,” she observed irrelevantly, surveying his work with her lips - pursed. “A pair of calipers would prove every piece exactly, the same - width; and even when you play a Meditation? I'm sure the metronome would - waggle in perfect unison with your tempo. I wonder—” She glanced up - at him speculatively. “—I wonder if you think with such mathematical - precision. Do you always find that two and two make four?” - </p> - <p> - “You mean, have I any imagination whatever?” Bud looked away from her eyes—toward - the uncurtained, high little window. A face appeared there, as if a tall - man had glanced in as he was passing by and halted for a second to look. - Bud's eyes met full the eyes of the man outside, who tilted his head - backward in a significant movement and passed on. Marian turned her head - and caught the signal, looked at Bud quickly, a little flush creeping into - her cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you have a little imagination,” she said, lowering her voice - instinctively. “It doesn't require much to see that Jerry is right. The - conventions are strictly observed at Little Lost—in the kitchen, at - least,” she added, under her breath, with a flash of resentment. “Run - along—and the next time Honey asks you to play the piano, will you - please play Lotusblume? And when you have thrown open the prison windows - with that, will you play Schubert's Ave Maria—the way you play it—to - send a breath of cool night air in?” - </p> - <p> - She put out the tips of her fingers and pressed them lightly against Bud's - shoulder, turning toward the door. Bud started, stepped into the kitchen, - wheeled about and stood regarding her with a stubborn look in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I might kick the door down, too,” he said. “I don't like prisons nohow.” - </p> - <p> - “No-just a window, thank you,” she laughed. - </p> - <p> - Bud thought the laugh did not go very deep. “Jerry wants to talk to you. - He's the whitest of the lot, if you can call that—” she stopped - abruptly, put out a hand to the door, gave him a moment to look into her - deep, troubled eyes, and closed the door gently but inexorably in his - face. - </p> - <p> - Jerry was standing at the corner of the house smoking negligently. He - waited until Bud had come close alongside him, then led the way slowly - down the path to the corrals. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I heard the horses fighting,” he remarked. “There was a noise - down this way.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that why you called me outside?” asked Bud, who scorned subterfuge. - </p> - <p> - “Yeah. I saw you wasn't dancing or singing or playing the piano—and - I knew Honey'd likely be looking you up to do one or the other, in a - minute. She sure likes you, Bud. She don't, everybody that comes along.” - </p> - <p> - Bud did not want to discuss Honey, wherefore he made no reply, and they - walked along in silence, the cool, heavy darkness grateful after the oil - lamps and the heat of crowded rooms. As they neared the corrals a stable - door creaked open and shut, yet there was no wind. Jerry halted, one hand - going to Bud's arm. They stood for a minute, and heard the swish of the - bushes behind the corral, as if a horse were passing through. Jerry turned - back, leading Bud by the arm. They were fifty feet away and the bushes - were still again before Jerry spoke guardedly. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I made a mistake. There wasn't nothing,” he said, and dropped - Bud's arm. - </p> - <p> - Bud stopped. “There was a man riding off in the brush,” he said bluntly, - “and all the folks that came to the dance rode in through the front gate. - I reckon I'll just take a look where I left my saddle, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - “That might have been some loose stock,” Jerry argued, but Bud went back, - wondering a little at Jerry's manner. - </p> - <p> - The saddle was all right, and so was everything else, so far as Bud could - determine in the dark, but he was not satisfied. He thought he understood - Jerry's reason for bringing him down to the corrals, but he could not - understand Jerry's attitude toward an incident which any man would have - called suspicious. - </p> - <p> - Bud quietly counted noses when he returned to the house and found that - supper was being served, but he could not recall any man who was missing - now. Every guest and every man on the ranch was present except old Pop, - who had a little shack to himself and went to bed at dark every night. - </p> - <p> - Bud was mystified, and he hated mysteries. Moreover, he was working for - Dave Truman, and whatever might concern Little Lost concerned him also. - But the men had begun to talk openly of their various “running horses”, - and to exchange jibes and boasts and to bet a little on Sunday's races. - Bud wanted to miss nothing of that, and Jerry's indifference to the - incident at the stable served to reassure him for the time being. He edged - close to the group where the talk was loudest, and listened. - </p> - <p> - A man they called Jeff was trying to jeer his neighbors into betting - against a horse called Skeeter, and was finding them too cautious for his - liking. He laughed and, happening to catch Bud's eyes upon him, strode - forward with an empty tin cup in his hand and slapped Bud friendliwise on - the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I bet this singin' kid, that don't know wha I got ner what you - fellers has got, ain't scared to take, a chance. Are yuh, kid? What d' yuh - think of this pikin' bunch here that has seen Skeeter come in second and - third more times 'n what he beat, and yet is afraid to take a chance on - rosin' two bits? Whatd' yuh think of 'em? Ain't they an onery bunch?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose they hate to lose,” Bud grinned. - </p> - <p> - “That's it—money 's more to 'em than the sport of kings, which is - runnin' horses. This bunch, kid belly-ached till Dave took his horse Boise - outa the game, and now, by gosh, they're backin' up from my Skeeter, that - has been beat more times than he won.' - </p> - <p> - “When you pulled him, Jeff!” a mocking voice drawled. “And that was when - you wasn't bettin' yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Jeff turned injuredly to Bud. “Now don't that sound like a piker?” he - complained. “It ain't reason to claim I'd pull my own horse. Ain't that - the out doinest way to come back at a man that likes a good race?” - </p> - <p> - Bud swelled his chest and laid his hand on Jeff's shoulder. “Just to show - you I'm not a piker,” he cried recklessly, “I'll bet you twenty-five - dollars I can beat your Skeeter with my Smoky horse that I rode in here. - Is it a go?” - </p> - <p> - Jeff's jaw dropped a little, with surprise. “What fer horse is this here - Smoky horse of yourn?” he wanted to know. - </p> - <p> - Bud winked at the group, which cackled gleeful!, “I love the sport of - kings,” he said. “I love it so well I don't have to see your Skeeter horse - till Sunday. From the way these boys sidestep him, I guess he's a - sure-enough running horse. My Smoky's a good little horse, too, but he - never scared a bunch till they had cramps in the pockets. Still,” he added - with a grin, “I'll try anything once. I bet you twenty-five dollars my - Smoky can beat your Skeeter.” - </p> - <p> - “Say, kid, honest I hate to take it away from yuh. Honest, I do. The way - you can knock the livin' tar outa that pyanny is a caution to cats. I c'd - listen all night. But when it comes to runnin' horses—” - </p> - <p> - “Are you afraid of your money?” Bud asked him arrogantly. “You called this - a bunch of pikers—” - </p> - <p> - “Well, by golly, it'll be your own fault, kid. If I take your money away - from yuh, don't go and blame it onto me. Mebbe these fellers has got some - cause to sidestep—” - </p> - <p> - “All right, the bet's on. And I won't blame you if I lose. Smoky's a good - little horse. Don't think for a minute I'm giving you my hard earned coin. - You'll have to throw up some dust to get it, old-timer. I forgot to say - I'd like to make it a quarter dash.” - </p> - <p> - “A quarter dash it is,” Jeff agreed derisively as Bud turned to answer the - summons of the music which was beginning again. - </p> - <p> - The racing enthusiasts lingered outside, and Bud smiled to himself while - he whirled Honey twice around in an old-fashioned waltz. He had them - talking about him, and wondering about his horse. When they saw Smoky they - would perhaps call him a chancey kid. He meant to ask Pop about Skeeter, - though Pop seemed confident that Smoky would win against anything in the - valley. - </p> - <p> - But on the other hand, he had seen in his short acquaintance with Little - Lost that Pop was considered childish—that comprehensive accusation - which belittles the wisdom of age. The boys made it a point to humor him - without taking him seriously. Honey pampered him and called him Poppy, - while in Marian's chill courtesy, in her averted glances, Bud had read her - dislike of Pop. He had seen her hand shrink away from contact with his - hand when she set his coffee beside his plate. - </p> - <p> - But Bud had heard others speak respectfully of Boise, and regret that he - was too fast to run. Pop might be childish on some subjects, but Bud - rather banked on his judgment of horses—and Pop was penurious and - anxious to win money. - </p> - <p> - “What are you thinking about?” Honey demanded when the music stopped. - “Something awful important, I guess, to make you want to keep right on - dancing!” - </p> - <p> - “I was thinking of horse-racing,” Bud confessed, glad that he could tell - her the truth. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you! Don't let them make a fool of you. Some of the fellows would bet - the shirt off their backs on a horse-race! You look out for them, Bud.” - </p> - <p> - “They wouldn't bet any more than I would,” Bud boldly declared. “I've bet - already against a horse I've never seen. How 's that?” - </p> - <p> - “That's crazy. You'll lose, and serve you right.” She went off to dance - with someone else, and Bud turned smiling to find a passable partner - amongst the older women—for he was inclined to caution where strange - girls were concerned. Much trouble could come to a stranger who danced - with a girl who happened to have a jealous sweetheart, and Bud did not - court trouble of that kind. He much preferred to fight over other things. - Besides, he had no wish to antagonize Honey. - </p> - <p> - But his dance with some faded, heavy-footed woman was not to be. Jerry - once more signalled him and drew him outside for a little private - conference. Jerry was ill at ease and inclined to be reproachful and even - condemnatory. - </p> - <p> - He wanted first to know why Bud had been such a many kinds of a fool as to - make that bet with Jeff Hall. All the fellows were talking about it. “They - was asking me what kind of a horse you've got—and I wouldn't put it - past Jeff and his bunch to pull some kind of a dirty trick on you,” he - complained. “Bud, on the square, I like you a whole lot. You seem kinda - innocent, in some ways, and in other ways you don't. I wish you'd tell me - just one thing, so I can sleep comfortable. Have you got some scheme of - your own? Or what the devil ails you?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I've just got a notion,” Bud admitted. “I'm going to have some fun - watching those fellows perform, whether I win or lose. I've spent as much - as twenty-five dollars on a circus, before now, and felt that I got the - worth of my money, too. I'm going to enjoy myself real well, next Sunday.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry glanced behind him and lowered his voice, speaking close to Bud's - ear. “Well, there's something I'd like to say that it ain't safe to say, - Bud. I'd hate like hell to see you get in trouble. Go as far as you like - having fun—but—oh, hell! What's the use?” He turned abruptly - and went inside, leaving Bud staring after him rather blankly. - </p> - <p> - Jerry did not strike Bud as being the kind of a man who goes around - interfering with every other man's business. He was a quiet, good-natured - young fellow with quizzical eyes of that mixed color which we call hazel - simply because there is more brown than gray or green. He did not talk - much, but he observed much. Bud was strongly inclined to heed Jerry's - warning, but it was too vague to have any practical value—“about - like Hen's note,” Bud concluded. “Well-meaning but hazy. Like a red danger - flag on a railroad crossing where the track is torn up and moved. I saw - one, once and my horse threw a fit at it and almost piled me. I figured - that the red flag created the danger, where I was concerned. Still, I'd - like to oblige Jerry and sidestep something or other, but...” - </p> - <p> - His thoughts grew less distinct, merged into wordless rememberings and - conjectures, clarified again into terse sentences which never reached the - medium of speech. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll just make sure they don't try out Smoke when I'm not looking,” - he decided, and slipped away in the dark. - </p> - <p> - By a roundabout way which avoided the trail he managed to reach the - pasture fence without being seen. No horses grazed in sight, and he - climbed through and went picking his way across the lumpy meadow in the - starlight. At the farther side he found the horses standing out on a sandy - ridge where the mosquitoes were not quite so pestiferous. The Little Lost - horses snorted and took to their heels, his three following for a short - distance. - </p> - <p> - Bud stopped and whistled a peculiar call invented long ago when he was - just Buddy, and watched over the Tomahawk REMUDA. Every horse with the - Tomahawk brand knew that summons—though not every horse would obey - it. But these three had come when they were sucking colts, if Buddy - whistled; and in their breaking and training, in the long trip north, they - had not questioned its authority. They turned and trotted back to him now - and nosed Bud's hands which he held out to them. - </p> - <p> - He petted them all and talked to them in an affectionate murmur which they - answered by sundry lipnibbles and subdued snorts. Smoky he singled out - finally, rubbing his back and sides with the flat of his hand from - shoulder to flank, and so to the rump and down the thigh to the hock to - the scanty fetlock which told, to those who knew, that here was an - aristocrat among horses. - </p> - <p> - Smoky stood quiet, and Bud's hand lingered there, smoothing the slender - ankle. Bud's fingers felt the fine-haired tail, then gave a little twitch. - He was busy for a minute, kneeling in the sand with one knee, his head - bent. Then he stood up, went forward to Smoky's head, and stood rubbing - the horse's nose thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “I hate to do it, old boy—but I'm working to make's a home—we've - got to work together. And I'm not asking any more of you than I'd be - willing to do myself, if I were a horse and you were a man.” - </p> - <p> - He gave the three horses a hasty pat apiece and started back across the - meadow to the fence. They followed him like pet dogs—and when Bud - glanced back over his shoulder he saw in the dim light that Smoky walked - with a slight limp. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER TWELVE: SPORT O' KINGS - </h2> - <p> - Sunday happened to be fair, with not too strong a wind blowing. Before - noon Little Lost ranch was a busy place, and just before dinner it became - busier. Horse-racing seemed to be as popular a sport in the valley as - dancing. Indeed, men came riding in who had not come to the dance. The dry - creek-bed where the horses would run had no road leading to it, so that - all vehicles came to Little Lost and remained there while the passengers - continued on foot to the races. - </p> - <p> - At the corral fresh shaven men, in clean shirts to distinguish this as a - dress-up occasion, foregathered, looking over the horses and making bets - and arguing. Pop shambled here and there, smoking cigarettes furiously and - keeping a keen ear toward the loudest betting. He came sidling up to Bud, - who was leading Smoky out of the stable, and his sharp eyes took in every - inch of the horse and went inquiringly to Bud's face. - </p> - <p> - “Goin' to run him, young feller—lame as what he is?” he demanded - sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Going to try, anyway,” said Bud. “I've got a bet up on him, dad.” - </p> - <p> - “Sho! Fixin' to lose, air ye? You kin call it off, like as not. Jeff ain't - so onreason'ble 't he'd make yuh run a lame horse. Air yuh, Jeff?” - </p> - <p> - Jeff strolled up and looked Smoky over with critical eyes. “What's the - matter? Ain't the kid game to run him? Looks to me like a good little - goer.” - </p> - <p> - “He's got a limp—but I'll run him anyway.” Bud glanced up. “Maybe - when he's warmed up he'll forget about it.” - </p> - <p> - “Seen my Skeeter?” - </p> - <p> - “Good horse, I should judge,” Bud observed indifferently. “But I ain't - worrying any.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, neither am I,” Jeff grinned. - </p> - <p> - Pop stood teetering back and forth, plainly uneasy. “I'd rub him right - good with liniment,” he advised Bud. “I'll git some't I know ought t' - help.” - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, Pop? You got money up on that cayuse?” Jeff laughed. - </p> - <p> - Pop whirled on him. “I ain't got money up on him, no. But if he wasn't - lame I'd have some! I'd show ye 't I admire gameness in a kid. I would - so.” - </p> - <p> - Jeff nudged his neighbor into laughter. “There ain't a gamer old bird in - the valley than Pop,” Jeff cried. “C'm awn, Pop, I'll bet yuh ten dollars - the kid beats me!” - </p> - <p> - Pop was shuffling hurriedly out of the corral after the liniment. To - Jeff's challenge he made no reply whatever. The group around Jeff shooed - Smoky gently toward the other side of the corral, thereby convincing - themselves of the limp in his right hind foot. While not so pronounced as - to be crippling, it certainly was no asset to a running horse, and the - wise ones conferred together in undertones. - </p> - <p> - “That there kid's a born fool,” Dave Truman stated positively. “The horse - can't run. He's got the look of a speedy little animal—but shucks! - The kid don't know anything about running horses. I've been talking to - him, and I know. Jeff, you're taking the money away from him if you run - that race.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm giving the kid a chance to back out,” Jeff hastened to declare. - “He can put it off till his horse gits well, if he wants to. I ain't going - to hold him to it. I never said I was.” - </p> - <p> - “That's mighty kind of you,” Bud said, coming up from behind with a bottle - of liniment, and with Pop at his heels. “But I'll run him just the same. - Smoky has favored this foot before, and it never seemed to hurt him any. - You needn't think I'm going to crawfish. You must think I'm a whining cuss—say! - I'll bet another ten dollars that I don't come in more than a neck behind, - lame horse or not!” - </p> - <p> - “Now, kid, don't git chancey,” Pop admonished uneasily. “Twenty-five is - enough money to donate to Jeff.” - </p> - <p> - “That's right, kid. I like your nerve,” Jeff cut in, emphasizing his - approval with a slap on Bud's shoulder as he bent to lift Smoky's leg. - “I've saw worse horses than this one come in ahead—it wouldn't be no - sport o' kings if nobody took a chance.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm taking chance enough,” Bud retorted without looking up. “If I don't - win this time I will the next, maybe.” - </p> - <p> - “That's right,” Jeff agreed heartily, winking broadly at the others behind - Bud's back. - </p> - <p> - Bud rubbed Smoky's ankle with liniment, listened to various and sundry - self-appointed advisers and, without seeming to think how the sums would - total, took several other small bets on the race. They were small—Pop - began to teeter back and forth and lift his shoulders and pull his beard—sure - signs of perturbation. - </p> - <p> - “By Christmas, I'll just put up ten dollars on the kid,” Pop finally - cackled. “I ain't got much to lose—but I'll show yuh old Pop ain't - going to see the young feller stand alone.” He tried to catch Bud's eye, - but that young man was busy saddling Smoky and returning jibe for jibe - with the men around him, and did not glance toward Pop at all. - </p> - <p> - “I'll take this bottle in my pocket, Pop,” he said with his back toward - the old man, and mounted carelessly. “I'll ride him around a little and - give him another good rubbing before we run. I'm betting,” he added to the - others frankly, “on the chance that exercise and the liniment will take - the soreness out of that ankle. I don't believe it amounts to anything at - all. So if any of you fellows want to bet—” - </p> - <p> - “Shucks! Don't go 'n-” Pop began, and bit the sentence in two, dropping - immediately into a deep study. The kid was getting beyond Pop's - understanding. - </p> - <p> - A crowd of perhaps a hundred men and women—with a generous - sprinkling of unruly juveniles—lined the sheer bank of the creek-bed - and watched the horses run, and screamed their cheap witticisms at the - losers, and their approval of those who won. The youngster with the - mysterious past and the foolhardiness to bet on a lame horse they watched - and discussed, the women plainly wishing he would win—because he was - handsome and young, and such a wonderful musician. The men were more - cold-blooded. They could not see that Bud's good looks or the haunting - melody of his voice had any bearing whatever upon his winning a race. They - called him a fool, and either refused to bet at all on such a freak - proposition as a lame horse running against Skeeter, or bet against him. A - few of the wise ones wondered if Jeff and his bunch were merely “stringing - the kid along “; if they might not let him win a little, just to make him - more “chancey.” But they did not think it wise to bet on that probability. - </p> - <p> - While three races were being run Bud rode with the Little Lost men, and - Smoky still limped a little. Jerry Myers, still self-appointed guardian of - Bud, herded him apart and called him a fool and implored him to call the - race off and keep his money in his own pocket. - </p> - <p> - Bud was thinking just then about a certain little woman who sat on the - creek bank with a wide-brimmed straw hat shading her wonderful eyes, and a - pair of little, high-arched feet tapping heels absently against the bank - wall. Honey sat beside her, and a couple of the valley women whom Bud had - met at the dance. He had ridden close and paused for a few friendly - sentences with the quartette, careful to give Honey the attention she - plainly expected. But it was not Honey who wore the wide hat and owned the - pretty little feet. Bud pulled his thoughts back from a fruitless wish - that he might in some way help that little woman whose trouble looked from - her eyes, and whose lips smiled so bravely. He did not think of possession - when he thought of her; it was the look in her eyes, and the slighting - tones in which Honey spoke of her. - </p> - <p> - “Say, come alive! What yuh going off in a trance for, when I'm talking to - yuh for your own good?” Jerry smiled whimsically, but his eyes were - worried. - </p> - <p> - Bud pulled himself together and reined closer. - </p> - <p> - “Don't bet anything on this race, Jerry,” he advised “Or if you do, don't - bet on Skeeter. But—well, I'll just trade you a little advice for - all you've given me. Don't bet!” - </p> - <p> - “What the hell!” surprise jolted out of Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “It's my funeral,” Bud laughed. “I'm a chancey kid, you see—but I'd - hate to see you bet on me.” He pulled up to watch the next race—four - nervy little cow-horses of true range breeding, going down to the quarter - post. - </p> - <p> - “They 're going to make false starts aplenty,” Bud remarked after the - first fluke. “Jeff and I have it out next. I'll just give Smoke another - treatment.” He dismounted, looked at Jerry undecidedly and slapped him on - the knee. “I'm glad to have a friend like you,” he said impulsively. - “There's a lot of two-faced sinners around here that would steal a man - blind. Don't think I'm altogether a fool.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry looked at him queerly, opened his mouth and shut it again so tightly - that his jawbones stood out a little. He watched Bud bathing Smoky's - ankle. When Bud was through and handed Jerry the bottle to keep for him, - Jerry held him for an instant by the hand. - </p> - <p> - “Say, for Gawdsake don't talk like that promiscuous, Bud,” he begged. “You - might hit too close—” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, Jerry! Ever hear that old Armenian proverb, 'He who tells the truth - should have one foot in the stirrup'? I learned that in school.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry let go Bud's hand and took the bottle, Bud's watch that had his - mother's picture pasted in the back, and his vest, a pocket of which - contained a memorandum of his wagers. Bud was stepping out of his chaps, - and he looked up and grinned. “Cheer up, Jerry. You're going to laugh in a - minute.” When Jerry still remained thoughtful, Bud added soberly, “I - appreciate you and old Pop standing by me. I don't know just what you've - got on your mind, but the fact that there's something is hint enough for - me.” Whereupon Jerry's eyes lightened a little. - </p> - <p> - The four horses came thundering down the track, throwing tiny pebbles high - into the air as they passed. A trim little sorrel won, and there was the - usual confusion of voices upraised in an effort to be heard. When that had - subsided, interest once more centered on Skeeter and Smoky, who seemed to - have recovered somewhat from his lameness. - </p> - <p> - Not a man save Pop and Bud had placed a bet on Smoky, yet every man there - seemed keenly interested in the race. They joshed Bud, who grinned and - took it good-naturedly, and found another five dollars in—his pocket - to bet—this time with Pop, who kept eyeing him sharply—and it - seemed to Bud warningly. But Bud wanted to play his own game, this time, - and he avoided Pop's eyes. - </p> - <p> - The two men rode down the hoof-scored sand to the quarter post, Skeeter - dancing sidewise at the prospect of a race, Smoky now and then tentatively - against Bud's steady pressure of the bit. - </p> - <p> - “He's not limping now,” Bud gloated as they rode. But Jeff only laughed - tolerantly and made no reply. - </p> - <p> - Dave Truman started them with a pistol shot, and the two horses darted - away, Smoky half a jump in the lead. His limp was forgotten, and for half - the distance he ran neck and neck with Skeeter. Then he dropped to - Skeeter's middle, to his flank—then ran with his black nose even - with Skeeter's rump. Even so it was a closer race than the crowd had - expected, and all the cowboys began to yell themselves purple. - </p> - <p> - But when they were yet a few leaps from the wire clothes-line stretched - high, from post to post, Bud leaned forward until he lay flat alongside - Smoky's neck, and gave a real Indian war-whoop. Smoky lifted and - lengthened his stride, came up again to Skeeter's middle, to his shoulder, - to his ears—and with the next leap thrust his nose past Skeeter's as - they finished. - </p> - <p> - Well, then there was the usual noise, everyone trying to shout louder than - his fellows. Bud rode to where Pop was sitting apart on a pacing gray - horse that he always rode, and paused to say guardedly, - </p> - <p> - “I pulled him, Pop. But at that I won, so if I can pry another race out of - this bunch to-day, you can bet all you like. And you owe me five dollars,” - he added thriftily. - </p> - <p> - “Sho! Shucks almighty!” spluttered Pop, reaching reluctantly into his - pocket for the money. “Jeff, he done some pullin' himself—I wish I - knowed,” he added pettishly, “just how big a fool you air.” - </p> - <p> - “Hey, come over here!” shouted Jeff. “What yuh nagging ole Pop about?” - </p> - <p> - “Pop lost five dollars on that race,” Bud called back, and loped over to - the crowd. “But he isn't the only one. Seems to me I've got quite a bunch - of money coming to me, from this crowd!” - </p> - <p> - “Jeff, he'd a beat him a mile if his bridle rein had busted,” an arrogant - voice shouted recklessly. “Jeff, you old fox, you know damn well you - pulled Skeeter. You must love to lose, doggone yuh.” - </p> - <p> - “If you think I didn't run right,” Jeff retorted, as if a little nettled, - “someone else can ride the horse. That is, if the kid here ain't scared - off with your talk. How about it, Bud? Think you won fair?” - </p> - <p> - Bud was collecting his money, and he did not immediately answer the - challenge. When he did it was to offer them another race. He would not, he - said, back down from anyone. He would bet his last cent on little Smoky. - He became slightly vociferative and more than a little vain-glorious, and - within half an hour he had once more staked all the money he had in the - world. The number of men who wanted to bet with him surprised him a - little. Also the fact that the Little Lost men were betting on Smoky. - </p> - <p> - Honey called him over to the bank and scolded him in tones much like her - name, and finally gave him ten dollars which she wanted to wager on his - winning. As he whirled away, Marian beckoned impulsively and leaned - forward, stretching out to him her closed hand. - </p> - <p> - “Here's ten,” she smiled, “just to show that the Little Lost stands by its - men—and horses. Put it on Smoky, please.” When Bud was almost out of - easy hearing, she called to him. “Oh—was that a five or a ten dollar - bill I gave you?” - </p> - <p> - Bud turned back, unfolding the banknote. A very tightly folded scrap of - paper slid into his palm. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, all right—I have the five here in my pocket,” called Marian, - and laughed quite convincingly. “Go on and run! We won't be able to - breathe freely until the race is over.” - </p> - <p> - Wherefore Bud turned back, puzzled and with his heart jumping. For some - reason Marian had taken this means of getting a message into his hands. - What it could be he did not conjecture; but he had a vague, unreasoning - hope that she trusted him and was asking him to help her somehow. He did - not think that it concerned the race, so he did not risk opening the note - then, with so many people about. - </p> - <p> - A slim, narrow-eyed youth of about Bud's weight was chosen to ride - Skeeter, and together they went back over the course to the quarter post, - with Dave to start them and two or three others to make sure that the race - was fair. Smoky was full now of little prancing steps, and held his neck - arched while his nostrils flared in excitement, showing pink within. - Skeeter persistently danced sidewise, fighting the bit, crazy to run. - </p> - <p> - Skeeter made two false starts, and when the pistol was fired, jumped high - into the air and forward, shaking his head, impatient against the - restraint his rider put upon him. Halfway down the stretch he lunged - sidewise toward Smoky, but that level-headed little horse swerved and went - on, shoulder to shoulder with the other. At the very last Skeeter rolled a - pebble under his foot and stumbled—and again Smoky came in with his - slaty nose in the lead. - </p> - <p> - Pop rode into the centre of the yelling crowd, his whiskers bristling. - “Shucks almighty!” he cried. “What fer ridin' do yuh call that there? Jeff - Hall, that feller held Skeeter in worse'n what you did yourself! I kin - prove it! I got a stop watch, an' I timed 'im, I did. An' I kin tell yuh - the time yore horse made when he run agin Dave's Boise. He's three seconds—yes, - by Christmas, he's four seconds slower t'day 'n what he's ever run before! - What fer sport d' you call that?” His voice went up and cracked at the - question mark like a boy in his early teens. - </p> - <p> - Jeff stalked forward to Skeeter's side. “Jake, did you pull Skeeter?” he - demanded sternly. “I'll swan if this ain't the belly-achiness bunch I ever - seen! How about it, Jake? Did Skeeter do his durndest, or didn't he? - </p> - <p> - “Shore, he did!” Jake testified warmly. “I'da beat, too, if he hadn't - stumbled right at the last. Didn't yuh see him purty near go down? And - wasn't he within six inches of beatin'? I leave it to the crowd!” - </p> - <p> - The crowd was full of argument, and some bets were paid under protest. But - they were paid, just the same. Burroback Valley insisted that the main - points of racing law should be obeyed to the letter. Bud collected his - winnings, the Scotch in him overlooking nothing whatever in the shape of a - dollar. Then, under cover of getting his smoking material, he dared bring - out Marian's note. There were two lines in a fine, even hand on a - cigarette paper, and Bud, relieved at her cleverness, unfolded the paper - and read while he opened his bag of tobacco. The lines were like those in - an old-fashioned copy book: - </p> - <p> - “Winners may be losers. Empty pockets, safe owner.” - </p> - <p> - And that was all. Bud sifted tobacco into the paper, rolled it into a - cigarette and smoked it to so short a stub that he burnt his lips. Then he - dropped it beside his foot and ground it into the sand while he talked. - </p> - <p> - He would run Smoky no more that day, he declared, but next Sunday he would - give them all a chance to settle their minds and win back their losings, - providing his horse's ankle didn't go bad again with to-day's running. - Pop, Dave, Jeff and a few other wise ones examined the weak ankle and - disagreed over the exact cause and nature of the weakness. It seemed all - right. Smoky did not flinch from rubbing, though he did lift his foot away - from strange hands. They questioned Bud, who could offer no positive - information on the subject, except that once he and Smoky had rolled down - a bluff together, and Smoky had been lame for a while afterwards. - </p> - <p> - It did not occur to anyone to ask Bud which leg had been lamed, and Bud - did not volunteer the detail. An old sprain, they finally decided, and Bud - replaced his saddle, got his chaps and coat from Jerry, who was smiling - over an extra twenty-five dollars, and rode over to give the girls their - winnings. - </p> - <p> - He stayed for several minutes talking with them and hoping for a chance to - thank Marian for her friendly warning. But there was none, and he rode - away dissatisfied and wondering uneasily if Marian thought he was really - as friendly with Honey as that young lady made him appear to be. - </p> - <p> - He was one of the first to ride back to the ranch, and he turned Smoky in - the pasture and caught up Stopper to ride with Honey, who said she was - going for a ride when the races were over, and that if he liked to go - along she would show him the Sinks. Bud had professed an eagerness to see - the Sinks which he did not feel until Marian had turned her head toward - Honey and said in her quiet voice: - </p> - <p> - “Why the Sinks? You know that isn't safe country to ride in, Honey.” - </p> - <p> - “That's why I want to ride there,” Honey retorted flippantly. “I hate safe - places and safe things.” - </p> - <p> - Marian had glanced at Bud—and it was that glance which he was - remembering now with a puzzled sense that, like the note, it had meant - something definite, something vital to his own welfare if he could only - find the key. First it was Hen, then Jerry, and now Marian, all warning - him vaguely of danger into which he might stumble if he were not careful. - </p> - <p> - Bud was no fool, but on the other hand he was not one to stampede easily. - He had that steadfast courage, perhaps, which could face danger and still - maintain his natural calm—just as his mother had corrected - grammatical slips in the very sentences which told her of an impending - outbreak of Indians long ago Bud saddled Stopper and the horse which Honey - was to ride, led them to the house and went inside to wait until the girl - was ready. While he waited he played—and hoped that Marian, hearing, - would know that he played for her; and that she would come and explain the - cryptic message. Whether Marian heard and appreciated the music or not, - she failed to appear and let him know. It seemed to him that she might - easily have come into the room for a minute when she knew he was there, - and let him have a chance to thank her and ask her just what she meant. - </p> - <p> - He was just finishing the AVE MARIA which Marian had likened to a breath - of cool air, when Honey appeared in riding skirt and light shirtwaist. She - looked very trim and attractive, and Bud smiled upon her approvingly, and - cut short the last strain by four beats, which was one way of letting - Marian know that he considered her rather unappreciative. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SINKS - </h2> - <p> - “We can go through the pasture and cut off a couple of miles,” said Honey - when they were mounted. “I hope you don't think I'm crazy, wanting a ride - at this time of day, after all the excitement we've had. But every Sunday - is taken up with horse-racing till late in the afternoon, and during the - week no one has time to go. And,” she added with a sidelong look at him, - “there's something about the Sinks that makes me love to go there. Uncle - Dave won't let me go alone.” - </p> - <p> - Bud dismounted to pull down the two top bars of the pasture gate so that - their horses could step over. A little way down the grassy slope Smoky and - Sunfish fed together, the Little Lost horses grouped nearer the creek. - </p> - <p> - “I love that little horse of yours—why, he's gone lame again!” - exclaimed Honey. “Isn't that a shame! You oughtn't to run him if it does - that to him.” - </p> - <p> - “He likes it,” said Bud carelessly as he remounted. “And so do I, when I - can clean up the way I did today. I'm over three hundred dollars richer - right now than I was this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “And next Sunday, maybe you'll be broke,” Honey added significantly. “You - never know how you are coming out. I think Jeff let you win to-day on - purpose, so you'd bet it all again and lose. He's like that. He don't care - how much he loses one day, because he gets it back some other time. I - don't like it. Some of the boys never do get ahead, and you'll be in the - same fix if you don't look out.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn't bring me along to lecture me, I know,” said Bud with a - good-natured smile. “What about the Sinks? Is it a dangerous place as—Mrs. - Morris says?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Marian? She never does want me to come. She thinks I ought to stay in - the house always, the way she does. The Sinks is—is—queer. - There are caves, and then again deep holes straight down, and tracks of - wildcats and lions. And in some places you can hear gurgles and rumbles. I - love to be there just at sundown, because the shadows are spooky and it - makes you feel—oh, you know—kind of creepy up your back. You - don't know what might happen. I—do you believe in ghosts and haunted - places, Bud?” - </p> - <p> - “I'd need a lot of scaring before I did. Are the Sinks haunted?” - </p> - <p> - “No-o—but there are funny noises and people have got lost there. - Anyway they never showed up afterwards. The Indians claim it's haunted.” - She smiled that baring smile of hers. “Do you want to turn around and go - back?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure. After we've had our ride, and seen the sights.” And he added with - some satisfaction, “The moon 's full to-night, and no clouds.” - </p> - <p> - “And I brought sandwiches,” Honey threw in as especial blessing. “Uncle - Dave will be mad, I expect. But I've never seen the Sinks at night, with - moonlight.” - </p> - <p> - She was quiet while the horses waded Sunk Creek and picked their way - carefully over a particularly rocky stretch beyond. “But what I'd rather - do,” she said, speaking from her thoughts which had evidently carried - forward in the silence, “is explore Catrock Canyon.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, why not, if we have time?” Bud rode up alongside her. “Is it far?” - </p> - <p> - Honey looked at him searchingly. “You must be stranger to these parts,” - she said disbelievingly. “Do you think you can make me swallow that?” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked at her inquiringly, which forced her to go on. - </p> - <p> - “You must know about Catrock Canyon, Bud Birnie. Don't try to make me - believe you don't.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't. I never heard of it before that I remember. What is it makes you - want to explore it?” - </p> - <p> - Honey studied him. “You're the queerest specimen I ever did see,” she - exclaimed pettishly. “Why, it's not going to hurt you to admit you know - Catrock Canyon is—unexplorable.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. So you want to explore it because it's unexplorable. Well, why is it - unexplorable?” - </p> - <p> - Honey looked around her at the dry sageland they were crossing. “Oh, you - make me TIRED!” she said bluntly, with something of the range roughness in - her voice. “Because it is, that's all.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I'd like to explore it myself,” Bud declared. - </p> - <p> - “For one thing,” Honey dilated, “there's no way to get in there. Up on the - ridge this side, where the rock is that throws a shadow like a cat's head - on the opposite wall, you can look down a ways. But the two sides come so - close together at the top that you can't see the bottom of the canyon at - all. I've been on the ridge where I could see the cat's head.” - </p> - <p> - Bud glanced speculatively up at the sun, and Honey, catching his meaning, - shook her head and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “If we get into the Sinks and back to-day, they will do enough talking - about it; or Uncle Dave will, and Marian. I—I thought perhaps you'd - be able to tell me about—Catrock Canyon.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm able to say I don't know a thing about it. If no one can get into it, - I should think that's about all, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—you'd think so,” Honey agreed enigmatically, and began to talk - of the racing that day, and of the dance, and of other dances and other - races yet to come. Bud discussed these subjects for a while and then asked - boldly, “When's Lew coming back?” - </p> - <p> - “Lew?” Honey shot a swift glance at him. “Why?” She looked ahead at the - forbidding, craggy hills toward which she had glanced when she spoke of - Catrock. “Why, I don't know. How should I?” - </p> - <p> - Bud saw that he had spoken unwisely. “I was thinking he'd maybe hate to - miss another running match like to-day,” he explained guilelessly. - “Everybody and his dog seemed to be there to-day, and everybody had money - up. All,” he modified, “except the Muleshoe boys. I didn't see any of - them.” - </p> - <p> - “You won't,” Honey told him with some emphasis. “Uncle Dave and the - Muleshoe are on the outs. They never come around except for mail and - things from the store. And most always they send Hen. Uncle Dave and Dirk - Tracy had an awful row last winter. It was next thing to a killing. So of - course the outfits ain't on friendly terms.” - </p> - <p> - This was more than Pop had gossiped to Bud, and since the whole thing was - of no concern to him, and Honey plainly objected to talking about Marian's - husband, he was quite ready to fix his interest once more upon the Sinks. - He was surprised when they emerged from a cluster of small, sage-covered - knolls, directly upon the edge of what at first sight seemed to be another - dry river bed—sprawled wider, perhaps, with irregular arms thrust - back into the less sterile land. They rode down a steep, rocky trail and - came out into the Sinks. - </p> - <p> - It was an odd, forbidding place, and the farther up the gravelly bottom - they rode, the more forbidding it became. Bud thought that in the time - when Indians were dangerous as she-bears the Sinks would not be a place - where a man would want to ride. There were too many jutting crags, too - many unsuspected, black holes that led back—no one knew just where. - </p> - <p> - Honey led the way to an irregular circle of waterwashed cobbles and Bud - peered down fifty feet to another dry, gravelly bottom seemingly a - duplicate of the upper surface. She rode on past other caves, and let him - look down into other holes. There were faint rumblings in some of these, - but in none was there any water showing save in stagnant pools in the rock - where the rain had fallen. - </p> - <p> - “There's one cave I like to go into,” said Honey at last. “It's a little - farther on, but we have time enough. There's a spring inside, and we can - eat our sandwiches. It isn't dark-there are openings to the top, and lots - of funny, winding passages. That,” she finished thrillingly, “is the place - the Indians claim is haunted.” - </p> - <p> - Bud did not shudder convincingly, and they rode slowly forward, picking - their way among the rocks. The cave yawned wide open to the sun, which - hung on the top of Catrock Peak. They dismounted, anchored the reins with - rocks and went inside. - </p> - <p> - When Bud had been investigative Buddy, he had explored more caves than he - could count. He had filched candles from his mother and had crept back and - back until the candle flame flickered warning that he was nearing the - “damps” Indians always did believe caves were haunted, probably because - they did not understand the “damps”, and thought evil spirits had taken - those who went in and never returned. Buddy had once been lost in a cave - for four harrowing hours, and had found his way out by sheer luck, passing - the skeleton of an Indian and taking the tomahawk as a souvenir. - </p> - <p> - Wherefore this particular cave, with a spring back fifty feet from the - entrance where a shaft of sunlight struck the rock through some obscure - slit in the rock, had no thrill for him. But the floor was of fine, white - sand, and the ceiling was knobby and grotesque, and he was quite willing - to sit there beside the spring and eat two sandwiches and talk foolishness - with Honey, using that part of his mind which was not busy with the - complexities of winning money on the speed of his horses when three horses - represented his entire business capital, and with wondering what was wrong - with Burroback Valley, that three persons of widely different viewpoints - had felt it necessary to caution him,—and had couched their - admonitions in such general terms that he could not feel the force of - their warning. - </p> - <p> - He was thinking back along his life to where false alarms of Indian - outbreaks had played a very large part in the Tomahawk's affairs, and how - little of the ranch work would ever have been done had they listened to - every calamity howler that came along. Honey was talking, and he was - answering partly at random, when she suddenly laughed and got up. - </p> - <p> - “You must be in love, Bud Birnie. You just said 'yes' when I asked you if - you didn't think water snakes would be coming out this fall with their - stripes running round them instead of lengthwise! You didn't hear a word—now, - did you?” - </p> - <p> - “I heard music,” Bud lied gallantly, “and I knew it was your voice. I'd - probably say yes if you asked me whether the moon wouldn't look better - with a ruffle around it.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll say the moon will be wondering where we are, if we don't start back. - The sun's down.” - </p> - <p> - Bud got up from sitting cross-legged like a Turk, helped Honey to her feet—and - felt her fingers clinging warmly to his own. He led the way to the cave's - mouth, not looking at her. “Great sunset,” he observed carelessly, - glancing up at the ridge while he held her horse for her to mount. - </p> - <p> - Honey showed that she was perfectly at home in the saddle. She rode on - ahead, leaving Bud to mount and follow. He was just swinging leisurely - into the saddle when Stopper threw his head around, glancing back toward - the level just beyond the cave. At the same instant Bud heard the - familiar, unmistakable swish of a rope headed his way. - </p> - <p> - He flattened himself along Stopper's left shoulder as the loop settled and - tightened on the saddle horn, and dropped on to the ground as Stopper - whirled automatically to the right and braced himself against the strain. - Bud turned half kneeling, his gun in his hand ready for the shot he - expected would follow the rope. But Stopper was in action-the best - ropehorse the Tomahawk had ever owned. For a few seconds he stood braced, - his neck arched, his eyes bright and watchful. Then he leaped forward, - straight at the horse and the rider who was in the act of leveling his - gun. The horse hesitated, taken unaware by the onslaught. When he started - to run Stopper was already passing him, turning sharply to the right again - so that the rope raked the horse's front legs. Two jumps and Stopper had - stopped, faced the horse and stood braced again, his ears perked knowingly - while he waited for the flop. - </p> - <p> - It came—just as it always did come when Stopper got action on the - end of a rope. Horse and rider came down together. They would not get up - until Bud wished it—he could trust Stopper for that—so Bud - walked over to the heap, his gun ready for action—and that, too, - could be trusted to perform with what speed and precision was necessary. - There would be no hasty shooting, however; Buddy had learned to save his - bullets for real need when ammunition was not to be had for the asking, - and grown-up Bud had never outgrown the habit. - </p> - <p> - He picked up the fellow's six-shooter which he had dropped when he fell, - and stood sizing up the situation. - </p> - <p> - By the neckerchief drawn across his face it was a straight case of holdup. - Bud stooped and yanked off the mask and looked into the glaring eyes of - one whom he had never before seen. - </p> - <p> - “Well, how d'yuh like it, far as you've got?” Bud asked curiously. “Think - you were holding up a pilgrim, or what?” - </p> - <p> - Just then, BING-GG sang a rifle bullet from the ridge above the cave. Bud - looked that way and spied a man standing half revealed against the rosy - clouds that were already dulling as dusk crept up from the low ground. It - was a long shot for a six-shooter, but Buddy used to shoot antelope almost - that far, so Bud lifted his arm and straightened it, just as if he were - pointing a finger at the man, and fired. He had the satisfaction of seeing - the figure jerk backward and go off over the ridge in a stooping kind of - run. - </p> - <p> - “He'd better hurry back if he wants another shot at me,” Bud grinned. - “It'll be so dark down here in a minute he couldn't pick me up with his - front sight if I was—as big a fool as you are. How about it? I'll - just lead you into camp, I think—but you sure as hell couldn't get a - job roping gateposts, on the strength of this little exhibition.” - </p> - <p> - He went over to Stopper and untied his own rope, giving an approving pat - to that business-like animal. “Hope your leg isn't broken or anything,” he - said to the man when he returned and passed the loop over the fellow's - head and shoulders, drawing it rather snugly around his body and pinning - his arms at the elbows. “It would be kind of unpleasant if they happen to - take a notion to make you walk all the way to jail.” - </p> - <p> - He beckoned Stopper, who immediately moved up, slackening the rope. The - thrown horse drew up his knees, gave a preliminary heave and scrambled to - his feet, Bud taking care that the man was pulled free and safe. The - fellow stood up sulkily defiant, unable to rest much of his weight on his - left leg. - </p> - <p> - Bud had ten busy minutes, and it was not until they were both mounted and - headed for Little Lost, the captive with his arms tied behind him, his - feet tied together under the horse, which Bud led, that Bud had time to - wonder what it was all about. Then he began to look for Honey, who had - disappeared. But in the softened light of the rising moon mingling with - the afterglow of sunset, he saw the deep imprints of her horse's hoofs - where he had galloped homeward. Bud did not think she ran away because she - was frightened; she had seemed too sure of herself for that. She had - probably gone for help. - </p> - <p> - A swift suspicion that the attack might have been made from jealousy died - when Bud looked again at his prisoner. The man was swarthy, low of brow—part - Indian, by the look of him. Honey would never give the fellow a second - thought. So that brought him to the supposition that robbery had been - intended, and the inference was made more logical when Bud remembered that - Marian had warned him against something of the sort. Probably he and Honey - had been followed into the Sinks, and even though Bud had not seen this - man at the races, his partner up on the ridge might have been there. It - was all very simple, and Bud, having arrived at the obvious conclusion, - touched Stopper into a lope and arrived at Little Lost just as Dave Truman - and three of his men were riding down into Sunk Creek ford on their way to - the Sinks. They pulled up, staring hard at Dave and his captive. Dave - spoke first. - </p> - <p> - “Honey said you was waylaid and robbed or killed—both, we took it, - from her account. How'd yuh come to get the best of it so quick?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, his horse got tangled up in the rope and fell down, and fell on top - of him,” Bud explained cheerfully. “I was bringing him in. He's a bad - citizen, I should judge, but he didn't do me any damage, as it turned out, - so I don't know what to do with him. I'll just turn him over to you, I - think.” - </p> - <p> - “Hell! I don't want him,” Dave protested. “I'll pass him along to the - sheriff—he may know something about him. Nelse and Charlie, you take - and run him in to Crater and turn him over to Kline. You tell Kline what - he done—or tried to do. Was he alone, Bud?” - </p> - <p> - “He had a partner up on the ridge, so far off I couldn't swear to him if I - saw him face to face. I took a shot at him, and I think I nicked him. He - ducked, and there weren't any more rifle bullets coming my way.” - </p> - <p> - “You nicked him with your six-shooter? And him so far off you couldn't - recognize him again?” Dave looked at Bud sharply. “That's purty good - shootin', strikes me.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he stood up against the sky-line, and he wasn't more than - seventy-five yards,” Bud explained. “I've dropped antelope that far, - plenty of times. The light was bad, this evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Antelope,” Dave repeated meditatively, and winked at his men. “All right, - Bud—we'll let it stand at antelope. Boys, you hit for Crater with - this fellow. You ought to make it there and back by tomorrow noon, all - right.” - </p> - <p> - Nelse took the lead rope from Bud and the two started off up the creek, - meaning to strike the road from Little Lost to Crater, the county seat - beyond Gold Gap mountains. Bud rode on to the ranch with his boss, and - tried to answer Dave's questions satisfactorily without relating his own - prowess or divulging too much of Stopper's skill; which was something of a - problem for his wits. - </p> - <p> - Honey ran out to meet him and had to be assured over and over that he was - not hurt, and that he had lost nothing but his temper and the ride home - with her in the moonlight. She was plainly upset and anxious that he - should not think her cowardly, to leave him that way. - </p> - <p> - “I looked back and saw a man throwing his rope, and you—it looked as - if he had dragged you off the horse. I was sure I saw you falling. So I - ran my horse all the way home, to get Uncle Dave and the boys,” she told - him tremulously. And then she added, with her tantalizing half smile, “I - believe that horse of mine could beat Smoky or Skeeter, if I was scared - that bad at the beginning of a race.” - </p> - <p> - Bud, in sheer gratitude for her anxiety over him, patted Honey's hand and - told her she must have broken the record, all right, and that she had done - exactly the right thing. And Honey went to bed happy that night. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER FOURTEEN: EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP - </h2> - <p> - Bud wanted to have a little confidential talk with Marian. He hoped that - she would be willing to tell him a great deal more than could be written - on one side of a cigarette paper, and he was curious to hear what it was. - On the other hand, he wanted somehow to let her know that he was anxious - to help her in any way possible. She needed help, of that he was sure. - </p> - <p> - Lew returned on Tuesday, with a vile temper and rheumatism in his left - shoulder so that he could not work, but stayed around the house and too - evidently made his wife miserable by his presence. On Wednesday morning - Marian had her hair dressed so low over her ears that she resembled a lady - of old Colonial days—but she did not quite conceal from Bud's keen - eyes the ugly bruise on her temple. She was pale and her lips were - compressed as if she were afraid to relax lest she burst out in tears or - in a violent denunciation of some kind. Bud dared not look at her, nor at - Lew, who sat glowering at Bud's right hand. He tried to eat, tried to - swallow his coffee, and finally gave up the attempt and left the table. - </p> - <p> - In getting up he touched Lew's shoulder with his elbow, and Lew let out a - bellow of pain and an oath, and leaned away from him, his right hand up to - ward off another hurt. - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me. I forgot your rheumatism,” Bud apologized perfunctorily, his - face going red at the epithet. Marian, coming toward him with a plate of - biscuits, looked him full in the eyes and turned her glance to her - husband's back while her lips curled in the bitterest, the most scornful - smile Bud had ever seen on a woman's face. She did not speak—speech - was impossible before that tableful of men—but Bud went out feeling - as though she had told him that her contempt for Lew was beyond words, and - that his rheumatism brought no pity whatever. - </p> - <p> - Wednesday passed, Thursday came, and still there was no chance to speak a - word in private. The kitchen drudge was hedged about by open ears and - curious eyes, and save at meal-time she was invisible to the men unless - they glimpsed her for a moment in the kitchen door. - </p> - <p> - Thursday brought a thunder storm with plenty of rain, and in the drizzle - that held over until Friday noon Bud went out to an old calf shed which he - had discovered in the edge of the pasture, and gathered his neckerchief - full of mushrooms. Bud hated mushrooms, but he carried them to the machine - shed and waited until he was sure that Honey was in the sitting room - playing the piano—and hitting what Bud called a blue note now and - then—and that Lew was in the bunk-house with the other men, and Dave - and old Pop were in Pop's shack. Then, and then only, Bud took long steps - to the kitchen door, carrying his mushrooms as tenderly as though they - were eggs for hatching. - </p> - <p> - Marian was up to her dimpled elbows in bread dough when he went in. Honey - was still groping her way lumpily through the Blue Danube Waltz, and Bud - stood so that he could look out through the white-curtained window over - the kitchen table and make sure that no one approached the house unseen. - </p> - <p> - “Here are some mushrooms,” he said guardedly, lest his voice should carry - to Honey. “They're just an excuse. Far as I'm concerned you can feed them - to the hogs. I like things clean and natural and wholesome, myself. I came - to find out what's the matter, Mrs. Morris. Is there anything I can do? I - took the hint you gave me in the note, Sunday, and I discovered right away - you knew what you were talking about. That was a holdup down in the Sinks. - It couldn't have been anything else. But they wouldn't have got anything. - I didn't have more than a dollar in my pocket.” - </p> - <p> - Marian turned her head, and listened to the piano, and glanced up at him. - </p> - <p> - “I also like things clean and natural and wholesome,” she said quietly. - “That's why I tried to put you on your guard. You don't seem to fit in, - somehow, with—the surroundings. I happen to know that the races held - here every Sunday are just thinly veiled attempts to cheat the unwary out - of every cent they have. I should advise you, Mr. Birnie, to be very - careful how you bet on any horses.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall,” Bud smiled. “Pop gave me some good advice, too, about running - horses. He says, 'It's every fellow for himself, and mercy toward none.' - I'm playing by their rule, and Pop expects to make a few dollars, too. He - said he'd stand by me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! He did?” Marian's voice puzzled Bud. She kneaded the bread vigorously - for a minute. “Don't depend too much on Pop. He's—variable. And - don't go around with a dollar in your pocket—unless you don't mind - losing that dollar. There are men in this country who would willingly - dispense with the formality of racing a horse in order to get your money.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—I've discovered one informal method already. I wish I knew how - I could help YOU.” - </p> - <p> - “Help me—in what way?” Marian glanced out of the window again as if - that were a habit she had formed. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know. I wish I did. I thought perhaps you had some trouble that—My - mother had the same look in her eyes when we came back to the ranch after - some Indian trouble, and found the house burned and everything destroyed - but the ground itself. She didn't say anything much. She just began - helping father plan how we'd manage until we could get material and build - another cabin, and make our supplies hold out. She didn't complain. But - her eyes had the same look I've seen in yours, Mrs. Morris. So I feel as - if I ought to help you, just as I'd help mother.” Bud's face had been red - and embarrassed when he began, but his earnestness served to erase his - selfconsciousness. - </p> - <p> - “You're different—just like mother,” he went on when Marian did not - answer. “You don't belong here drudging in this kitchen. I never saw a - woman doing a man's work before. They ought to have a man cooking for all - these hulking men.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the kitchen!” Marian exclaimed impatiently. “I don't mind the - cooking. That's the least—” - </p> - <p> - “It isn't right, just the same. I—I don't suppose that's it - altogether. I'm not trying to find out what the trouble is—but I - wish you'd remember that I'm ready to do anything in the world that I can. - You won't misunderstand that, I'm sure.” - </p> - <p> - “No-o,” said Marian slowly. “But you see, there's nothing that you can do—except, - perhaps, make things worse for me.” Then, to lighten that statement, she - smiled at him. “Just now you can help me very much if you will go in and - play something besides the Blue Danube Waltz. I've had to listen to that - ever since Honora sent away for the music with the winter's grocery order, - last October. Tell Honora you got her some mushrooms. And don't trust - anyone. If you must bet on the horses, do so with your eyes open. They're - cheats—and worse, some of them.” - </p> - <p> - Bud's glance followed hers through the window that overlooked the corrals - and the outbuildings. Lew was coming up to the house with a slicker over - his head to keep off the drizzle. - </p> - <p> - “Well, remember I'd do anything for you that I'd do for my mother or my - sister Dulcie. And I wish you'd call on me just as they would, if you get - in a pinch and need me. If I know you'll do that I'll feel a lot better - satisfied.” - </p> - <p> - “If I need you be sure that I shall let you know. And I'll say that 'It's - a comfort to have met one white man,'” Marian assured him hurriedly, her - anxious eyes on her approaching husband. - </p> - <p> - She need not have worried over his coming, so far as Bud was concerned. - For Bud was in the sitting-room and had picked Honey off the piano stool, - had given her a playful shake and was playing the Blue Danube as its - composer intended that it should be played, when Lew entered the kitchen - and kicked the door shut behind him. - </p> - <p> - Bud spent the forenoon conscientiously trying to teach Honey that the - rests are quite as important to the tempo of a waltz measure as are the - notes. Honey's talent for music did not measure up to her talent for - coquetry; she received about five dollars' worth of instruction and no - blandishments whatever, and although she no doubt profited thereby, at - last she balked and put her lazy white hands over her ears and refused to - listen to Bud's inexorable “One, two, three, one, two, three-and one, two, - three.” Whereupon Bud laughed and returned to the bunk-house. - </p> - <p> - He arrived in the middle of a heated argument over Jeff Hall's tactics in - racing Skeeter, and immediately was called upon for his private, personal - opinion of Sunday's race. Bud's private, personal opinion being - exceedingly private and personal, he threw out a skirmish line of banter. - </p> - <p> - Smoky could run circles around that Skeeter horse, he boasted, and Jeff's - manner of riding was absolutely unimportant, non-essential and immaterial. - He was mighty glad that holdup man had fallen down, last Sunday, before he - got his hands on any money, because that money was going to talk long and - loud to Jeff Hall next Sunday. Now that Bud had started running his horse - for money, working for wages looked foolish and unprofitable. He was now - working merely for healthful exercise and to pass the time away between - Sundays. His real mission in life, he had discovered, was to teach Jeff's - bunch that gambling is a sin. - </p> - <p> - The talk was carried enthusiastically to the dinner table, where Bud - ignored the scowling proximity of Lew and repeated his boasts in a revised - form as an indirect means of letting Marian know that he meant to play the - Burroback game in the Burroback way—or as nearly as he could—and - keep his honesty more or less intact. He did not think she would approve, - but he wanted her to know. - </p> - <p> - Once, when Buddy was fifteen, four thoroughbred cows and four calves - disappeared mysteriously from the home ranch just before the calves had - reached branding age. Buddy rode the hills and the valleys every spare - minute for two weeks in search of them, and finally, away over the ridge - where an undesirable neighbor was getting a start in cattle, Buddy found - the calves in a fenced field with eight calves belonging—perhaps—to - the undesirable neighbor. - </p> - <p> - Buddy did not ride down to the ranch and accuse the neighbor of stealing - the calves. Instead, he painstakingly sought a weak place in the fence, - made a very accidental looking hole and drove out the twelve calves, took - them over the ridge to Tomahawk and left them in a high, mountain meadow - pretty well surrounded by matted thickets. There, because there was good - grass and running water, the calves seemed quite as happy as in the field. - </p> - <p> - Then Buddy hurried home and brought a branding iron and a fresh horse, and - by working very hard and fast, he somehow managed to plant a deep tomahawk - brand on each one of the twelve calves. He returned home very late and - very proud of himself, and met his father face to face as he was putting - away the iron. Explanations and a broken harness strap mingled painfully - in Buddy's memory for a long time afterwards, but the full effect of the - beating was lost because Buddy happened to hear Bob Birnie confide to - mother that the lad had served the old cattle-thief right, and that any - man who could start with one thoroughbred cow and in four years have - sufficient increase from that cow to produce eight calves a season, ought - to lose them all. - </p> - <p> - Buddy had not needed his father's opinion to strengthen his own conviction - that he had performed a worthy deed and one of which no man need feel - ashamed. Indeed, Buddy considered the painful incident of the buggy strap - a parental effort at official discipline, and held no particular grudge - against his father after the welts had disappeared from his person. - </p> - <p> - Wherefore Bud, the man, held unswervingly to the ethical standard of Buddy - the boy. If Burroback Valley was scheming to fleece a stranger at their - races and rob him by force if he happened to win, then Bud felt justified - in getting every dollar possible out of the lot of them. At any rate, he - told himself, he would do his darndest. It was plain enough that Pop was - trying to make an opportunity to talk confidentially, but with a dozen men - on the place it was easy enough to avoid being alone without arousing the - old man's suspicions. Marian had told him to trust no one; and Bud, with - his usual thoroughness, applied the warning literally. - </p> - <p> - Sunday morning he caught up Smoky and rode him to the corral. Smoky had - recovered from his lameness, and while Bud groomed him for the afternoon's - running the men of Little Lost gathered round him and offered advice and - encouragement, and even volunteered to lend him money if he needed it. But - Bud told them to put up their own bets, and never to worry about him. - Their advice and their encouragement, however, he accepted as cheerfully - as they were given. - </p> - <p> - “Think yuh can beat Skeeter, young feller?” Pop shambled up to inquire - anxiously, his beard brushing Bud's shoulder while he leaned close. - “Remember what I told ye. You stick by me an' I'll stick by you. You shook - on it, don't forgit that, young feller.” - </p> - <p> - Bud had forgotten, but he made haste to redeem his promise. “Last Sunday, - Pop, I had to play it alone. To-day-well, if you want to make an honest - dollar, you know what to do, don't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Sho! I'm bettin' on yore horse t'day, an' mind ye, I want to see my money - doubled! But that there lameness in his left hind ankle—I don't see - but what that kinda changes my opinion a little mite. You shore he won't - quit on ye in the race, now? Don't lie to ole Pop, young feller!” - </p> - <p> - “Say! He 's the gamest little horse in the state, Pop. He never has quit, - and he never will.” Bud stood up and laid a friendly hand on the old - fellow's shoulder. “Pop, I'm running him to-day to win. That's the truth. - I'm going to put all I've got on him. Is that good enough?” - </p> - <p> - “Shucks almighty! That's good enough fer me,—plenty good fer me,” - Pop cackled, and trotted off to find someone who had little enough faith - in Smoky to wager a two-to-one against him. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to Bud that the crowd was larger than that of a week ago, and - there was no doubt whatever that the betting was more feverish, and that - Jeff meant that day to retrieve his losses. Bud passed up a very good - chance to win on other races, and centred all his betting on Smoky. He had - been throughout the week boastful and full of confidence, and now he - swaggered and lifted his voice in arrogant challenge to all and sundry. - His three hundred dollars was on the race, and incidentally, he never left - Smoky from the time he led him up from pasture until the time came when he - and Jeff Hall rode side by side down to the quarter post. - </p> - <p> - They came up in a small whirlwind of speed and dust, and Smoky was under - the wire to his ears when Skeeter's nose showed beyond it. Little Lost was - jubilant. Jeff Hall and his backers were not. - </p> - <p> - Bud's three hundred dollars had in less than a minute increased to a - little over nine hundred, though all his bets had been moderate. By the - time he had collected, his pockets were full and his cocksureness had - increased to such an unbearable crowing that Jeff Hall's eyes were - venomous as a snake's. Jeff had been running to win, that day, and he had - taken odds on Skeeter that had seemed to him perfectly safe. - </p> - <p> - “I'll run yuh horse for horse!” he bellowed and spat out an epithet that - sent Bud at him white-lipped. - </p> - <p> - “Damn yuh, ride down to the quarter post and I'll show you some running!” - Bud yelled back. “And after you've swallowed dust all the way up the - track, you go with me to where the women can't see and I'll lick the - living tar outa you!” - </p> - <p> - Jeff swore and wheeled Skeeter toward the starting post, beckoning Bud to - follow. And Bud, hastily tucking in a flapping bulge of striped shirt, - went after him. At that moment he was not Bud, but Buddy in one of his - fighting moods, with his plans forgotten while he avenged an insult. - </p> - <p> - Men lined up at the wire to judge for themselves the finish, and Dave - Truman rode alone to start them. No one doubted but that the start would - be fair—Jeff and Bud would see to that! - </p> - <p> - For the first time in months the rein-ends stung Smoky's flanks when he - was in his third jump. Just once Bud struck, and was ashamed of the blow - as it fell. Smoky did not need that urge, but he flattened his ears and - came down the track a full length ahead of Skeeter, and held the pace to - the wire and beyond, where he stopped in a swirl of sand and went prancing - back, ready for another race if they asked it of him. - </p> - <p> - “Guess Dave'll have to bring out Boise and take the swellin' outa that - singin' kid's pocket,” a hardfaced man shouted as Jeff slid off Skeeter - and went over to where his cronies stood bunched and conferring earnestly - together. - </p> - <p> - “Not to-day, he needn't. I've had all the excitement I want; and I'd like - to have time to count my money before I lose it,” Bud retorted. “Next - Sunday, if it's a clear day and the sign is right, I might run against - Boise if it's worth my while. Say, Jeff, seeing you're playing hard luck, - I won't lick you for what you called me. And just to show my heart's - right, I'll lend you Skeeter to ride home. Or if you want to buy him back, - you can have him for sixty dollars or such a matter. He 's a nice little - horse,—if you aren't in a hurry!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE - </h2> - <p> - “Bud, you're fourteen kinds of a damn fool and I can prove it,” Jerry - announced without prelude of any kind save, perhaps, the viciousness with - which he thrust a pitchfork into a cock of hay. The two were turning over - hay-cocks that had been drenched with another unwelcome storm, and they - had not been talking much. “Forking” soggy hay when the sun is blistering - hot and great, long-billed mosquitoes are boring indefatigably into the - back of one's neck is not a pastime conducive to polite and animated - conversation. - </p> - <p> - “Fly at it,” Bud invited, resting his fork while he scratched a smarting - shoulder. “But you can skip some of the evidence. I know seven of the - kinds, and I plead guilty. Any able-bodied man who will deliberately make - a barbecue of himself for a gang of blood-thirsty insects ought to be - hanged. What's the rest?” - </p> - <p> - “You can call that mild,” Jerry stated severely. “Bud, you're playing to - lose the shirt off your back. You've got a hundred dollar forfeit up on - next Sunday's running match, so you'll run if you have to race Boise - afoot. That's all right if you want the risk—but did it ever occur - to you that if all the coin in the neighborhood is collected in one man's - pocket, there'll be about as many fellows as there are losers, that will - lay awake till sun-up figuring how to heel him and ride off with the roll? - I ain't over-stocked with courage, myself. I'd rather be broke in - Burroback Valley than owner of wealth. It's healthier.” - </p> - <p> - He thrust his fork into another settled heap, lifted it clear of the - ground with one heave of his muscular shoulders, and heard within a - strident buzzing. He held the hay poised until a mottled gray snake - writhed into view, its ugly jaws open and its fangs showing malevolently. - </p> - <p> - “Grab him with your fork, Bud,” Jerry said coolly. “A rattler—the - valley's full of 'em,—some of 'em 's human.” - </p> - <p> - The snake was dispatched and the two went on to the next hay-cock. Bud was - turning over more than the hay, and presently he spoke more seriously than - was his habit with Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “You're full enough of warnings, Jerry. What do you want me to do about - it?” - </p> - <p> - “Drift,” Jerry advised. “There's moral diseases just as catching as - smallpox. This part of the country has been settled up by men that came - here first because they wanted to hide out. They've slipped into darn - crooked ways, and the rest has either followed suit or quit. All through - this rough country. It's the same-over in the Black Rim, across Thunder - Mountains, and beyond that to the Sawtooth, a man that's honest is a man - that's off his range. I'd like to see you pull out—before you're - planted.” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked at Jerry, studied him, feature by feature. “Then what are you - doing here?” he demanded bluntly. “Why haven't you pulled out?” - </p> - <p> - “Me?” Jerry bit his lip. “Bud, I'm going to take a chance and tell you the - God's-truth. I dassent. I'm protected here because I keep my mouth shut, - and because they know I've got to or they can hand me over. I had some - trouble. I'm on the dodge, and Little Lost is right handy to the Sinks and—Catrock - Canyon. There ain't a sheriff in Idaho that would have one chance in a - thousand of getting me here. But you—say!” He faced Bud. “You ain't - on the dodge, too, are yuh?” - </p> - <p> - “Nope,” Bud grinned. “Over at the Muleshoe they seemed to think I was. I - just struck out for myself, and I want to show up at home some day with a - stake I made myself. It's just a little argument with my dad that I want - to settle. And,” he added frankly, “I seem to have struck the right place - to make money quickly. The very fact that they're a bunch of crooks makes - my conscience clear on the point of running my horse. I'm not cheating - them out of a cent. If Jeff's horse is faster than Smoky, Jeff is - privileged to let him out and win if he can. It isn't my fault if he 's - playing to let me win from the whole bunch in the hope that he can hold me - up afterwards and get the roll. It's straight 'give and take'—and so - far I've been taking.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry worked for a while, moodily silent. “What I'd like is to see you - take the trail; while the takin's good,” he said later. “I've got to keep - my mouth shut. But I like yuh, Bud. I hate like hell to see you walking - straight into a trap.” - </p> - <p> - “Say, I'm as easily trapped as a mountain lion,” Bud told him confidently. - </p> - <p> - Whereat Jerry looked at him pityingly. “You going to that dance up at - Morgan's?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure! I'm going to take Honey and—I think Mrs. Morris if she - decides to go. Honey mentioned it last night. Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, nothing.” Jerry shouldered his fork and went off to where a jug of - water was buried in the hay beside a certain boulder which marked the - spot. He drank long, stopped for a short gossip with Charley, who strolled - over for a drink, and went to work on another row. - </p> - <p> - Bud watched him, and wondered if Jerry had changed rows to avoid further - talk with him; and whether Jerry had merely been trying to get information - from him, and had either learned what he wanted to know, or had given up - the attempt. Bud reviewed mentally their desultory conversation and - decided that he had accidentally been very discreet. The only real bit of - information he had given Jerry was the fact that he was not “on the dodge”—a - criminal in fear of the law—and that surely could harm no man. - </p> - <p> - That he intended to run against Boise on Sunday was common knowledge; also - that he had a hundred dollar forfeit up on the race. And that he was going - to a dance with Honey was of no consequence that he could see. - </p> - <p> - Bud was beginning to discount the vague warnings he had received. Unless - something definite came within his knowledge he would go about his - business exactly as if Burroback Valley were a church-going community. He - would not “drift.” - </p> - <p> - But after all he did not go to the dance with Honey, or with anyone. He - came to the supper-table freshly shaved and dressed for the occasion, ate - hungrily and straightway became a very sick young man. He did not care if - there were forty dances in the Valley that night. His head was splitting, - his stomach was in a turmoil. He told Jerry to go ahead with Honey, and if - he felt better after a while he would follow. Jerry at first was inclined - to scepticism, and accused Bud of crawfishing at the last minute. But - within ten minutes Bud had convinced him so completely that Jerry insisted - upon staying with him. By then Bud was too sick to care what was being - done, or who did it. So Jerry stayed. - </p> - <p> - Honey came to the bunk-house in her dance finery, was met in the doorway - by Jerry and was told that this was no place for a lady, and reluctantly - consented to go without her escort. - </p> - <p> - A light shone dimly in the kitchen after the dancers had departed, - wherefore Jerry guessed that Marian had not gone with the others, and that - he could perhaps get hold of mustard for an emetic or a plaster—Jerry - was not sure which remedy would be best, and the patient, wanting to die, - would not be finicky. He found Marian measuring something drop by drop - into half a glass of water. She turned, saw who had entered, and carefully - counted three more drops, corked the bottle tightly and slid it into her - apron pocket, and held out the glass to Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “Give him this,” she said in a soft undertone. “I'm sorry, but I hadn't a - chance to say a word to the boy, and so I couldn't think of any other way - of making sure he would not go up to Morgan's. I put something into his - coffee to make him sick. You may tell him, Jerry, if you like. I should, - if I had the chance. This will counteract the effects of the other so that - he will be all right in a couple of hours.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry took the glass and stood looking at her steadily. “That sure was one - way to do it,” he observed, with a quirk of the lips. “It's none of my - business, and I ain't asking any questions, but—” - </p> - <p> - “Very sensible, I'm sure,” Marian interrupted him. “I wish he'd leave the - country. Can't you—?” - </p> - <p> - “No. I told him to pull out, and he just laughed at me. I knowed they was - figuring on ganging together to-night—” - </p> - <p> - Marian closed her hands together with a gesture of impatience. “Jerry, I - wish I knew just how bad you are!” she exclaimed. “Do you dare stand by - him? Because this thing is only beginning. I couldn't bear to see him go - up there to-night, absolutely unsuspecting—and so I made him sick. - Tell that to anyone, and you can make me—” - </p> - <p> - “Say, I ain't a damned skunk!” Jerry muttered. “I'm bad enough, maybe. At - any rate you think so.” Then, as usually happened, Jerry decided to hold - his tongue. He turned and lifted the latch of the screen door. “You sure - made a good job of it,” he grinned. “I'll go an' pour this into Bud 'fore - he loses his boots!” - </p> - <p> - He did so, and saved Bud's boots and half a night's sleep besides. - Moreover, when Bud, fully recovered, searched his memory of that supper - and decided that it was the sliced cucumbers that had disagreed with him, - Jerry gravely assured him that it undoubtedly was the combination of - cucumber and custard pie, and that Bud was lucky to be alive after such - reckless eating. - </p> - <p> - Having missed the dance altogether, Bud looked forward with impatience to - Sunday. It is quite possible that others shared with him that impatience, - though we are going to adhere for a while to Bud's point of view and do no - more than guess at the thoughts hidden behind the fair words of certain - men in the Valley. - </p> - <p> - Pop's state of mind we are privileged to know, for Pop was seen making - daily pilgrimage to the pasture where he could watch Smoky limping - desultorily here and there with Stopper and Sunfish. On Saturday afternoon - Bud saw Pop trying to get his hands on Smoky, presumably to examine the - lame ankle. But three legs were all Smoky needed to keep him out of Pop's - reach. Pop forgot his rheumatism and ran pretty fast for a man his age, - and when Bud arrived Pop's vocabulary had limbered up to a more surprising - activity than his legs. - </p> - <p> - “Want to bet on yourself, Pop?” Bud called out when Pop was running back - and forth, hopefully trying to corner Smoky in a rocky draw. “I'm willing - to risk a dollar on you, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - Pop whirled upon him and hurled sentences not written in the book of - Parlor Entertainment. The gist of it was that he had been trying all the - week to have a talk with Bud, and Bud had plainly avoided him after - promising to act upon Pop's advice and run so as to make some money. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I made some,” Bud defended. “If you didn't, it's just because you - didn't bet strong enough.” - </p> - <p> - “I want to look at that horse's hind foot,” Pop insisted. - </p> - <p> - “No use. He's too lame to run against Boise. You can see that yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Pop eyed Bud suspiciously, pulling his beard. “Are you fixin' to - double-cross me, young feller?” he wanted to know. “I went and made some - purty big bets on this race. If you think yo're goin' to fool ole Pop, you - 'll wish you hadn't. You got enemies already in this valley, lemme tell - yuh. The Muleshoe ain't any bunch to fool with, and I'm willing to say 't - they're laying fer yuh. They think,” he added shrewdly, “'t you're a - spotter, or something. Air yuh?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course I am, Pop! I've spotted a way to make money and have fun while - I do it.” Bud looked at the old man, remembered Marian's declaration that - Pop was not very reliable, and groped mentally for a way to hearten the - old man without revealing anything better kept to himself, such as the - immediate effect of a horse hair tied just above a horse's hoof, also the - immediate result of removing that hair. Wherefore, he could not think of - much to say, except that he would not attempt to run a lame horse against - Boise. - </p> - <p> - “All I can say is, to-morrow morning you keep your eyes open, Pop, and - your tongue between your teeth. And no matter what comes up, you use your - own judgment.” - </p> - <p> - To-morrow morning Pop showed that he was taking Bud's advice. When the - crowd began to gather—much earlier than usual, by the way, and much - larger than any crowd Bud had seen in the valley—Pop was trotting - here and there, listening and pulling his whiskers and eyeing Bud sharply - whenever that young man appeared in his vicinity. - </p> - <p> - Bud led Smoky up at noon—and Smoky was still lame. Dave looked at - him and at Bud, and grinned. “I guess that forfeit money's mine,” he said - in his laconic way. “No use running that horse. I could beat him afoot.” - </p> - <p> - This was but the beginning. Others began to banter and jeer Bud, Jeff's - crowd taunting him with malicious glee. The singin' kid was going to have - some of the swelling taken out of his head, they chortled. He had been - crazy enough to put up a forfeit on to-day's race, and now his horse had - just three legs to run on. - </p> - <p> - “Git out afoot, kid!” Jeff Hall yelled. “If you kin run half as fast as - you kin talk, you'll beat Boise four lengths in the first quarter!” - </p> - <p> - Bud retorted in kind, and led Smoky around the corral as if he hoped that - the horse would recover miraculously just to save his master's pride. The - crowd hooted to see how Smoky hobbled along, barely touching the toe of - his lame foot to the ground. Bud led him back to the manger piled with new - hay, and faced the jeering crowd belligerently. Bud noticed several of the - Muleshoe men in the crowd, no doubt drawn to Little Lost by the talk of - Bud's spectacular winnings for two Sundays. Hen was there, and Day Masters - and Cub. Also there were strangers who had ridden a long way, judging by - their sweaty horses. In the midst of the talk and laughter Dave led out - Boise freshly curried and brushed and arching his neck proudly. - </p> - <p> - “No use, Bud,” he said tolerantly. “I guess you're set back that forfeit - money—unless you want to go through the motions of running a lame - horse.” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, I'm not going to hand over any forfeit money without making a - fight for it!” Bud told him, anger showing in his voice. “I'm no such - piker as that. I won't run Smoky, lame as he is “—Bud probably - nudged his own ribs when he said that!—“but if you'll make it a - mile, I'll catch up my old buckskin packhorse and run the race with him, - by thunder! He's not the quickest horse in the world, but he sure can run - a long while!” - </p> - <p> - They yelled and slapped one another on the back, and otherwise comported - themselves as though a great joke had been told them; never dreaming, poor - fools, that a costly joke was being perpetrated. - </p> - <p> - “Go it, kid. You run your packhorse, and I'll rive yuh five to one on - him!” a friend of Jeff Hall's yelled derisively. - </p> - <p> - “I'll just take you up on that, and I'll make it one hundred dollars,” Bud - shouted back. “I'd run a turtle for a quarter, at those odds!” - </p> - <p> - The crowd was having hysterics when Bud straddled a Little Lost horse and, - loudly declaring that he would bring back Sunfish, led Smoky limping back - to the pasture. He returned soon, leading the buckskin. The crowd surged - closer, gave Sunfish a glance and whooped again. Bud's face was red with - apparent anger, his eyes snapped. He faced them defiantly, his hand on - Sunfish's thin, straggling mane. - </p> - <p> - “You're such good sports, you'll surely appreciate my feelings when I say - that this horse is mine, and I'm going to run him and back him to win!” he - cried. “I may be a darn fool, but I'm no piker. I know what this horse can - do when I try to catch him up on a frosty morning—and I'm going to - see if he can't go just as fast and just as long when I'm on him as he can - when I'm after him.” - </p> - <p> - “We'll go yuh, kid! I'll bet yuh five to one,” a man shouted. “You name - the amount yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Fifty,” said Bud, and the man nodded and jotted down the amount. - </p> - <p> - “Bud, you're a damn fool. I'll bet you a hundred and make it ten to one,” - drawled Dave, stroking Boise's face affectionately while he looked - superciliously at Sunfish standing half asleep in the clamor, with his - head sagging at the end of his long, ewe neck. “But if you'll take my - advice, go turn that fool horse back in the pasture and run the bay if you - must run something.” - </p> - <p> - “The bay's a rope horse. I don't want to spoil him by running him. That - little horse saved my life, down in the Sinks. No, Sunfish has run times - enough from me—now he 's got to run for me, by thunder. I'll bet on - him, too!” - </p> - <p> - Jeff pushed his way through to Bud. He was smiling with that crafty look - in his eyes which should have warned a child that the smile went no deeper - than his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Bud, doggone it, I like yore nerve. Besides, you owe me something for the - way you trimmed me last Sunday. I'll just give you fifteen to one, and you - put up Skeeter at seventy-five, and as much money as yo're a mind to. A - pile of it come out of my pocket, so-” - </p> - <p> - “Well, don't holler your head off, Jeff. How's two hundred?” - </p> - <p> - “Suits me, kid.” He winked at the others, who knew how sure a thing he had - to back his wager. “It 'll be a lot of money if I should lose—” He - turned suddenly to Dave. “How much was that you put up agin the kid, - Dave?” - </p> - <p> - “One hundred dollars, and a ten-to-one shot I win,” Dave drawled. “That - ought to satisfy yuh it ain't a frame-up. The kid's crazy, that's all.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! Am I?” Bud turned hotly. “Well, I've bet half of all the money I have - in the world. And I'm game for the other half—” He stopped abruptly, - cast one look at Sunfish and another at Boise, stepping about uneasily, - his shiny coat rippling, beautiful. He turned and combed Sunfish's scanty - mane with his gloved fingers. Those nearest saw that his lips were - trembling a little and mistook his hidden emotion for anger. - </p> - <p> - “You got him going,” a man whispered in Jeff's ear. “The kid's crazy mad. - He'll bet the shirt off his back if yuh egg him on a little more.” - </p> - <p> - Jeff must have decided to “egg” Bud on. By the time the crowd had reached - the course, and the first, more commonplace races were over, the other - half of his money was in the hands of the stake-holder, who happened on - this day to be Jerry. And the odds varied from four to one up to Jeff - Hall's scornful fifteen. - </p> - <p> - “Bet yuh five hundred dollars against your bay horse,” Lew offered when - Bud confessed that he had not another dollar to bet.— - </p> - <p> - “All right, it's a go with me,” Bud answered recklessly. “Get his hundred, - Jerry, and put down Stopper.” - </p> - <p> - “What's that saddle worth?” another asked meaningly. - </p> - <p> - “One hundred dollars,” snapped Bud. “And if you want to go further, there - are my chaps and spurs and this silver-mounted bridle-and my boots and - hat-and I'll throw in Sunfish for whatever you say his hide's worth. Who - wants the outfit?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll take 'em,” said Jeff, and permitted Jerry and Dave to appraise the - outfit, which Bud piled contemptuously in a heap. - </p> - <p> - He mounted Sunfish bareback with a rope halter. Bud was bareheaded and in - his sock feet. His eyes were terribly blue and bright, and his face was - flushed as a drunken man's. He glanced over to the bank where the women - and children were watching. It seemed to him that one woman fluttered her - handkerchief, and his heart beat unevenly for a minute. - </p> - <p> - Then he was riding at a walk down the course to the farthest post, and the - crowd was laughing at the contrast between the two horses. Boise stepped - springily, tossing his head, his eyes ablaze with ardor for the race. - Beside him Sunfish walked steadily as if he were carrying a pack. He was - not a pretty horse to look at. His neck was long and thin, his mane and - tail scanty and uneven, a nondescript sorrel. His head looked large, set - on the end of that neck, his nose was dished in and his eyes had a certain - veiled look, as if he were hiding a bad disposition under those droopy - lids. Without a saddle he betrayed his high, thin withers, the sway in his - back, his high hip bones. His front legs were flat, with long, - stringy-looking muscles under his unkempt buckskin hide. Even the women - laughed at Sunfish. - </p> - <p> - Beside them two men rode, the starter and another to see that the start - was fair. So they receded down the flat, yellow course and dwindled to - mere miniature figures against the sand, so that one could not tell one - horse from another. - </p> - <p> - The crowd bunched, still laughing at how the singin' kid was going to feel - when he rode again to meet them. It would cure him of racing, they said. - It would be a good lesson; serve him right for coming in there and - thinking, because he had cleaned up once or twice, that he could not be - beaten. - </p> - <p> - “Here they come,” Jeff Hall announced satisfiedly, and spat into the sand - as a tiny blue puff of smoke showed beside one of the dots, and two other - dots began to grow perceptibly larger within a yellow cloud which rolled - along the earth. - </p> - <p> - Men reined this way and that, or stood on their toes if they were afoot, - the better to see the two rolling dots. In a moment one dot seemed larger - than the other. One could glimpse the upflinging of knees as two horses - leaped closer and closer. - </p> - <p> - “Well-l-he's keepin' Dave in sight—that's more than what I expected - he'd do,” Jeff observed. - </p> - <p> - It was Pop who suddenly gave a whoop that cracked and shrilled into - falsetto. - </p> - <p> - “Shucks a'mighty! Dave, he's a-whippin' up to keep the KID in sight!” he - quavered. “Shucks—a'MIGHTY, he 's a-comin'!” - </p> - <p> - He was. Lying forward flattened along Sunfish's hard-muscled shoulders, - Bud was gaining and gaining—one length, then two lengths as he shot - under the wire, slowed and rode back to find a silent crowd watching him. - </p> - <p> - He was clothed safely again in chaps, boots, spurs, hat—except that - I have named the articles backward; cowpuncher that he was, Bud put on his - hat before he even reached for his boots—and was collecting his - wagers relentlessly as Shylock ever took his toll, before he paid any - attention to the atmosphere around him. Then, because someone shouted a - question three inches from his ear, Bud turned and laughed as he faced - them. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sure he's from running stock! I never said he wasn't—because - none of you make-believe horsemen had sense enough to see the speed in him - and get curious. You bush-racers never saw a real race-horse before, I - guess. They aren't always pretty to look at, you know. Sunfish has all the - earmarks of speed if you know how to look for them. He's thoroughbred; - sired by Trump, out of Kansas Chippy—if that means anything to you - fellows.” He looked them over, eyes meeting eyes until his glance rested - on Jeff Hall. “I've got his registration papers in my grip, if you aren't - convinced. And,” he added by way of rubbing it in, “I guess I've got about - all the money there is in this valley.” - </p> - <p> - “No, you ain't!” Pop Truman cackled, teetering backward and forward while - he counted his winnings. “I bet on ye, young feller. Brought me in - something, too. It did so!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD - </h2> - <p> - At supper Bud noticed that Marian, standing at his right side, set down - his cup of coffee with her right hand, and at the same instant he felt her - left hand fumble in his pocket and then touch his elbow. She went on, and - Bud in his haste to get outside drank his coffee so hot that it scalded - his mouth. Jerry rose up and stepped backward over the bench as Bud passed - him, and went out at his heels. - </p> - <p> - “Go play the piano for half an hour and then meet me where you got them - mushrooms. And when you quit playing, duck quick. Tell Honey you'll be - back in a minute. Have her hunt for music for yuh while you're out—or - something like that. Don't let on.” - </p> - <p> - Bud might have questioned Jerry, but that cautious young man was already - turning back to call something—to Dave, so Bud went around the - corner, glancing into the pantry window as he passed. Marian was not in - sight, nor was Honey at the moment when he stood beside the step of the - post-office. - </p> - <p> - Boldness carries its own talisman against danger. Bud went in—without - slamming the door behind him, you may be sure—and drew his small - notebook from his inside pocket. With that to consult frequently, he sat - down by the window where the failing light was strongest, and proceeded to - jot down imaginary figures on the paper he pulled from his coat pocket and - unfolded as if it were of no value whatever to him. The piano playing - ordered by Jerry could wait. - </p> - <p> - What Marian had to say on this occasion could not be written upon a - cigarette paper. In effect her note was a preface to Jerry's commands. Bud - saw where she had written words and erased them so thoroughly that the - cheap paper was almost worn through. She had been afraid, poor lady, but - her fear could not prevent the writing. - </p> - <p> - “You must leave to-night for Crater and cash the checks given you to pay - the bets. Go to Crater. If you don't know the way, keep due north after - you have crossed Gold Gap. There's the stage road, but they'll watch that, - I'm afraid. They mean to stop payment on the checks. But first they will - kill you if they can. They say you cheated with that thoroughbred horse. - They took their losses so calmly—I knew that they meant to rob you. - To show you how I know, it was Lew you shot on the ridge that night. His - rheumatism was caused by your bullet that nicked his shoulder. So you see - what sort we are—go. Don't wait—go now.” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, smiling at - him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, how much is it?” she teased when she saw he had discovered her. - </p> - <p> - Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns of figures, - his hat-brim hiding his face. - </p> - <p> - “Over eleven thousand dollars,” he announced, and twisted the paper in his - fingers while he went over to her. “Almost enough to start housekeeping!” - </p> - <p> - Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she pretended to have - dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to tuck the paper out of sight. “I - feel pretty much intoxicated to-night, Honey,” he said. “I think I need - soothing, or something—and you know what music does to the savage - breast. Let 's play.” - </p> - <p> - “All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought you were mad,” - Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the little gate in the half - partition just as Bud was vaulting the counter, which gave her a great - laugh and a chance for playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and immediately - regretted the caress. - </p> - <p> - Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his mandolin and played - that while Honey thumped out chords for him. As he had half expected, most - of the men strayed in and perched here and there listening just as if - there had not been a most unusual horserace to discuss before they slept. - Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost boys so thoughtful, and this - silence struck him all at once as something sinister, like a beast of prey - stalking its kill. - </p> - <p> - Two waltzes he played—and then, in the middle of a favorite - two-step, a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and Bud came as - close to swearing as a well-behaved young man may come in the presence of - a lady. - </p> - <p> - “Now I'll have to go get a new E string,” he complained. “You play the - Danube for the boys—the way I taught you—while I get this - fixed. I've an extra string down in the bunk-house; it won't take five - minutes to get it.” He laid the mandolin down on his chair, bolted out - through the screen door which he slammed after him to let Jerry know that - he was coming, and walked halfway to the bunk-house before he veered off - around the corner of the machine shed and ran. - </p> - <p> - Jerry was waiting by the old shed, and without a word he led Bud behind it - where Sunfish was standing saddled and bridled. - </p> - <p> - “You got to go, Bud, while the going's good. I'd go with yuh if I dared,” - Jerry mumbled guardedly. “You hit for Crater, Bud, and put that money in - the bank. You can cut into the stage road where it crosses Oldman Creek, - if you go straight up the race track to the far end, and follow the trail - from there. You can't miss it—there ain't but one way to go. I got - yuh this horse because he's worth more'n what the other two are, and he's - faster. And Bud, if anybody rides up on yuh, shoot. Don't monkey around - about it. And you RIDE!” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” Bud muttered. “But I'll have to go down in the pasture and - get my money, first. I've got my own private bank down there, and I - haven't enough in my pockets to play penny ante more than one round.” - </p> - <p> - “Hell!” Jerry's hand lifted to Bud's shoulder and gripped it for a minute. - “That's right on the road to the Sinks, man!” He stood biting his lips, - thinking deeply, turning his head now and then as little sounds came from - the house: the waltz Honey was playing, the post-office door slamming - shut. - </p> - <p> - “You tell me where that money's cached, Bud, and I'll go after it. I guess - you'll have to trust me—I sure wouldn't let yuh go down to the - pasture yourself right now. Where is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Look under that flat rock right by the gate post, where the top bars hit - the ground. It's wrapped up in a handkerchief, so just bring the package. - It's been easy to tuck things under the rock when I was putting up the - bars. I'll wait here.” - </p> - <p> - “Good enough—I'd sure have felt easier if I'd known you wasn't - carrying all that money.” Whereupon Jerry disappeared, and his going made - no sound. - </p> - <p> - Bud stood beside Sunfish, wondering if he had been a fool to trust Jerry. - By his own admission Jerry was living without the law, and this might - easily be a smooth scheme of robbery. He turned and strained his eyes into - the dusk, listening, trying to hear some sound that would show which way - Jerry had gone. He was on the point of following him—suspicion - getting the better of his faith—when Sunfish moved his head abruptly - to one side, bumping Bud's head with his cheek. At the same instant a hand - touched Bud's arm. - </p> - <p> - “I saw you from the kitchen window,” Marian whispered tensely. “I was - afraid you hadn't read my note, or perhaps wouldn't pay any attention to - it. I heard you and Jerry—of course he won't dare go with you and - show you the short-cut, even if he knows it. There's a quicker way than up - the creek-bed. I have Boise out in the bushes, and a saddle. I was afraid - to wait at the barn long enough to saddle him. You go—he's behind - that great pile of rocks, back of the corrals. I'll wait for Jerry.” She - gave him a push, and Bud was so astonished that he made no reply whatever, - but did exactly as she had told him to do. - </p> - <p> - Boise was standing behind the peaked outcropping of rock, and beside him - was a stock-saddle which must have taxed Marian's strength to carry. - Indeed, Bud thought she must have had wings, to do so much in so short a - space of time; though when he came to estimate that time he decided that - he must have been away from the house ten minutes, at least. If Marian - followed him closely enough to see him duck behind the machine shed and - meet Jerry, she could run behind the corral and get Boise out by way of - the back door of the stable. There was a path, screened from the corral by - a fringe of brush, which went that way. The truth flashed upon him that - one could ride unseen all around Little Lost. - </p> - <p> - He was just dropping the stirrup down from the saddle horn when Marian - appeared with Jerry and Sunfish close behind her. Jerry held out the - package. - </p> - <p> - “She says she'll show you a short cut,” he whispered. “She says I don't - know anything about it. I guess she's right—there's a lot I don't - know. Lew 's gone, and she says she'll be back before daylight. If they - miss Boise they'll think you stole him. But they won't look. Dave wouldn't - slam around in the night on Boise—he thinks too much of him. Well—beat - it, and I sure wish yuh luck. You be careful, Marian. Come back this way, - and if you see a man's handkerchief hanging on this bush right here where - I'm standing, it'll mean you've been missed.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Jerry,” Marian whispered. “I'll look for it. Come, Bud—keep - close behind me, and don't make any noise.” - </p> - <p> - Bud would have protested, but Marian did not give him a chance. She took - up the reins, grasped the saddle horn, stuck her slipper toe in the - stirrup and mounted Boise as quickly as Bud could have done it—as - easily, too, making allowance for the difference in their height. Bud - mounted Sunfish and followed her down the trail which led to the race - track; but when they had gone through the brush and could see starlight - beyond, she turned sharply to the left, let Boise pick his way carefully - over a rocky stretch and plunged into the brush again, leaning low in the - saddle so that the higher branches would not claw at her hair and face. - </p> - <p> - When they had once more come into open ground with a shoulder of Catrock - Peak before them, Marian pulled up long enough to untie her apron and bind - it over her hair like a peasant woman. She glanced back at Bud, and - although darkness hid the expression on her face, he saw her eyes shining - in the starlight. She raised her hand and beckoned, and Bud reined Sunfish - close alongside. - </p> - <p> - “We're going into a spooky place now,” she leaned toward him to whisper. - “Boise knows the way, and your horse will follow.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” Bud whispered back. “But you'd better tell me the way and let - me go on alone. I'm pretty good at scouting out new trails. I don't want - you to get in trouble—” - </p> - <p> - She would not listen to more of that, but pushed him back with the flat of - her bare hand and rode ahead of him again. Straight at the sheer bluff, - that lifted its huge, rocky shape before them, she led the way. So far as - Bud could see she was not following any trail; but was aiming at a certain - point and was sure enough of the ground to avoid detours. - </p> - <p> - They came out upon the bank of the dry river-bed. Bud knew it by the - flatness of the foreground and the general contour of the mountains - beyond. But immediately they turned at a sharp angle, travelled for a few - minutes with the river-bed at their backs, and entered a narrow slit in - the mountains where two peaks had been rent asunder in some titanic - upheaval when the world was young. The horses scrambled along the rocky - bottom for a little way, then Boise disappeared. - </p> - <p> - Sunfish halted, threw his head this way and that, gave a suspicious sniff - and turned carefully around the corner of a square-faced boulder. In front - was blackness. Bud urged him a little with rein and soft pressure of the - spurs, and Sunfish stepped forward. He seemed reassured to find firm, - smooth sand under his feet, and hurried a little until Boise was just - ahead clicking his feet now and then against a rock. - </p> - <p> - “Coming?” Marian's voice sounded subdued, muffled by the close walls of - the tunnel-like crevice. - </p> - <p> - “Coming,” Bud assured her quietly “At your heels.” - </p> - <p> - “I always used to feel spooky when I was riding through here,” Marian - said, dropping back so that they rode side by side, stirrups touching. “I - was ten when I first made the trip. It was to get away from Indians. They - wouldn't come into these places. Eddie and I found the way through. We - were afraid they were after us, and so we kept going, and our horses - brought us out. Eddie—is my brother.” - </p> - <p> - “You grew up here?” Bud did not know how much incredulity was in his - voice. “I was raised amongst the Indians in Wyoming. I thought you were - from the East.” - </p> - <p> - “I was in Chicago for three years,” Marian explained. “I studied every - waking minute, I think. I wanted to be a singer. Then—I came home to - help bury mother. Father—Lew and father were partners, and I—married - Lew. I didn't know—it seemed as though I must. Father put it that - way. The old story, Bud. I used to laugh at it in novels, but it does - happen. Lew had a hold over father and Eddie, and he wanted me. I married - him, but it did no good, for father was killed just a little more than a - month afterwards. We had a ranch, up here in the Redwater Valley, about - halfway to Crater. But it went—Lew gambled and drank and—so he - took me to Little Lost. I've been there for two years.” - </p> - <p> - The words of pity—and more—that crowded forward for utterance, - Bud knew he must not speak. So he said nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - “Lew has always held Eddie over my head,” she went on pouring out her - troubles to him. “There's a gang, called the Catrock Gang, and Lew is one - of them. I told you Lew is the man you shot. I think Dave Truman is in - with them—at any rate he shuts his eyes to whatever goes on, and - gets part of the stealings, I feel sure. That's why Lew is such a - favorite. You see, Eddie is one—I'm trusting you with my life, - almost, when I tell you this. - </p> - <p> - “But I couldn't stand by and not lift a hand to save you. I knew they - would kill you. They'd have to, because I felt that you would fight and - never give up. And you are too fine a man for those beasts to murder for - the money you have. I knew, the minute I saw Jeff paying you his losings - with a check, and some of the others doing the same, just what would - happen. Jeff is almost as bad as the Catrockers, except that he is too - cowardly to come out into the open. He gave you a check; and everyone who - was there knew he would hurry up to Crater and stop payment on it, if he - could do it and keep out of your sight. Those cronies of his would do the - same—so they paid with checks. - </p> - <p> - “And the Catrock gang knew that. They mean to get hold of you, rob - and-and-kill you, and forge the endorsement on the checks and let one man - cash them in Crater before payment can be stopped. Indeed, the gang will - see to it that Jeff stays away from Crater. Lew hinted that while they - were about it they might as well clean out the bank. It wouldn't be the - first time,” she added bitterly. - </p> - <p> - She stopped then and asked for a match, and when Bud gave her one she - lighted a candle and held it up so that she could examine the walls. “It's - a natural tunnel,” she volunteered in a different tone. “Somewhere along - here there is a branch that goes back into the hill and ends in a - blow-hole. But we're all right so far.” - </p> - <p> - She blew out the candle and urged Boise forward, edging over to the right. - </p> - <p> - “Wasn't that taking quite a chance, making a light?” Bud asked as they - went on. - </p> - <p> - “It was, but not so great a chance as missing the way. Jerry didn't hear - anything of them when he went to the pasture gate, and they may not come - through this way at all. They may not realize at first that you have left, - and even when they did they would not believe at first that you had gone - to Crater. You see”—and in the darkness Bud could picture her - troubled smile—“they think you are an awful fool, in some ways. The - way you bet to-day was pure madness.” - </p> - <p> - “It would have been, except that I knew I could win.” - </p> - <p> - “They never bet like that. They always 'figure', as they call it, that the - other fellow is going to play some trick on them. Half the time Jeff bets - against his own horse, on the sly. They all do, unless they feel sure that - their own trick is best.” - </p> - <p> - “They should have done that to-day,” Bud observed dryly. “But you've - explained it. They thought I'm an awful fool.” - </p> - <p> - Out of the darkness came Marian's voice. “It's because you're so - different. They can't understand you.” - </p> - <p> - Bud was not interested in his own foolishness just then. Something in her - voice had thrilled him anew with a desire to help her and with the - conviction that he was desperately in need of help. There was a pathetic - patience in her tone when she summarized he whole affair in those last two - sentences. It was as if she were telling him how her whole life was - darkened because she herself was different—because they could not - understand a woman so fine, so true and sweet. - </p> - <p> - “What will happen if you are missed? If you go back and discover Jerry's - handkerchief on that bush, what will you do? You can't go back if they - find out—” There was no need for him to finish that sentence. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” said Marian, “what I shall do. I hadn't thought much about - it.” - </p> - <p> - “I haven't thought much about anything else,” Bud told her - straightforwardly. “If Jerry flags you, you 'd better keep going. Couldn't - you go to friends?” - </p> - <p> - “I could—if I had any. Bud, you don't understand. Eddie is the only - relative I have on earth, that I know at all. He is—he's with the - Catrockers and Lew dominates him completely. Lew has pushed Ed into doing - things so that I must shield both or neither. And Eddie's just a boy. So - I've no one at all.” - </p> - <p> - Bud studied this while they rode on through the defile that was more - frequently a tunnel, since the succession of caves always had an outlet - which Marian found. She had stopped now and dismounted, and they were - leading their horses down a steep, scrambling place with the stars showing - overhead. - </p> - <p> - “A blowhole,” Marian informed him briefly. “We'll come into another cave, - soon, and while it's safe if you know it, I'll explain now that you must - walk ahead of your horse and keep your right hand always in touch with the - wall until we see the stars again. There's a ledge-five feet wide in the - narrowest place, if you are nervous about ledges—and if you should - get off that you'd have a drop of ten feet or so. We found that the ledge - makes easier travelling, because the bottom is full of rocks and nasty - depressions that are noticeable only with lights.” - </p> - <p> - She started off again, and Bud followed her, his gloved fingers touching - the right wall, his soul humbled before the greatness of this little woman - with the deep, troubled eyes. When they came out into the starlight she - stopped and listened for what seemed to Bud a very long time. - </p> - <p> - “If they are coming, they are a long way behind us,” she said relievedly, - and remounted. “Boise knows his trail and has made good time. And your - horse has proven beyond all doubt that he's a thoroughbred. I've seen - horses balk at going where we have gone.” - </p> - <p> - “And I've seen men who counted themselves brave as any, who wouldn't do - what you are doing to-night; Jerry, for instance. I wish you'd go back. I - can't bear having you take this risk.” - </p> - <p> - “I can't go back, Bud. Not if they find I've gone.” Then he heard her - laugh quietly. “I can't imagine now why I stayed and endured it all this - while. I think I only needed the psychological moment for rebellion, and - to-night the moment came. So you see you have really done me a service by - getting into this scrape. It's the first time I have been off the ranch in - a year.” - </p> - <p> - “If you call that doing you a service, I'm going to ask you to let me do - something also for you.” Bud half smiled to himself in the darkness, - thinking how diplomatic he was. “If you're found out, you'll have to keep - on going, and I take it you wouldn't be particular where you went. So I - wish you 'd take charge of part of this money for me, and if you leave, go - down to my mother, on the Tomahawk ranch, out from Laramie. Anyone can - tell you where it is, when you get down that way If you need any money use - it. And tell mother I sent her the finest cook in the country. Mother, by - the way, is a great musician, Marian. She taught me all I know of music. - You'd get along just fine with mother. And she needs you, honest. She - isn't very strong, yet she can't find anyone to suit, down there—” - </p> - <p> - “I might not suit, either,” said Marian, her voice somewhat muffled. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'm not afraid of that. And—there's a message I want to send—I - promised mother I'd—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, hush! You're really an awfully poor prevaricator, Bud. This is to - help me, you're planning.” - </p> - <p> - “Well—it's to help me that I want you to take part of the money. The - gang won't hold you up, will they? And I want mother to have it. I want - her to have you, too,—to help out when company comes drifting in - there, sometimes fifteen or twenty strong. Especially on Sunday. Mother - has to wait on them and cook for them, and—as long as you are going - to cook for a bunch, you may as well do it where it will be appreciated, - and where you'll be treated like a—like a lady ought to be treated.” - </p> - <p> - “You're even worse—” began Marian, laughing softly, and stopped - abruptly, listening, her head turned behind them. “Sh-sh-someone is coming - behind us,” she whispered. “We're almost through—come on, and don't - talk!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING POINT - </h2> - <p> - They plunged into darkness again, rode at a half trot over smooth, hard - sand, Bud trusting himself wholly to Marian and to the sagacity of the two - horses who could see, he hoped, much better than he himself could. His - keen hearing had caught a faint sound from behind them—far back in - the crevice-like gorge they had just quitted, he believed. For Marian's - sake he stared anxiously ahead, eager for the first faint suggestion of - starlight before them. It came, and he breathed freer and felt of his gun - in its holster, pulling it forward an inch or two. - </p> - <p> - “This way, Bud,” Marian murmured, and swung Boise to the left, against the - mountain under and through which they seemed to have passed. She led him - into another small gorge whose extent he could not see, and stopped him - with a hand pressed against Sunfish's shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “We'd better get down and hold our horses quiet,” she cautioned. “Boise - may try to whinny, and he mustn't.” - </p> - <p> - They stood side by side at their horses' heads, holding the animals close. - For a time there were no sounds at all save the breathing of the horses - and once a repressed sigh from Marian. Bud remembered suddenly how tired - she must be. At six o'clock that morning she had fed twelve men a - substantial breakfast. At noon there had been dinner for several more than - twelve, and supper again at six—and here she was, risking her life - when she should be in bed. He felt for her free hand, found it hanging - listlessly by her side and took it in his own and held it there, just as - one holds the hand of a timid child. Yet Marian was not timid. - </p> - <p> - A subdued mutter of voices, the click of hoofs striking against stone, and - the pursuers passed within thirty feet of them. Boise had lifted his head - to nicker a salute, but Marian's jerk on the reins stopped him. They stood - very still, not daring so much as a whisper until the sounds had receded - and silence came again. - </p> - <p> - “They took the side-hill trail,” whispered Marian, pushing Boise backward - to turn him in the narrow defile. “You'll have to get down the hill into - the creek-bed and follow that until you come to the stage road. There may - be others coming that way, but they will be two or three miles behind you. - This tunnel trail cuts off at least five miles but we had to go slower, - you see. - </p> - <p> - “Right here you can lead Sunfish down the bluff to the creek. It's all - dry, and around the first bend you will see where the road crosses. Turn - to the left on that and ride! This horse of yours will have to show the - stuff that's in him. Get to Crater ahead of these men that took the hill - trail. They'll not ride fast—they never dreamed you had come through - here, but they came to cut off the distance and to head you off. With - others behind, you must beat them all in or you'll be trapped between.” - </p> - <p> - She had left Boise tied hastily to a bush and was walking ahead of Bud - down the steep, rocky hillside to show him the easiest way amongst the - boulders Halfway down, Bud caught her shoulder and stopped her. - </p> - <p> - “I'm not a kid,” he said firmly. “I can make it from here alone. Not - another step, young lady. If you can get back home You'll be doing enough. - Take this—it's money, but I don't know how much. And watch your - chance and go down to mother with that message. Birnie, of the Tomahawk - outfit—you'll find out in Laramie where to go. And tell mother I'm - all right, and she'll see me some day—when I've made my stake. God - bless you, little woman. You're the truest, sweetest little woman in the - world. There's just one more like you—that's mother. Now go back—and - for God's sake he careful!” - </p> - <p> - He pressed money into her two hands, held them tightly together, kissed - them both hurriedly and plunged down the hill with Sunfish slipping and - sliding after him. For her safety, if not for his own, he meant to get - away from there as quickly as possible. - </p> - <p> - In the creek bed he mounted and rode away at a sharp gallop, glad that - Sunfish, thoroughbred though he was, had not been raised tenderly in stall - and corral, but had run free with the range horses and had learned to keep - his feet under him in rough country or smooth. When he reached the - crossing of the stage road he turned to the left as Marian had commanded - and put Sunfish to a pace that slid the miles behind him. - </p> - <p> - With his thoughts clinging to Marian, to the harshness which life had - shown her who was all goodness and sweetness and courage, Bud forgot to - keep careful watch behind him, or to look for the place where the hill - trail joined the road, as it probably did some distance from Crater. It - would be a blind trail, of course—since only the Catrock gang and - Marian knew of it. - </p> - <p> - They came into the road not far behind him, out of rock-strewn, brushy - wilderness that sloped up steeply to the rugged sides of Gold Gap - mountains. Sunfish discovered them first, and gave Bud warning just before - they identified him and began to shoot. - </p> - <p> - Bud laid himself along the shoulder of his horse with a handful of mane to - steady him while he watched his chance and fired back at them. There were - four, just the number he had guessed from the sounds as they came out of - the tunnel. A horse ran staggering toward him with the others, faltered - and fell. Bud was sorry for that. It had been no part of his plan to shoot - down the horses. - </p> - <p> - The three came on, leaving the fourth to his own devices—and that, - too, was quite in keeping with the type of human vultures they were. They - kept firing at Bud, and once he felt Sunfish wince and leap forward as if - a spur had raked him. Bud shot again, and thought he saw one horseman - lurch backward. But he could not be sure—they were going at a - terrific pace now, and Sunfish was leaving them farther and farther - behind. They were outclassed, hopelessly out of pistol range, and they - must have known it, for although they held to the chase they fired no more - shots. - </p> - <p> - Then a dog barked, and Bud knew that he was passing a ranch. He could - smell the fresh hay in the stacks, and a moment later he descried the - black hulk of ranch buildings. Sunfish was running easily, his breath - unlabored. Bud stood in the stirrups and looked back. They were still - coming, for he could hear the pound of hoofs. - </p> - <p> - The ranch was behind him. Clear starlight was all around, and the bulk of - near mountains. The road seemed sandy, yielding beneath the pound of - Sunfish's hoofs. Bud leaned forward again in the saddle, and planned what - he would do when he reached Crater; found time, also, to hope that Marian - had gone back, and had not heard the shooting. - </p> - <p> - Another dog barked, this time on the right. Bud saw that they were passing - a picket fence. The barking of this dog started another farther ahead and - to the left. Houses so close together could only mean that he was - approaching Crater. Bud began to pull Sunfish down to a more conventional - pace. He did not particularly want to see heads thrust from windows, and - questions shouted to him. The Catrock gang might have friends up this way. - It would be strange, Bud thought, if they hadn't. - </p> - <p> - He loped along the road grown broader now and smoother. Many houses he - passed, and the mouths of obscure lanes. Dogs ran out at him. Bud slowed - to a walk and turned in the saddle, listening. Away back, where he had - first met the signs of civilization, the dog he had aroused was barking - again, his deep baying blurred by the distance. Bud grinned to himself and - rode on at a walk, speaking now and then to an inquiring dog and calling - him Purp in a tone that soothed. - </p> - <p> - Crater, he discovered in a cursory patrol of the place, was no more than - an overgrown village. The court-house and jail stood on the main street, - and just beyond was the bank. Bud rode here and there, examining closely - the fronts of various buildings before he concluded that there was only - the one bank in Crater. When he was quite sure of that he chose place near - by the rear of the bank, where one horse and a cow occupied a comfortable - corral together with hay. He unsaddled Sunfish and turned him there, - himself returning to the bank before those other night-riders had more - than reached the first straggling suburbs of the town. - </p> - <p> - On the porch of the court-house, behind a jutting corner pillar that - seemed especially designed for the concealment of a man in Bud's - situation, he rolled cigarette which he meant to smoke later on when the - way was clear, and waited for the horsemen to appear. - </p> - <p> - Presently they came, rode to a point opposite the court-house and bank - with no more than a careless glance that way, and halted in front of an - uninviting hotel across the street. Two remained on their horses while the - third pounded on the door and shook it by the knob and finally raised the - landlord from his sleep. There was a conference which Bud witnessed with - much interest. A lamp had been lighted in the bare office, and against the - yellow glow Bud distinctly saw the landlord nod his head twice—which - plainly betokened some sort of understanding. - </p> - <p> - He was glad that he had not stopped at the hotel. He felt much more - comfortable on the court-house porch. “Mother's guardian angels must be - riding 'point' to-night,” he mused. - </p> - <p> - The horsemen rode back to a livery stable which Bud had observed but had - not entered. There they also sought for news of him, it would appear. You - will recall, however, that Bud had ridden slowly into the business - district of Crater, and his passing had been unmarked except by the - barking of dogs that spent their nights in yammering at every sound and so - were never taken seriously. The three horsemen were plainly nonplussed and - conferred together in low tones before they rode on. It was evident that - they meant to find Bud if they could. What they meant to do with him Bud - did not attempt to conjecture. He did not intend to be found. - </p> - <p> - After a while the horsemen rode back to the hotel, got the landlord out - with less difficulty than before and had another talk with him. - </p> - <p> - “He stole a horse from Dave Truman,” Bud heard one of the three say - distinctly. “That there running horse Dave had.” - </p> - <p> - The landlord tucked in his shirt and exclaimed at the news, and Bud heard - him mention the sheriff. But nothing came of that evidently. They talked - further and reined their horses to ride back whence they came. - </p> - <p> - “He likely's give us the slip outside of town, some place,” one man - concluded. “We'll ride back and see. If he shows up, he'll likely want to - eat... And send Dick out to the Stivers place. We'll come a-running.” He - had lowered his voice so that Bud could not hear what was to happen before - the landlord sent Dick, but he decided he would not pry into the matter - and try to fill that gap in the conversation. - </p> - <p> - He sat where he was until the three had ridden back down the sandy road - which served as a street. Then he slipped behind the court-house and - smoked his cigarette, and went and borrowed hay from the cow and the horse - in the corral and made himself some sort of bed with his saddle blanket to - help out, and slept until morning. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE CATROCK GANG - </h2> - <p> - A woman with a checkered apron and a motherly look came to let her - chickens out and milk the cow, and woke Bud so that she could tell him she - believed he had been on a “toot”, or he never would have taken such a - liberty with her corral. Bud agreed to the toot, and apologized, and asked - for breakfast. And the woman, after one good look at him, handed him the - milk bucket and asked him how he liked his eggs. - </p> - <p> - “All the way from barn to breakfast,” Bud grinned, and the woman chuckled - and called him Smarty, and told him to come in as soon as the cow was - milked. - </p> - <p> - Bud had a great breakfast with the widow Hanson. She talked, and Bud - learned a good deal about Crater and its surroundings, and when he spoke - of holdup gangs she seemed to know immediately what he meant, and told him - a great deal more about the Catrockers than Marian had done. Everything - from murdering and robbing a peddler to looting the banks at Crater and - Lava was laid to the Catrockers. They were the human buzzards that watched - over the country and swooped down wherever there was money. The sheriff - couldn't do anything with them, and no one expected him to, so far as Bud - could discover. - </p> - <p> - He hesitated a long time before he asked about Marian Morris. Mrs. Hanson - wept while she related Marian's history, which in substance was exactly - what Marian herself had told Bud. Mrs. Hanson, however, told how Marian - had fought to save her father and Ed, and how she had married Lew Morris - as a part of her campaign for honesty and goodness. Now she was down at - Little Lost cooking for a gang of men, said Mrs. Hanson, when she ought to - be out in the world singing for thousands and her in silks and diamonds - instead of gingham dresses and not enough of them. - </p> - <p> - “Marian Collier is the sweetest thing that ever grew up in this country,” - the old lady sniffled. “She's one in a thousand and when she was off to - school she showed that she wasn't no common trash. She wanted to be an - opery singer, but then her mother died and Marian done what looked to be - her duty. A bird in a trap is what I call her.” - </p> - <p> - Bud regretted having opened the subject, and praised the cooking by way of - turning his hostess's thoughts into a different channel. He asked her if - she would accept him as a boarder while he was in town, and was promptly - accepted. - </p> - <p> - He did not want to appear in public until the bank was opened, and he was - a bit troubled over identification. There could be no harm, he reflected, - in confiding to Mrs. Hanson as much as was necessary of his adventures. - Wherefore he dried the dishes for her and told her his errand in town, and - why it was that he and his horse had slept in her corral instead of - patronizing hotel and livery stable. He showed her the checks he wanted to - cash, and asked her, with flattering eagerness for her advice, what he - should do. He had been warned, he said, that Jeff and his friends might - try to beat him yet by stopping payment, and he knew that he had been - followed by them to town. - </p> - <p> - “What You'll do will be what I tell ye,” Mrs Hanson replied with decision. - “The cashier is a friend to me—I was with his wife last month with - her first baby, and they swear by me now, for I gave her good care. We'll - go over there this minute, and have talk with him. He'll do what he can - for ye, and he'll do it for my sake.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't know me, remember,” Bud reminded her honestly. - </p> - <p> - The widow Hanson gave him a scornful smile and toss of her head. “And do I - not?” she demanded. “Do you think I've buried three husbands and thinking - now of the fourth, without knowing what's wrote a man's face? Three I - buried, and only one died his bed. I can tell if a man's honest or not, - without giving him the second look. If you've got them checks you should - get the money on them—for I know their stripe. Come on with me to - Jimmy Lawton's house. He's likely holding the baby while Minie does the - dishes.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hanson guessed shrewdly. The cashier of the Crater County Bank was - doing exactly what she said he would be doing. He was sitting in the - kitchen, rocking a pink baby wrapped in white outing flannel with blue - border, when Mrs. Hanson, without the formality of more than one warning - tap on the screen door, walked in with Bud. She held out her hands for the - baby while she introduced the cashier to Bud. In the next breath she was - explaining what was wanted of the bank. - </p> - <p> - “They've done it before, and ye know it's plain thievery and ought to be - complained about. So now get your wits to work, Jimmy, for this friend of - mine is entitled to his money and should have it if it is there to be - had.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it's there,” said Jimmy. He looked at his watch, looked at the - kitchen clock, looked at Bud and winked. “We open at nine, in this town,” - he said. “It lacks half an hour—but let me see those checks.” - </p> - <p> - Very relievedly Bud produced them, watched the cashier scan each one to - make sure that they were right, and quaked when Jimmy scowled at Jeff - Hall's signature on the largest check of all. “He had a notion to use the - wrong signature, but he may have lost his nerve. It's all right, Mr. - Birnie. Just endorse these, and I'll take them into the bank and attend to - them the first thing I do after the door is open. You'd better come in - when I open up—” - </p> - <p> - “The gang had some talk about cleaning out the bank while they 're about - it,” Bud remembered suddenly. “Can't you appoint me something, or hire me - as a guard and let me help out? How many men do you have here in this - bank?” - </p> - <p> - “Two, except when the president's in his office in the rear. That's fine - of you to offer. We've been held up, once—and they cleaned us out of - cash.” Jimmy turned to Mrs. Hanson. “Mother, can't you run over and have - Jess come and swear Mr. Birnie in as a deputy? If I go, or he goes, - someone may notice it and tip the gang off.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hanson hastily deposited the baby in its cradle and went to call - “Jess”, her face pink with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “You're lucky you stopped at her house instead of some other place,” Jimmy - observed. “She's a corking good woman. As a deputy sheriff, you'll come in - mighty handy if they do try anything, Mr. Birnie—if you're the kind - of a man you look to be. I'll bet you can shoot. Can you?” - </p> - <p> - “If you scare me badly enough, I might get a cramp in my trigger finger,” - Bud confessed. Jimmy grinned and went back to considering his own part. - </p> - <p> - “I'll cash these checks for you the first thing I do. And as deputy you - can go with me. I'll have to unlock the door on time, and if they mean to - stop payment, and clean the bank too, it will probably be done all at - once. It has been a year since they bothered us, so they may need a little - change. If Jess isn't busy he may stick around.” - </p> - <p> - “No one expects him to round up the gang, I heard.” - </p> - <p> - “No one expects him to go into Catrock Canyon after them. He'll round them - up, quick enough, if he can catch them far enough from their holes.” - </p> - <p> - Jess returned with Mrs. Hanson, swore in a new deputy, eyed Bud curiously, - and agreed to remain hidden across the road from the bank with a rifle. He - nodded understandingly when Bud warned him that the looting was a matter - of hearsay on his part, and departed with an awkward compliment to Mrs. - Jim about hoping that the baby was going to look like her. - </p> - <p> - Jim lived just behind the bank, and a high board fence between the two - buildings served to hide his coming and going. But Bud took off his hat - and walked stooping,—by special request of Mrs. Hanson—to make - sure that he was not observed. - </p> - <p> - “I think I'll stand out in front of the window,” said Bud when they were - inside. “It will look more natural, and if any of these fellows show up - I'd just as soon not show my brand the first thing.” - </p> - <p> - They showed up, all right, within two minutes of the unlocking of the bank - and the rolling up of the shades. Jeff Hall was the first man to walk in, - and he stopped short when he saw Bud lounging before the teller's window - and the cashier busy within. Other men were straggling up on the porch, - and two of them entered. Jeff walked over to Bud, who shifted his position - enough to bring him facing Jeff, whom he did not trust at all. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Lawton,” Jeff began hurriedly, “I want to stop payment on a check - this young feller got from me by fraud. It's for five thousand eight - hundred dollars, and I notify you—” - </p> - <p> - “Too late, Mr. Hall. I have already accepted the checks. Where did the - fraud come in? You can bring suit, of course, to recover.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll tell you, Jimmy. He bet that my horse couldn't beat Dave Truman's - Boise. A good many bet on the same thing. But my horse proved to have more - speed, so a lot of them are sore.” Bud chuckled as other Sunday losers - came straggling in. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it's too late. I have honored the checks,” Jimmy said crisply, and - turned to hand a sealed manila envelope to the bookkeeper with whispered - instructions. The bookkeeper, who had just entered from the rear of the - office, turned on his heel and left again. - </p> - <p> - Jeff muttered something to his friends and went outside as if their - business were done for the day. - </p> - <p> - “I gave you five thousand in currency and the balance in a cashier's - check,” Jimmy whispered through he wicket. “Sent it to the house, We don't - keep a great deal—ten thousand's our limit in cash, and I don't - think you want to pack gold or silver—” - </p> - <p> - “No, I didn't. I'd rather—” - </p> - <p> - Two men came in, one going over to the desk where he apparently wrote a - check, the other came straight to the window. Bud looked into the heavily - bearded face of a man who had the eyes of Lew Morris. He shifted his - position a little so that he faced the man's right side. The one at the - desk was glancing slyly over his shoulder at the bookkeeper, who had just - returned to his work. - </p> - <p> - “Can you change this twenty so I can get seven dollars and a quarter out - of it?” asked the man at he window. As he slid the bill through the wicket - he started to sneeze, and reached backward—for his handkerchief, - apparently. - </p> - <p> - “Here's one,” said Bud. “Don't sneeze too hard, old-timer, or you're - liable to sneeze your whiskers all off. It's happened before.” - </p> - <p> - Someone outside fired a shot in at Bud, clipping his hatband in front. At - the sound of the shot the whiskered one snatched his gun out, and the - cashier shot him. Bud had sent a shot through the outside window and hit - somebody—whom, he did not know, for he had no time to look. The - young fellow at the desk had whirled, and was pointing a gun shakily, - first at he cashier and then at Bud. Bud fired and knocked he gun out of - his hand, then stepped over the man he suspected was Lew and caught the - young fellow by the wrist. - </p> - <p> - “You're Ed Collier—by your eyes and your mouth,” Bud said in a rapid - undertone. “I'm going to get you out of this, if you'll do what I say. - Will you?” - </p> - <p> - “He got me in here, honest,” the young fellow quaked. He couldn't be more - than nineteen, Bud guessed swiftly. - </p> - <p> - “Let me through, Jimmy,” Bud ordered hurriedly. “You got the man that put - up this job. I'll take the kid out the back way, if you don't mind.” - </p> - <p> - Jimmy opened the steel-grilled door and let them through. - </p> - <p> - “Ed Collier,” he said in a tone of recognition. “I heard he was trailing—” - </p> - <p> - “Forget it, Jimmy. If the sheriff asks about him, say he got out. Now, Ed, - I'm going to take you over to Mrs. Hanson's. She'll keep an eye on you for - a while.” - </p> - <p> - Eddie was looking at the dead man on the floor, and trembling so that he - did not attempt to reply; and by way of Jimmy's back fence and the widow - Hanson's barn and corral, Bud got Eddie safe into the kitchen just as that - determined lady was leaving home with a shotgun to help defend the honor - of the town. - </p> - <p> - Bud took her by the shoulder and told her what he wanted her to do. “He's - Marian's brother, and too young to be with that gang. So keep him here, - safe and out of sight, until I come. Then I'll want to borrow your horse. - Shall I tie the kid?” - </p> - <p> - “And me an able-bodied woman that could turn him acrost my knee?” Mrs. - Hanson's eyes snapped. - </p> - <p> - “It's more likely the boy needs his breakfast. Get along with ye!” - </p> - <p> - Bud got along, slipping into the bank by the rear door and taking a hand - in the desultory firing in the street. The sheriff had a couple of men - ironed and one man down and the landlord of the hotel was doing a great - deal of explaining that he had never seen the bandits before. Just by way - of stimulating his memory Bud threw a bullet close to his heels, and the - landlord thereupon grovelled and wept while he protested his innocence. - </p> - <p> - “He's a damn liar, sheriff,” Bud called across the hoof-scarred road. “He - was talking to them about eleven o'clock last night. There were three that - chased me into town, and they got him up out of bed to find out whether - I'd stopped there. I hadn't, luckily for me. If I had he'd have showed - them the way to my room, and he'd have had a dead boarder this morning. - Keep right on shedding tears, you old cut-throat! I was sitting on the - court-house porch, last night, and I heard every word that passed between - you and the Catrockers!” - </p> - <p> - “I've been suspicioning here was where they got their information right - along,” the sheriff commented, and slipped the handcuffs on the landlord. - Investigation proved that Jeff Hall and his friends had suddenly decided - that they had no business with the bank that day, and had mounted and - galloped out of town when the first shot was fired. Which simplified - matters a bit for Bud. - </p> - <p> - In Jimmy Lawton's kitchen he received his money, and when the prisoners - were locked up he saved himself some trouble with the sheriff by hunting - him up and explaining just why he had taken the Collier boy into custody. - </p> - <p> - “You know yourself he's just a kid, and if you send him over the road he's - a criminal for life. I believe I can make a decent man of him. I want to - try, anyway. So you just leave me this deputy's badge, and make my - commission regular and permanent, and I'll keep an eye on him. Give me a - paper so I can get a requisition and bring him back to stand trial, any - time he breaks out. I'll be responsible for him, sheriff.” - </p> - <p> - “And who in blazes are you?” the sheriff inquired, with a grin to remove - the sting of suspicion. “Name sounded familiar, too!” - </p> - <p> - “Bud Birnie of the Tomahawk, down near Laramie; Telegraph Laramie if you - like and find out about me. - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord! I know the Tomahawk like a book!” cried the sheriff. “And - you're Bob Birnie's boy! Say! D'you remember dragging into camp on the - summit one time when you was about twelve years old—been hidin' out - from Injuns about three days? Well, say! I'm the feller that packed you - into the tent, and fed yuh when yuh come to. Remember the time I rode down - and stayed over night at yore place, the time Bill Nye come down from his - prospect hole up in the Snowies, bringin' word the Injuns was up again?” - The sheriff grabbed Bud's hand and held it, shaking it up and down now and - then to emphasize his words. - </p> - <p> - “Folks called you Buddy, then. I remember yuh, helpin' your mother cook - 'n' wash dishes for us fellers. I kinda felt like I had a claim on yuh, - Buddy. - </p> - <p> - “Say, Bill Nye, he's famous now. Writin' books full of jokes, and all - that. He always was a comical cuss. Don't you remember how the bunch of us - laughed at him when he drifted in about dark, him and four burros—that - one he called Boomerang, that he named his paper after in Laramie? I've - told lots of times what he said when he come stoopin' into the kitchen—how - Colorou had sent him word that he'd give Bill just four sleeps to get outa - there. An, 'Hell!' says Bill. 'I didn't need any sleeps!' An' we all - turned to and cooked a hull beef yore dad had butchered that day—and - Bill loaded up with the first chunks we had ready, and pulled his freight. - He sure didn't need any sleeps—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you bet I remember. Jesse Cummings is your name. I sure ought to - remember you, for you and your partner saved my life, I expect. I thought - I'd seen you before, when you made me deputy. How about the kid? Can I - have him? Lew Morris, the man that kept him on the wrong side of the law, - is dead, I heard the doctor say. Jimmy got him when he pulled his gun.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes—if the town don't git onto me turnin' him loose, I guess - you can have the kid for all I care. He didn't take any part in the - holdup, did he Buddy?” - </p> - <p> - “He was over by the customers' desk when Lew started, to hold up the - cashier.” - </p> - <p> - “Well I got enough prisoners so I guess he won't be missed. But you look - out how yuh git him outa town. Better wait til kinda late to-night. I sure - would like to see him git a show. Them two Collier kids never did have a - square deal, far as I've heard. But be careful, youngster. I want another - term off this county if I can get it. Don't go get me in bad.” - </p> - <p> - “I won't,” Bud promised and hurried back to Mrs. Hanson's house. - </p> - <p> - That estimable lady was patting butter in a wooden bowl when Bud went in. - She turned and brushed a wisp of gray hair from her face with her fore arm - and sh-shed him into silent stepping, motioning toward an inner room. Bud - tiptoed and looked, saw Ed Collier fast asleep, swaddled in a blanket, and - grinned his approval. - </p> - <p> - He made sure that the sleep was genuine, also that the blanket swaddling - was efficient. Moreover, he discovered that Mrs. Hanson had very prudently - attached a thin wire to the foot of the blanket cocoon, had passed the - wire through a knot hole in a cupboard set into the partition, and to a - sheep bell which she no doubt expected to ring upon provocation—such - as a prisoner struggling to release his feet from a gray blanket fastened - with many large safety pins. - </p> - <p> - “He went right to sleep, the minute I'd fed him and tied him snug,” Mrs. - Hanson murmured. “He was a sulky divvle and wouldn't give a decent answer - to me till he had his stomach filled. From the way he waded into the ham - and eggs, I guess a square meal and him has been strangers for a long - time.” - </p> - <p> - Sleep and Ed Collier must have been strangers also, for Bud attended the - inquest of Lew Morris, visited afterwards with Sheriff Cummings, who was - full of reminiscence and wanted to remind Bud of everything that had ever - happened within his knowledge during the time when they had been neighbors - with no more than forty miles or so between them. The sheriff offered Bud - a horse and saddle, which he promised to deliver to the widow's corral - after the citizens of Crater had gone to bed. And while he did not say - that it would be Ed's horse, Bud guessed shrewdly that it would. After - that, Bud carefully slit the lining of his boots tucked money and checks - into the opening he had made, and did a very neat repair job. - </p> - <p> - All that while Ed Collier slept. When Bud returned for his supper Ed had - evidently just awakened and was lying on his back biting his lip while he - eyed the wire that ran from his feet to the parting of a pair of calico - curtains. He did not see Bud, who was watching him through a crack in the - door at the head of the bed. Ed was plainly puzzled at the wire and a bit - resentful. He lifted his feet until the wire was well slackened, held them - poised for a minute and deliberately brought them down hard on the floor. - </p> - <p> - The result was all that he could possibly have expected. Somewhere was a - vicious clang, the rattle of a tin pan and the approaching outcry of a - woman. Bud retreated to the kitchen to view the devastation and discovered - that a sheep bell not too clean had been dislodged from a nail and dragged - through one pan of milk into another, where it was rolling on its edge, - stirring the cream that had risen. As Mrs. Hanson rushed in from the back - yard, Bud returned to the angry captive's side. - </p> - <p> - “I've got him safe,” he soothed Mrs. Hanson and her shotgun. “He just had - a nightmare. Perhaps that breakfast you fed him was too hearty. I'll look - after him now, Mrs. Hanson. We won't be bothering you long, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hanson was talking to herself when she went to her milk pans, and Bud - released Eddie Collier, guessing how humiliating it must be to be a young - fellow pinned into a blanket with safety pins, and knowing from certain - experiences of his own that humiliation is quite as apt to breed trouble - as any other emotion. - </p> - <p> - Eddie sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at Bud. His eyes were like - Marian's in shape and color, but their expression was suspicion, defiance, - and watchfulness blended into one compelling stare that spelled Fear. Or - so Bud read it, having trapped animals of various grades ever since he had - caught the “HAWNTOAD”, and seen that look many, many times in the eyes of - his catch. - </p> - <p> - “How'd you like to take a trip with me—as a kind of a partner?” Bud - began carelessly, pulling a splinter off the homemade bed for which Mrs. - Hanson would not thank him—and beginning to whittle it to a sharp - point aimlessly, as men have a way of doing when their minds are at work - upon a problem which requires—much constructive thinking. - </p> - <p> - “Pardner in what?” Eddie countered sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “Pardner in what I am planning to do to make money. I can make money, you - know—and stay on friendly terms with the sheriff, too. That's better - than your bunch has been able to do. I don't mind telling you—it's - stale news, I guess—that I cleaned up close to twelve thousand - dollars in less than a month, off a working capital of three thoroughbred - horses and about sixty dollars cash. And I'll add the knowledge that I was - playing against men that would slip a cold deck if they played solitaire, - they were so crooked. And if that doesn't recommend me sufficiently, I'll - say I'm a deputy sheriff of Crater County, and Jesse Cummings knows my - past. I want to hire you to go with me and make some money, and I'll pay - you forty a month and five per cent bonus on my profits at the end of two - years. The first year may not show any profits, but the second year will. - How does it sound to you?” - </p> - <p> - He had been rolling a cigarette, and now he offered the “makings” to Ed, - who accepted them mechanically, his eyes still staring hard at Bud. He - glanced toward the door and the one little window where wild cucumber - vines were thickly matted, and Bud interpreted his glance. - </p> - <p> - “Lew and another Catrocker—the one that tried to rope me down in the - Sinks—are dead, and three more are in jail. Business won't be very - brisk with the Catrock gang for a while.” - </p> - <p> - “If you're trying to bribe me into squealing on the rest, you're a damn - fool,” said Eddie harshly. “I ain't the squealing kind. You can lead me - over to jail first. I'd rather take my chances with the others.” He was - breathing hard when he finished. - </p> - <p> - “Rather than work for me?” Bud sliced off the sharp point which he had so - carefully whittled, and began to sharpen a new one. Eddie watched him - fascinatedly. - </p> - <p> - “Rather than squeal on the bunch. There's no other reason in God's world - why you'd make me an offer like that. I ain't a fool quite, if my head - does run up to a peak.” - </p> - <p> - Bud chewed his lip, whittled, and finally threw the splinter away. When he - turned toward Eddie his eyes were shiny. - </p> - <p> - “Kid, you're breaking your sister's heart, following this trail. I'd like - to see you give her a chance to speak your name without blinking back - tears. I'd like to see her smile all the way from her dimples to her eyes - when she thinks of you. That's why I made the offer—that and because - I think you'd earn your wages.” - </p> - <p> - Eddie looked at him, looked away, staring vacantly at the wall. His - eyelashes were blinking very fast, his lip began to tremble. “You—I—I - never wanted to—I ain't worth saving—oh, hell! I never had a - chance before—” He dropped sidewise on the bed, buried his face in - his arms and sobbed hoarsely, like the boy he was. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER NINETEEN: BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN - </h2> - <p> - “You'll have to show me the trail, pardner,” said Bud when they were - making their way cautiously out of town by way of the tin can suburbs. “I - could figure out the direction all right, and make it by morning; but - seeing you grew up here, I'll let you pilot.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll have to tell me where you want to go, first,” said Eddie with a - good deal of sullenness still in his voice. - </p> - <p> - “Little Lost.” Without intending to do so, Bud put a good deal of meaning - in his voice. - </p> - <p> - Eddie did not say anything, but veered to the right, climbing higher on - the slope than Bud would have gone. “We can take the high trail,” he - volunteered when they stopped to rest the horses. “It takes up over the - summit and down Burroback Valley. It's longer, but the stage road edges - along the Sinks and—it might be rough going, after we get down a - piece.” - </p> - <p> - “How about the side-hill trail, through Catrock Peak?” - </p> - <p> - Eddie turned sharply. In the starlight Bud was watching him, wondering - what he was thinking. - </p> - <p> - “How'd you get next to any side-hill trail?” Eddie asked after a minute. - “You been over it?” - </p> - <p> - “I surely have. And I expect to go again, to-nigh! A young fellow about - your size is going to act a pilot, and get me to Little Lost as quick as - possible. It'll be daylight at that.” - </p> - <p> - “If you got another day coming, it better be before daylight we get - there,” Eddie retorted glumly. H hesitated, turned his horse and led the - way down the slope, angling down away from the well-travelled trail over - the summit of Gold Gap. - </p> - <p> - That hesitation told Bud, without words, how tenuous was his hold upon - Eddie. He possessed sufficient imagination to know that his own carefully - discipline past, sheltered from actual contact with evil, had given him - little enough by which to measure the soul of a youth like Eddie Collier. - </p> - <p> - How long Eddie had supped and slept with thieves and murderers, Bud could - only guess. From the little that Marian had told him, Eddie's father had - been one of the gang. At least, she had plainly stated that he and Lew had - been partners—though Collier might have been ranching innocently - enough, and ignorant of Lew's real nature. - </p> - <p> - At all events, Eddie was a lad well schooled in inequity such as the - wilderness fosters in sturdy fashion. Wide spaces give room for great - virtues and great wickedness. Bud felt that he was betting large odds on - an unknown quantity. He was placing himself literally in the hands of an - acknowledged Catrocker, because of the clean gaze of a pair of eyes, the - fine curve of the mouth. - </p> - <p> - For a long time they rode without speech. Eddie in the lead, Bud - following, alert to every little movement in the sage, every little sound - of the night. That was what we rather naively call “second nature”, habit - born of Bud's growing years amongst dangers which every pioneer family - knows. Alert he was, yet deeply dreaming; a tenuous dream too sweet to - come true, he told himself; a dream which he never dared to dream until - the cool stars, and the little night wind began to whisper to him that - Marian was free from the brute that had owned her. He scarcely dared think - of it yet. Shyly he remembered how he had held her hand to give her - courage while they rode in darkness; her poor work-roughened little hand, - that had been old when he took it first, and had warmed in his clasp. He - remembered how he had pressed her hands together when they parted—why, - surely it was longer ago than last night!—and had kissed them - reverently as he would kiss the fingers of a queen. - </p> - <p> - “Hell's too good for Lew Morris,” he blurted unexpectedly, the thought of - Marian's bruised cheek coming like a blow. - </p> - <p> - “Want to go and tell him so? If you don't yuh better shut up,” Eddie - whispered fierce warning. “You needn't think all the Catrockers are dead - or in jail. They's a few left and they'd kill yuh quicker'n they'd take a - drink.” - </p> - <p> - Bud, embarrassed at the emotion behind his statement, rather than ashamed - of the remark itself, made no reply. - </p> - <p> - Much as Eddie desired silence, he himself pulled up and spoke again when - Bud had ridden close. - </p> - <p> - “I guess you come through the Gap,” he whispered. “They's a shorter way - than that—Sis don't know it. It's one the bunch uses a lot—if - they catch us—I can save my hide by makin' out I led you into a - trap. You'll get yours, anyway. How much sand you got?” - </p> - <p> - Bud leaned and spat into the darkness. “Not much. Maybe enough to get - through this scary short-cut of yours.” - </p> - <p> - “You tell the truth when you say scary. It's so darn crazy to go down - Catrock Canyon maybe they won't think we'd tackle it. And if they catch - us, I'll say I led yuh in—and then—say, I'm kinda bettin' on - your luck. The way you cleaned up on them horses, maybe luck'll stay with - you. And I'll help all I can, honest.” - </p> - <p> - “Fine.” Bud reached over and closed his fingers around Eddie's thin, - boyish arm. “You didn't tell me yet why the other trail isn't good - enough.” - </p> - <p> - “I heard a sound in the Gap tunnel, that's why. You maybe didn't know what - it was. I know them echoes to a fare-ye-well. Somebody's there—likely - posted waiting.” He was motionless for a space, listening. - </p> - <p> - “Get off-easy. Take off your spurs.” Eddie was down, whispering eagerly to - Bud. “There's a draft of air from the blow-holes that comes this way. - Sound comes outa there a lot easier than it goes in. Sis and I found that - out. Lead your horse—if they jump us, give him a lick with the quirt - and hide in the brush.” - </p> - <p> - Like Indians the two made their way down a rambling slope not far from - where Marian had guided Bud. To-night, however, Eddie led the way to the - right instead of the left, which seemed to Bud a direction that would - bring them down Oldman creek, that dry river bed, and finally, perhaps, to - the race track. - </p> - <p> - Eddie never did explain just how he made his way through a maze of - water-cut pillars and heaps of sandstone so bewildering that Bud afterward - swore that in spite of the fact that he was leading Sunfish, he frequently - found himself at that patient animal's tail, where they were doubled - around some freakish pillar. Frequently Eddie stopped and peered past his - horse to make sure that Bud had not lost the trail. And finally, because - he was no doubt worried over that possibility, he knotted his rope to his - saddle horn, brought back a length that reached a full pace behind the - tail of the horse, and placed the end in Bud's hand. - </p> - <p> - “If yuh lose me you're a goner,” he whispered. “So hang onto that, no - matter what comes. And don't yuh speak to me. This is hell's corral and - we're walking the top trail right now.” He made sure that Bud had the loop - in his hand, then slipped back past his horse and went on, walking more - quickly. - </p> - <p> - Bud admitted afterwards that he was perfectly willing to be led like a - tame squirrel around the top of “hell's corral”, whatever that was. All - that Bud saw was an intricate assembly of those terrific pillars, whose - height he did not know, since he had no time to glance up and estimate the - distance. There was no method, no channel worn through in anything that - could be called a line. Whatever primeval torrent had honeycombed the - ledge had left it so before ever its waters had formed a straight passage - through. How Eddie knew the way he could only conjecture, remembering how - he himself had ridden devious trails down on the Tomahawk range when he - was a boy. It rather hurt his pride to realize that never had he seen - anything approaching this madman's trail. - </p> - <p> - Without warning they plunged into darkness again. Darkness so black that - Bud knew they had entered another of those mysterious, subterranean - passages which had created such names as abounded in the country: the - “Sinks”, “Little Lost”, and Sunk River itself which disappeared - mysteriously. He was beginning to wonder with a grim kind of humor if he - himself was not about to follow the example of the rivers and disappear, - when the soft padding of their footfalls blurred under the whistling of - wind. Fine particles of sand stung him, a blast full against him halted - him for a second. But the rope pulled steadily and he went on, - half-dragged into starlight again. - </p> - <p> - They were in a canyon; deep, sombre in its night shadows, its width made - known to him by the strip of starlight overhead. Directly before them, not - more than a hundred yards, a light shone through a window. - </p> - <p> - The rope slackened in his hands, and Eddie slipped back to him shivering a - little as Bud discovered when he laid a hand on his arm. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I better tie yuh—but it won't be so yuh can't shoot. Get - on, and let me tie your feet into the stirrups. I—I guess maybe we - can get past, all right—I'll try—I want to go and take that - job you said you'd give me!” - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, son? Is that where the Catrockers hang out?” Bud swung - into the saddle. “I trust you, kid. You're her brother.” - </p> - <p> - “I—I want to live like Sis wants me to. But I've got to tie yuh, Mr. - Birnie, and that looks—But they'd k—you don't know how they - kill traitors. I saw one—” He leaned against Bud's leg, one hand - reaching up to the saddle horn and gripping it in a passing frenzy. “If - you say so,” he whispered rapidly, “we'll sneak up and shoot 'em through - the window before they get a chance—” - </p> - <p> - Bud reached out his hand and patted Eddie on the shoulder. “That job of - yours don't call for any killing we can avoid,” he said. “Go ahead and tie - me. No use of wasting lead on two men when one will do. It's all right. I - trust you, pardner.” - </p> - <p> - Eddie's shoulders stiffened. He stood up, looked toward the light and - gripped Bud's hand. “I thought they'd be asleep—what was home,” he - said. “We got to ride past the cabin to get out through another - water-wash. But you take your coat and tie your horse's feet, and I'll tie - mine. I—can't tie you, Mr. Birnie. We'll chance it together.” - </p> - <p> - Bud did not say anything at all, for which Eddie seemed grateful. They - muffled eight hoofs, rode across the canyon's bottom and passed the cabin - so closely that the light of a smoky lantern on a table was plainly - visible to Bud, as was the shaggy profile of a man who sat with his arms - folded, glowering over a pipe. He heard nothing. Bud halted Sunfish and - looked again to make sure, while Eddie beckoned frantically. They went on - undisturbed—the Catrockers kept no dogs. - </p> - <p> - They passed a couple of corrals, rode over springy sod where Bud dimly - discerned hay stubble. Eddie let down a set of bars, replaced them - carefully, and they crossed another meadow. It struck Bud that the - Catrockers were fairly well entrenched in their canyon, with plenty of - horse feed at least. - </p> - <p> - They followed a twisting trail along the canyon's wall, rode into another - pit of darkness, came out into a sandy stretch that seemed hazily familiar - to Bud. They crossed this, dove into the bushes following a dim trail, and - in ten minutes Eddie's horse backed suddenly against Sunfish's nose. Bud - stood in his stirrups, reins held firmly in his left hand, and in his - right his six-shooter with the hammer lifted, ready to snap down. - </p> - <p> - A tall figure stepped away from the peaked rocks and paused at Bud's side. - </p> - <p> - “I been waiting for Marian,” he said bluntly. “You know anything about - her?” - </p> - <p> - “She turned back last night after she had shown me the way.” Bud's throat - went dry. “Did they miss her?” He leaned aggressively. - </p> - <p> - “Not till breakfast time, they didn't. I was waiting here, most all night—except - right after you folks left. She wasn't missed, and I never flagged her—and - she ain't showed up yet!” - </p> - <p> - Bud sat there stunned, trying to think what might have happened. Those - dark passages through the mountains—the ledge— “Ed, you know - that trail she took me over? She was coming back that way. She could get - lost—” - </p> - <p> - “No she couldn't—not Sis. If her horse didn't act the fool—what - horse was it she rode?” Ed turned to Jerry as if he would know. - </p> - <p> - “Boise,” Bud spoke quickly, as though seconds were precious. “She said he - knew the way.” - </p> - <p> - “He sure ought to,” Eddie replied emphatically. “Boise belongs to Sis, by - rights. The mare got killed and Dad gave him to Sis when he was a suckin' - colt, and Sis raised him on cow's milk and broke him herself. She rode him - all over. Lew took and sold him to Dave, and gambled the money, and Sis - never signed no bill of sale. They couldn't make her. Sis has got spunk, - once you stir her up. She'll tackle anything. She's always claimed Boise - is hers. Boise knows the Gap like a book. Sis couldn't get off the trail - if she rode him.” - </p> - <p> - “Something happened, then,” Bud muttered stubbornly. “Four men came - through behind us, and we waited out in the dark to let them pass. Then - she sent me down to the creek-bottom, and she turned back. If they got her—” - He turned Sunfish in the narrow brush trail. “She's hurt, or they got her—I'm - going back!” he said grimly. - </p> - <p> - “Hell! you can't do any good alone,” Eddie protested, coming after him. - “We'll go look for her, Mr. Birnie, but we've got to have something so we - can see. If Jerry could dig up a couple of lanterns—” - </p> - <p> - “You wait. I'm coming along,” Jerry called guardedly. “I'll bring - lanterns.” - </p> - <p> - To Bud that time of waiting was torment. He had faced danger and tragedy - since he could toddle, and fear had never overridden the titillating sense - of adventure. But then the danger had been for himself. Now terror - conjured pictures whose horror set him trembling. Twenty-four hours and - more had passed since he had kissed Marian's hand and let her go—to - what? The inky blackness of those tunnelled caverns in the Gap confronted - his mind like a nightmare. He could not speak of it—he dared not - think of it, and yet he must. - </p> - <p> - Jerry came on horseback, with three unlighted lanterns held in a cluster - by their wire handles. Eddie immediately urged his horse into the brushy - edge of the trail so that he might pass Bud and take the lead. “You sure - made quick time,” he remarked approvingly to Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “I raided Dave's cache of whiskey or I'd have been here quicker,” Jerry - explained. “We might need some.” - </p> - <p> - Bud gritted his teeth. “Ride, why don't yuh?” he urged Eddie harshly. - “What the hell ails that horse of yours? You got him hobbled?” - </p> - <p> - Eddie glanced back over his bobbing shoulder as his horse trotted along - the blind trail through the brush. “This here ain't no race track,” he - expostulated. “We'll make it quicker without no broken legs.” - </p> - <p> - There was justice in his protest and Bud said nothing. But Sunfish's head - bumped the tail of Eddie's horse many times during that ride. Once in the - Gap, with a lighted lantern in his rein hand and his six-shooter in the - other—because it was ticklish riding, in there with lights revealing - them to anyone who might be coming through—he was content to go - slowly, peering this way and that as he rode. - </p> - <p> - Once Eddie halted and turned to speak to them. “I know Boise wouldn't - leave the trail. If Sis had to duck off and hide from somebody, he'd come - back to the trail. Loose, he'd do that. Sis and I used to explore around - in here just for fun, and kept it for our secret till Lew found out. She - always rode Boise. I'm dead sure he'd bring her out all right.” - </p> - <p> - “She hasn't come out—yet. Go on,” said Bud, and Eddie rode forward - obediently. - </p> - <p> - Three hours it took them to search the various passages where Eddie - thought it possible that Marian had turned aside. Bud saw that the trail - through was safe as any such trail could be, and he wondered at the nerve - and initiative of the girl and the boy who had explored the place and - found where certain queer twists and turns would lead. Afterwards he - learned that Marian was twelve and Eddie ten when first they had hidden - there from Indians, and they had been five years in finding where every - passage led. Also, in daytime the place was not so fearsome, since - sunlight slanted down into many a passageway through the blow-holes high - above. - </p> - <p> - “She ain't here. I knew she wasn't,” Eddie announced when the final tunnel - let them into the graying light of dawn beyond the Peak. - </p> - <p> - “In that case—” Bud glanced from him to Jerry, who was blowing out - his lantern. - </p> - <p> - Jerry let down the globe carefully, at the same time glancing soberly at - Bud. “The kid knows better than we do what would happen if Lew met up with - her and Boise.” - </p> - <p> - Eddie shook his head miserably, his eyes fixed helpessly upon Bud. “Lew - never, Mr. Birnie. I was with him every minute from dark till—till - the cashier, shot him. We come up the way I took you through the canyon. - Lew never knew she was gone any more than I did.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry bit his lip. “Kid, what if the gang run acrost her, KNOWING Lew was - dead?” he grated. “And her on Boise? The word's out that Bud stole Boise. - Dave and the boys rode out to round him up—and they ain't done it, - so they're still riding—we'll hope. Kid, you know damn well your - gang would double-cross Dave in a minute, now Lew's killed. If they got - hold of the horse, do yuh think they'd turn him over to Dave?” - </p> - <p> - “No, you bet your life they wouldn't!” Eddie retorted. - </p> - <p> - “And what about HER?” Bud cut in with ominous calm. “She's your sister, - kid. Would you be worried if you knew they had HER and the horse?” - </p> - <p> - Eddie gulped and looked away. “They wouldn't hurt her unless they knew't - Lew was dead,” he said. “And them that went to Crater was killed or - jailed, so—” He hesitated. “It looked to me like Anse was setting up - waiting for the bunch to get back from Crater. He—he's always jumpy - when they go off and stay, and it'd be just like him to set there and wait - till daylight. It looks to me, Mr. Birnie, like him and—and the rest - don't know yet that the Crater job was a fizzle. They wouldn't think of - such a thing as taking Sis, or Boise either, unless they knew Lew was - dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you sure of that?” Bud had him in a grip that widened the boy's eyes - with something approaching fear. - </p> - <p> - “Yes sir, Mr. Birnie, I'm sure. What didn't go to Crater stayed in camp—or - was gone on some other trip. No, I'm sure!” He jerked away with sudden - indignation at Bud's disbelief. “Say! Do you think I'm bad enough to let - my sister get into trouble with the Catrockers? I know they never got her. - More'n likely it's Dave.” - </p> - <p> - “Dave went up Burroback Valley,” Jerry stated flatly. “Him and the boys - wasn't on this side the ridge. They had it sized up that Bud might go from - Crater straight across into Black Rim, and they rode up to catch him as he - comes back across.” Jerry grinned a little. “They wanted that money you - peeled off the crowd Sunday, Bud. They was willing you should get to - Crater and cash them checks before they overhauled yuh and strung yuh up.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't suppose they'd hurt Marian if they found her with the horse? - She might have followed along to Crater—” - </p> - <p> - “She never,” Eddie contradicted. And Jerry declared in the same breath, - “She'd be too much afraid of Lew. No, if they found her with the horse - they'd take him away from her and send her back on another one to do the - kitchen work,” he conjectured with some contempt. “If they found YOU - without the horse—well—men have been hung on suspicion, Bud. - Money's something everybody wants, and there ain't a man in the valley but - what has figured your winnings down to the last two-bit piece. It's just a - runnin' match now to see what bunch gets to yuh first.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the money! I'd give the whole of it to anyone that would tell me - Marian 's safe,” Bud cried unguardedly in his misery. Whereat Jerry and Ed - looked at each other queerly. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER TWENTY: “PICK YOUR FOOTING!” - </h2> - <p> - The three sat irresolutely on their horses at the tunnel's end of the Gap, - staring out over the valley of the Redwater and at the mountains beyond. - Bud's face was haggard and the lines of his mouth were hard. It was so - vast a country in which to look for one little woman who had not gone back - to see Jerry's signal! - </p> - <p> - “I'll bet yuh Sis cleared out,” Eddie blurted, looking at Bud eagerly, as - if he had been searching for some comforting word. “Sis has got lots of - sand. She used to call me a 'fraid cat all the time when I didn't want to - go where she did. I'll bet she just took Boise and run off with him. She - would, if she made up her mind—and I guess she'd had about as much - as she could stand, cookin' at Little Lost—” - </p> - <p> - Bud lifted his head and looked at Eddie like a man newly awakened. “I gave - her money to take home for me, to my mother, down Laramie way. I begged - her to go if she was liable to be in trouble over leaving the ranch. But - she said she wouldn't go—not unless she was missed. She knew I'd - come back to the ranch. I just piled her hands full of bills in the dark - and told her to use them if she had to—” - </p> - <p> - “She might have done it,” Jerry hazarded hopefully. “Maybe she did sneak - in some other way and get her things. She'd have to take some clothes - along. Women folks always have to pack. By gosh, she could hide Boise out - somewhere and—” - </p> - <p> - For a young man in danger of being lynched by his boss for horse stealing - and waylaid and robbed by a gang notorious in the country, Bud's appetite - for risk seemed insatiable that morning. For he added the extreme - possibility of breaking his neck by reckless riding in the next hour. - </p> - <p> - He swung Sunfish about and jabbed him with the spurs, ducking into the - gloom of the Gap as if the two who rode behind were assassins on his - trail. Once he spoke, and that was to Sunfish. His tone was savage. - </p> - <p> - “Damn your lazy hide, you've been through here twice and you've got - daylight to help—now pick up your feet and travel!” - </p> - <p> - Sunfish travelled; and the pace he set sent even Jerry gasping now and - then when he came to the worst places, with the sound of galloping hoofs - in the distance before him, and Eddie coming along behind and lifting his - voice warningly now and then. Even the Catrockers had held the Gap in - respect, and had ridden its devious trail cautiously. But caution was a - meaningless word to Bud just then while a small flame of hope burned - steadily before him. - </p> - <p> - The last turn, where on the first trip Sunfish lost Boise and balked for a - minute, he made so fast that Sunfish left a patch of yellowish hair on a - pointed rock and came into the open snorting fire of wrath. He went over - the rough ground like a bouncing antelope, simply because he was too mad - to care how many legs he broke. At the peak of rocks he showed an - inclination to stop, and Bud, who had been thinking and planning while he - hoped, pulled him to a stand and waited for the others to come up. They - could not go nearer the corrals without incurring the danger of being - overheard, and that must not happen. - </p> - <p> - “You damn fool,” gritted Jerry when he came up with Bud. “If I'd knowed - you wanted to commit suicide I'd a caved your head in with a rock and - saved myself the craziest ride I ever took in m' life!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, shut up!” Bud snapped impatiently. “We're here, aren't we? Now listen - to me, boys. You catch up my horses—Jerry, are you coming along with - me? You may as well. I'm a deputy sheriff, and if anybody stops you for - whatever you've done, I'll show a warrant for your arrest. And by - thunder,” he declared with a faint grin, “I'll serve it if I have to to - keep you with me. I don't know what you've done, and I don't care. I want - you. So catch up my horses—and Jerry, you can pack my war-bag and - roll your bed and mine, if I'm too busy while I'm here.” - </p> - <p> - “You're liable to be busy, all right,” Jerry interpolated grimly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, they won't bother you. Ed, you better get the horses. Take Sunfish, - here, and graze him somewhere outa sight. We'll keep going, and we might - have to start suddenly.” - </p> - <p> - “How about Sis? I thought—” - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to turn Little Lost upside down to find her, if she's here. If - she isn't, I'm kinda hoping she went down to mother. She said there was no - other place where she could go. And she'd feel that she had to deliver the - money, perhaps—because I must have given her a couple of thousand - dollars. It was quite a roll, mostly in fifties and hundreds, and I'm - short that much. I'm just gambling that the size of made her feel she must - go.” - </p> - <p> - “That'd be Sis all over, Mr. Birnie.” Eddie glanced around him uneasily. - The sun was shining level in his eyes, and sunlight to Eddie had long - meant danger. “I guess we better hurry, then. I'll get the horses down - outa sight, and come back here afoot and wait.” - </p> - <p> - “Do that, kid,” said Bud, slipping wearily off Sunfish. He gave the reins - into Eddie's hand, motioned Jerry with his head to follow, and hurried - down the winding path to the corrals. The cool brilliance of the morning, - the cheerful warbling of little, wild canaries in the bushes as he passed, - for once failed to thrill him with joy of life. He was wondering whether - to go straight to the house and search it if necessary to make sure that - she had not been there, or whether Indian cunning would serve him best. - His whole being ached for direct action; his heart trembled with fear lest - he should jeopardize Marian's safety by his impetuous haste to help her. - </p> - <p> - Pop, coming from the stable just as Bud was crossing the corral, settled - the question for him. Pop peered at him sharply, put a hand to the small - of his back and came stepping briskly toward him, his jaw working like a - sheep eating hay. - </p> - <p> - “Afoot, air ye?” he exclaimed curiously. “What-fer idea yuh got in yore - head now, young feller? Comin' back here afoot when ye rid two fast - horses? Needn't be afraid of ole Pop—not unless yuh lie to 'im and - try to git somethin' fur nothin'. Made off with Lew's wife, too, didn't - ye? Oh, there ain't much gits past ole Pop, even if he ain't the man he - used to be. I seen yuh lookin' at her when yuh oughta been eatin'. I seen - yuh! An' her watchin' you when she thought nobuddy'd ketch her at it! Sho! - Shucks a'mighty! You been playin' hell all around, now, ain't ye? Needn't - lie—I know what my own eyes tells me!” - </p> - <p> - “You know a lot, then, that I wish I knew. I've been in Crater all the - time, Pop. Did you know Lew was mixed up in a bank robbery yesterday, and - the cashier of the bank shot him? The rest of the gang is dead or in jail. - The sheriff did some good work there for a few minutes.” - </p> - <p> - Pop pinched in his lips and stared at Bud unwinkingly for a minute. “Don't - lie to me,” he warned petulantly. “Went to Crater, did ye? Cashed them - checks, I expect.” - </p> - <p> - Bud pulled his mouth into a rueful grin. “Yes, Pop, I cashed the checks, - all right—and here's what's left of the money. I guess,” he went on - while he pulled out a small roll of bills and licked his finger - preparatory to counting them, “I might better have stuck to running my - horses. Poker's sure a fright. The way it can eat into a man's pocket—” - </p> - <p> - “Went and lost all that money on poker, did ye?” Pop's voice was shrill. - “After me tellin' yuh how to git it—and showin' yuh how yuh could - beat Boise—” the old man's rage choked him. He thrust his face close - to Bud's and glared venomously. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and just to show you I appreciate it, I'm going to give you what's - left after I've counted off enough to see me through to Spokane. I feel - sick, Pop. I want change of air. And as for riding two fast horses to - Crater—” he paused while he counted slowly, Pop licking his lips - avidly as he watched,—“why I don't know what you mean. I only ride - one horse at a time, Pop, when I'm sober. And I was sober till I hit - Crater.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped counting when he reached fifty dollars and gave the rest to - Pop, who thumbed the bank notes in a frenzy of greed until he saw that he - had two hundred dollars in his possession. The glee which he tried to - hide, the crafty suspicion that this was not all of it the returning - conviction that Bud was actually almost penniless, and the cunning - assumption of senility, was pictured on his face. Pop's poor, miserly soul - was for a minute shamelessly revealed. Distraught though he was, Bud - stared and shuddered a little at the spectacle. - </p> - <p> - “I always said 't you're a good, honest, well-meaning boy,” Pop cackled, - slyly putting the money out of sight while he patted Bud on the shoulder. - “Dave he thought mebby you took and stole Boise—and if I was you, - Bud, I'd git to Spokane quick as I could and not let Dave ketch ye. Dave's - out now lookin' for ye. If he suspicioned you'd have the gall to come - right back to Little Lost, I expect mebby he'd string yuh up, young - feller. Dave's got a nasty temper—he has so!” - </p> - <p> - “There's something else, Pop, that I don't like very well to be accused - of. You say Mrs. Morris is gone. I don't know a thing about that, or about - the horse being gone. I've been in Crater. I'd just got my money out of - the bank when it was held up, and Lew was shot.” - </p> - <p> - Pop teetered and gummed his tobacco and grinned foxily. “Shucks! I don't - care nothin' about Lew's wife goin', ner I don't care nothin' much about - the horse. They ain't no funral uh mine, Bud. Dave an' Lew, let 'em look - after their own belongin's.” - </p> - <p> - “They'll have to, far as I'm concerned,” said Bud. “What would I want of a - horse I can beat any time I want to run mine? Dave must think I'm scared - to ride fast, since Sunday! And Pop, I've got troubles enough without - having a woman on my hands. Are you sure Marian's gone?” - </p> - <p> - “SURE?” Pop snorted. “Honey, she's had to do the cookin' for me an' Jerry—and - if I ain't sure—” - </p> - <p> - Bud did not wait to hear him out. There was Honey, whom he would very much - like to avoid meeting; so the sooner he made certain of Marian's - deliberate flight the better, since Honey was not an early riser. He went - to the house and entered by way of the kitchen, feeling perfectly sure all - the while that Pop was watching him. The disorder there was sufficiently - convincing that Marian was gone, so he tip-toed across the room to a door - through which he had never seen any one pass save Lew and Marian. - </p> - <p> - It was her bedroom, meagrely furnished, but in perfect order. On the - goods-box dresser with a wavy-glassed mirror above it, her hair brush, - comb and a few cheap toilet necessities lay, with the comb across a nail - file as if she had put it down hurriedly before going out to serve supper - to the men. Marian, then, had not stolen home to pack things for the - journey, as Jerry had declared a woman would do. Bud sent a lingering - glance around the room and closed the door. Hope was still with him, but - it was darkened now with doubts. - </p> - <p> - In the kitchen again he hesitated, wanting his guitar and mandolin and yet - aware of the foolishness of burdening himself with them now. Food was a - different matter, however. Dave owed him for more than three weeks of hard - work in the hayfield, so Bud collected from the pantry as much as he could - carry, and left the house like a burglar. - </p> - <p> - Pop was fiddling with the mower that stood in front of the machine shed, - plainly waiting for whatever night transpire. And since the bunk-house - door was in plain view and not so far away as Bud wished it, he went - boldly over to the old man, carrying his plunder on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Dave owes me for work, Pop, so I took what grub I needed,” he explained - with elaborate candor. “I'll show you what I've got, so you'll know I'm - not taking anything that I've no right to.” He set down the sack, opened - it and looked up into what appeared to be the largest-muzzled six-shooter - he had ever seen in his life. Sheer astonishment held him there gaping, - half stooped over the sack. - </p> - <p> - “No ye don't, young feller!” Pop snarled vindictively. “Yuh think I'd let - a horse thief git off 'n this ranch whilst I'm able to pull a trigger? You - fork her that money you got on ye, first thing yuh do! it's mine by rights—I - told yuh I'd help ye to win money off 'n the valley crowd, and I done it. - An' what does you do? Never pay a mite of attention to me after I'd give - ye all the inside workin's of the game—never offer to give me my - share—no, by Christmas, you go steal a horse of my son's and hide - him out somewheres, and go lose mighty near all I helped yuh win, playin' - poker! Think I'm goin' to stand for that? Think two hundred dollars is - goin' to even things up when I helped ye to win a fortune? Hand over that - fifty you got on yuh!” - </p> - <p> - Very meekly, his face blank, Bud reached into his pocket and got the - money. Without a word he pulled two or three dollars in silver from his - trousers pockets and added that to the lot. “Now what?” he wanted to know. - </p> - <p> - “Now You'll wait till Dave gits here to hang yuh fer horse-stealing!” - shrilled Pop. “Jerry! Oh, Jerry! Where be yuh? I got 'im, by Christmas—I - got the horse thief—caught him carryin good grub right outa the - house!” - </p> - <p> - “Look out, Jerry!” called Bud, glancing quickly toward the bunk-house. - </p> - <p> - Now, Pop had without doubt been a man difficult to trick in his youth, but - he was old, and he was excited, tickled over his easy triumph. He turned - to see what was wrong with Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “Look out, Pop, you old fool, You'll bust a blood-vessel if you don't - quiet down,” Bud censured mockingly, wresting the gun from the clawing, - struggling old man in his arms. He was surprised at the strength and - agility of Pop, and though he was forcing him backward step by step into - the machine shed, and knew that he was master of the situation, he had his - hands full. - </p> - <p> - “Wildcats is nothing to Pop when he gets riled,” Jerry grinned, coming up - on the run. “I kinda expected something like this. What yuh want done with - him, Bud?” - </p> - <p> - “Gag him so he can't holler his head off, and then take him along—when - I've got my money back,” Bud panted. “Pop, you're about as appreciative as - a buck Injun.” - </p> - <p> - “Going to be hard to pack him so he'll ride,” Jerry observed quizzically - when Pop, bound and gagged, lay glaring at them behind the bunk-house. “He - don't quite balance your two grips, Bud. And we do need hat grub.” - </p> - <p> - “You bring the grub—I'll take Pop—” Bud stopped in the act of - lifting the old man and listened. Honey's voice was calling Pop, with - embellishments such Bud would never have believed a part of Honey's - vocabulary. From her speech, she was coming after him, and Pop's jaws - worked frantically behind Bud's handkerchief. - </p> - <p> - Jerry tilted his head toward the luggage he had made a second trip for, - picked up Pop, clamped his hand over the mouth that was trying to betray - them, and slipped away through the brush glancing once over his shoulder - to make sure that Bud was following him. - </p> - <p> - They reached the safe screen of branches and stopped there for a minute, - listening to Honey's vituperations and her threats of what she would do to - Pop if he did not come up and start a fire. - </p> - <p> - She stopped, and hoofbeats sounded from the main road. Dave and his men - were coming. - </p> - <p> - In his heart Bud thanked Little Lost for that hidden path through the - bushes. He heard Dave asking Honey what was the matter with her, heard the - unwomanly reply of the girl, heard her curse Pop for his neglect of the - kitchen stove at that hour of the morning. Heard, too, her questioning of - Dave. Had they found Bud, or Marian? - </p> - <p> - “If you got 'em together, and didn't string 'em both up to the nearest - tree—” - </p> - <p> - Bud bit his lip and went on, his face aflame with rage at the brutishness - of a girl he had half respected. “Honey!” he whispered contemptuously. - “What a name for that little beast!” - </p> - <p> - At the rocks Eddie was waiting with Stopper, upon whom they hurriedly - packed the beds and Bud's luggage. They spoke in whispers when they spoke - at all, and to insure the horse's remaining quiet Eddie had tied a cotton - rope snugly around its muzzle. - </p> - <p> - “I'll take Pop,” Bud whispered, but Jerry shook his head and once more - shouldered the old fellow as he would carry a bag of grain. So they - slipped back down the trail, took a turn which Bud did not know, and - presently Bud found that Jerry was keeping straight on. Bud made an Indian - sign on the chance that Jerry would understand it, and with his free hand - Jerry replied. He was taking Pop somewhere. They were to wait for him when - they had reached the horses. So they separated for a space. - </p> - <p> - “This is sure a great country for hideouts, Mr. Birnie,” Eddie ventured - when they had put half a mile between themselves and Little Lost, and had - come upon Smoky, Sunfish and Eddie's horse feeding quietly in a tiny, - spring-watered basin half surrounded with rocks. “If you know the country - you can keep dodgin' sheriffs all your life—if you just have grub - enough to last.” - </p> - <p> - “Looks to me as if there aren't many wasted opportunities here,” Bud - answered with some irony. “Is there an honest man in the whole country, - Ed? I'd just like to know.” - </p> - <p> - Eddie hesitated, his eyes anxiously trying to read Bud's meaning and his - mood. “Not right around the Sinks, I guess,” he replied truthfully. “Up at - Crater there are some, and over to Jumpoff. But I guess this valley would - be called pretty tough, all right. It's so full of caves and queer places - it kinda attracts the ones that want to hide out.” Then he grinned. “It's - lucky for you it's like that, Mr. Birnie, or I don't see how you'd get - away. Now I can show you how to get clear away from here without getting - caught. But I guess we ought to have breakfast first. I'm pretty hungry. - Ain't you? I can build a fire against that crack in the ledge over there, - and the smoke will go away back underneath so it won't show. There's a - blow-hole somewhere that draws smoke like a chimney.” - </p> - <p> - Jerry came after a little, sniffing bacon. He threw himself down beside - the fire and drew a long breath. “That old skunk's heavier than what you - might think,” he observed whimsically. “I packed him down into one of them - sink holes and untied his feet and left him to scramble out best way he - can. It'll take him longer'n it took me. Having the use of your hands - helps quite a lot. And the use of your mouth to cuss a little. But he'll - make it in an hour or two—I'm afraid.” He looked at Bud, a - half-shamed tenderness in his eyes. “It sure was hard to leave him like I - did. It was like walking on your toes past a rattler curled up asleep - somewhere, afraid you might spoil his nap. Only Pop wasn't asleep.” He sat - up and reached his hand for a cup of coffee which Eddie was offering. - “Anyway, I had the fun of telling the old devil what I thought about him,” - he added, and blew away the steam and took another satisfying nip. - </p> - <p> - “He'll put them on our trail, I suppose,” said Bud, biting into a ragged - piece of bread with a half-burned slice of hot bacon on it. - </p> - <p> - “When he gets to the ranch he will. His poison fangs was sure loaded when - I left. He said he wanted to cut your heart out for robbing him, and so - forth, ad swearum. We'd best not leave any trail.” - </p> - <p> - “We ain't going to,” Eddie assured him eagerly. “I'm glad being with the - Catrockers is going to do some good, Mr. Birnie. It'll help you git away, - and that'll help find Sis. I guess she hit down where you live, maybe. How - far can your horse travel to-day—if he has to?” - </p> - <p> - Bud looked across to where Sunfish, having rolled in a wet spot near the - spring and muddied himself to his satisfaction, was greedily at work upon - a patch of grass. “If he has to, till he drops in his tracks. And that - won't be for many a mile, kid. He's thoroughbred; a thoroughbred never - knows when to quit.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there ain't any speedy trail ahead of us today,” Eddie vouchsafed - cheeringly. “There's half-a mile maybe where we can gallop, and the rest - is a case of picking your footing.” - </p> - <p> - “Let's begin picking it, then,” said Bud, and got up, reaching for his - bridle. - </p> - <p> - By devious ways it was that Eddie led them out of that sinister country - surrounding the Sinks. In the beginning Bud and Jerry exchanged glances, - and looked at their guns, believing that it would be through Catrock - Canyon they would have to ride. Eddie, riding soberly in the lead, had yet - a certain youthful sense of his importance. “They'll never think of - following yuh this way, unless old Pop Truman gits back in time to tell - 'em I'm travelling with yuh,” he observed once when they had penetrated - beyond the neighborhood of caves and blow-holes and were riding safely - down a canyon that offered few chances of their being observed save from - the front, which did not concern them. - </p> - <p> - “I guess you don't know old Pop is about the ringeader of the Catrockers. - Er he was, till he began to git kinda childish about hoarding money, and - then Dave stepped in. And Mr. Birnie, I guess you'd have been dead when - you first came there, if it hadn't been that Dave and Pop wanted to give - you a chance to get a lot of money off of Jeff's bunch. Lew was telling - how you kept cleaning up, and he said right along that they was taking too - much risk having you around. Lew said he bet you was a detective. Are you, - Mr. Birnie?” - </p> - <p> - Bud was riding with his shoulders sagged forward, his thoughts with Marian—wherever - she was. He had been convinced that she was not at Little Lost, that she - had started for Laramie. But now that he was away from that evil spot his - doubts returned. What if she were still in the neighborhood—what if - they found her? Memory of Honey's vindictiveness made him shiver, Honey - was the kind of woman who would kill. - </p> - <p> - “I am, from now on, kid,” he said despondently. “We're going to ride till - we find your sister. And if those hell-hounds got her—” - </p> - <p> - “They didn't, from the way Honey talked,” Jerry comforted. “We'll find her - at Laramie, don't you ever think we won't!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: TRAILS END - </h2> - <p> - At the last camp, just north of the Platte, Bud's two black sheep balked. - Bud himself, worn by sleepless nights and long hours in the saddle, turned - furiously when Jerry announced that he guessed he and Ed wouldn't go any - farther. - </p> - <p> - “Well, damn you both for ungrateful hounds!” grated Bud, hurt to the - quick. “I hope you don't think I brought you this far to help hold me in - the saddle; I made it north alone, without any mishap. I think I could - have come back all right. But if you want to quit here, all right. You can - high-tail it back to your outlaws—” - </p> - <p> - “Well, if you go 'n put it that way!” Jerry expostulated, lifting both - hands high in the air in a vain attempt to pull the situation toward the - humorous. “You're a depity sheriff, and you got the drop.” He grinned, saw - that Bud's eyes were still hard and his mouth unyielding, and lowered his - hands, looking crestfallen as a kicked pup that had tried to be friendly. - </p> - <p> - “You can see for yourself we ain't fit to go 'n meet your mother and your - father like we was—like we'd went straight,” Eddie put in - explanatorily. “You've been raised good, and—say, it makes a man - want to BE good to see how a feller don't have to be no preacher to live - right. But it don't seem square to let you take us right home with you, - just because you're so darned kind you'd do it and never think a thing - about it. We ain't ungrateful—I know I ain't. But—but—” - </p> - <p> - “The kid's said it, Bud,” Jerry came to the rescue. “We come along because - it was a ticklish trip you had ahead. And I've knowed as good riders as - you are, that could stand a little holding in the saddle when some freak - had tried to shoot 'em out of it. But you're close to home now and you - don't need us no more, and so we ain't going to horn in on the prodigal - calf's milkbucket. Marian, She's likely there—” - </p> - <p> - “If Sis ain't with your folks we'll hunt her up,” Eddie interrupted - eagerly. “Sis is your kind—she—she's good enough for yuh, Bud, - and I hope she—ll—well if she's got any sense she will—well, - if it comes to the narrying point, I—well, darn it, I'd like to see - Sis git as good a man as you are!” Eddie, having bluntered that far, went - headlong as if he were afraid to stop. “Sis is educated, and she's an - awful good singer and a fine girl, only I'm her brother. But I'm going to - live honest from now on, Bud, and I hope you won't hold off on account of - me. I ain't going to have sis feel like crying when she thinks about me! - You—you—said something that hurt like a knife, Bud, when you - told me that, up in Crater. And she wasn't to blame for marryn' Lew—and - she done that outa goodness, the kind you showed to Jerry and me. And we - don't want to go spoilin' everything by letting your folks see what you're - bringin' home with yuh! And it might hurt Sis with your folks, if they - found out that I'm—” - </p> - <p> - Bud had been standing by his horse, looking from one to the other, - listening, watching their faces, measuring the full depth of their - manhood. “Say! you remind me of a story the folks tell on me,” he said, - his eyes shining, while his voice strove to make light of it all. “Once, - when I was a kid in pink-aprons, I got lost from the trail-herd my folks - were bringing up from Texas. It was comin' dark, and they had the whole - outfit out hunting me, and everybody scared to death. When they were all - about crazy, they claim I came walking up to the camp-fire dragging a dead - snake by the tail, and carrying a horn toad in my shirt, and claiming they - were mine because I 'ketched 'em.' I'm not branding that yarn with any - moral—but figure it out for yourself, boys.” - </p> - <p> - The two looked at each other and grinned. “I ain't dead yet,” Eddie made - sheepish comment. “Mebbe you kinda look on me as being a horn toad, Bud.” - </p> - <p> - “When you bear in mind that my folks raised that kid, You'll realize that - it takes a good deal to stampede mother.” Bud swung into the saddle to - avoid subjecting his emotions to the cramped, inadequate limitations of - speech. “Let's go, boys. She's a long trail to take the kinks out of - before supper-time.” - </p> - <p> - They stood still, making no move to follow. Bud reined Smoky around so - that he faced them, reached laboriously into that mysterious pocket of a - cowpuncher's trousers which is always held closed by the belt of his - chaps, and which invariably holds in its depths the things he wants in a - hurry. They watched him curiously, resolutely refusing to interpret his - bit of autobiography, wondering perhaps why he did not go. - </p> - <p> - “Here she is.” Bud had disinterred the deputy sheriff's badge, and began - to polish it by the primitive but effectual method of spitting on it and - then rubbing vigorously on his sleeve. “You're outside of Crater County, - but by thunder you're both guilty of resisting an officer, and county - lines don't count!” He had pinned the badge at random on his coat while he - was speaking, and now, before the two realized what he was about, he had - his six-shooter out and aimed straight at them. - </p> - <p> - Bud had never lived in fear of the law. Instantly was sorry when he saw - the involuntary stiffening of their muscles, the quick wordless suspicion - and defiance that sent their eyes in shifty glances to right and left - before their hands lifted a little. Trust him, love him they might, there - was that latent fear of capture driven deep into their souls; so deep that - even he had not erased it. - </p> - <p> - Bud saw—and so he laughed. - </p> - <p> - “I've got to show my folks that I've made a gathering,” he said. “You - can't quit, boys. And I'm going to take you to the end of the trail, now - you've started.” He eyed them, saw that they were still stubborn, and drew - in his breath sharply, manfully meeting the question in their minds. - </p> - <p> - “We've left more at the Sinks than the gnashing of teeth,” he said - whimsically. “A couple of bad names, for instance. You're two bully good - friends of mine, and—damn it, Marian will want to see both of you - fellows, if she's there. If she isn't—we'll maybe have a big circle - to ride, finding her. I'll need you, no matter what's ahead.” He looked - from one to the other, gave a snort and added impatiently, “Aw, fork your - horses and don't stand there looking like a couple of damn fools!” - </p> - <p> - Whereupon Jerry shook his head dissentingly, grinned and gave Eddie so - emphatic an impulse toward his horse that the kid went sprawling. - </p> - <p> - “Guess We're up against it, all right—but I do wish yo 'd lose that - badge!” Jerry surrendered, and flipped the bridle reins over the neck of - his horse. “Horn toad is right, the way you're scabbling around amongst - them rocks,” he called light-heartedly to the kid. “Ever see a purtier - sunrise? I never!” - </p> - <p> - I don't know what they thought of the sunset. Gorgeous it was, with many - soft colors blended into unnamable tints and translucencies, and the songs - of birds in the thickets as they passed. Smoky, Sunfish and Stopper walked - briskly, ears perked forward, heads up, eyes eager to catch the familiar - landmarks that meant home. Bud's head was up, also, his eyes went here and - there, resting with a careless affection on those same landmarks which - spelled home. He would have let Smoky's reins have a bit more slack and - would have led his little convoy to the corrals at a gallop, had not hope - begun to tremble and shrink from meeting certainty face to face. Had you - asked him then, I think Bud would have owned himself a coward. Until he - had speech with home-folk he would merely be hoping that Marian was there; - but until he had speech with them he need not hear that they knew nothing - of her. Bud—like, however, he tried to cover his trepidation with a - joke. - </p> - <p> - “We'll sneak up on 'em,” he said to Ed and Jerry when the roofs of house - and stables came into view. - </p> - <p> - “Here's where I grew up, boys. And in a minute or two more you'll see the - greatest little mother on earth—and the finest dad,” he added, - swallowing the last of his Scotch stubbornness. - </p> - <p> - “And Sis, I hope,” Eddie said wistfully. “I sure hope she's here.” - </p> - <p> - Neither Jerry nor Bud answered him at all. Smoky threw up his head - suddenly and gave a shrill whinny, and a horse at the corrals answered - sonorously. - </p> - <p> - “Say! That sounds to me like Boise!” Eddie exclaimed, standing up in his - stirrups to look. - </p> - <p> - Bud turned pale, then flushed hotly. “Don't holler!” he muttered, and held - Smoky back a little. For just one reason a young man's heart pounds as - Bud's heart pounded then. Jerry looked at him, took a deep breath and bit - his lip thoughtfully. It may be that Jerry's heartbeats were not quite - normal just then, but no one would ever know. - </p> - <p> - They rode slowly to a point near the corner of the table, and there Bud - halted the two with his lifted hand. Bud was trembling a little—but - he was smiling, too. Eddie was frankly grinning, Jerry's face was the face - of a good poker-player—it told nothing. - </p> - <p> - In a group with their backs to them stood three: Marian, Bud's mother and - his father. Bob Birnie held Boise by the bridle, and the two women were - stroking the brown nose of the horse that moved uneasily, with little - impatient head-tossings. - </p> - <p> - “He doesn't behave like a horse that has made the long trip he has made,” - Bud's mother observed admiringly. “You must be a wonderful little - horsewoman, my dear, as well as a wonderful little woman in every other - way. Buddy should never have sent you on such a trip—just to bring - home money, like a bank messenger! But I'm glad that he did! And I do wish - you would consent to stay—such an afternoon with music I haven't had - since Buddy left us. You could stay with me and train for the concert work - you intend doing. I'm only an old ranch woman in a slat sunbonnet—but - I taught my Buddy—and have you heard him?” - </p> - <p> - “An old woman in a slat sunbonnet—oh, how can you? Why, you're the - most wonderful woman in the whole world.” Marian's voice was almost - tearful in its protest. “Yes—I have heard—your Buddy.” - </p> - <p> - “'T is the strangest way to go about selling a horse that I ever saw,” Bob - Birnie put in dryly, smoothing his beard while he looked at them. “We'd be - glad to have you stay, lass. But you've asked me to place a price on the - horse, and I should like to ask ye a question or two. How fast did ye say - he could run?” - </p> - <p> - Marian laid an arm around the shoulders of the old lady in a slat - sunbonnet and patted her arm while she answered. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he beat everything in the country, so they refused to race against - him, until Bud came with his horses,” she replied. “It took Sunfish to - outrun him. He 's terribly fast, Mr. Birnie. I—really, I think he - could beat the world's record—if Bud rode him!” - </p> - <p> - Just here you should picture Ed and Jerry with their hands over their - mouths, and Bud wanting to hide his face with his hat. - </p> - <p> - Bob Birnie's beard behaved oddly for a minute, while he leaned and stroked - Boise's flat forelegs, that told of speed. “Wee-ll,” he hesitated, - soft-heartedness battling with the horse-buyer's keenness, “since Bud is - na ere to ride him, he'll make a good horse for the roundup. I'll give ye - “—more battling—“a hundred and fifty dollars for him, if ye - care to sell—” - </p> - <p> - “Here, wait a minute before you sell to that old skinflint!” Bud shouted - exuberantly, dismounting with a rush. The rush, I may say, carried him to - the little old lady in the slat sunbonnet, and to that other little lady - who was staring at him with wide, bright yes. Bud's arms went around his - mother. Perhaps by accident he gathered in Marian also—they were - standing very close, and his arms were very long—and he was slow to - discover his mistake. - </p> - <p> - “I'll give you two hundred for Boise, and I'll throw in one brother, and - one long-legged, good-for-nothing cowpuncher—” - </p> - <p> - “Meaning yourself, Buddy?” came teasingly from he slat sunbonnet, whose - occupant had not been told just everything. “I'll be surprised if she'll - have you, with that dirty face and no shave for a week and more. But if - she does, you're luckier than you deserve, for riding up on us like this! - We've heard all about you, Buddy—though you were wise to send this - lassie to gild your faults and make a hero of you!” - </p> - <p> - Now, you want to know how Marian managed to live through that. I will say - that she discovered how tenaciously a young man's arms may cling when he - thinks he is embracing merely his mother; but she freed herself and ran to - Eddie, fairly pulled him off his horse, and talked very fast and - incoherently to him and Jerry, asking question after question without - waiting for a reply to any of them. All this, I suppose, in the hope that - they would not hear, or, hearing, would not understand what that terrible, - wonderful little woman was saying so innocently. - </p> - <p> - But you cannot faze youth. Eddie had important news for Sis, and he felt - that now was the time to tell it before Marian blushed any redder, so he - pulled her face up to his, put his lips so close to her ear that his - breath tickled, and whispered—without any preface whatever that she - could marry Bud any time now, because she was a widow. - </p> - <p> - “Here! Somebody—Bud—quick! Sis has fainted! Doggone it, I only - told her Lew's dead and she can marry you—shucks! I thought she'd be - glad!” - </p> - <p> - Down on the Staked Plains, on an evening much like the evening when Bud - came home with his “stake” and his hopes and two black sheep who were - becoming white as most of us, a camp-fire began to crackle and wave smoke - ribbons this way and that before it burned steadily under the supper pots - of a certain hungry, happy group which you know. - </p> - <p> - “It's somewhere about here that I got lost from camp when I was a kid,” - Bud observed, tilting back his hat and lifting a knee to snap a dry stick - over it. “Mother'd know, I bet. I kinda wish we'd brought her and dad - along with us. That's about eighteen years ago they trailed a herd north—and - here we are, taking our trail—herd north on the same trail! I kinda - wish now I'd picked up a bunch of yearling heifers along with our - two-year-olds. We could have brought another hundred head just as well as - not. They sure drive nice. Mother would have enjoyed this trip.” - </p> - <p> - “You think so, do you?” Marian gave him a superior little smile along with - the coffee-boiler. “If you'd heard her talk about that trip north when - there weren't any men around listening, you'd change your mind. Bud - Birnie, you are the SIMPLEST creature! You think, because a woman doesn't - make a fuss over things, she doesn't mind. Your mother told me that it was - a perfect nightmare. She taught you music just in the hope that you'd go - back to civilization and live there where there are some modern - improvements, and she could visit you! And here you are—all rapped - up in a bunch of young stock, dirty as pig and your whiskers—ow! - Bud! Stop that immediatly, or I'll go put my face in a cactus just for - relief!” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe you're dissatisfied yourself with my bunch of cattle. Maybe you - didn't go in raptures over our aim and make more plans in a day than four - men could carry out in a year. Maybe you wish your husband was a man that - was content to pound piano keys all his life and let his hair grow long - instead of his whiskers. If you hate this, why didn't you say so?” - </p> - <p> - “I was speaking,” said Marian as dignifiedly as was possible, “of your - mother. She was raised in civilization, and she has simply made the best - of pioneering all her married life. I was born and raised in cow-country - and I love it. As I said before, you are the SIMPLEST creature! Would you - really bring a father and mother a honeymoon trail—especially when - the bride didn't want them, and they would much rather stay home?” - </p> - <p> - “Hey!” cried Eddie disgustedly, coming up from a shallow creek with a - bucket of water and a few dry sticks. “The coffee's upset and putting the - fire out. Gee whiz! Can't you folks quit love-makin' and tend to business - long enough to cook a meal?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cow-Country, by B. M. Bower - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COW-COUNTRY *** - -***** This file should be named 1723-h.htm or 1723-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2/1723/ - -Produced by Mary Starr, and David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Cow-Country - -Author: B. M. Bower - -Posting Date: September 26, 2008 [EBook #1723] -Release Date: April, 1999 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COW-COUNTRY *** - - - - -Produced by Mary Starr - - - - - -COW-COUNTRY - -By B. M. Bower - - - - -CHAPTERS: - - 1. AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY - 2. THE TRAIL HERD - 3. SOME INDIAN LORE - 4. BUDDY GIVES WARNING - 5. BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE - 6. THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY - 7. BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE - 8. THE MULESHOE - 9. LITTLE LOST - 10. BUD MEETS THE WOMAN - 11. GUILE AGAINST THE WILY - 12. SPORT O' KINGS - 13. THE SINKS - 14. EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP - 15. WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE - 16. WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD - 17. GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING "POINT" - 18. THE CATROCK GANG - 19. BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN - 20. "PICK YOUR FOOTING!" - 21. TRAILS END - - - - -COW-COUNTRY - - - -CHAPTER ONE: AN AMBITIOUS MAN-CHILD WAS BUDDY - -In hot mid afternoon when the acrid, gray dust cloud kicked up by the -listless plodding of eight thousand cloven hoofs formed the only blot on -the hard blue above the Staked Plains, an ox stumbled and fell awkwardly -under his yoke, and refused to scramble up when his negro driver shouted -and prodded him with the end of a willow gad. - -"Call your master, Ezra," directed a quiet woman voice gone weary and -toneless with the heat and two restless children. "Don't beat the poor -brute. He can't go any farther and carry the yoke, much less pull the -wagon." - -Ezra dropped the gad and stepped upon the wagon tongue where he might -squint into the dust cloud and decide which gray, plodding horseman -alongside the herd was Robert Birnie. Far across the sluggish river of -grimy backs, a horse threw up its head with a peculiar sidelong motion, -and Ezra's eyes lightened with recognition. That was the colt, Rattler, -chafing against the slow pace he must keep. Hands cupped around big, -chocolate-colored lips and big, yellow-white teeth, Ezra whoo-ee-ed the -signal that called the nearest riders to the wagon that held the boss's -family. - -Bob Birnie and another man turned and came trotting back, and at the -call a scrambling youngster peered over his mother's shoulder in the -forward opening of the prairie schooner. - -"O-oh, Dulcie! We gonna git a wile cow agin!" - -Dulcie was asleep and did not answer, and the woman in the slat -sun-bonnet pushed back with her elbow the eager, squirming body of her -eldest. "Stay in the wagon, Buddy. Mustn't get down amongst the oxen. -One might kick you. Lie down and take a nap with sister. When you waken -it will be nice and cool again." - -"Not s'eepy!" objected Buddy for the twentieth time in the past two -hours. But he crawled back, and his mother, relieved of his restless -presence, leaned forward to watch the approach of her husband and the -cowboy. This was the second time in the past two days that an ox had -fallen exhausted, and her eyes showed a trace of anxiety. With the feed -so poor and the water so scarce, it seemed as though the heavy wagon, -loaded with a few household idols too dear to leave behind, a camp -outfit and the necessary clothing and bedding for a woman and two -children, was going to be a real handicap on the drive. - -"Robert, if we had another wagon, I could drive it and make the load -less for these four oxen," she suggested when her husband came up. "A -lighter wagon, perhaps with one team of strong horses, or even with a -yoke of oxen, I could drive well enough, and relieve these poor brutes." -She pushed back her sun-bonnet and with it a mass of red-brown hair that -curled damply on her forehead, and smiled disarmingly. "Buddy would be -the happiest baby boy alive if I could let him drive now and then!" she -added humorously. - -"Can't make a wagon and an extra yoke of oxen out of this cactus patch," -Bob Birnie grinned good humoredly. "Not even to tickle Buddy. I'll see -what I can do when we reach Olathe. But you won't have to take a man's -place and drive, Lassie." He took the cup of water she drew from a keg -and proffered-water was precious on the Staked Plains, that season-and -his eyes dwelt on her fondly while he drank. Then, giving her hand a -squeeze when he returned the cup, he rode back to scan the herd for an -animal big enough and well-conditioned enough to supplant the worn-out -ox. - -"Aren't you thirsty, Frank Davis? I think a cup of water will do you -good," she called out to the cowboy, who had dismounted to tighten his -forward cinch in expectation of having to use his rope. - -The cowboy dropped stirrup from saddle horn and came forward -stiff-leggedly, leading his horse. His sun-baked face, grimed with the -dust of the herd, was aglow with heat, and his eyes showed gratitude. -A cup of water from the hand of the boss's wife was worth a gallon from -the barrel slip-slopping along in the lurching chuck-wagon. - -"How's the kids makin' out, Mis' Birnie?" Frank inquired politely when -he had swallowed the last drop and had wiped his mouth with the back of -his hand. "It's right warm and dusty t'day." - -"They're asleep at last, thank goodness," she answered, glancing back -at a huddle of pink calico that showed just over the crest of a pile -of crumpled quilts. "Buddy has a hard time of it. He's all man in his -disposition, and all baby in size. He's been teasing to walk with the -niggers and help drive the drag. Is my husband calling?" - -Her husband was, and Frank rode away at a leisurely trot. Haste had -little to do with trailing a herd, where eight miles was called a good -day's journey and six an average achievement. The fallen ox was unyoked -by the mellow-voiced but exasperated Ezra, and since he would not rise, -the three remaining oxen, urged by the gad and Ezra's upbraiding, -swung the wagon to one side and moved it a little farther after the -slow-moving herd, so that the exhausted animal could rest, and the -raw recruit be yoked in where he could do the least harm and would the -speediest learn a new lesson in discomfort. Mrs. Birnie glanced again -at the huddle of pink in the nest of quilts behind a beloved chest of -drawers in the wagon, and sighed with relief because Buddy slept. - -An ambitious man-child already was Buddy, accustomed to certain phrases -that, since he could toddle, had formed inevitable accompaniment to his -investigative footsteps. "L'k-out-dah!" he had for a long time believed -to be his name among the black folk of his world. White folk had varied -it slightly. He knew that "Run-to-mother-now" meant that something he -would delight in but must not watch was going to take place. Spankings -more or less official and not often painful signified that big folks did -not understand him and his activities, or were cross about something. -Now, mother did not want him to watch the wild cow run and jump at the -end of a rope until finally forced to submit to the ox-yoke and help -pull the wagon. Buddy loved to watch them, but he understood that mother -was afraid the wild cow might step on him. Why she should want him to -sleep when he was not sleepy he had not yet discovered, and so disdained -to give it serious consideration. - -"Not s'eepy," Buddy stated again emphatically as a sort of mental -dismissal of the command, and crawled carefully past Sister and lifted a -flap of the canvas cover. A button--the last button--popped off his pink -apron and the sleeves rumpled down over his hands. It felt all loose and -useless, so Buddy stopped long enough to pull the apron off and throw -it beside Sister before he crawled under the canvas flap and walked down -the spokes of a rear wheel. He did not mean to get in the way of the -wild cow, but he did want action for his restless legs. He thought that -if he went away from the wagon and the herd and played while they were -catching the wild cow, it would be just the same as if he took a nap. -Mother hadn't thought of it, or she might have suggested it. - -So Buddy went away from the wagon and down into a shallow dry wash where -the wild cow would not come, and played. The first thing he saw was -a scorpion-nasty old bug that will bite hard-and he threw rocks at it -until it scuttled under a ledge out of sight. The next thing he saw that -interested him at all was a horned toad; a hawn-toe, he called it, after -Ezra's manner of speaking. Ezra had caught a hawntoe for him a few days -ago, but it had mysteriously disappeared out of the wagon. Buddy did -not connect his mother's lack of enthusiasm with the disappearance. Her -sympathy with his loss had seemed to him real, and he wanted another, -fully believing that in this also mother would be pleased. So he took -after this particular HAWN-toe, that crawled into various hiding places -only to be spied and routed out with small rocks and a sharp stick. - -The dry wash remained shallow, and after a while Buddy, still in hot -pursuit of the horned toad, emerged upon the level where the herd had -passed. The wagon was nowhere in sight, but this did not disturb Buddy. -He was not lost. He knew perfectly that the brown cloud on his narrowed -horizon was the dust over the herd, and that the wagon was just behind, -because the wind that day was blowing from the southwest, and also -because the oxen did not walk as fast as the herd. In the distance he -saw the "Drag" moving lazily along after the dust-cloud, with barefooted -niggers driving the laggard cattle and singing dolefully as they walked. -Emphatically Buddy was not lost. - -He wanted that particular horned toad, however, and he kept after it -until he had it safe in his two hands. - -It happened that when he pounced at last upon the toad he disturbed -with his presence a colony of red ants on moving day. The close ranks -of them, coming and going in a straight line, caught and held Buddy's -attention to the exclusion of everything else--save the horned toad -he had been at such pains to acquire. He tucked the toad inside his -underwaist and ignored its wriggling against his flesh while he squatted -in the hot sunshine and watched the ants, his mind one great question. -Where were they going, and what were they carrying, and why were they -all in such a hurry? - -Buddy had to know. To himself he called trailherd--but father's cattle -did not carry white lumps of stuff on their heads, and furthermore, they -all walked together in the same direction; whereas the ant herd traveled -both ways. Buddy made sure of this, and then started off, following what -he had decided was the real trail of the ants. Most children would have -stirred them up with a stick; Buddy let them alone so that he could see -what they were doing all by themselves. - -The ants led him to a tiny hole with a finely pulverized rim just at the -edge of a sprawly cactus. This last Buddy carefully avoided, for even -at four years old he had long ago learned the sting of cactus thorns. A -rattlesnake buzzed warning when he backed away and the shock to Buddy's -nerves roused within him the fighting spirit. Rattlesnakes he knew also, -as the common enemy of men and cattle. Once a steer had been bitten on -the nose and his head had swollen up so he couldn't eat. Buddy did not -want that to happen to HIM. - -He made sure that the horned toad was safe, chose a rock as large as he -could lift and heave from him, and threw it at the buzzing, gray coil. -He did not wait to see what happened, but picked up another rock, a -terrific buzzing sounding stridently from the coil. He threw another -and another with all the force of his healthy little muscles. For a -four-year-old he aimed well; several of the rocks landed on the coil. - -The snake wriggled feebly from under the rocks and tried to crawl away -and hide, its rattles clicking listlessly. Buddy had another rock in -his hands and in his eyes the blue fire of righteous conquest. He -went close-close enough to have brought a protesting cry from a -grownup-lifted the rock high as he could and brought it down fair on -the battered head of the rattler. The loathsome length of it winced -and thrashed ineffectively, and after a few minutes lay slack, the tail -wriggling aimlessly. - -Buddy stood with his feet far apart and his hands on his hips, as he had -seen the cowboy do whom he had unconsciously imitated in the killing. - -"Snakes like Injuns. Dead'ns is good 'ens," He observed sententiously, -still playing the part of the cowboy. Then, quite sure that the snake -was dead, he took it by the tail, felt again of the horned toad on his -chest and went back to see what the ants were doing. - -When so responsible a person as a grownup stops to watch the orderly -activities of an army of ants, minutes and hours slip away unnoticed. -Buddy was absolutely fascinated, lost to everything else. When some -instinct born in the very blood of him warned Buddy that time was -passing, he stood up and saw that the sun hung just above the edge of -the world, and that the sky was a glorious jumble of red and purple and -soft rose. - -The first thing Buddy did was to stoop and study attentively the dead -snake, to see if the tail still wiggled. It did not, though he watched -it for a full minute. He looked at the sun--it had not set but glowed -big and yellow as far from the earth as his father was tall. Ezra had -lied to him. Dead snakes did not wiggle their tails until sundown. - -Buddy looked for the dust cloud of the herd, and was surprised to find -it smaller than he had ever seen it, and farther away. Indeed, he could -only guess that the faint smudge on the horizon was the dust he had -followed for more days than he could count. He was not afraid, but he -was hungry and he thought his mother would maybe wonder where he was, -and he knew that the point-riders had already stopped pushing the herd -ahead, and that the cattle were feeding now so that they would bed -down at dusk. The chuckwagon was camped somewhere close by, and old -Step-and-a-Half, the lame cook, was stirring things in his Dutch ovens -over the camp-fire. Buddy could almost smell the beans and the meat -stew, he was so hungry. He turned and took one last, long look at the -endless stream of ants still crawling along, picked up the dead snake by -the tail, cupped the other hand over the horned toad inside his waist, -and started for camp. - -After a while he heard someone shouting, but beyond faint relief that he -was after all near his "Outfit", Buddy paid no attention. The boys were -always shouting to one another, or yelling at their horses or at the -herd or at the niggers. It did not occur to him that they might -be shouting for him, until from another direction he heard Ezra's -unmistakable, booming voice. Ezra sang a thunderous baritone when the -niggers lifted up their voices in song around their camp-fire, and he -could be heard for half a mile when he called in real earnest. He was -calling now, and Buddy, stopping to listen, fancied that he heard his -name. A little farther on, he was sure of it. - -"OOO-EE! Whah y'all, Buddy? OOO-EEE!" - -"I'm a-comin'," Buddy shrilled impatiently. "What y' all want?" - -His piping voice did not carry to Ezra, who kept on shouting. The -radiant purple and red and gold above him deepened, darkened. The whole -wild expanse of half-barren land became suddenly a place of unearthly -beauty that dulled to the shadows of dusk. Buddy trudged on, keeping -to the deep-worn buffalo trails which the herd had followed and scored -afresh with their hoofs. He could not miss his way-not Buddy, son of Bob -Birnie, owner of the Tomahawk outfit-but his legs were growing pretty -tired, and he was so hungry that he could have sat down on the ground -and cried with the gnawing food-call of his empty little stomach. - -He could hear other voices shouting at intervals now, but Ezra's voice -was the loudest and the closest, and it seemed to Buddy that Ezra never -once stopped calling. Twice Buddy called back that he was a-comin', but -Ezra shouted just the same: "OOO-EE! WHAH Y' ALL, BUDDY? OOO-EE!" - -Imperceptibly dusk deepened to darkness. A gust of anger swept Buddy's -soul because he was tired, because he was hungry and he was yet a long -way from the camp, but chiefly because Ezra persisted in calling after -Buddy had several times answered. He heard someone whom he recognized -as Frank Davis, but by this time he was so angry that he would not say a -word, though he was tempted to ask Frank to take him up on his horse and -let him ride to camp. He heard others-and once the beat of hoofs came -quite close. But there was a wide streak of Scotch stubbornness in -Buddy--along with several other Scotch streaks--and he continued his -stumbling progress, dragging the snake by the tail, his other hand -holding fast the horned toad. - -His heart jumped up and almost choked him when first saw the three -twinkles on the ground which knew were not stars but camp-fires. - -Quite unexpectedly he trudged into the firelight where Step-and-a-Half -was stirring delectable things in the iron pots and stopping every -minute or so to stare anxiously into the gloom. Buddy stood blinking and -sniffing, his eyes fixed upon the Dutch ovens. - -"I'm HUNGRY!" he announced accusingly, gripping the toad that had begun -to squirm at the heat and light. "I kilt a snake an' I'm HUNGRY!" - -"Good gorry!" swore Step-and-a-Half, and whipped out his six-shooter and -fired three shots into the air. - -Footsteps came scurrying. Buddy's mother swept him into her arms, -laughing with a little whimpering sound of tears in the laughter. Buddy -wriggled protestingly in her arms. - -"L'kout! Y' all SKUCSH 'im! I got a HAWN-toe; wight here." He patted his -chest gloatingly. "An' I got a snake. I kilt 'im. An' I'm HUNGRY." - -Mother of Buddy though she was, Lassie set him down hurriedly and -surveyed her man-child from a little distance. - -"Buddy! Drop that snake instantly'" - -Buddy obeyed, but he planted a foot close to his kill and pouted his -lips. "'S my snake. I kilt 'im," He said firmly. He pulled the horned -toad from his waist-front and held it tightly in his two hands. "An's my -hawn-toe. I ketche'd'm. 'Way ova dere," he added, tilting his tow head -toward the darkness behind him. - -Bob Birnie rode up at a gallop, pulled up his horse in the edge of the -fire glow and dismounted hastily. - -Bob Birnie never needed more than one glance to furnish him the details -of a scene. He saw the very small boy confronting his mother with a dead -snake, a horned toad and a stubborn set to his lips. He saw that the -mother looked rather helpless before the combination--and his brown -mustache hid a smile. He walked up and looked his first-born over. - -"Buddy," He demanded sternly, "where have you been?" - -"Out dere. Kilt a snake. Ants was trailing a herd. I got a HAWN-toe. An' -I'm hungry!" - -"You know better than to leave the wagon, young man. Didn't you know we -had to get out and hunt you, and mother was scared the wolves might eat -you? Didn't you hear us calling you? Why didn't you answer?" - -Buddy looked up from under his baby eyebrows at his father, who seemed -very tall and very terrible. But his bare foot touched the dead snake -and he took comfort. "I was comin'," he said. "I WASN'T los'. I bringed -my snake and my hawn-toe. An' dey--WASN'T--any--woluffs!" The last word -came muffled, buried in his mother's skirts. - - - -CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAIL HERD - -Day after day the trail herd plodded slowly to the north, following the -buffalo trails that would lead to water, and the crude map of one who -had taken a herd north and had returned with a tale of vast plains and -no rivals. Always through the day the dust cloud hung over the backs of -the cattle, settled into the clothes of those who followed, grimed the -pink aprons of Buddy and his small sister Dulcie so that they were no -longer pink. Whenever a stream was reached, mother searched patiently -for clear water and an untrampled bit of bank where she might do the -family washing, leaving Ezra to mind the children. But even so the crust -and the wear and tear of travel remained to harass her fastidious soul. - -Buddy remembered that drive as he could not remember the comfortable -ranch house of his earlier babyhood. To him afterward it seemed that -life began with the great herd of cattle. He came to know just how low -the sun must slide from the top of the sky before the "point" would -spread out with noses to the ground, pausing wherever a mouthful of -grass was to be found. When these leaders of the herd stopped, the -cattle would scatter and begin feeding. If there was water they would -crowd the banks of the stream or pool, pushing and prodding one another -with their great, sharp horns. Later, when the sun was gone and dusk -crept out of nowhere, the cowboys would ride slowly around the herd, -pushing it quietly into a smaller compass. Then, if Buddy were not too -sleepy, he would watch the cattle lie down to chew their cuds in deep, -sighing content until they slept. It reminded Buddy vaguely of when -mother popped corn in a wire popper, a long time ago-before they all -lived in a wagon and went with the herd. First one and two-then there -would be three, four, five, as many as Buddy could count-then the whole -herd would be lying down. - -Buddy loved the camp-fires. The cowboys would sit around the one where -his father and mother sat--mother with Dulcie in her arms--and they -would smoke and tell stories, until mother told him it was time little -boys were in bed. Buddy always wanted to know what they said after he -had climbed into the big wagon where mother had made a bed, but he never -found out. He could remember lying there listening sometimes to the -niggers singing at their own campfire within call, Ezra always singing -the loudest,--just as a bull always could be heard above the bellowing -of the herd. - -All his life, Ezra's singing and the monotonous bellowing of a herd -reminded Buddy of one mysteriously terrible time when there weren't -any rivers or any ponds or anything along the trail, and they had to be -careful of the water and save it, and he and Dulcie were not asked -to wash their faces. I think that miracle helped to fix the incident -indelibly in Buddy's mind; that, and the bellowing of the cattle. It -seemed a month to Buddy, but as he grew older he learned that it was -three days they went without water. - -The first day he did not remember especially, except that mother had -talked about clean aprons that night, and failed to produce any. The -second he recalled quite clearly. Father came to the wagons sometime in -the night to see if mother was asleep. Their murmured talk wakened Buddy -and he heard father say: - -"We'll hold 'em, all right, Lassie. And there's water ahead. It's marked -on the trail map. Don't you worry--I'll stay up and help the boys. The -cattle are uneasy--but we'll hold 'em." - -The third day Buddy never forgot. That was the day when mother forgot -that Q stands for Quagga, and permitted Buddy to call it P, just for -fun, because it looked so much like P. And when he said "W is water ", -mother made a funny sound and said right out loud, "Oh God, please!" and -told Buddy to creep back and play with Sister--when Sister was asleep, -and there were still x, y and z to say, let alone that mysterious -And-so-forth which seemed to mean so much and so little and never was -called upon to help spell a word. Never since he began to have lessons -had mother omitted a single letter or cut the study hour down the -teeniest little bit. - -Buddy was afraid of something, but he could not think what it was that -frightened him. He began to think seriously about water, and to listen -uneasily to the constant lowing of the herd. The increased shouting -of the niggers driving the lagging ones held a sudden significance. It -occurred to him that the niggers had their hands full, and that they had -never driven so big a "Drag." It was hotter than ever, too, and they had -twice stopped to yoke in fresh oxen. Ezra had boasted all along that -ole Bawley would keep his end up till they got clah to Wyoming. But ole -Bawley had stopped, and stopped, and at last had to be taken out of the -yoke. Buddy began to wish they would hurry up and find a river. - -None of the cowboys would take him on the saddle and let him ride, that -day. They looked harassed--Buddy called it cross--when they rode up to -the wagon to give their horses a few mouthfuls of water from the barrel. -Step-and-a-Half couldn't spare any more, they told mother. He had -declared at noon that he needed every drop he had for the cooking, and -there would be no washing of dishes whatever. Later, mother had studied -a map and afterwards had sat for a long while staring out over the backs -of the cattle, her face white. Buddy thought perhaps mother was sick. - -That day lasted hours and hours longer than any other day that Buddy -could remember. His father looked cross, too, when he rode back to them. -Once it was to look at the map which mother had studied. They talked -together afterwards, and Buddy heard his father say that she must not -worry; the cattle had good bottom, and could stand thirst better than a -poor herd, and another dry camp would not really hurt anyone. - -He had uncovered the water barrel and looked in, and had ridden straight -over to the chuck-wagon, his horse walking alongside the high seat where -Step-and-a-Half sat perched listlessly with a long-lashed oxwhip in his -hand. Father had talked for a few minutes, and had ridden back scowling. - -"That old scoundrel has got two ten-gallon kegs that haven't been -touched!" he told mother. "Yo' all mustn't water any more horses out of -your barrel Send the boys to Step-and-a-Half. Yo' all keep what you've -got. The horses have got to have water--to-night it's going to be hell -to hold the herd, and if anybody goes thirsty it'll be the men, not the -horses But yo' all send them to the other wagon, Lassie Mind, now! Not a -drop to anyone." - -After father rode away, Buddy crept up and put his two short arms around -mother. "Don't cry. I don't have to drink any water," he soothed her. He -waited a minute and added optimistically, "Dere's a BI--IG wiver comin' -pitty soon. Oxes smells water a hunerd miles. Ezra says so. An' las' -night Crumpy was snuffin' an' snuffin'. I saw 'im do it. He smelt a BIG -wiver. THAT bi-ig!" He spread his short arms as wide apart as they would -reach, and smiled tremulously. - -Mother squeezed Buddy so hard that he grunted. - -"Dear little man, of course there is. WE don't mind, do we? I-was -feeling sorry for the poor cattle." - -"De're firsty," Buddy stated solemnly, his eyes big. "De're bawlin' fer -a drink of water. I guess de're AWFUL firsty. Dere's a big wiver comin' -now Crumpy smelt a big wiver." - -Buddy's mother stared across the arid plain parched into greater -barrenness by the heat that had been unremitting for the past week. -Buddy's faith in the big river she could not share. Somehow they had -drifted off the trail marked on the map drawn by George Williams. - -Williams had warned them to carry as much water as possible in barrels, -as a precaution against suffering if they failed to strike water each -night. He had told them that water was scarce, but that his cowboy -scouts and the deep-worn buffalo trails had been able to bring him -through with water at every camp save two or three. The Staked Plains, -he said, would be the hardest drive. And this was the Staked Plains--and -it was hard driving! - -Buddy did not know all that until afterwards, when he heard father talk -of the drive north. But he would have remembered that day and the night -that followed, even though he had never heard a word about it. -The bawling of the herd became a doleful chant of misery. Even the -phlegmatic oxen that drew the wagons bawled and slavered while they -strained forward, twisting their heads under the heavy yokes. They -stopped oftener than usual to rest, and when Buddy was permitted to walk -with the perspiring Ezra by the leaders, he wondered why the oxen's eyes -were red, like Dulcie's when she had one of her crying spells. - -At night the cowboys did not tie their horses and sit down while they -ate, but stood by their mounts and bolted food hurriedly, one eye always -on the restless cattle, that walked around and around, and would neither -eat nor lie down, but lowed incessantly. Once a few animals came close -enough to smell the water in a bucket where Frank Davis was watering -his sweat-streaked horse, and Step-and-a-Half's wagon was almost upset -before the maddened cattle could be driven back to the main herd. - -"No use camping," Bob Birnie told the boys gathered around -Step-and-a-Half's Dutch ovens. "The cattle won't stand. We'll wear -ourselves and them out trying to hold 'em-they may as well be hunting -water as running in circles. Step-and-a-Half, keep your cooked grub -handy for the boys, and yo' all pack up and pull out. We'll turn the -cattle loose and follow. If there's any water in this damned country -they'll find it." - -Years afterwards, Buddy learned that his father had sent men out to -hunt water, and that they had not found any. He was ten when this was -discussed around a spring roundup fire, and he had studied the matter -for a few minutes and then had spoken boldly his mind. - -"You oughta kept your horses as thirsty as the cattle was, and I bet -they'd a' found that water," he criticized, and was sent to bed for his -tactlessness. Bob Birnie himself had thought of that afterwards, and had -excused the oversight by saying that he had depended on the map, and had -not foreseen a three-day dry drive. - -However that may be, that night was a night of panicky desperation. -Ezra walked beside the oxen and shouted and swung his lash, and the -oxen strained forward bellowing so that not even Dulcie could sleep, -but whimpered fretfully in her mother's arms. Buddy sat up wide-eyed and -watched for the big river, and tried not to be a 'fraid-cat and cry like -Dulcie. - -It was long past starry midnight when a little wind puffed out of the -darkness and the oxen threw up their heads and sniffed, and put a new -note into their "M-baw-aw-aw-mm!" They swung sharply so that the wind -blew straight into the front of the wagon, which lurched forward with a -new impetus. - -"Glo-ory t' Gawd, Missy! dey smells watah, sho 's yo' bawn!" sobbed Ezra -as he broke into a trot beside the wheelers. "'Tain't fur--lookit dat-ah -huhd a-goin' it! No 'm, Missy, DEY ain't woah out--dey smellin' watah -an' dey'm gittin' TO it! 'Tain't fur, Missy." - -Buddy clung to the back of the seat and stared round-eyed into the -gloom. He never forgot that lumpy shadow which was the herd, traveling -fast in dust that obscured the nearest stars. The shadow humped here -and there as the cattle crowded forward at a shuffling half trot, the -click--awash of their shambling feet treading close on one another. The -rapping tattoo of wide-spread horns clashing against wide-spread horns -filled him with a formless terror, so that he let go the seat to clutch -at mother's dress. He was not afraid of cattle-they were as much a -part of his world as were Ezra and the wagon and the camp-fires-but he -trembled with the dread which no man could name for him. - -These were not the normal, everyday sounds of the herd. The herd had -somehow changed from plodding animals to one overwhelming purpose that -would sweep away anything that came in its path. Two thousand parched -throats and dust-dry tongues-and suddenly the smell of water that would -go gurgling down two thousand eager gullets, and every intervening -second a cursed delay against which the cattle surged blindly. It was -the mob spirit, when the mob was fighting for its very existence. - -Over the bellowing of the cattle a yelling cowboy now and then made -himself heard. The four oxen straining under their yokes broke into -a lumbering gallop lest they be outdistanced by the herd, and Dulcie -screamed when the wagon lurched across a dry wash and almost upset, -while Ezra plied the ox-whip and yelled frantically at first one ox and -then another, inventing names for the new ones. Buddy drew in his breath -and held it until the wagon rolled on four wheels instead of two, but he -did not scream. - -Still the big river did not come. It seemed to Buddy that the cattle -would never stop running. Tangled in the terror was Ezra's shouting -as he ran alongside the wagon and called to Missy that it was "Dat ole -Crumpy actin' the fool", and that the wagon wouldn't upset. "No'm, dey's -jest in a hurry to git dere fool haids sunk to de eyes in dat watah. Dey -ain't aimin' to run away--no'm, dish yer ain't no stampede!" - -Perhaps Buddy dozed. The next thing he remembered, day was breaking, -with the sun all red, seen through the dust. The herd was still going, -but now it was running and somehow the yoked oxen were keeping close -behind, lumbering along with heads held low and the sweat reeking from -their spent bodies. Buddy heard dimly his mother's sharp command to -Ezra: - -"Stand back, Ezra! We're not going to be caught in that terrible trap. -They're piling over the bank ahead of us. Get away from the leaders. I -am going to shoot." - -Buddy crawled up a little higher on the blankets behind the seat, and -saw mother steady herself and aim the rifle straight at Crumpy. There -was the familiar, deafening roar, the acrid smell of black powder smoke, -and Crumpy went down loosely, his nose rooting the trampled ground for -a space before the gun belched black smoke again and Crumpy's yoke-mate -pitched forward. The wagon stopped so abruptly that Buddy sprawled -helplessly on his back like an overturned beetle. - -He saw mother stand looking down at the wheelers, that backed and -twisted their necks under their yokes. Her lips were set firmly -together, and her eyes were bright with purple hollows beneath. She held -the rifle for a moment, then set the butt of it on the "jockey box" just -in front of the dashboard. The wheelers, helpless between the weight of -the wagon behind and the dead oxen in front, might twist their necks off -but they could do no damage. - -"Unyoke the wheelers, Ezra, and let the poor creatures have their chance -at the water," she cried sharply, and Ezra, dodging the horns of the -frantic brutes, made shift to obey. - -Fairly on the bank of the sluggish stream with its flood-worn channel -and its treacherous patches of quicksand, the wagon thus halted by the -sheer nerve and quick-thinking of mother became a very small island in a -troubled sea of weltering backs and tossing horns and staring eyeballs. -Riders shouted and lashed unavailingly with their quirts, trying to -hold back the full bulk of the herd until the foremost had slaked -their thirst and gone on. But the herd was crazy for the water, and -the foremost were plunged headlong into the soft mud where they mired, -trampled under the hoofs of those who came crowding from behind. - -Someone shouted, close to the wagon yet down the bank at the edge of the -water. The words were indistinguishable, but a warning was in the voice. -On the echo of that cry, a man screamed twice. - -"Ezra!" cried mother fiercely. "It's Frank Davis--they've got him down, -somehow. Climb over the backs of the cattle--There's no other way--and -GET HIM!" - -"Yas'm, Missy!" Ezra called back, and then Buddy saw him go over the -herd, scrambling, jumping from back to back. - -Buddy remembered that always, and the funeral they had later in the day, -when the herd was again just trail-weary cattle feeding hungrily on the -scanty grass. Down at the edge of the creek the carcasses of many dead -animals lay half-buried in the mud. Up on a little knoll where a few -stunted trees grew, the negroes dug a long, deep hole. Mother's eyes -were often filled with tears that day, and the cowboys scarcely talked -at all when they gathered at the chuckwagon. - -After a while they all went to the hole which the negroes had dug, and -there was a long Something wrapped up in canvas. Mother wore her best -dress which was black, and father and all the boys had shaved their -faces and looked very sober. The negroes stood back in a group by -themselves, and every few minutes Buddy saw them draw their tattered -shirtsleeves across their faces. And father--Buddy looked once and saw -two tears running down father's cheeks. Buddy was shocked into a stony -calm. He had never dreamed that fathers ever cried. - -Mother read out of her Bible, and all the boys held their hats in front -of them, with their hands clasped, and looked at the ground while she -read. Then mother sang. She sang, "We shall meet beyond the river", -which Buddy thought was a very queer song, because they were all there -but Frank Davis; then she sang "Nearer, My God, to Thee." Buddy sang -too, piping the notes accurately, with a vague pronunciation of the -words and a feeling that somehow he was helping mother. - -After that they put the long, canvas-wrapped Something down in the hole, -and mother said "Our Father Who Art in Heaven ", with Buddy repeating it -uncertainly after her and pausing to say "TRETHpatheth" very carefully. -Then mother picked up Dulcie in her arms, took Buddy by the hand and -walked slowly back to the wagon, and would not let him turn to see what -the boys were doing. - -It was from that day that Buddy missed Frank Davis, who had mysteriously -gone to Heaven, according to mother. Buddy's interest in Heaven was -extremely keen for a time, and he asked questions which not even mother -could answer. Then his memory of Frank Davis blurred. But never his -memory of that terrible time when the Tomahawk outfit lost five hundred -cattle in the dry drive and the stampede for water. - - - -CHAPTER THREE: SOME INDIAN LORE - -Buddy knew Indians as he knew cattle, horses, rattlesnakes and -storms--by having them mixed in with his everyday life. He couldn't tell -you where or when he had learned that Indians are tricky. Perhaps his -first ideas on that subject were gleaned from the friendly tribes who -lived along the Chisolm Trail and used to visit the chuck-wagon, their -blankets held close around them and their eyes glancing everywhere while -they grinned and talked and pointed--and ate. Buddy used to sit in the -chuck-wagon, out of harm's way, and watch them eat. - -Step-and-a-Half had a way of entertaining Indians which never failed -to interest Buddy, however often he witnessed it. When Step-and-a-Half -glimpsed Indians coming afar off, he would take his dishpan and dump -into it whatever scraps of food were left over from the preceding meal. -He used to say that Indians could smell grub as far as a buzzard can -smell a dead carcase, and Buddy believed it, for they always arrived at -meal time or shortly afterwards. Step-and-a-Half would make a stew, if -there were scraps enough. If the gleanings were small, he would use the -dishwater--he was a frugal man--and with that for the start-off he would -make soup, which the Indians gulped down with great relish and many -gurgly sounds. - -Buddy watched them eat what he called pig-dinner. When Step-and-a-Half -was not looking he saw them steal whatever their dirty brown hands could -readily snatch and hide under their blankets. So he knew from very early -experience that Indians were not to be trusted. - -Once, when he had again strayed too far from camp, some Indians riding -that way saw him, and one leaned and lifted him from the ground and rode -off with him. Buddy did not struggle much. He saved his breath for the -long, shrill yell of cow-country. Twice he yodled before the Indian -clapped a hand over his mouth. - -Father and some of the cowboys heard and came after, riding hard and -shooting as they came. Buddy's pink apron fluttered a signal flag in the -arms of his captor, and so it happened that the bullets whistled close -to that particular Indian. He gathered a handful of calico between -Buddy's shoulders, held him aloft like a puppy, leaned far over and -deposited him on the ground. - -Buddy rolled over twice and got up, a little dizzy and very indignant, -and shouted to father, "Shoot a sunsyguns!" - -From that time Buddy added hatred to his distrust of Indians. - -From the time when he was four until he was thirteen Buddy's life -contained enough thrills to keep a movie-mad boy of to-day sitting on -the edge of his seat gasping enviously through many a reel, but to Buddy -it was all rather humdrum and monotonous. - -What he wanted to do was to get out and hunt buffalo. Just herding -horses, and watching out for Indians, and killing rattlesnakes was what -any boy in the country would be doing. Still, Buddy himself achieved now -and then a thrill. - -There was one day, when he stood heedlessly on a ridge looking for a -dozen head of lost horses in the draws below. It was all very well to -explain missing horses by the conjecture that the Injuns must have got -them, but Buddy happened to miss old Rattler with the others. Rattler -had come north with the trail herd, and he was wise beyond the wisdom of -most horses. He would drive cattle out of the brush without a rider to -guide him, if only you put a saddle on him. He had helped Buddy to mount -his back--when Buddy was much smaller than now--by lowering his head -until Buddy straddled it, and then lifting it so that Buddy slid down -his neck and over his withers to his back. Even now Buddy sometimes -mounted that way when no one was looking. Many other lovable traits had -Rattler, and to lose him would be a tragedy to the family. - -So Buddy was on the ridge, scanning all the deep little washes and -draws, when a bullet PING-G-GED over his head. Buddy caught the bridle -reins and pulled his horse into the shelter of rocks, untied his rifle -from the saddle and crept back to reconnoitre. It was the first time he -had ever been shot at--except in the army posts, when the Indians -had "broken out",--and the aim then was generally directed toward his -vicinity rather than his person. - -An Indian on a horse presently appeared cautiously from cover, and -Buddy, trembling with excitement, shot wild; but not so wild that the -Indian could afford to scoff and ride closer. After another ineffectual -shot at Buddy, he whipped his horse down the ridge, and made for Bannock -creek. - -Buddy at thirteen knew more of the wiles of Indians than does the -hardiest Indian fighter on the screen to-day. Father had warned him -never to chase an Indian into cover, where others would probably be -waiting for him. So he stayed where he was, pretty well hidden in the -rocks, and let the bullets he himself had "run" in father's bullet-mold -follow the enemy to the fringe of bushes. His last shot knocked the -Indian off his horse--or so it looked to Buddy. He waited for a long -time, watching the brush and thinking what a fool that Indian was to -imagine Buddy would follow him down there. After a while he saw the -Indian's horse climbing the slope across the creek. There was no rider. - -Buddy rode home without the missing horses, and did not tell anyone -about the Indian, though his thoughts would not leave the subject. - -He wondered what mother would think of it. Mother's interests seemed -mostly confined to teaching Buddy and Dulcie what they were deprived of -learning in schools, and to play the piano--a wonderful old square piano -that had come all the way from Scotland to the Tomahawk ranch, the very -frontier of the West. - -Mother was a wonderful woman, with a soft voice and a slight Scotch -accent, and wit; and a knowledge of things which were little known in -the wilderness. Buddy never dreamed then how strangely culture was mixed -with pure savagery in his life. To him the secret regret that he had not -dared ride into the bushes to scalp the Indian he believed he had shot, -and the fact that his hands were straining at the full chords of -the ANVIL CHORUS on that very evening, was not even to be considered -unusual. Still, certain strains of that classic were always afterward -associated in his mind with the shooting of the Indian--if he had really -shot him. - -While he counted the time with a conscientious regard for the rests, he -debated the wisdom of telling mother, and decided that perhaps he had -better keep that matter to himself, like a man. - - - -CHAPTER FOUR: BUDDY GIVES WARNING - -Buddy swung down from his horse, unsaddled it and went staggering to the -stable wall with the burden of a stock-saddle much too big for him. He -had to stand on his boot-toes to reach and pull the bridle down over the -ears of Whitefoot, which turned with an air of immense relief into the -corral gate and the hay piled at the further end. Buddy gave him -one preoccupied glance and started for the cabin, walking with the -cowpuncher's peculiar, bowlegged gait which comes of wearing chaps and -throwing out the knees to overcome the stiffness of the leather. At -thirteen Buddy was a cowboy from hat-crown to spurs-and at thirteen -Buddy gloried in the fact. To-day, however, his mind was weighted with -matters of more importance than himself. - -"The Utes are having a war-dance, mother," he announced when he had -closed the stout door of the kitchen behind him. "They mean it this -time. I lay in the brush and watched them last night." He stood looking -at his mother speculatively, a little grin on his face. "I told you, you -can't change an Injun by learning him to eat with a knife and fork," he -added. "Colorou ain't any whiter than he was before you set out to learn -him manners. He was hoppin' higher than any of 'em." - -"Teach, Buddy, not learn. You know better than to say 'learn him -manners.'" - -"Teach him manners," Buddy corrected himself obediently. "I was thinking -more about what I saw than about grammar. Where's father? I guess I'd -better tell him. He'll want to get the stock out of the mountains, I -should think." - -"Colorou will send me word before they take the warpath," mother -observed reassuringly. "He always has. I gave him a whole pound of tea -and a blue ribbon the last time he was here." - -"Yes, and the last time they broke out they got away with more 'n a -hundred head of cattle. You got to Laramie, all right, but he didn't -tell father in time to make a roundup back in the foothills. They're -DANCING, mother!" - -"Well, I suppose We're due for an outbreak," sighed mother. "Colorou -says he can't hold his young men off when some of the tribe have been -killed. He himself doesn't countenance the stealing and the occasional -killing of white men. There are bad Indians and good ones." - -"I know a couple of good ones," Buddy murmured as he made for the wash -basin. "It's the bad ones that were doing the dancing, mother," he flung -over his shoulder. "And if I was you I'd take Dulcie and the cats and -hit for Laramie. Colorou might get busy and forget to send word!" - -"If I WAS you?" Mother came up and nipped his ear between thumb and -finger. "Robert, I am discouraged over you. All that I teach you in the -winter seems to evaporate from your mind during the summer when you go -out riding with the boys." - -Buddy wiped his face with an up-and-down motion on the roller towel and -clanked across to the cupboard which he opened investigatively. "Any -pie?" he questioned as he peered into the corners. "Say, if I had the -handling of those Utes, mother, I'd fix 'em so they wouldn't be breaking -out every few months and making folks leave their homes to be pawed over -and burnt, maybe." He found a jar of fresh doughnuts and took three. - -"They'll tromp around on your flower-beds--it just makes me SICK when -I think how they'll muss things up around here! I wish now," He blurted -unthinkingly, "that I hadn't killed the Injun that stole Rattler." - -"Buddy! Not YOU." His mother made a swift little run across the kitchen -and caught him on his lean, hard-muscled young shoulders. "You--you -baby! What did you do? You didn't harm an Indian, did you, laddie?" - -Buddy tilted his head downward so that she could not look into his eyes. -"I dunno as I harmed him--much," he said, wiping doughnut crumbs from -his mouth with one hasty sweep of his forearm. "But his horse came -outa the brush, and he never. I guess I killed him, all right. Anyway, -mother, I had to. He took a shot at me first. It was the day we lost -Rattler and the bronks," He added accurately. - -Mother did not say anything for a minute, and Buddy hung his head lower, -dreading to see the hurt look which he felt was in her eyes. - -"I have to pack a gun when I ride anywhere," he reminded her -defensively. "It ain't to balance me on the horse, either. If Injuns -take in after me, the gun's so I can shoot. And a feller don't shoot -up in the air--and if an Injun is hunting trouble he oughta expect that -maybe he might get shot sometime. You--you wouldn't want me to just run -and let them catch me, would you?" - -Mother's hand slipped up to his head and pressed it against her breast -so that Buddy heard her heart beating steady and sweet and true. Mother -wasn't afraid--never, never! - -"I know--it's the dreadful necessity of defending our lives. But you're -so young--just mother's baby man!" - -Buddy looked up at her then, a laugh twinkling in his eyes. After all, -mother understood. - -"I'm going to be your baby man always if you want me to, mother," He -whispered, closing his arms around her neck in a sturdy hug. "But I'm -father's horse-wrangler, too. And a horse-wrangler has got to hold -up his end. I--I didn't want to kill anybody, honest. But Injuns are -different. You kill rattlers, and they ain't as mean as Injuns. That one -I shot at was shooting at me before I even so much as knew there was one -around. I just shot back. Father would, or anybody else." - -"I know--I know," she conceded, the tender womanliness of her sighing -over the need. In the next moment she was all mother, ready to fight for -her young. "Buddy, never, never ride ANYWHERE without your rifle! And a -revolver, too--be sure that it is in perfect condition. And--have you -a knife? You're so LITTLE!" she wailed. "But father will need you, and -he'll take care of you--and Colorou would not let you be hurt if he -knew. But--Buddy, you must be careful, and always watching--never let -them catch you off your guard. I shall be in Laramie before you and -father and the boys, I suppose, if the Indians really do break out. And -you must promise me--" - -"I'll promise, mother. And don't you go and trust old Colorou an inch. -He was jumping higher than any of 'em, and shaking his tomahawk and -yelling--he'd have scalped me right there if he'd seen me watching 'em. -Mother, I'm going to find father and tell him. And you may as well be -packing up, and--don't leave my guitar for them to smash, will you, -mother?" - -His mother laughed then and pushed him toward the door. She had an idea -of her own and she did not want to be hindered now in putting it into -action. Up the creek, in the bank behind a clump of willows, was a -small cave--or a large niche, one might call it--where many household -treasures might be safely hidden, if one went carefully, wading in the -creek to hide the tracks. She followed Buddy out, and called to Ezra -who was chopping wood with a grunt for every fall of the axe and many -rest--periods in the shade of the cottonwood tree. - -At the stable, Buddy looked back and saw her talking earnestly to Ezra, -who stood nodding his head in complete approval. Buddy's knowledge of -women began and ended with his mother. Therefore, to him all women -were wonderful creatures whom men worshipped ardently because they were -created for the adoration of lesser souls. Buddy did not know what his -mother was going to do, but he was sure that whatever she did would be -right; so he hoisted his saddle on the handiest fresh horse, and loped -off to drive in the remuda, feeling certain that his father would move -swiftly to save his cattle that ranged back in the foothills, and that -the saddle horses would be wanted at a moment's notice. - -Also, he reasoned, the range horses (mares and colts and the unbroken -geldings) would not be left to the mercy of the Indians. He did not -quite know how his father would manage it, but he decided that he would -corral the REMUDA first, and then drive in the other horses, that fed -scattered in undisturbed possession of a favorite grassy creek-bottom -farther up the Platte. - -The saddle horses, accustomed to Buddy's driving, were easily corralled. -The other horses were fat and "sassy" and resented his coming among them -with the shrill whoop of authority. They gave him a hot hour's riding -before they finally bunched and went tearing down the river bottom -toward the ranch. Even so, Buddy left two of the wildest careening up -a narrow gulch. He had not attempted to ride after them; not because he -was afraid of Indians, for he was not. The war-dance held every young -buck and every old one in camp beyond the Pass. But the margin of safety -might be narrow, and Buddy was taking no chances that day. - -When he was convinced that it was impossible for one boy to be in half a -dozen places at once, and that the cowboys would be needed to corral the -range bunch, Buddy whooped them all down the creek below the home ranch -and let them go just as his father came riding up to the corral. - -"They're war-dancing, father," Buddy shouted eagerly, slipping off his -horse and wiping away the trickles of perspiration with a handkerchief -not much redder than his face. "I drove all the horses down, so they'd -be handy. Them range horses are pretty wild. There was two I couldn't -get. What'll I do now?" - -Bob Birnie looked at his youngest rider and smoothed his beard with one -hand. "You're an ambitious lad, Buddy. It's the Utes you're meaning--or -is it the horses?" - -Buddy lifted his head and stared at his father disapprovingly. - -"Colorou is going to break out. I know. They've got their war paint all -on and they're dancing. I saw them myself. I was going after the gloves -Colorou s squaw was making for me,--but I didn't get 'em. I laid in the -brush and watched 'em dance." He stopped and looked again doubtfully at -his father. "I thought you might want to get the cattle outa the way," he -added. "I thought I could save some time--" - -"You're sure about the paint?" - -"Yes, I'm sure. And Colorou was just a-going it with his war bonnet on -and shaking his tomahawk and yelling--" - -"Ye did well, lad. We'll be leaving for Big Creek to-night, so run away -now and rest yourself." - -"Oh, and can I go?" Buddy's voice was shrill with eagerness. - -"I'll need you, lad, to look after the horses. It will give me one more -hand with the cattle. Now go tell Step-and-a-Half to make ready for a -week on the trail, and to have supper early so he can make his start -with the rest." - -Buddy walked stiffly away to the cook's cabin where Step-and-a-Half sat -leisurely gouging the worst blemishes out of soft, old potatoes with a -chronic tendency to grow sprouts, before he peeled them for supper His -crippled leg was thrust out straight, his hat was perched precariously -over one ear because of the slanting sun rays through the window, and -a half-smoked cigarette waggled uncertainly in the corner of his mouth -while he sang dolefully a most optimistic ditty of the West: - -"O give me a home where the buff-alo roam, Where the deer and the -antelope play, Where never is heard a discouraging word And the sky is -not cloudy all day." - -"You're going to hear a discouraging word right now," Buddy broke in -ruthlessly upon the song. Whereupon, with a bit of importance in -his voice and in his manner, he proceeded to spoil Step-and-a-Half's -disposition and to deepen, if that were possible, his loathing of -Indians. Too often had he made dubious soup of his dishwater and the -leavings from a roundup crew's dinner, and watched blanketed bucks -smack lips over the mess, to run from them now without feeling utterly -disgusted with life. Step-and-a-Half's vituperations could be heard -above the clatter of pots and pans as he made ready for the journey. - -That night's ride up the pass through the narrow range of high-peaked -hills to the Tomahawk's farthest range on Big Creek was a tedious -affair to Buddy. A man had been sent on a fast horse to warn the nearest -neighbor, who in turn would warn the next,--until no settler would -be left in ignorance of his danger. Ezra was already on the trail to -Laramie, with mother and Dulcie and the cats and a slat box full of -chickens, and a young sow with little pigs. - -Buddy, whose word no one had questioned, who might pardonably have -considered himself a hero, was concerned chiefly with his mother's -flower garden which he had helped to plant and had watered more or -less faithfully with creek water carried in buckets. He was afraid the -Indians would step on the poppies and the phlox, and trample down the -four o'clocks which were just beginning to branch out and look nice and -bushy, and to blossom. The scent of the four o'clocks had been in his -nostrils when he came out at dusk with his fur overcoat which mother had -told him must not be left behind. Buddy himself merely liked flowers: -but mother talked to them and kissed them just for love, and pitied them -if Buddy forgot and let them go thirsty. He would have stayed to fight -for mother's flower garden, if it would have done any good. - -He was thinking sleepily that next year he would plant flowers in boxes -that could be carried to the cave if the Indians broke out again, when -Tex Farley poked him in the ribs and told him to wake up or he'd fall -off his horse. It was a weary climb to the top of the range that divided -the valley of Big Creek from the North Platte, and a wearier climb down. -Twice Buddy caught himself on the verge of toppling out of the saddle. -For after all he was only a thirteen-year Old boy, growing like any -other healthy young animal. He had been riding hard that day and half of -the preceding night when he had raced back from the Reservation to -give warning of the impending outbreak. He needed sleep, and nature was -determined that he should have it. - - - -CHAPTER FIVE: BUDDY RUNS TRUE TO TYPE - -One never could predict with any certainty how long Indians would dance -before they actually took the trail of murder and pillage. So much -depended upon the Medicine, so much on signs and portents. It was even -possible that they might, for some mysterious reason unknown to their -white neighbors, decide at the last moment to bide their time. The -Tomahawk outfit worked from dawn until dark, and combed the foothills -of the Snowies hurriedly, riding into the most frequented, grassy basins -and wide canyons where the grass was lush and sweet and the mountain -streams rushed noisily over rocks. As fast as the cattle were gathered -they were pushed hastily toward the Platte, And though the men rode -warily with rifles as handy as their ropes, they rode in peace. - -Buddy, proud of his job, counting himself as good a man as any of them, -became a small riding demon after rebellious saddle horses, herding them -away from thick undergrowth that might, for all he knew, hold Indians -waiting a chance to scalp him, driving the REMUDA close to the cabins -when night fell, because no man could be spared for night herding, -sleeping lightly as a cat beside a mouse hole. He did not say much, -perhaps because everyone was too busy to talk, himself included. - -Men rode in at night dog-weary, pulled their saddles and hurried stiffly -to the cabin where Step-and-a-Half was showing his true worth as a cook -who could keep the coffee-pot boiling and yet be ready to pack up and -go at the first rifle-shot. They would bolt down enormous quantities of -bannock and boiled beef, swallow their coffee hot enough to scald a hog, -and stretch themselves out immediately to sleep. - -Buddy would be up and on his horse in the clear starlight before dawn, -with a cup of coffee swallowed to hearten him for the chilly ride after -the remuda. Even with the warmth of the coffee his teeth would chatter -just at first, and he would ride with his thin shoulders lifted and a -hand in a pocket. He could not sing or whistle to keep himself company. -He must ride in silence until he had counted every dark, moving shape -and knew that the herd was complete, then ease them quietly to camp. - -On the fourth morning he rode anxiously up the valley, fearing that the -horses had been stolen in the night, yet hoping they had merely strayed -up the creek to find fresh pastures. A light breeze that carried the -keen edge of frost made his nose tingle. His horse trotted steadily -forward, as keen on the trail as Buddy himself; keener, for he would be -sure to give warning of danger. So they rounded a bend in the creek and -came upon the scattered fringe of the remuda cropping steadily at the -meadow grass there. - -Bud circled them, glancing now and then at the ridge beyond the valley. -It seemed somehow unnatural--lower, with the stars showing along its -wooded crest in a row, as if there were no peaks. Then quite suddenly he -knew that the ridge was the same, and that the stars he saw were little, -breakfast camp-fires. His heart gave a jump when he realized how many -little fires there were, and knew that the dance was over. The Indians -had left the reservation and had crossed the ridge yesterday, and had -camped there to wait for the dawn. - -While he gathered his horses together he guessed how old Colorou had -planned to catch the Tomahawk riders when they left camp and scattered, -two by two, on "Circle." He had held his band well out of sight and -sound of the Big Creek cabin, and if the horses had not strayed up the -creek in the night he would have caught the white men off their guard. - -Buddy looked often over his shoulder while he drove the horses down the -creek. It seemed stranger than luck, that he had been compelled to ride -so far on this particular morning; as if mother's steadfast faith in -prayer and the guardianship of angels was justified by actual facts. -Still, Buddy was too hard-headed to assume easily that angels had driven -the horses up the creek so that he would have to ride up there and -discover the Indian fires. If angels could do that, why hadn't they -stopped Colorou from going on the warpath? It would have been simpler, -in Buddy's opinion. - -He did not mention the angel problem to his father, however. Bob Birnie -was eating breakfast with his men when Buddy rode up to the cabin and -told the news. The boys did not say anything much, but they may have -taken bigger bites by way of filling their stomachs in less time than -usual. - -"I'll go see for myself," said Bob Birnie. "You boys saddle up and -be ready to start. If it's Indians, we'll head for Laramie and drive -everything before us as we go. But the lad may be wrong." He took the -reins from Buddy, mounted, and rode away, his booted feet hanging far -below Buddy's short stirrups. - -Speedily he was back, and the scowl on his face told plainly enough that -Buddy had not been mistaken. - -"They're coming off the ridge already," he announced grimly. "I heard -their horses among the rocks up there. They think to come down on us at -sunrise. There'll be too many for us to hold off, I'm thinking. Get ye a -fresh horse, Buddy, and drive the horses down the creek fast as ye can." - -Buddy uncoiled his rope and ran with his mouth full to do as he was -told. He did not think he was scared, exactly, but he made three throws -to get the horse he wanted, blaming the poor light for his ill luck; -and then found himself in possession of a tall, uneasy brown that Dick -Grimes had broken and sometimes rode. Buddy would have turned him loose -and caught another, but the horses had sensed the suppressed excitement -of the men and were circling and snorting in the half light of dawn; so -Buddy led out the brown, pulled the saddle from the sweaty horse that -had twice made the trip up the creek, and heaved it hastily on the -brown's back. Dick Grimes called to him, to know if he wanted any help, -and Buddy yelled, "No!" - -"Here they come--damn 'em--turn the bunch loose and ride!" called Bob -Birnie as a shrill, yelling war-whoop, like the yapping of many coyotes, -sounded from the cottonwoods that bordered the creek. "Yuh all right, -Buddy?" - -"Yeah--I'm a-comin'," shrilled Buddy, hastily looping the latigo. Just -then the sharp staccato of rifle-shots mingled with the whooping of the -Indians. Buddy was reaching for the saddle horn when the brown horse -ducked and jerked loose. Before Buddy realized what was happening the -brown horse, the herd and all the riders were pounding away down the -valley, the men firing back at the cottonwoods. - -In the dust and clamor of their departure Buddy stood perfectly still -for a minute, trying to grasp the full significance of his calamity. -Step-and-a-Half had packed hastily and departed ahead of them all. His -father and the cowboys were watching the cottonwood grove many rods to -Buddy's right and well in the background, and they would not glance his -way. Even if they did they would not see him, and if they saw him it -would be madness to ride back--though there was not a man among them who -would not have wheeled in his tracks and returned for Buddy in the very -face of Colorou and his band. - -From the cottonwoods came the pound of galloping hoofs. "Angels -NOTHING!" Cried Buddy in deep disgust and scuttled for the cabin. - -The cabin, he knew as he ran, was just then the worst place in the -world for a boy who wanted very much to go on living. Through its gaping -doorway he saw a few odds and ends of food lying on the table, but he -dared not stop long enough to get them. The Indians were thundering down -to the corral, and as he rounded the cabin's corner he glanced back -and saw the foremost riders whipping their horses on the trail of the -fleeing white men. But some, he knew, would stop. Even the prospect of -fresh scalps could not hold the greedy ones from prowling around a white -man's dwelling place. There might be tobacco or whiskey left behind, -or something with color or a shine to it. Buddy knew well the ways of -Indians. - -He made for the creek, thinking at first to hide somewhere in the brush -along the bank. Then, fearing the brightening light of day and the wide -space he must cross to reach the first fringe of brush, he stopped at a -dugout cellar that had been built into the creek bank above high-water -mark. There was a pole-and-dirt roof, and because the dirt sifted down -between the poles whenever the wind blew--which was always--the place -had been crudely sealed inside with split poles overlapping one another. -The ceiling was more or less flat; the roof had a slight slope. In the -middle of the tiny attic thus formed Buddy managed to worm his body -through a hole in the gable next to the creek. - -He wriggled back to the end next the cabin and lay there very flat and -very quiet, peeping out through a half-inch crack, too wise in the ways -of silence to hold his breath until he must heave a sigh to relieve -his lungs. It was hard to breathe naturally and easily after that swift -dash, but somehow he did it. An Indian had swerved and ridden behind the -cabin, and was leaning and peering in all directions to see if anyone -had remained. Perhaps he suspected an ambush; Buddy was absolutely -certain that the fellow was looking for him, personally, and that he had -seen, Buddy run toward the creek. - -It was not a pleasant thought, and the fact that he knew that buck -Indian by name, and had once traded him a jackknife for a beautifully -tanned wolf skin for his mother, did not make it pleasanter. -Hides-the-face would not let past friendliness stand in the way of a -killing. - -Presently Hides-the-face dismounted and tied his horse to a corner log -of the cabin, and went inside with the others to see what he could find -that could be eaten or carried off. Buddy saw fresh smoke issue from the -stone chimney, and guessed that Step-and-a-Half had left something that -could be cooked. It became evident, in the course of an hour or so, that -his presence was absolutely unsuspected, and Buddy began to watch them -more composedly, silently promising especial forms of punishment to this -one and that one whom he knew. Most of them had been to the ranch many -times, and he could have called to a dozen of them by name. They had sat -in his father's cabin or stood immobile just within the door, and had -listened while his mother played and sang for them. She had fed them -cakes--Buddy remembered the good things which mother had given these -despicable ones who were looting and gobbling and destroying like a -drove of hogs turned loose in a garden, and the thought of her wasted -kindness turned him sick with rage. Mother had believed in their -friendliness. Buddy wished that mother could see them setting fire -to the low, log stable and the corral, and swarming in and out of the -cabin. - -Painted for war they were, with red stripes across their foreheads, -ribs outlined in red which, when they loosened their blankets as the -sun warmed them, gave them a fantastic likeness to the skeletons Buddy -wished they were; red stripes on their arms, the number showing their -rank in the tribe; open-seated, buckskin breeches to their knees where -they met the tightly wrapped leggings; moccasins laced snugly at the -ankle--they were picturesque enough to any eyes but Buddy's. He saw the -ghoulish greed in their eyes, heard it in their voices when they shouted -to one another; and he hated them even more than he feared them. - -Much that they said he understood. They were cursing the Tomahawk -outfit, chiefly because the men had not waited there to be surprised and -killed. They cursed his father in particular, and were half sorry that -they had not ridden on in pursuit with the others. They hoped no white -man would ride alive to Laramie. It made cheerful listening to Buddy, -flat on his stomach in the roof of the dugout! - -After a while, when the cabin had been gutted of everything it contained -save the crude table and benches, a few Indians brought burning brands -from the stable and set it afire. They were very busy inside and out, -making sure that the flames took hold properly. Then, when the dry logs -began to blaze and flames licked the edges of the roof, they stood back -and watched it. - -Buddy saw Hides-the-face glance speculatively toward the dugout, and -slipped his hand back where he could reach his six-shooter. He felt -pretty certain that they meant to demolish the dugout next, and he -knew exactly what he meant to do. He had heard men at the posts talk of -"selling their lives dearly ", and that is what he intended to do. - -He was not going to be in too much of a hurry; he would wait until they -actually began on the dugout--and when they were on the bank within a -few feet of him, and he saw that there was no getting away from death, -he meant to shoot five Indians, and himself last of all. - -Tentatively he felt of his temple where he meant to place the muzzle -of the gun when there was just one bullet left. It was so nice and -smooth--he wondered if God would really help him out, if he said Our -Father with a pure heart and with faith, as his mother said one must -pray. He was slightly doubtful of both conditions, when he came to think -of it seriously. This spring he had felt grown-up enough to swear a -little at the horses, sometimes--and he was not sure that shooting the -Indian that time would not be counted a crime by God, who loved all -His creatures. Mother always stuck to it that Injuns were God's -creatures--which brought Buddy squarely against the incredible -assumption that God must love them. He did not in the least mean to be -irreverent, but when he watched those painted bucks his opinion of God -changed slightly. He decided that he himself was neither pure nor full -of faith, and that he would not pray just yet. He would let God go ahead -and do as He pleased about it; except that Buddy would never let those -Indians get him alive, no matter what God expected. - -Hides-the-face walked over toward the dugout. Buddy crooked his left arm -and laid the gun barrel across it to get a "dead rest" and leave nothing -to chance. Hides-the-face stared at the dugout, moved to one side--and -the muzzle of the gun followed, keeping its aim directly at the left -edge of his breastbone as outlined with the red paint. Hides-the-face -craned, stepped into the path down the bank and passed out of range. -Buddy gritted his teeth malevolently and waited, his ears strained -to catch and interpret the meaning of every soft sound made by -Hides-the-face's moccasins. - -Hides-the-face cautiously pushed open the door of the cellar and looked -in, standing for interminable minutes, as is the leisurely way of -Indians when there is no great need of haste. Ruddy cautiously lowered -his face and peered down like a mouse from the thatch, but he could not -handily bring his gun to bear upon Hides-the-face, who presently turned -back and went up the path, his shoulder-muscles moving snakishly under -his brown skin as he climbed the bank. - -Hides-the-face returned to the others and announced that there was a -place where they could camp. Buddy could not hear all that he said, and -Hides-the-face had his back turned so that not all of his signs were -intelligible; but he gathered that these particular Indians had chosen -or had been ordered to wait here for three suns, and that the cellar -appealed to Hides-the-face as a shelter in case it stormed. - -Buddy did not know whether to rejoice at the news or to mourn. They -would not destroy the dugout, so he need not shoot himself, which was of -course a relief. Still, three suns meant three days and nights, and the -prospect of lying there on his stomach, afraid to move for that length -of time, almost amounted to the same thing in the end. He did not -believe that he could hold out that long, though of course he would try -pretty hard. - -All that day Buddy lay watching through the crack, determined to take -any chance that came his way. None came. The Indians loitered in the -shade, and some slept. But always two or three remained awake; and -although they sat apparently ready to doze off at any minute, Buddy knew -them too well to hope for such good luck. Two Indians rode in toward -evening dragging a calf that had been overlooked in the roundup; and -having improvidently burned the cabin, the meat was cooked over the -embers which still smouldered in places where knots in the logs made -slow fuel. - -Buddy watched them hungrily, wondering how long it took to starve. - -When it was growing dark he tried to keep in mind the exact positions -of the Indians, and to discover whether a guard would be placed over -the camp, or whether they felt safe enough to sleep without a sentinel. -Hides-the-face he had long ago decided was in charge of the party, and -Hides-the-face was seemingly concerned only with gorging himself on -the half-roasted meat. Buddy hoped he would choke himself, but -Hides-the-face was very good at gulping half-chewed hunks and finished -without disaster. - -Then he grunted something to someone in the dark, and there was movement -in the group. Buddy ground his growing "second" teeth together, clenched -his fist and said "Damn it!" three times in a silent crescendo of rage -because he could neither see nor hear what took place; and immediately -he repented his profanity, remembering that God could hear him. -In Buddy's opinion, you never could be sure about God; He bestowed -mysterious mercies and strange punishments, and His ways were past -finding out. Buddy tipped his palms together and repeated all the -prayers his mother had taught him and then, with a flash of memory, -finished with "Oh, God, please!" just as mother had done long ago on the -dry drive. After that he meditated uncomfortably for a few minutes -and added in a faint whisper, "Oh, shucks! You don't want to pay any -attention to a fellow cussing a little when he's mad. I could easy make -that up if you helped me out some way." - -Buddy believed afterwards that God yielded to persuasion and decided to -give him a chance. For not more than five minutes passed when a far-off -murmur grew to an indefinable roar, and the wind whooped down off the -Snowies so fiercely that even the dugout quivered a little and rattled -dirt down on Buddy through the poles just over his head. - -At first this seemed an unlucky circumstance, for the Indians came down -into the dugout for shelter, and now Buddy was afraid to breathe in -the quiet intervals between the gusts. Just below him he could hear the -occasional mutters of laconic sentences and grunted answers as the bucks -settled themselves for the night, and he had a short, panicky spell of -fearing that the poles would give way beneath him and drop him in upon -them. - -After a while--it seemed hours to Buddy--the wind settled down to a -steady gale. The Indians, so far as he could determine, were all asleep -in the cellar. And Buddy, setting his teeth hard together, began to -slide slowly backward toward the opening through which he had crawled -into the roof. When he had crawled in he had not noticed the springiness -of the poles, but now his imagination tormented him with the sensation -of sagging and swaying. When his feet pushed through the opening he had -to grit his teeth to hold himself steady. It seemed as if someone were -reaching up in the dark to catch him by the legs and pull him out. -Nothing happened, however, and after a little he inched backward until -he hung with his elbows hooked desperately inside the opening, his head -and shoulders within and protesting with every nerve against leaving the -shelter. - -Buddy said afterwards that he guessed he'd have hung there until -daylight, only he was afraid it was about time to change guard, and -somebody might catch him. But he said he was scared to let go and drop, -because it must have been pretty crowded in the cellar, and he knew -the door was open, and some buck might be roosting outside handy to be -stepped on. But he knew he had to do something, because if he ever went -to sleep up in that place he'd snore, maybe; and anyway, he said, he'd -rather run himself to death than starve to death. So he dropped. - -It was two days after that when Buddy shuffled into a mining camp on -the ridge just north of Douglas Pass. He was still on his feet, but -they dragged like an old man's. He had walked twenty-five miles in two -nights, going carefully, in fear of Indians. The first five miles he had -waded along the shore of the creek, he said, in case they might pick up -his tracks at the dugout and try to follow him. He had hidden himself -like a rabbit in the brush through the day, and he had not dared shoot -any meat, wherefore he had not eaten anything. - -"I ain't as hungry as I was at first," He grinned tremulously. "But I -guess I better--eat. I don' want--to lose the--habit--" Then he went -slack and a man swearing to hide his pity picked him up in his arms and -carried him into the tent. - - - -CHAPTER SIX: THE YOUNG EAGLE MUST FLY - -"You're of age," said Bob Birnie, sucking hard at his pipe. "You've had -your schooling as your mother wished that you should have it. You've -got the music in your head and your fingers and your toes, and that's as -your mother wished that you should have. - -"Your mother would have you be all for music, and make tunes out of your -own head. She tells me that you have made tunes and written them down on -paper, and that there are those who would buy them and print copies to -sell, with your name at the top of the page. I'll not say what I think -of that--your mother is an angel among women, and she has taught you the -things she loves herself. - -"But my business is with the cattle, and I've had you out with me since -you could climb on the back of a horse. I've watched you, with the rope -and the irons and in the saddle and all. You've been in tight places -that would try the mettle of a man grown--I mind the time ye escaped -Colorou's band, and we thought ye dead 'til ye came to us in Laramie. -You've showed that you're able to hold your own on the range, lad. Your -mother's all for the music--but I leave it to you. - -"Ten thousand dollars I'll give ye, if that's your wish, and you can go -to Europe as she wishes and study and make tunes for others to play. Or -if ye prefer it, I'll brand you a herd of she stock and let ye go your -ways. No son of mine can take orders from his father after he's a man -grown, and I'm not to the age where I can sit with the pipe from morning -to night and let another run my outfit. I've talked it over with your -mother, and she'll bide by your decision, as I shall do. - -"So I put it in a nutshell, Robert. You're twenty-one to-day; a man -grown, and husky as they're made. 'Tis time you faced the world and -lived your life. You've been a good lad--as lads go." He stopped there -to rub his jaw thoughtfully, perhaps remembering certain incidents -in Buddy's full-flavored past. Buddy--grown to plain Bud among his -fellows--turned red without losing the line of hardness that had come to -his lips. - -"You're of legal age to be called a man, and the future's before ye. -I'll give ye five hundred cows with their calves beside them--you can -choose them yourself, for you've a sharp eye for stock--and you can go -where ye will. Or I'll give ye ten thousand dollars and ye can go to -Europe and make tunes if you're a mind to. And whatever ye choose it'll -be make or break with ye. Ye can sleep on the decision, for I've no wish -that ye should choose hastily and be sorry after." - -Buddy--grown to Bud--lifted a booted foot and laid it across his other -knee and with his forefinger absently whirled the long-pointed rower on -his spur. The hardness at his lips somehow spread to his eyes, that were -bent on the whirring rower. It was the look that had come into the face -of the baby down on the Staked Plains when Ezra called and called after -he had been answered twice; the look that had held firm the lips of the -boy who had lain very flat on his stomach in the roof of the dugout and -had watched the Utes burning the cabin. - -"There's no need to sleep on it," he said after a minute. "You've raised -me, and spent some money on me--but I've saved you a man's wages ever -since I was ten. If you think I've evened things up, all right. If you -don't, make out your bill and I'll pay it when I can. There's no reason -why you should give me anything I haven't earned, just because you're my -father. You earned all you've got, and I guess I can do the same. As you -say, I'm a man. I'll go at the future man fashion. And," he added with a -slight flare of the nostrils, "I'll start in the morning." - -"And is it to make tunes for other folks to play?" Bob Birnie asked after -a silence, covertly eyeing him. - -"No, sir. There's more money in cattle. I'll make my stake in the -cow-country, same as you've done." He looked up and grinned a little. -"To the devil with your money and your she-stock! I'll get out all -right--but I'll make my own way." - -"You're a stubborn fool, Robert. The Scotch now and then shows itself -like that in a man. I got my start from my father and I'm not ashamed of -it. A thousand pounds--and I brought it to America and to Texas, and got -cattle." - -Bud laughed and got up, hiding how the talk had struck deep into the -soul of him. "Then I'll go you one better, dad. I'll get my own start." - -"You'll be back home in six months, lad, saying you've changed your -mind," Bob Birnie predicted sharply, stung by the tone of young Bud. -"That," he added grimly, "or for a full belly and a clean bed to crawl -into." - -Bud stood licking the cigarette he had rolled to hide an unaccountable -trembling of his fingers. "When I come back I'll be in a position to buy -you out! I'll borrow Skate and Maverick, if you don't mind, till I get -located somewhere." He paused while he lighted the cigarette. "It's the -custom," He reminded his father unnecessarily, "to furnish a man a horse -to ride and one to pack his bed, when he's fired." - -"Ye've horses of yer own," Bob Birnie retorted, "and you've no need to -borrow." - -Bud stood looking down at his father, plainly undecided. "I don't know -whether they're mine or not," he said after a minute. "I don't know what -it cost you to raise me. Figure it up, if you haven't already, and count -the time I've worked for you. Since you've put me on a business basis, -like raising a calf to shipping age, let's be businesslike about it. You -are good at figuring your profits--I'll leave it to you. And if you find -I've anything coming to me besides my riding outfit and the clothes I've -got, all right; I'll take horses for the balance." - -He walked off with the swing to his shoulders that had always betrayed -him when he was angry, and Bob Birnie gathered his beard into a handful -and held it while he stared after him. It had been no part of his plan -to set his son adrift on the range without a dollar, but since Bud's -temper was up, it might be a good thing to let him go. - -So Bob Birnie went away to confer with his wife, and Bud was left alone -to nurse his hurt while he packed his few belongings. It did hurt him to -be told in that calm, cold-blooded manner that, now he was of legal age, -he would not be expected to stay on at the Tomahawk. Until his father -had spoken to him about it, Bud had not thought much about what he would -do when his school days were over. He had taken life as it was presented -to him week by week, month by month. He had fulfilled his mother's hopes -and had learned to make music. He had lived up to his father's unspoken -standards of a cowman. He had made a "Hand" ever since his legs were -long enough to reach the stirrups of a saddle. There was not a better -rider, not a better roper on the range than Bud Birnie. Morally he -was cleaner than most young fellows of his age. He hated trickery, he -reverenced all good women; the bad ones he pitied because he believed -that they sorrowed secretly because they were not good, because they -had missed somehow their real purpose in life, which was to be wife and -mother. He had, in fact grown up clean and true to type. He was Buddy, -grown to be Bud. - -And Buddy, now that he was a man, had been told that he was not expected -to stay at home and help his father, and be a comfort to his mother. He -was like a young eagle which, having grown wing-feathers that will bear -the strain of high air currents, has been pecked out of the nest. No -doubt the young eagle resents his unexpected banishment, although in -time he would have felt within himself the urge to go. Leave Bud alone, -and soon or late he would have gone--perhaps with compunctions against -leaving home, and the feeling that he was somehow a disappointment to -his parents. He would have explained to his father, apologized to his -mother. As it was, he resented the alacrity with which his father was -pushing him out. - -So he packed his clothes that night, and pushed his guitar into its case -and buckled the strap with a vicious yank, and went off to the bunkhouse -to eat supper with the boys instead of sitting down to the table where -his mother had placed certain dishes which Buddy loved best--wanting to -show in true woman fashion her love and sympathy for him. - -Later--it was after Bud had gone to bed--mother came and had a long talk -with him. She was very sweet and sensible, and Bud was very tender with -her. But she could not budge him from his determination to go and make -his way without a Birnie dollar to ease the beginning. Other men had -started with nothing and had made a stake, and there was no reason why -he could not do so. - -"Dad put it straight enough, and it's no good arguing. I'd starve before -I'd take anything from him. I'm entitled to my clothes, and maybe a -horse or two for the work I've done for him while I was growing up. I've -figured out pretty close what it cost to put me through the University, -and what I was worth to him during the summers. Father's Scotch--but -he isn't a darned bit more Scotch than I am, mother. Putting it all -in dollars and cents, I think I've earned more than I cost him. In the -winters, I know I earned my board doing chores and riding line. Many a -little bunch of stock I've saved for him by getting out in the foothills -and driving them down below heavy snowline before a storm. You remember -the bunch of horses I found by watching the magpies--the time we tied -hay in canvas and took it up to them 'til they got strength enough to -follow the trail I trampled in the snow? I earned my board and more, -every winter since I was ten. So I don't believe I owe dad a cent, when -it's all figured out. - -"But you've done for me what money can't repay, mother. I'll always be -in debt to you--and I'll square it by being the kind of a man you've -tried to teach me to be. I will, mother. Dad and the dollars are a -different matter. The debt I owe you will never be paid, but I'm going -to make you glad I know there's a debt. I believe there's a God, because -I know there must have been one to make you! And no matter how far away -I may drift in miles, your Buddy is going to be here with you always, -mother, learning from you all there is of goodness and sweetness." He -held her two hands against his face, and she felt his cheeks wet beneath -her palms. Then he took them away and kissed them many times, like a -lover. - -"If I ever have a wife, she's going to have her work cut out for her," -He laughed unsteadily. "She'll have to live up to you, mother, if she -wants me to love her." - -"If you have a wife she'll be well-spoiled, young man! Perhaps it is -wise that you should go--but don't you forget your music, Buddy--and be -a good boy, and remember, mother's going to follow you with her love and -her faith in you, and her prayers." - -It may have been that Buddy's baby memory of going north whenever the -trail herd started remained to send Bud instinctively northward when he -left the Tomahawk next morning. It had been a case of stubborn father -and stubborn son dickering politely over the net earnings of the son -from the time when he was old enough to leave his mother's lap and climb -into a saddle to ride with his father. Three horses and his personal -belongings had been agreed upon between them as the balance in Bud's -favor; and at that, Bob Birnie dryly remarked, he had been a better -investment as a son than most young fellows, who cost more than they -were worth to raise. - -Bud did not answer the implied praise, but roped the Tomahawk's best -three horses out of the REMUDA corralled for him by his father's riders. -You should have seen the sidelong glances among the boys when they -learned that Bud, just home from the University, was going somewhere -with all his earthly possessions and a look in his face that meant -trouble! - -Two big valises and his blankets he packed on Sunfish, a deceptively -raw-boned young buckskin with much white showing in his eyes--an ornery -looking brute if ever there was one. Bud's guitar and a mandolin in -their cases he tied securely on top of the pack. Smoky, the second -horse, a deep-chested "mouse" with a face almost human in its -expression, he saddled, and put a lead rope on the third, a bay -four-year-old called Stopper, which was the Tomahawk's best rope-horse -and one that would be missed when fast work was wanted in branding. - -"He sure as hell picked himself three top hawses," a tall puncher -murmured to another. "Wonder where he's headed for? Not repping--this -late in the season." - -Bud overheard them, and gave no sign. Had they asked him directly he -could not have told them, for he did not know, except that somehow -he felt that he was going to head north. Why north, he could not have -explained, since cow-country lay all around him; nor how far north,--for -cow-country extended to the upper boundary of the States, and beyond -into Canada. - -He left his horses standing by the corral while he went to the house to -tell his mother good-by, and to send a farewell message to Dulcie, -who had been married a year and lived in Laramie. He did not expect to -strike Laramie, he told his mother when she asked him. - -"I'm going till I stop," He explained, with a squeeze of her shoulders -to reassure her. "I guess it's the way you felt, mother, when you left -Texas behind. You couldn't tell where you folks would wind up. Neither -can I. My trail herd is kinda small, right now; a lot smaller than it -will be later on. But such as it is, it's going to hit the right range -before it stops for good. And I'll write." - -He took a doughnut in his hand and a package of lunch to slip in his -pocket, kissed her with much cheerfulness in his manner and hurried out, -his big-rowelled spurs burring on the porch just twice before he stepped -off on the gravel. Telling mother good-by had been the one ordeal he -dreaded, and he was glad to have it over with. - -Old Step-and-a-Half hailed him as he went past the chuck-house, and came -limping out, wiping his hands on his apron before he shook hands and -wished him good luck. Ezra, pottering around the tool shed, ambled up -with the eyes of a dog that has been sent back home by his master. -"Ah shoah do wish yo' all good fawtune an' health, Marse Buddy," Ezra -quavered. "Ah shoah do. It ain' goin' seem lak de same place--and Ah -shoah do hopes yo' all writes frequent lettahs to yo' mothah, boy!" - -Bud promised that he would, and managed to break away from Ezra without -betraying himself. How, he wondered, did everyone seem to know that he -was going for good, this time? He had believed that no one knew of it -save himself, his father and his mother; yet everyone else behaved as -if they never expected to see him again. It was disconcerting, and Bud -hastily untied the two led horses and mounted Smoky, the mouse-colored -horse he himself had broken two years before. - -His father came slowly up to him, straight-backed and with the gait of -the man who has ridden astride a horse more than he has walked on his -own feet. He put up his hand, gloved for riding, and Bud changed the -lead-ropes from his right hand to his left, and shook hands rather -formally. - -"Ye've good weather for travelling," said Bob Birnie tentatively. "I -have not said it before, lad, but when ye own yourself a fool to take -this way of making your fortune, ten thousand dollars will still be -ready to start ye right. I've no wish to shirk a duty to my family." - -Bud pressed his lips together while he listened. "If you keep your ten -thousand till it's called for, you'll be drawing interest a long time on -it," He said. "It's going to be hot to-day. I'll be getting along." - -He lifted the reins, glanced back to see that the two horses were -showing the proper disposition to follow, and rode off down the -deep-rutted road that followed up the creek to the pass where he had -watched the Utes dancing the war dance one night that he remembered -well. If he winced a little at the familiar landmarks he passed, -he still held fast to the determination to go, and to find fortune -somewhere along the trail of his own making; and to ask help from no -man, least of all his father who had told him to go. - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN: BUD FLIPS A COIN WITH FATE - -"I don't think it matters so much where we light, it's what we do when -we get there," said Bud to Smoky, his horse, one day as they stopped -where two roads forked at the base of a great, outstanding peak that was -but the point of a mountain range. "This trail straddles the butte and -takes on up two different valleys. It's all cow-country--so what do yuh -say, Smoke? Which trail looks the best to you?" - -Smoky flopped one ear forward and the other one back, and switched at a -pestering fly. Behind him Sunfish and Stopper waited with the patience -they had learned in three weeks of continuous travel over country that -was rough in spots, barren in places, with wind and sun and occasional, -sudden thunderstorms to punctuate the daily grind of travel. - -Bud drew a half dollar from his pocket and regarded it meditatively. -"They're going fast--we'll just naturally have to stop pretty soon, or -we don't eat," He observed. "Smoke, you're a quitter. What you want to -do is go back--but you won't get the chance. Heads, we take the right -hand trail. I like it better, anyway--it angles more to the north." - -Heads it was, and Bud leaned from the saddle and recovered the coin, -Smoky turning his head to regard his rider tolerantly. "Right hand -goes--and we camp at the first good water and grass. I can grain the -three of you once more before we hit a town, and that goes for me, too. -G'wan, Smoke, and don't act so mournful." - -Smoky went on, following the trail that wound in and out around the -butte, hugging close its sheer sides to avoid a fifty-foot drop into the -creek below. It was new country--Bud had never so much as seen a map -of it to give him a clue to what was coming. The last turn of the -deep-rutted, sandy road where it left the river's bank and led straight -between two humpy shoulders of rock to the foot of a platter-shaped -valley brought him to a halt again in sheer astonishment. - -From behind a low hill still farther to the right, where the road forked -again, a bluish haze of smoke indicated that there was a town of -some sort, perhaps. Farther up the valley a brownish cloud hung low-a -roundup, Bud knew at a glance. He hesitated. The town, if it were a -town, could wait; the roundup might not. And a job he must have soon, or -go hungry. He turned and rode toward the dust-cloud, came shortly to a -small stream and a green grass-plot, and stopped there long enough to -throw the pack off Sunfish, unsaddle Smoky and stake them both out to -graze. Stopper he saddled, then knelt and washed his face, beat the -travel dust off his hat, untied his rope and coiled it carefully, -untied his handkerchief and shook it as clean as he could and knotted it -closely again. One might have thought he was preparing to meet a girl; -but the habit of neatness dated back to his pink-apron days and beyond, -the dirt and dust meant discomfort. - -When he mounted Stopper and loped away toward the dust-cloud, he rode -hopefully, sure of himself, carrying his range credentials in his eyes, -in his perfect saddle-poise, in the tan on his face to his eyebrows, and -the womanish softness of his gloved hands, which had all the sensitive -flexibility of a musician. - -His main hope was that the outfit was working short-handed; and when he -rode near enough to distinguish the herd and the riders, he grinned his -satisfaction. - -"Good cow-country, by the look of that bunch of cattle," He observed -to himself. "And eight men is a small crew to work a herd that size. I -guess I'll tie onto this outfit. Stopper, you'll maybe get a chance to -turn a cow this afternoon." - -Just how soon the chance would come, Bud had not realized. He had no -more than come within shouting distance of the herd when a big, rollicky -steer broke from the milling cattle and headed straight out past him, -running like a deer. Stopper, famed and named for his prowess with just -such cattle, wheeled in his tracks and lengthened his stride to a run. - -"Tie 'im down!" someone yelled behind Bud. And "Catch 'im and tie 'im -down!" shouted another. - -For answer Bud waved his hand, and reached in his pocket for his knife. -Stopper was artfully circling the steer, forcing it back toward the -herd, and in another hundred yards or so Bud must throw his loop He -sliced off a saddle-string and took it between his teeth, jerked his -rope loose, flipped open the loop as Stopper raced up alongside, dropped -the noose neatly, and took his turns while Stopper planted his forefeet -and braced himself for the shock. Bud's right leg was over the cantle, -all his weight on the left stirrup when the jerk came and the steer fell -with a thump. By good luck--so Bud afterwards asserted--he was off and -had the steer tied before it had recovered its breath to scramble up. -He remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while he went -jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him. - -If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have received a -shock. Other riders had left their posts and were edging up to hear -what happened, and Bud reined up in astonishment before the most amazing -string of unseemly epithets he had ever heard. It began with: "What'd -you throw that critter for?"--which of course is putting it mildly--and -ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to another's face and -expect anything but trouble afterwards. - -Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, and -dismounted. "Get off your horse and take the damnedest licking you ever -had in your life, for that!" He invited vengefully. "You told me to -tie down that steer, and I tied him down. You've got no call to -complain--and there isn't a man on earth I'll take that kinda talk -from. Crawl down, you parrot-faced cow-eater--and leave your gun on the -saddle." - -The man remained where he was and looked Bud over uncertainly. "Who are -you, and where'd yuh come from?" he demanded more calmly. "I never saw -yuh before." - -"Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!" Bud snapped. -"If I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You called me something! -Get off that horse or I'll pull you off!" - -"Aw, yuh don't want to mind--" began a tall, lean man pacifically; but -he of the high nose stopped him with a wave of the hand, his eyes still -measuring the face, the form and the fighting spirit of one Bud Birnie, -standing with his coat off, quivering with rage. - -"I guess I'm in the wrong, young fellow--I DID holler 'Tie 'im down.' -But if you'd ever been around this outfit any you 'd have known I didn't -mean it literal." He stopped and suddenly he laughed. "I've been yellin' -'Tie 'im down' for two years and more, when a critter breaks outa the -bunch, and nobody was ever fool enough to tackle it before. It's just a -sayin' we've got, young man. We--" - -"What about the name you called me?" Bud was still advancing slowly, not -much appeased by the explanation. "I don't give a darn about the steer. -You said tie him, and he's tied. But when you call me--" - -"My mistake, young feller. When I get riled up I don't pick my words." -He eyed Bud sharply. "You're mighty quick to obey orders," He added -tentatively. - -"I was brought up to do as I'm told," Bud retorted stiffly. "Any -objections to make?" - -"Not one in the world. Wish there was more like yuh. You ain't been in -these parts long?" His tone made a question of the statement. - -"Not right here." Bud had no reason save his temper for not giving -more explicit information, but Bart Nelson--as Bud knew him -afterwards--continued to study him as if he suspected a blotched past. - -"Hunh. That your horse?" - -"I've got a bill of sale for him." - -"You don't happen to be wanting a job, I s'pose?" - -"I wouldn't refuse to take one." And then the twinkle came back to Bud's -eyes, because all at once the whole incident struck him as being rather -funny. "I'd want a boss that expected to have his orders carried out, -though. I lack imagination, and I never did try to read a man's mind. -What he says he'd better mean--when he says it to me." - -Bart Nelson gave a short laugh, turned and sent his riders back to their -work with oaths tingling their ears. Bud judged that cursing was his -natural form of speech. - -"Go let up that steer, and I'll put you to work," he said to Bud -afterwards. "That's a good rope horse you're riding. If you want to use -him, and if you can hold up to that little sample of roping yuh gave -us, I'll pay yuh sixty a month. And that's partly for doing what you're -told," he added with a quick look into Bud's eyes. "You didn't say where -you're from----" - -"I was born and raised in cow-country, and nobody's looking for me," -Bud informed him over his shoulder while he remounted, and let it go at -that. From southern Wyoming to Idaho was too far, he reasoned, to make -it worth while stating his exact place of residence. If they had never -heard of the Tomahawk outfit it would do no good to name it. If they had -heard of it, they would wonder why the son of so rich a cowman as Bob -Birnie should be hiring out as a common cowpuncher so far from home. He -had studied the matter on his way north, and had decided to let people -form their own conclusions. If he could not make good without the name -of Bob Birnie behind him, the sooner he found it out the better. - -He untied the steer, drove it back into the herd and rode over to where -the high-nosed man was helping hold the "Cut." - -"Can you read brands? We're cuttin' out AJ and AJBar stuff; left -ear-crop on the AJ, and undercut on the AJBar." - -Bud nodded and eased into the herd, spied an AJ two-year-old and urged -it toward the outer edge, smiling to himself when he saw how Stopper -kept his nose close to the animal's rump. Once in the milling fringe of -the herd, Stopper nipped it into the open, rushed it to the cut herd, -wheeled and went back of his own accord. From the corner of his eye, as -he went, Bud saw that Bart Nelson and one or two others were watching -him. They continued to eye him covertly while he worked the herd with -two other men. He was glad that he had not travelled far that day, -and that he had ridden Smoky and left Stopper fresh and eager for his -favorite pastime, which was making cattle do what they particularly did -not want to do. In that he was adept, and it pleased Bud mightily to see -how much attention Stopper was attracting. - -Not once did it occur to him that it might be himself who occupied the -thoughts of his boss. Buddy--afterwards Bud--had lived his whole life -among friends, his only enemies the Indians who preyed upon the cowmen. -White men he had never learned to distrust, and to be distrusted had -never been his portion. He had always been Bud Birnie, son and heir of -Bob Birnie, as clean-handed a cattle king as ever recorded a brand. Even -at the University his position had been accepted without question. That -the man he mentally called Parrotface was puzzled and even worried about -him was the last thing he would think of. - -But it was true. Bart Nelson watched Bud, that afternoon. A man might -ride up to Bart and assert that he was an old hand with cattle, and Bart -would say nothing, but set him to work, as he had Bud. Then he would -know just how old a "Hand" the fellow was. Fifteen minutes convinced -him that Bud had "growed up in the saddle", as he would have put it. But -that only mystified him the more. Bart knew the range, and he knew every -man in the country, from Burroback Valley, which was this great valley's -name, to the Black Rim, beyond the mountain range, and beyond the Black -Rim to the Sawtooth country. He knew their ways and he knew their past -records. - -He knew that this young fellow came from farther ranges, and he would -have been at a loss to explain just how he knew it. He would have said -that Bud did not have the "earmarks" of an Idaho rider. Furthermore, the -small Tomahawk brand on the left flank of the horse Bud rode was totally -unknown to Bart. Yet the horse did not bear the marks of long riding. -Bud himself looked as if he had just ridden out from some nearby -ranch--and he had refused to say where he was from. - -Bart swore under his breath and beckoned to him a droopy-mustached, -droopy-shouldered rider who was circling the herd in a droopy, -spiritless manner and chewing tobacco with much industry. - -"Dirk, you know brands from the Panhandle to Cypress Hills. What d' yuh -make of that horse? Where does he come from?" Bart stopped abruptly and -rode forward then to receive and drive farther back a galloping AJBar -cow which Bud and Stopper had just hazed out of the herd. Dirk squinted -at Stopper's brand which showed cleanly in the glossy, new hair of early -summer. He spat carefully with the wind and swung over to meet his boss -when the cow was safely in the cut herd. - -"New one on me, Bart. They's a hatchet brand over close to Jackson's -Hole, somewhere. Where'd the kid say he was from?" - -"He wouldn't say, but he's a sure-enough cowhand." - -"That there horse ain't been rode down on no long journey," Dirk -volunteered after further scrutiny. And he added with the unconscious -impertinence of an old and trusted employee, "Yuh goin' to put him on?" - -"Already done it--sixty a month," Bart confided. "That'll bring out -what's in him; he's liable to turn out good for the outfit. Showed he'll -do what he's told first, and think it over afterwards. I like that there -trait in a man." - -Dirk pulled his droopy mustache away from his lips as if he wanted to -make sure that his smile would show; though it was not a pretty smile, -on account of his tobacco-stained teeth. - -"'S your fun'ral, Bart. I'd say he's from Jackson's Hole, on a rough -guess--but I wouldn't presume to guess what he's here fur. Mebby he come -across from Black Rim. I can find out, if you say so." - -Bud was weaving in and out through the herd, scanning the animals -closely. While the two talked he singled out a yearling heifer, let -Stopper nose it out beyond the bunch and drove it close to the boss. - -"Better look that one over," He called out. "One way, it looks like AJ, -and another way I couldn't name it. And the ear looks as if about half -of it had been frozen off. Didn't want to run it into the cut until you -passed on it." - -Bart looked first at Bud, and he looked hard. Then he rode over and -inspected the yearling, Dirk close at his heels. - -"Throw 'er back with the bunch," He ordered. - -"That finishes the cut, then," Bud announced, rubbing his hand along -Stopper's sweaty neck. "I kept passing this critter up, and I guess the -other boys did the same. But it's the last one, and I thought I'd run -her out for you to look over." - -Bart grunted. "Dirk, you take a look and see if they've got 'em all. And -you, Kid, can help haze the cut up the Flat--the boys'll show you what -to do." - -Bud, remembering Smoky and Sunfish and his camp, hesitated. "I've got -a camp down here by the creek," He said. "If it's all the same to you, -I'll report for work in the morning, if you'll tell me where to head -for. And I'll have to arrange somehow to pasture my horses; I've got a -couple more at camp." - -Bart studied him for a minute, and Bud thought he was going to change -his mind about the job, or the sixty dollars a month. But Bart merely -told him to ride on up the Flat next morning, and take the first trail -that turned to the left. "The Muleshoe ranch is up there agin that pine -mountain," he explained. "Bring along your outfit. I guess we can take -care of a couple of horses, all right." - -That suited Bud very well, and he rode away thinking how lucky he was to -have taken the right fork in the road, that day. He had ridden straight -into a job, and while he was not very enthusiastic over the boss, the -other boys seemed all right, and the wages were a third more than he -had expected to get just at first. It was the first time, he reminded -himself, that he had been really tempted to locate, and he certainly had -struck it lucky. - -He did not know that when he left the roundup his going had been -carefully noted, and that he was no sooner out of sight than Dirk Tracy -was riding cautiously on his trail. While he fed his horses the last bit -of grain he had, and cooked his supper over what promised to be his last -camp-fire, he did not dream that the man with the droopy mustache was -lying amongst the bushes on the other bank of the creek, watching every -move he made. - -He meant to be up before daylight so that he could strike the ranch -of the Muleshoe outfit in time for breakfast, wherefore he went to bed -before the afterglow had left the mountain-tops around him. And being -young and carefree and healthfully weary, he was asleep and snoring -gently within five minutes of his last wriggle into his blankets. But -Dirk Tracy watched him for fully two hours before he decided that the -kid was not artfully pretending, but was really asleep and likely to -remain so for the night. - -Dirk was an extremely cautious man, but he was also tired, and the cold -food he had eaten in place of a hot supper had not been satisfying to -his stomach. He crawled carefully out of the brush, stole up the creek -to where he had left his horse, and rode away. - -He was not altogether sure that he had done his full duty to the -Muleshoe, but it was against human nature for a man nearing forty to -lie uncovered in the brush, and let a numerous family of mosquitoes feed -upon him while he listened to a young man snoring comfortably in a good -camp bed a hundred feet away. - -Dirk, because his conscience was not quite clear, slept in the stable -that night and told his boss a lie next morning. - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT: THE MULESHOE - -The riders of the Muleshoe outfit were eating breakfast when Bud rode -past the long, low-roofed log cabin to the corral which stood nearest -the clutter of stables and sheds. He stopped there and waited to see if -his new boss was anywhere in sight and would come to tell him where to -unpack his belongings. A sandy complexioned young man with red eyelids -and no lashes presently emerged from the stable and came toward him, -his mouth sagging loosely open, his eye; vacuous. He was clad in faded -overalls turned up a foot at the bottom and showing frayed, shoddy -trousers beneath and rusty, run-down shoes that proved he was not a -rider. His hat was peppered with little holes, as if someone had fired a -charge of birdshot at him and had all but bagged him. - -The youth's eyes became fixed upon the guitar and mandolin cases roped -on top of Sunfish's pack, and he pointed and gobbled something which had -the sound speech without being intelligible. Bud cocked an ear toward -him inquiringly, made nothing of the jumble and rode off to the cabin, -leading Sunfish after him. The fellow might or might not be the idiot he -looked, and he might or might not keep his hands off the pack. Bud was -not going to take any chance. - -He heard sounds within the cabin, but no one appeared until he shouted, -"Hello!" twice. The door opened then and Bart Nelson put out his head, -his jaws working over a mouthful of food that seemed tough. - -"Oh, it's you. C'm awn in an' eat," he invited, and Bud dismounted, -never guessing that his slightest motion had been carefully observed -from the time he had forded the creek at the foot of the slope beyond -the cabin. - -Bart introduced him to the men by the simple method of waving his hand -at the group around the table and saying, "Guess you know the boys. -What'd yuh say we could call yuh?" - -"Bud--ah--Birnie," Bud answered, swiftly weighing the romantic idea of -using some makeshift name until he had made his fortune, and deciding -against it. A false name might mean future embarrassment, and he was so -far from home that his father would never hear of him anyway. But his -hesitation served to convince every man there that Birnie was not his -name, and that he probably had good cause for concealing his own. Adding -that to Dirk Tracy's guess that he was from Jackson's Hole, the sum -spelled outlaw. - -The Muleshoe boys were careful not to seem curious about Bud's past. -They even refrained from manifesting too much interest in the musical -instruments until Bud himself took them out of their cases that evening -and began tuning them. Then the half-baked, tongue-tied fellow came over -and gobbled at him eagerly. - -"Hen wants yuh to play something," a man they called Day interpreted. -"Hen's loco on music. If you can sing and play both, Hen'll set and -listen till plumb daylight and never move an eyewinker." - -Bud looked up, smiled a little because Hen had no eyewinkers to move, -and suddenly felt pity because a man could be so altogether unlikeable -as Hen. Also because his mother's face stood vividly before him for -an instant, leaving him with a queer tightening of the throat and -the feeling that he had been rebuked. He nodded to Hen, laid down the -mandolin and picked up the guitar, turned up the a string a bit, laid -a booted and spurred foot across the other knee, plucked a minor chord -sonorously and began abruptly: - -"Yo' kin talk about you coons a-havin' trouble--Well, Ah think Ah have -enough-a of mah oh-own--" - -Hen's high-pointed Adam's apple slipped up and down in one great gulp of -ecstasy. He eased slowly down upon the edge of the bunk beside Bud and -gazed at him fascinatedly, his lashless eyes never winking, his jaw -dropped so that his mouth hung half open. Day nudged Dirk Tracy, who -parted his droopy mustache and smiled his unlovely smile, lowering his -left eyelid unnecessarily at Bud. The dimple in Bud's chin wrinkled as -he bent his head and plunked the interlude with a swing that set spurred -boots tapping the floor rhythmically. - -"Bart, he's went and hired a show-actor, looks like." Dirk confided -behind his hand to Shorty McGuire. "That's real singin', if yuh ask me!" - -"Shut up!" grunted Shorty, and prodded Dirk into silence so that he -would miss none of the song. - -Since Buddy had left the pink-apron stage of his adventurous life behind -him, singing songs to please other people had been as much a part of his -life as riding and roping and eating and sleeping. He had always sung or -played or danced when he was asked to do so--accepting without question -his mother's doctrine that it was unkind and ill-bred to refuse when he -really could do those things well, because on the cattle ranges indoor -amusements were few, and those who could furnish real entertainment were -fewer. Even at the University, coon songs and Irish songs and love songs -had been his portion; wherefore his repertoire seemed endless, and if -folks insisted upon it he could sing from dark to dawn, providing his -voice held out. - -Hen sat with his big-jointed hands hanging loosely over his knees and -listened, stared at Bud and grinned vacuously when one song was done, -gulped his Adam's apple and listened again as raptly to the next one. -The others forgot all about having fun watching Hen, and named old -favorites and new ones, heard them sung inimitably and called for more. -At midnight Bud blew on his blistered fingertips and shook the guitar -gently, bottom-side up. - -"I guess that's all the music there is in the darned thing to-night," he -lamented. "She's made to keep time, and she always strikes, along about -midnight." - -"Huh-huh!" chortled Hen convulsively, as if he understood the joke. He -closed his mouth and sighed deeply, as one who has just wakened from a -trance. - -After that, Hen followed Bud around like a pet dog, and found time -between stable chores to groom those astonished horses, Stopper and -Smoky and Sunfish, as if they were stall-kept thoroughbreds. He had them -coming up to the pasture gate every day for the few handfuls of grain he -purloined for them, and their sleekness was a joy to behold. - -"Hen, he's adopted yuh, horses and all, looks like," Dirk observed one -day to Bud when they were riding together. And he tempered the statement -by adding that Hen was trusty enough, even if he didn't have as much -sense as the law allows. "He sure is takin' care of them cayuses of -your'n. D'you tell him to?" - -Bud came out of a homesick revery and looked at him inquiringly. "No, I -didn't tell him anything." - -"I believe that, all right," Dirk retorted. "You don't go around tellin' -all yuh know. I like that in a feller. A man never got into trouble -yet by keepin' his mouth shut; but there's plenty that have talked -themselves into the pen. Me, I've got no use for a talker." - -Bud sent him a sidelong glance of inquiry, and Dirk caught him at it and -grinned. - -"Yuh been here a month, and you ain't said a damn word about where you -come from or anything further back than throwin' and tyin' that critter. -You said cow-country, and that has had to do some folks that might be -curious. Well, she's a tearin' big place--cow-country. She runs from -Canady to Mexico, and from the corn belt to the Pacific Ocean, mighty -near takes in Jackson's Hole, and a lot uh country I know." He parted -his mustache and spat carefully into the sand. "I'm willin' to tie to a -man, specially a young feller, that can play the game the way you been -playin' it, Bud. Most always," he complained vaguely, "they carry -their brand too damn main. They either pull their hats down past their -eyebrows and give everybody the bad eye, or else they're too damn ready -to lie about themselves. You throw in with the boys just fine--but you -ain't told a one of 'em where you come from, ner why, ner nothin'." - -"I'm here because I'm here," Bud chanted softly, his eyes stubborn even -while he smiled at Dirk. - -"I know--yuh sung that the first night yuh come, and yuh looked straight -at the boss all the while you was singin' it," Dirk interrupted, and -laughed slyly. "The boys, they took that all in, too. And Bart, he -wasn't asleep, neither. You sure are smooth as they make 'em, Bud. I -guess," he leaned closer to predict confidentially, "you've just about -passed the probation time, young feller. If I know the signs, the boss -is gittin' ready to raise yuh." - -He looked at Bud rather sharply. Instantly the training of Buddy rose -within Bud. His memory flashed back unerringly to the day when he had -watched that Indian gallop toward the river, and had sneered because the -Indian evidently expected him to follow into the undergrowth. - -Dirk Tracy did not in the least resemble an Indian, nor did his rambling -flattery bear any likeness to a fleeing enemy; yet it was plain enough -that he was trying in a bungling way to force Bud's confidence, and for -that reason Bud stared straight ahead and said nothing. - -He did not remember having sung that particular ditty during his first -evening at the Muleshoe, nor of staring at the boss while he sung. He -might have done both, he reflected; he had sung one song after another -for about four hours that night, and unless he sang with his eyes shut -he would have to look somewhere. That it should be taken by the -whole outfit as a broad hint to ask no questions seemed to him rather -farfetched. - -Nor did he see why Dirk should compliment him on keeping his mouth -shut, or call him smooth. He did not know that he had been on probation, -except perhaps as that applied to his ability as a cow-hand. And he -could see no valid reason why the boss should contemplate "raising" him. -So far, he had been doing no more than the rest of the boys, except -when there was roping to be done and he and Stopper were called upon -to distinguish themselves by fast rope-work, with never a miss. Sixty -dollars a month was as good pay as he had any right to expect. - -Dirk, he decided, had given him one good tip which he would follow at -once. Dirk had said that no man ever got into trouble by keeping his -mouth shut. Bud closed his for a good half hour, and when he opened it -again he undid all the good he had accomplished by his silence. - -"Where does that trail go, that climbs up over the mountains back of -that peak?" he asked. "Seems to be a stock trail. Have you got grazing -land beyond the mountains?" - -Dirk took time to pry off a fresh chew of tobacco before he replied. -"You mean Thunder Pass? That there crosses over into the Black Rim -country. Yeah--There's a big wide range country over there, but we don't -run any stock on it. Burroback Valley's big enough for the Muleshoe." - -Bud rolled a cigarette. "I didn't mean that main trail; that's a wagon -road, and Thunder Pass cuts through between Sheepeater peak and this one -ahead of us--Gospel, you call it. What I referred to is that blind trail -that takes off up the canyon behind the corrals, and crosses into the -mountains the other side of Gospel." - -Dirk eyed him. "I dunno 's I could say, right offhand, what trail yuh -mean," he parried. "Every canyon 's got a trail that runs up a ways, and -there's canyons all through the mountains; they all lead up to water, or -feed, or something like that, and then quit, most gen'rally; jest peter -out, like." And he added with heavy sarcasm, "A feller that's lived -on the range oughta know what trails is for, and how they're made. -Cowcritters are curious-same as humans." - -To this Bud did not reply. He was smoking and staring at the brushy -lower slopes of the mountain ridge before them. He had explained quite -fully which trail he meant. It was, as he had said, a "blind" trail; -that is, the trail lost itself in the creek which watered a string of -corrals. Moreover, Bud had very keen eyes, and he had seen how a panel -of the corral directly across the shale-rock bed of a small stream was -really a set of bars. The round pole corral lent itself easily to hidden -gateways, without any deliberate attempt at disguising their presence. - -The string of four corrals running from this upper one--which, -he remembered, was not seen from nearer the stables-was perhaps a -convenient arrangement in the handling of stock, although it was -unusual. The upper corral had been built to fit snugly into a rocky -recess in the base of the peak called Gospel. It was larger than some -of the others, since it followed the contour of the basin-like recess. -Access to it was had from the fourth corral (which from the ranch -appeared to be the last) and from the creekbed that filled the narrow -mouth of the canyon behind. - -Dirk might not have understood him, Bud thought. He certainly should -have recognized at once the trail Bud meant, for there was no other -canyon back of the corrals, and even that one was not apparent to one -looking at the face of the steep slope. Stock had been over that canyon -trail within the last month or so, however; and Bud's inference that the -Muleshoe must have grazing ground across the mountains was natural; the -obvious explanation of its existence. - -"How 'd you come to be explorin' around Gospel, anyway?" Dirk quizzed -finally. "A person'd think, short-handed as the Muleshoe is this spring, -'t you'd git all the ridin' yuh want without prognosticatin' around -aimless." - -Now Bud was not a suspicious young man, and he had been no more than -mildly inquisitive about that trail. But neither was he a fool; he -caught the emphasis which Dirk had placed on the word aimless, and his -thoughts paused and took another look at Dirk's whole conversation. -There was something queer about it, something which made Bud sheer off -from his usual unthinking assurance that things were just what they -seemed. - -Immediately, however, he laughed--at himself as well as at Dirk. - -"We've been feeding on sour bread and warmed-over coffee ever since the -cook disappeared and Bart put Hen in the kitchen," he said. "If I were -you, Dirk, I wouldn't blister my hands shovelling that grub into myself -for a while. You're bilious, old-timer. No man on earth would talk the -way you've been talking to-day unless his whole digestive apparatus were -out of order." - -Dirk spat angrily at a dead sage bush. "They shore as hell wouldn't talk -the kinda talk you've been talkie' unless they was a born fool or else -huntin' trouble," he retorted venomously. - -"The doctor said I'd be that way if I lived," Bud grinned, amiably, -although his face had flushed at Dirk's tone. "He said it wouldn't hurt -me for work." - -"Yeah--and what kinda work?" Dirk rode so close that his horse -shouldered Bud's leg discomfortingly. "I been edgin' yuh along to see -what-f'r brand yuh carried. And I've got ye now, you damned snoopin' -kioty. Bart, he hired yuh to work-and not to go prowling around lookin' -up trails that ain't there--" - -"You're a dim-brand reader, I don't think! Why you--!" - -Oh, well--remember that Bud was only Buddy grown bigger, and he had -never lacked the spirit to look out for himself. Remember, too, that -he must have acquired something of a vocabulary, in the course -of twenty-one years of absorbing everything that came within his -experience. - -Dirk reached for his gun, but Bud was expecting that. Dirk was not quite -quick enough, and his hand therefore came forward with a jerk when he -saw that he was "covered." Bud leaned, pulled Dirk's six-shooter from -its holster and sent it spinning into a clump of bushes. He snatched a -wicked-looking knife from Dirk's boot where he had once seen Dirk slip -it sheathed when he dressed in the bunk-house, and sent that after the -gun. - -"Now, you long-eared walrus, you're in a position to play fair. What are -you going to do about it?" He reined away, out of Dirk's reach, took his -handkerchief and wrapped his own gun tightly to protect it from sand, -and threw it after Dirk's gun and the knife. "Am I a snooping coyote?" -he demanded watching Dirk. - -"You air. More 'n all that, you're a damned spy! And I kin lick yuh an' -lass' yuh an' lead yuh to Bart like a sheep!" - -They dismounted, left their horses to stand with reins dropped, threw -off their coats and fought until they were too tired to land another -blow. There were no fatalities. Bud did not come out of the fray -unscathed and proudly conscious of his strength and his skill and the -unquestionable righteousness of his cause. Instead he had three bruised -knuckles and a rapidly swelling ear, and when his anger had cooled a -little he felt rather foolish and wondered what had started them off -that way. They had ridden away from the ranch in a very good humor, and -he had harbored no conscious dislike of Dirk Tracy, who had been one -individual of a type of rangemen which he had known all his life and had -accepted as a matter of course. - -Dirk, on his part, had some trouble in stopping the bleeding of his -nose, and by the time he reached the ranch his left eye was closed -completely. He was taller and heavier than Bud, and he had not expected -such a slugging strength behind Bud's blows. - -He was badly shaken, and when Bud recovered the two guns and the knife -and returned his weapons to him, Dirk was half tempted to shoot. But he -did not--perhaps because Bud had unwrapped his own six-shooter and -was looking it over with the muzzle slanting a wicked eye in Dirk's -direction. - -Late that afternoon, when the boys were loafing around the cabin waiting -for their early supper, Bud packed his worldly goods on Sunfish and -departed from the Muleshoe--"by special request", he admitted to -himself ruefully--with his wages in gold and silver in his pocket and no -definite idea of what he would do next. - -He wished he knew exactly why Bart had fired him. He did not believe -that it was for fighting, as Bart had declared. He thought that perhaps -Dirk Tracy had some hold on the Muleshoe not apparent to the outsider, -and that he had lied about him to Bart as a sneaking kind of revenge -for being whipped. But that explanation did not altogether satisfy him, -either. - -In his month at the Muleshoe he had gained a very fair general idea of -the extent and resources of Burroback Valley, but he had not made any -acquaintances and he did not know just where to go for his next job. So -for want of something better, he rode down to the little stream which he -now knew was called One Creek, and prepared to spend the night there. -In the morning he would make a fresh start--and because of the streak of -stubbornness he had, he meant to make it in Burroback Valley, under the -very nose of the Muleshoe outfit. - - - -CHAPTER NINE: LITTLE LOST - -Little Lost--somehow the name appealed to Bud, whose instinct for -harmony extended to words and phrases and, for that matter, to -everything in the world that was beautiful. From the time when he first -heard Little Lost mentioned, he had felt a vague regret that chance had -not led him there instead of to the Muleshoe. Brands he had heard all -his life as the familiar, colloquial names for ranch headquarters. The -Muleshoe was merely a brand name. Little Lost was something else, -and because Buddy had been taught to "wait and find out" and to ask -questions only as a last resort, Bud was still in ignorance of the -meaning of Little Lost. He knew, from careless remarks made in his -presence, that the mail came to Little Lost, and that there was some -sort of store where certain everyday necessities were kept, for which -the store-keeper charged "two prices." But there was also a ranch, for -he sometimes heard the boys mention the Little Lost cattle, and speak of -some man as a rider for the Little Lost. - -So to Little Lost Bud rode blithely next morning, riding Stopper and -leading Smoky, Sunfish and the pack following as a matter of course. -Again his trained instinct served him faithfully. He had a very good -general idea of Burroback Valley, he knew that the Muleshoe occupied a -fair part of the south side, and guessed that he must ride north, toward -the Gold Gap Mountains, to find the place he wanted. - -The trail was easy, his horses were as fat as was good for them. In -two hours of riding at his usual trail pace he came upon another stream -which he knew must be Sunk Creek grown a little wider and deeper in its -journey down the valley. He forded that with a great splashing, climbed -the farther bank, followed a stubby, rocky bit of road that wound -through dense willow and cottonwood growth, came out into a humpy meadow -full of ant hills, gopher holes and soggy wet places where the water -grass grew, crossed that and followed the road around a brushy ridge and -found himself squarely confronting Little Lost. - -There could be no mistake, for "Little Lost Post Office" was unevenly -painted on the high cross-bar of the gate that stood wide open and -permanently warped with long sagging. There was a hitch-rail outside the -gate, and Bud took the hint and left his horses there. From the wisps -of fresh hay strewn along the road, Bud knew that haying had begun at -Little Lost. There were at least four cabins and a somewhat pretentious, -story-and-a-half log house with vines reaching vainly to the high window -sills, and coarse lace curtains. One of these curtains moved slightly, -and Bud's sharp eyes detected the movement and knew that his arrival was -observed in spite of the emptiness of the yard. - -The beaten path led to a screen door which sagged with much slamming, -leaving a wide space at the top through which flies passed in and out -quite comfortably. Bud saw that, also, and his fingers itched to reset -that door, just as he would have done for his mother--supposing his -mother would have tolerated the slamming which had brought the need. Bud -lifted his gloved knuckles to knock, saw that the room within was -grimy and bare and meant for public use, very much like the office of a -country hotel, with a counter and a set of pigeon-holes at the farther -end. He walked in. - -No one appeared, and after ten minutes or so Bud guessed why, and went -back to the door, pushed it wide open and permitted it to fly shut with -a bang. Whereupon a girl opened the door behind the counter and came in, -glancing at Bud with frank curiosity. - -Bud took off his hat and clanked over to the counter and asked if there -was any mail for Bud Birnie--Robert Wallace Birnie. - -The girl looked at him again and smiled, and turned to shuffle a handful -of letters. Bud employed the time in trying to guess just what she meant -by that smile. - -It was not really a smile, he decided, but the beginning of one. And if -that were the beginning, he would very much like to know what the whole -smile would mean. The beginning hinted at things. It was as if she -doubted the reality of the name he gave, and meant to conceal her doubt, -or had heard something amusing about him, or wished to be friends with -him, or was secretly timorous and trying to appear merely indifferent. -Or perhaps---- - -She replaced the letters and turned, and rested her hands on the -counter. She looked at him and again her lips turned at the corners in -that faint, enigmatical beginning of a smile. - -"There isn't a thing," she said. "The mail comes this noon again. Do you -want yours sent out to any of the outfits? Or shall I just hold it?" - -"Just hold it, when there is any. At least, until I see whether I land a -job here. I wonder where I could find the boss?" Bud was glancing often -at her hands. For a ranch girl her hands were soft and white, but her -fingers were a bit too stubby and her nails were too round and flat. - -"Uncle Dave will be home at noon. He's out in the meadow with the boys. -You might sit down and wait." - -Bud looked at his watch. Sitting down and waiting for four hours did not -appeal to him, even supposing the girl would keep him company. But he -lingered awhile, leaning with his elbows on the counter near her; and by -those obscure little conversational trails known to youth, he progressed -considerably in his acquaintance with the girl and made her smile often -without once feeling quite certain that he knew what was in her mind. - -He discovered that her name was Honora Krause, and that she was called -Honey "for short." Her father had been Dutch and her mother a Yankee, -and she lived with her uncle, Dave Truman, who owned Little Lost ranch, -and took care of the mail for him, and attended to the store--which -was nothing more than a supply depot kept for the accommodation of the -neighbors. The store, she said, was in the next room. - -Bud asked her what Little Lost meant, and she replied that she did not -know, but that it might have something to do with Sunk Creek losing -itself in The Sinks. There was a Little Lost river, farther across the -mountains, she said, but it did not run through Little Lost ranch, nor -come anywhere near it. - -After that she questioned him adroitly. Perversely Bud declined to -become confidential, and Honey Krause changed the subject abruptly. - -"There's going to be a dance here next Friday night. It'll be a good -chance to get acquainted with everybody--if you go. There'll be good -music, I guess. Uncle Dave wrote to Crater for the Saunders boys to come -down and play. Do you know anybody in Crater?" - -The question was innocent enough, but perverseness still held Bud. He -smiled and said he did not know anybody anywhere, any more. He said that -if Bobbie Burns had asked him "Should auld acquaintance be forgot," he'd -have told him yes, and he'd have made it good and strong. But he added -that he was just as willing to make new acquaintance, and thought the -dance would be a good place to begin. - -Honey gave him a provocative glance from under her lashes, and Bud -straightened and stepped back. - -"You let folks stop here, I take it. I've a pack outfit and a couple of -saddle horses with me. Will it be all right to turn them in the corral? -I hate to have them eat post hay all day. Or I could perhaps go back to -the creek and camp." - -"Oh, just turn your horses in the corral and make yourself at home till -uncle comes," she told him with that tantalizing half-smile. "We keep -people here--just for accommodation. There has to be some place in the -valley where folks can stop. I can't promise that uncle will give you a -job, but There's going to be chicken and dumplings for dinner. And the -mail will be in, about noon--you'll want to wait for that." - -She was standing just within the screen door, frankly watching him as -he came past the house with the horses, and she came out and halted him -when she spied the top of the pack. - -"You'd better leave those things here," she advised him eagerly. "I'll -put them in the sitting-room by the piano. My goodness, you must be a -whole orchestra! If you can play, maybe you and I can furnish the music -for the dance, and save Uncle Dave hiring the Saunders boys. Anyway, we -can play together, and have real good times." - -Bud had an odd feeling that Honey was talking one thing with her lips, -and thinking an entirely different set of thoughts. He eyed her covertly -while he untied the cases, and he could have sworn that he saw her -signal someone behind the lace curtains of the nearest window. He -glanced carelessly that way, but the curtains were motionless. Honey was -holding out her hands for the guitar and the mandolin when he turned, so -Bud surrendered them and went on to the corrals. - -He did not return to the house. An old man was pottering around a -machine shed that stood backed against a thick fringe of brush, and when -Bud rode by he left his work and came after him, taking short steps and -walking with his back bent stiffly forward and his hands swinging limply -at his sides. - -He had a long black beard streaked with gray, and sharp blue eyes set -deep under tufted white eyebrows. He seemed a friendly old man whose -interest in life remained keen as in his youth, despite the feebleness -of his body. He showed Bud where to turn the horses, and went to work -on the pack rope, his crooked old fingers moving with the sureness of -lifelong habit. He was eager to know all the news that Bud could tell -him, and when he discovered that Bud had just left the Muleshoe, and -that he had been fired because of a fight with Dirk Tracy, the old -fellow cackled gleefully, - -"Well, now, I guess you just about had yore hands full, young man," he -commented shrewdly. "Dirk ain't so easy to lick." - -Bud immediately wanted to know why it was taken for granted that he had -whipped Dirk, and grandpa chortled again. "Now if you hadn't of licked -Dirk, you wouldn't of got fired," he retorted, and proceeded to relate -a good deal of harmless gossip which seemed to bear out the statement. -Dirk Tracy, according to grandpa, was the real boss of the Muleshoe, and -Bart was merely a figure-head. - -All of this did not matter to Bud, but grandpa was garrulous. A good -deal of information Bud received while the two attended to the horses -and loitered at the corral gate. - -Grandpa admired Smoky, and looked him over carefully, with those -caressing smoothings of mane and forelock which betray the lover of good -horseflesh. - -"I reckon he's purty fast," he said, peering shrewdly into Bud's face. -"The boys has been talking about pulling off some horse races here next -Sunday--we got a good, straight, hard-packed creek-bed up here a piece -that has been cleaned of rocks fer a mile track, and they're goin' to -run a horse er two. Most generally they do, on Sunday, if work's slack. -You might git in on it, if you're around in these parts." He pushed his -back straight with his palms, turned his head sidewise and squinted at -Smoky through half-closed lids while he fumbled for cigarette material. - -"I dunno but what I might be willin' to put up a few dollars on that -horse myself," he observed, "if you say he kin run. You wouldn't go an' -lie to an old feller like me, would yuh, son?" - -Bud offered him the cigarette he had just rolled. "No, I won't lie to -you, dad," he grinned. "You know horses too well." - -"Well, but kin he run? I want yore word on it." - -"Well-yes, he's always been able to turn a cow," Bud admitted -cautiously. - -"Ever run him fer money?" The old man began teetering from his toes to -his heels, and to hitch his shoulders forward and back. - -"Well, no, not for money. I've run him once or twice for fun, just -trying to beat some of the boys to camp, maybe." - -"Sho! That's no way to do! No way at all!" The old man spat angrily -into the dust of the corral. Then he thought of something. "Did yuh BEAT -'em?" he demanded sharply. - -"Why, sure, I beat them!" Bud looked at him surprised, seemed about to -say more, and let the statement stand unqualified. - -Grandpa stared at him for a minute, his blue eyes blinking with some -secret excitement. "Young feller," he began abruptly, "lemme tell yuh -something. Yuh never want to do a thing like that agin. If you got a -horse that can outrun the other feller's horse, figure to make him bring -yuh in something--if it ain't no more'n a quarter! Make him BRING yuh a -little something. That's the way to do with everything yuh turn a hand -to; make it bring yuh in something! It ain't what goes out that'll do -yuh any good--it's what comes in. You mind that. If you let a horse run -agin' another feller's horse, bet on him to come in ahead--and then," -he cried fiercely, pounding one fist into the other palm, "by Christmas, -make 'im come in ahead!" His voice cracked and went flat with emotion. - -He stopped suddenly and let his arms fall slack, his shoulders sag -forward. He waggled his head and muttered into his beard, and glanced at -Bud with a crafty look. - -"If I'da took that to m'self, I wouldn't be chorin' around here now for -my own son," he lamented. "I'd of saved the quarters, an' I'd of had a -few dollars now of my own. Uh course," he made haste to add, "I git holt -of a little, now and agin. Too old to ride--too old to work--jest manage -to pick up a dollar er two now and agin--on a horse that kin run." - -He went over to Smoky again and ran his hand down over the leg muscles -to the hocks, felt for imperfections and straightened painfully, slapped -the horse approvingly between the forelegs and laid a hand on his -shoulder while he turned slowly to Bud. - -"Young feller, there ain't a man on the place right now but you an' -me. What say you throw yore saddle on this horse and take 'im up to the -track? I'd like to see him run. Seems to me he'd ought to be a purty -good quarter-horse." - -Bud hesitated. "I wouldn't mind running him, grandpa, if I thought I -could make something on him. I've got my stake to make, and I want to -make it before all my teeth fall out so I can't chew anything but the -cud of reflection on my lost opportunities. If Smoky can run a few -dollars into my pocket, I'm with you." - -Grandpa teetered forward and put out his hand. "Shake on that, boy!" he -cackled. "Pop Truman ain't too old to have his little joke--and make it -bring him in something, by Christmas! You saddle up and we'll go try him -out on a quarter-mile--mebby a half, if he holds up good." - -He poked a cigarette-stained forefinger against Bud's chest and -whispered slyly: "My son Dave, he 's got a horse in the stable that's -been cleanin' everything in the valley. I'll slip him out and up the -creektrail to the track, and you run that horse of yourn agin him. Dave, -he can't git a race outa nobody around here, no more, so he won't run -next Sunday. We'll jest see how yore horse runs alongside Boise. I -kin tell purty well how you kin run agin the rest--Pop, he ain't s' -thick-headed they kin fool him much. What say we try it?" - -Bud stood back and looked him over. "You shook hands with me on it," he -said gravely. "Where I came from, that holds a man like taking oath on -a Bible in court. I'm a stranger here, but I'm going to expect the same -standard of honor, grandpa. You can back out now, and I'll run Smoky -without any tryout, and you can take your chance. I couldn't expect you -to stand by a stranger against your own folks--" - -"Sho! Shucks a'mighty!" Grandpa spat and wagged his head furiously. "My -own forks'd beat me in a horse race if they could, and I wouldn't hold -it agin 'em! Runnin' horses is like playin' poker. Every feller fer -himself an' mercy to-ward none! I knowed what it meant when I shook with -yuh, young feller, and I hold ye to it. I hold ye to it! You lay low if -I tell ye to lay low, and we'll make us a few dollars, mebby. C'm on and -git that horse outa here b'fore somebuddy comes. It's mail day." - -He waved Bud toward his saddle and took himself off in a shuffling kind -of trot. By the time Bud had saddled Smoky grandpa hailed him cautiously -from the brush-fringe beyond the corral. He motioned toward a small gate -and Bud led Smoky that way, closing the gate after him. - -The old man was mounted on a clean-built bay whose coat shone with -little glints of gold in the dark red. With one sweeping look Bud -observed the points that told of speed, and his eyes went inquiringly to -meet the sharp blue ones, that sparkled under the tufted white eyebrows -of grandpa. - -"Do you expect Smoky to show up the same day that horse arrives?" he -inquired mildly. "Pop, you'll have to prove to me that he won't run -Sunday--" - -Pop snorted. "Seems to me like you do know a speedy horse when you see -one, young feller. Beats me't you been overlookin' what you got under -yore saddle right now. Boise, he's the best runnin' horse in the -valley--and that's why he won't run next Sunday, ner no other Sunday -till somebuddy brings in a strange horse to put agin him. Dave, he won't -crowd ye fur a race, boy. You kin refuse to run yore horse agin him, -like the rest has done. I'll jest lope along t'day and see what yours -kin do." - -"Well, all right, then." Bud waited for the old man to ride ahead down -the obscure trail that wound through the brush for half a mile or so -before they emerged into the rough border of the creek bed. Pop reined -in close and explained garrulously to Bud how this particular stream -disappeared into the ground two miles above Little Lost, leaving the -wide, level river bottom bone dry. - -Pop was cautious. He rode up to a rise of ground and scanned the country -suspiciously before he led the way into the creek bed. Even then he kept -close under the bank until they had passed two of the quarter-mile posts -that had been planted in the hard sand. - -Evidently he had been doing a good deal of thinking during the ride; -certainly he had watched Smoky. When he stopped under the bank opposite -the half-mile post he dismounted more spryly than one would have -expected. His eyes were bright, his voice sharp. Pop was forgetting his -age. - -"I guess I'll ride yore horse m'self," he announced, and they exchanged -horses under the shelter of the bank. "You kin take an' ride Boise-an' -I want you should beat me if you kin." He looked at Bud appraisingly. -"I'll bet a dollar," he cried suddenly, "that I kin outrun ye, young -feller! An' you got the fastest horse in Burroback Valley and I don't -know what I got under me. I'm seventy years old come September--when I'm -afoot. Are ye afraid to bet?" - -"I'm scared a dollar's worth that I'll never see you again to-day unless -I ride back to find you," Bud grinned. - -"Any time you lose ole Pop Truman--shucks almighty! Come on, then--I'll -show ye the way to the quarter-post!" - -"I'm right with you, Pop. You say so, and I'm gone!" - -They reined in with the shadow of the post falling square across the -necks of both horses. Pop gathered up the reins, set his feet in the -stirrups and shrilled, "Go, gol darn ye!" - -They went, like two scared rabbits down the smooth, yellow stretch of -packed sand. Pop's elbows stuck straight out, he held the reins high -and leaned far over Smoky's neck, his eyes glaring. Bud--oh, never worry -about Bud! In the years that lay between thirteen and twenty-one Bud -had learned a good many things, and one of them was how to get out of a -horse all the speed there was in him. - -They went past the quarter-post and a furlong beyond before either could -pull up. Pop was pale and triumphant, and breathing harder than his -mount. - -"Here 's your dollar, Pop--and don't you talk in your sleep!" Bud -admonished, smiling as he held out the dollar, but with an anxious -tone in his voice. "If this is the best running horse you've got in the -valley, I may get some action, next Sunday!" - -Pop dismounted, took the dollar with a grin and mounted Boise--and that -in spite of the fact that Boise was keyed up and stepping around and -snorting for another race. Bud watched Pop queerly, remembering how -feeble had been the old man whom he had met at the corral. - -"Say, Pop, you ought to race a little every day," he bantered. "You're -fifteen years younger than you were an hour ago." - -For answer Pop felt of his back and groaned. "Oh, I'll pay fer it, young -feller! I don't look fer much peace with my back fer a week, after this. -But you kin make sure of one thing, and that is, I ain't goin' to talk -in my sleep none. By Christmas, We'll make this horse of yours bring -us in something! I guess you better turn yore horses all out in the -pasture. Dave, he'll give yuh work all right. I'll fix it with Dave. -And you listen to Pop, young feller. I'll show ye a thing or two -about runnin' horses. You'n me'll clean up a nice little bunch of -money-HE-HE!-beat Boise in a quarter dash! Tell that to Dave, an' he -wouldn't b'lieve ye!" - -When Pop got off at the back of the stable he could scarcely move, -he was so stiff. But his mind was working well enough to see that Bud -rubbed the saddle print off Boise and turned his own horses loose in the -pasture, before he let him go on to the house. The last Bud heard from -Pop that forenoon was a senile chuckle and a cackling, "Outrun Boise -in a quarter dash! Shucks a'mighty! But I knew it--I knew he had the -speed--sho! Ye can't fool ole Pop--shucks!" - - - -CHAPTER TEN: BUD MEETS THE WOMAN - -A woman was stooping at the woodpile, filling her arms with crooked -sticks of rough-barked sage. From the color of her hair Bud knew that -she was not Honey, and that she was therefore a stranger to him. But he -swung off the path and went over to her as naturally as he would go to -pick up a baby that had fallen. - -"I'll carry that in for you," he said, and put out his hand to help her -to her feet. - -Before he touched her she was on her feet and looking at him. Bud could -not remember afterwards that she had done anything else; he seemed to -have seen only her eyes, and into them and beyond them to a soul that -somehow made his heart tremble. - -What she said, what he answered, was of no moment. He could not have -told afterwards what it was. He stooped and filled his arms with wood, -and walked ahead of her up the pathway to the kitchen door, and stopped -when she flitted past him to show him where the wood-box stood. He was -conscious then of her slenderness and of the lightness of her steps. -He dropped the wood into the box behind the stove on which kettles -were steaming. There was the smell of chicken stewing, and the odor of -fresh-baked pies. - -She smiled up at him and offered him a crisp, warn cookie with sugared -top, and he saw her eyes again and felt the same tremor at his heart. -He pulled himself together and smiled back at her, thanked her and went -out, stumbling a little on the doorstep, the cookie untasted in his -fingers. - -He walked down to the corral and began fumbling at his pack, his -thoughts hushed before the revelation that had come to him. - -"Her hands--her poor, little, red hands!" he said in a whisper as the -memory of them came suddenly. But it was her eyes that he was seeing -with his mind; her eyes, and what lay deep within. They troubled him, -shook him, made him want to use his man-strength against something that -was hurting her. He did not know what it could be; he did not know that -there was anything--but oddly the memory of his mother's white face back -in the long ago, and of her tone when she said, "Oh, God, please!" came -back and fitted themselves to the look in this woman's eyes. - -Bud sat down on his canvas-wrapped bed and lifted his hat to rumple his -hair and then smooth it again, as was his habit when worried. He looked -at the cookie, and because he was hungry he ate it with a foolish -feeling that he was being sentimental as the very devil, thinking how -her hands had touched it. He rolled and smoked a cigarette afterwards, -and wondered who she was and whether she was married, and what her first -name was. - -A quiet smoke will bring a fellow to his senses sometimes when -nothing else will, and Bud managed, by smoking two cigarettes in rapid -succession, to restore himself to some degree of sanity. - -"Funny how she made me think of mother, back when I was a kid coming up -from Texas," he mused. "Mother'd like her." It was the first time he had -ever thought just that about a girl. "She's no relation to Honey," he -added. "I'd bet a horse on that." He recalled how white and soft were -Honey's hands, and he swore a little. "Wouldn't hurt her to get out -there in the kitchen and help with the cooking," he criticised. Then -suddenly he laughed. "Shucks a'mighty, as Pop says! with those two girls -on the ranch I'll gamble Dave Truman has a full crew of men that are -plumb willing to work for their board!" - -The stage came, and Bud turned to it relievedly. After that, here came -Dave Truman on a deep-cheated roan. Bud knew him by his resemblance to -the old man, who came shuffling bent-backed from the machine-shed as -Dave passed. - -Pop beckoned, and Dave reined his horse that way and stopped at the shed -door. The two talked for a minute and Dave rode on, passing Bud with a -curt nod. Pop came over to where Bud stood leaning against the corral. - -"How are you feeling, dad?" Bud grinned absently. - -"Purty stiff an' sore, boy--my rheumatics is bad to-day." Pop winked -solemnly. "I spoke to Dave about you wantin' a job, and I guess likely -Dave'll put you on. They's plenty to do--hayin' comin' on and all that." -He lowered his voice mysteriously, though there was no man save Bud -within a hundred feet of him. "Don't ye go 'n talk horses--not yet. -Don't let on like yore interested much. I'll tell yuh when to take 'em -up." - -The men came riding in from the hayfield, some in wagons, two astride -harnessed work-horses, and one long-legged fellow in chaps on a mower, -driving a sweaty team that still had life enough to jump sidewise when -they spied Bud's pack by the corral. The stage driver sauntered up and -spoke to the men. Bud went over and began to help unhitch the team from -the mower, and the driver eyed him sharply while he grinned his greeting -across the backs of the horses. - -"Pop says you're looking for work," Dave Truman observed, coming up. -"Well, if you ain't scared of it, I'll stake yuh to a hayfork after -dinner. Where yuh from?" - -"Just right now, I'm from the Muleshoe. Bud Birnie's my name. I was -telling dad why I quit." - -"Tell me," Dave directed briefly. "Pop ain't as reliable as he used to -be. He'd never get it out straight." - -"I quit," said Bud, "by special request." He pulled off his gloves -carefully and held up his puffed knuckles. "I got that on Dirk Tracy." - -The driver of the mower shot a quick, meaning glance at Dave, and -laughed shortly. Dave grinned a little, but he did not ask what had been -the trouble, as Bud had half expected him to do. Apparently Dave felt -that he had received all the information he needed, for his next remark -had to do with the heat. The day was a "weather breeder", he declared, -and he was glad to have another man to put at the hauling. - -An iron triangle beside the kitchen door clamored then, and Bud, looking -quickly, saw the slim little woman with the big, troubled eyes striking -the iron bar vigorously. Dave glanced at his watch and led the way to -the house, the hay crew hurrying after him. - -Fourteen men sat down to a long table with a great shuffling of feet and -scraping of benches, and immediately began a voracious attack upon the -heaped platters of chicken and dumplings and the bowls of vegetables. -Bud found a place at the end where he could look into the kitchen, -and his eyes went that way as often as they dared, following the swift -motions of the little woman who poured coffee and filled empty dishes -and said never a word to anyone. - -He was on the point of believing her a daughter of the house when a -square-jawed man of thirty, or thereabout, who sat at Bud's right hand, -called her to him as he might have called his dog, by snapping his -fingers. - -She came and stood beside Bud while the man spoke to her in an arrogant -undertone. - -"Marian, I told yuh I wanted tea for dinner after this. D'you bring me -coffee on purpose, just to be onery? I thought I told yuh to straighten -up and quit that sulkin'. I ain't going to have folks think----" - -"Oh, be quiet! Shame on you, before everyone!" she whispered fiercely -while she lifted the cup and saucer. - -Bud went hot all over. He did not look up when she returned presently -with a cup of tea, but he felt her presence poignantly, as he had never -before sensed the presence of a woman. When he was able to swallow his -wrath and meet calmly the glances of these strangers he turned his head -casually and looked the man over. - -Her husband, he guessed the fellow to be. No other relationship could -account for that tone of proprietorship, and there was no physical -resemblance between the two. A mean devil, Bud called him mentally, -with a narrow forehead, eyes set too far apart and the mouth of a brute. -Someone spoke to the man, calling him Lew, and he answered with rough -good humor, repeating a stale witticism and laughing at it just as -though he had not heard others say it a hundred times. - -Bud looked at him again and hated him, but he did not glance again at -the little woman named Marian; for his own peace of mind he did not -dare. He thought that he knew now what it was he had seen in the depth -of her eyes, but there seemed to be nothing that he could do to help. - -That evening after supper Honey Krause called to him when he was -starting down to the bunk-house with the other men. What she said -was that she still had his guitar and mandolin, and that they needed -exercise. What she looked was the challenge of a born coquette. In the -kitchen dishes were rattling, but after they were washed there would be -a little leisure, perhaps, for the kitchen drudge. Bud's impulse to make -his sore hands an excuse for refusing evaporated. It might not be wise -to place himself deliberately in the way of getting a hurt--but youth -never did stop to consult a sage before following the lure of a woman's -eyes. - -He called back to Honey that those instruments ought to have been put in -the hayfield, where there was more exercise than the men could use. "You -boys ought to come and see me safe through with it," he added to the -loitering group around him. "I'm afraid of women." - -They laughed and two or three went with him. Lew went on to the corral -and presently appeared on horseback, riding up to the kitchen and -leaving his horse standing at the corner while he went inside and talked -to the woman he had called Marian. - -Bud was carrying his guitar outside, where it was cooler, when he heard -the fellow's arrogant voice. The dishes ceased rattling for a -minute, and there was a sharp exclamation, stifled but unmistakable. -Involuntarily Bud made a movement in that direction, when Honey's voice -stopped him with a subdued laugh. - -"That's only Lew and Mary Ann," she explained carelessly. "They have a -spat every time they come within gunshot of each other." - -The lean fellow who had driven the mower, and whose name was Jerry -Myers, edged carelessly close to Bud and gave him a nudge with his -elbow, and a glance from under his eyebrows by way of emphasis. He -turned his head slightly, saw that Honey had gone into the house, and -muttered just above a whisper, "Don't see or hear anything. It's all the -help you can give her. And for Lord's sake don't let on to Honey like -you--give a cuss whether it rains or not, so long 's it don't pour too -hard the night of the dance." - -Bud looked up at the darkening sky speculatively, and tried not to hear -the voices in the kitchen, one of which was brutally harsh while the -other told of hate and fear suppressed under gentle forbearance. The -harsh voice was almost continuous, the other infrequent, reluctant to -speak at all. Bud wanted to go in and smash his guitar over the fellow's -head, but Jerry's warning held him. There were other ways, however, to -help; if he must not drive off the tormentor, then he would call him -away. He ignored his bruised knuckles and plucked the guitar strings as -if he held a grudge against them, and then began to sing the first song -that came into his mind--one that started in a rollicky fashion. - -Men came straggling up from the bunk-house before he had finished the -first chorus, and squatted on their heels to listen, their cigarettes -glowing like red fingertips in the dusk. But the voice in the kitchen -talked on. Bud tried another--one of those old-time favorites, a -"laughing coon" song, though he felt little enough in the mood for it. -In the middle of the first laugh he heard the kitchen door slam, and -Lew's footsteps coming around the corner. He listened until the song -was done, then mounted and rode away, Bud's laugh following him -triumphantly--though Lew could not have guessed its meaning. - -Bud sang for two hours expectantly, but Marian did not appear, and Bud -went off to the bunk-house feeling that his attempt to hearten her had -been a failure. Of Honey he did not think at all, except to wonder if -the two women were related in any way, and to feel that if they were -Marian was to be pitied. At that point Jerry overtook him and asked for -a match, which gave him an excuse to hold Bud behind the others. - -"Honey like to have caught me, to-night," Jerry observed guardedly. -"I had to think quick. I'll tell you the lay of the land, Bud, seeing -you're a stranger here. Marian's man, Lew, he's a damned bully and -somebody is going to draw a fine bead on him some day when he ain't -looking. But he stands in, so the less yuh take notice the better. -Marian, she's a fine little woman that minds her own business, but she's -getting a cold deck slipped into the game right along. Honey's jealous -of her and afraid somebody'll give her a pleasant look. Lew's jealous, -and he watches her like a cat watches a mouse it's caught and wants to -play with. Between the two of 'em Marian has a real nice time of it. I'm -wising you up so you won't hand her any more misery by trying to take -her part. Us boys have learned to keep our mouths shut." - -"Glad you told me," Bud muttered. "Otherwise----" - -"Exactly," Jerry agreed understandingly. "Otherwise any of us would." - -He stopped and then spoke in a different tone. "If Lew stays off the -ranch long enough, maybe you'll get to hear her sing. Wow-ee, but that -lady has sure got the meadow-larks whipped! But look out for Honey, -old-timer." - -Bud laughed unmirthfully. "Looks to me as if you aren't crazy over -Honey," he ventured. "What has she done to you?" - -"Her?" Jerry inspected his cigarette, listened to the whisper of -prudence in his ear, and turned away. "Forget it. I never said a word." -He swept the whole subject from him with a comprehensive gesture, and -snorted. "I'm gettin' as bad as Pop," he grinned. "But lemme tell yuh -something. Honey Krause runs more 'n the post-office." - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN: GUILE AGAINST THE WILY - -Bud liked to have his life run along accustomed lines with a more or -less perfect balance of work and play, friendships and enmities. He -had grown up with the belief that any mystery is merely a synonym for -menace. He had learned to be wary of known enemies such as Indians -and outlaws, and to trust implicitly his friends. To feel now, without -apparent cause, that his friends might be enemies in disguise, was a new -experience that harried him. - -He had come to Little Lost on Tuesday, straight from the Muleshoe -where his presence was no longer desired for some reason not yet -satisfactorily explained to him. You know what happened on Tuesday. That -night the land crouched under a terrific electric storm, with crackling -swords of white death dazzling from inky black clouds, and ear-splitting -thunder close on the heels of it. Bud had known such storms all his -life, yet on this night he was uneasy, vaguely disturbed. He caught -himself wondering if Lew Morris's wife was frightened, and the -realization that he was worrying about her fear worried him more than -ever and held him awake long after the fury of the storm had passed. - -Next day, when he came in at noon, there was Hen, from the Muleshoe, -waiting for dinner before he rode back with the mail. Hen's jaw dropped -when he saw Bud riding on a Little Lost hay-wagon, and his eyes bulged -with what Bud believed was consternation. All through the meal Bud had -caught Hen eyeing him miserably, and looking stealthily from him to the -others. No one paid any attention, and for that Bud was rather thankful; -he did not want the Little Lost fellows to think that perhaps he had -done something which he knew would hang him if it were discovered, -which, he decided, was the mildest interpretation a keen observer would -be apt to make of Hen's behavior. - -When he went out, Hen was at his heels, trying to say something in his -futile, tongue-tied gobble. Bud stopped and looked at him tolerantly. -"Hen, It's no use--you might as well be talking Chinese, for all I -know. If it's important, write it down or I'll never know what's on your -mind." - -He pulled a note-book and a pencil from his vest-pocket and gave them -to Hen, who looked at him dumbly, worked his Adam's apple violently and -retreated to his horse, fumbled the mail which was tied in the bottom of -a flour sack for safe keeping, sought a sheltered place where he could -sit down, remained there a few minutes, and then returned to his horse -He beckoned to Bud, who was watching him curiously; and when Bud went -over to him said something unintelligible and handed back the note-book, -motioning for caution when Bud would have opened the book at once. - -So Bud thanked him gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes, and waited -until Hen had gone and he was alone before he read the message. It was -mysterious enough, certainly. Hen had written in a fine, cramped, uneven -hand: - -"You bee carful. bern this up and dent let on like you no anything but -i warn you be shure bern this up." - -Bud tore out the page and burned it as requested, and since he was not -enlightened by the warning he obeyed Hen's instructions and did not "let -on." But he could not help wondering, and was unconsciously prepared to -observe little things which ordinarily would have passed unnoticed. - -At the dance on Friday night, for instance, there was a good deal of -drinking and mighty little hilarity. Bud had been accustomed to loud -talk and much horseplay outside among the men on such occasions, and -even a fight or two would be accepted as a matter of course. But though -several quart bottles were passed around during the night and thrown -away empty into the bushes, the men went in and danced and came out -again immediately to converse confidentially in small groups, or to -smoke without much speech. The men of Burroback Valley were not running -true to form. - -The women were much like all the women of cow-country: mothers with -small children who early became cross and sleepy and were hushed under -shawls on the most convenient bed, a piece of cake in their hands; -mothers whose faces were lined too soon with work and ill-health, and -with untidy hair that became untidier as the dance progressed. There -were daughters--shy and giggling to hide their shyness--Bud knew their -type very well and made friends with them easily, and immediately became -the centre of a clamoring audience after he had sung a song or two. - -There was Honey, with her inscrutable half smile and her veiled eyes, -condescending to graciousness and quite plainly assuming a proprietary -air toward Bud, whom she put through whatever musical paces pleased her -fancy. Bud, I may say, was extremely tractable. When Honey said sing, -Bud sang; when she said play, Bud sat down to the piano and played -until she asked him to do something else. It was all very pleasant for -Honey--and Bud ultimately won his point--Honey decided to extend her -graciousness a little. - -Why hadn't Bud danced with Marian? He must go right away and ask her -to dance. Just because Lew was gone, Marian need not be slighted--and -besides, there were other fellows who might want a little of Honey's -time. - -So Bud went away and found Marian in the pantry, cutting cakes while the -coffee boiled, and asked her to dance. Marian was too tired, and' she -had not the time to spare; wherefore Bud helped himself to a knife -and proceeded to cut cakes with geometrical precision, and ate all -the crumbs. With his hands busy, he found the courage to talk to her a -little. He made Marian laugh out loud and it was the first time he had -ever heard her do that. - -Marian disclosed a sense of humor, and even teased Bud a little about -Honey. But her teasing lacked that edge of bitterness which Bud had half -expected in retaliation for Honey's little air of superiority. - -"Your precision in cutting cakes is very much like your accurate -fingering of the piano," she observed irrelevantly, surveying his -work with her lips pursed. "A pair of calipers would prove every piece -exactly, the same width; and even when you play a Meditation? I'm -sure the metronome would waggle in perfect unison with your tempo. I -wonder--" She glanced up at him speculatively. "--I wonder if you think -with such mathematical precision. Do you always find that two and two -make four?" - -"You mean, have I any imagination whatever?" Bud looked away from her -eyes--toward the uncurtained, high little window. A face appeared there, -as if a tall man had glanced in as he was passing by and halted for a -second to look. Bud's eyes met full the eyes of the man outside, who -tilted his head backward in a significant movement and passed on. Marian -turned her head and caught the signal, looked at Bud quickly, a little -flush creeping into her cheeks. - -"I hope you have a little imagination," she said, lowering her voice -instinctively. "It doesn't require much to see that Jerry is right. The -conventions are strictly observed at Little Lost--in the kitchen, at -least," she added, under her breath, with a flash of resentment. "Run -along--and the next time Honey asks you to play the piano, will you -please play Lotusblume? And when you have thrown open the prison windows -with that, will you play Schubert's Ave Maria--the way you play it--to -send a breath of cool night air in?" - -She put out the tips of her fingers and pressed them lightly against -Bud's shoulder, turning toward the door. Bud started, stepped into the -kitchen, wheeled about and stood regarding her with a stubborn look in -his eyes. - -"I might kick the door down, too," he said. "I don't like prisons -nohow." - -"No-just a window, thank you," she laughed. - -Bud thought the laugh did not go very deep. "Jerry wants to talk to -you. He's the whitest of the lot, if you can call that--" she stopped -abruptly, put out a hand to the door, gave him a moment to look into her -deep, troubled eyes, and closed the door gently but inexorably in his -face. - -Jerry was standing at the corner of the house smoking negligently. He -waited until Bud had come close alongside him, then led the way slowly -down the path to the corrals. - -"I thought I heard the horses fighting," he remarked. "There was a noise -down this way." - -"Is that why you called me outside?" asked Bud, who scorned subterfuge. - -"Yeah. I saw you wasn't dancing or singing or playing the piano--and -I knew Honey'd likely be looking you up to do one or the other, in a -minute. She sure likes you, Bud. She don't, everybody that comes along." - -Bud did not want to discuss Honey, wherefore he made no reply, and they -walked along in silence, the cool, heavy darkness grateful after the oil -lamps and the heat of crowded rooms. As they neared the corrals a stable -door creaked open and shut, yet there was no wind. Jerry halted, one -hand going to Bud's arm. They stood for a minute, and heard the swish of -the bushes behind the corral, as if a horse were passing through. Jerry -turned back, leading Bud by the arm. They were fifty feet away and the -bushes were still again before Jerry spoke guardedly. - -"I guess I made a mistake. There wasn't nothing," he said, and dropped -Bud's arm. - -Bud stopped. "There was a man riding off in the brush," he said bluntly, -"and all the folks that came to the dance rode in through the front -gate. I reckon I'll just take a look where I left my saddle, anyway." - -"That might have been some loose stock," Jerry argued, but Bud went -back, wondering a little at Jerry's manner. - -The saddle was all right, and so was everything else, so far as Bud -could determine in the dark, but he was not satisfied. He thought he -understood Jerry's reason for bringing him down to the corrals, but he -could not understand Jerry's attitude toward an incident which any man -would have called suspicious. - -Bud quietly counted noses when he returned to the house and found that -supper was being served, but he could not recall any man who was missing -now. Every guest and every man on the ranch was present except old Pop, -who had a little shack to himself and went to bed at dark every night. - -Bud was mystified, and he hated mysteries. Moreover, he was working for -Dave Truman, and whatever might concern Little Lost concerned him also. -But the men had begun to talk openly of their various "running horses", -and to exchange jibes and boasts and to bet a little on Sunday's races. -Bud wanted to miss nothing of that, and Jerry's indifference to the -incident at the stable served to reassure him for the time being. He -edged close to the group where the talk was loudest, and listened. - -A man they called Jeff was trying to jeer his neighbors into betting -against a horse called Skeeter, and was finding them too cautious for -his liking. He laughed and, happening to catch Bud's eyes upon him, -strode forward with an empty tin cup in his hand and slapped Bud -friendliwise on the shoulder. - -"Why, I bet this singin' kid, that don't know wha I got ner what you -fellers has got, ain't scared to take, a chance. Are yuh, kid? What d' -yuh think of this pikin' bunch here that has seen Skeeter come in second -and third more times 'n what he beat, and yet is afraid to take a chance -on rosin' two bits? Whatd' yuh think of 'em? Ain't they an onery bunch?" - -"I suppose they hate to lose," Bud grinned. - -"That's it--money 's more to 'em than the sport of kings, which is -runnin' horses. This bunch, kid belly-ached till Dave took his horse -Boise outa the game, and now, by gosh, they're backin' up from my -Skeeter, that has been beat more times than he won.' - -"When you pulled him, Jeff!" a mocking voice drawled. "And that was when -you wasn't bettin' yourself." - -Jeff turned injuredly to Bud. "Now don't that sound like a piker?" he -complained. "It ain't reason to claim I'd pull my own horse. Ain't that -the out doinest way to come back at a man that likes a good race?" - -Bud swelled his chest and laid his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Just -to show you I'm not a piker," he cried recklessly, "I'll bet you -twenty-five dollars I can beat your Skeeter with my Smoky horse that I -rode in here. Is it a go?" - -Jeff's jaw dropped a little, with surprise. "What fer horse is this here -Smoky horse of yourn?" he wanted to know. - -Bud winked at the group, which cackled gleeful!, "I love the sport of -kings," he said. "I love it so well I don't have to see your Skeeter -horse till Sunday. From the way these boys sidestep him, I guess he's a -sure-enough running horse. My Smoky's a good little horse, too, but he -never scared a bunch till they had cramps in the pockets. Still," -he added with a grin, "I'll try anything once. I bet you twenty-five -dollars my Smoky can beat your Skeeter." - -"Say, kid, honest I hate to take it away from yuh. Honest, I do. The way -you can knock the livin' tar outa that pyanny is a caution to cats. I -c'd listen all night. But when it comes to runnin' horses--" - -"Are you afraid of your money?" Bud asked him arrogantly. "You called -this a bunch of pikers--" - -"Well, by golly, it'll be your own fault, kid. If I take your money away -from yuh, don't go and blame it onto me. Mebbe these fellers has got -some cause to sidestep--" - -"All right, the bet's on. And I won't blame you if I lose. Smoky's -a good little horse. Don't think for a minute I'm giving you my hard -earned coin. You'll have to throw up some dust to get it, old-timer. I -forgot to say I'd like to make it a quarter dash." - -"A quarter dash it is," Jeff agreed derisively as Bud turned to answer -the summons of the music which was beginning again. - -The racing enthusiasts lingered outside, and Bud smiled to himself while -he whirled Honey twice around in an old-fashioned waltz. He had them -talking about him, and wondering about his horse. When they saw Smoky -they would perhaps call him a chancey kid. He meant to ask Pop about -Skeeter, though Pop seemed confident that Smoky would win against -anything in the valley. - -But on the other hand, he had seen in his short acquaintance with Little -Lost that Pop was considered childish--that comprehensive accusation -which belittles the wisdom of age. The boys made it a point to humor him -without taking him seriously. Honey pampered him and called him Poppy, -while in Marian's chill courtesy, in her averted glances, Bud had read -her dislike of Pop. He had seen her hand shrink away from contact with -his hand when she set his coffee beside his plate. - -But Bud had heard others speak respectfully of Boise, and regret that -he was too fast to run. Pop might be childish on some subjects, but -Bud rather banked on his judgment of horses--and Pop was penurious and -anxious to win money. - -"What are you thinking about?" Honey demanded when the music stopped. -"Something awful important, I guess, to make you want to keep right on -dancing!" - -"I was thinking of horse-racing," Bud confessed, glad that he could tell -her the truth. - -"Ah, you! Don't let them make a fool of you. Some of the fellows would -bet the shirt off their backs on a horse-race! You look out for them, -Bud." - -"They wouldn't bet any more than I would," Bud boldly declared. "I've -bet already against a horse I've never seen. How 's that?" - -"That's crazy. You'll lose, and serve you right." She went off to dance -with someone else, and Bud turned smiling to find a passable partner -amongst the older women--for he was inclined to caution where strange -girls were concerned. Much trouble could come to a stranger who danced -with a girl who happened to have a jealous sweetheart, and Bud did -not court trouble of that kind. He much preferred to fight over other -things. Besides, he had no wish to antagonize Honey. - -But his dance with some faded, heavy-footed woman was not to be. Jerry -once more signalled him and drew him outside for a little private -conference. Jerry was ill at ease and inclined to be reproachful and -even condemnatory. - -He wanted first to know why Bud had been such a many kinds of a fool as -to make that bet with Jeff Hall. All the fellows were talking about it. -"They was asking me what kind of a horse you've got--and I wouldn't put -it past Jeff and his bunch to pull some kind of a dirty trick on you," -he complained. "Bud, on the square, I like you a whole lot. You seem -kinda innocent, in some ways, and in other ways you don't. I wish you'd -tell me just one thing, so I can sleep comfortable. Have you got some -scheme of your own? Or what the devil ails you?" - -"Well, I've just got a notion," Bud admitted. "I'm going to have some -fun watching those fellows perform, whether I win or lose. I've spent as -much as twenty-five dollars on a circus, before now, and felt that I got -the worth of my money, too. I'm going to enjoy myself real well, next -Sunday." - -Jerry glanced behind him and lowered his voice, speaking close to Bud's -ear. "Well, there's something I'd like to say that it ain't safe to say, -Bud. I'd hate like hell to see you get in trouble. Go as far as you like -having fun--but--oh, hell! What's the use?" He turned abruptly and went -inside, leaving Bud staring after him rather blankly. - -Jerry did not strike Bud as being the kind of a man who goes -around interfering with every other man's business. He was a quiet, -good-natured young fellow with quizzical eyes of that mixed color which -we call hazel simply because there is more brown than gray or green. He -did not talk much, but he observed much. Bud was strongly inclined -to heed Jerry's warning, but it was too vague to have any practical -value--"about like Hen's note," Bud concluded. "Well-meaning but hazy. -Like a red danger flag on a railroad crossing where the track is torn -up and moved. I saw one, once and my horse threw a fit at it and almost -piled me. I figured that the red flag created the danger, where I was -concerned. Still, I'd like to oblige Jerry and sidestep something or -other, but..." - -His thoughts grew less distinct, merged into wordless rememberings and -conjectures, clarified again into terse sentences which never reached -the medium of speech. - -"Well, I'll just make sure they don't try out Smoke when I'm not -looking," he decided, and slipped away in the dark. - -By a roundabout way which avoided the trail he managed to reach the -pasture fence without being seen. No horses grazed in sight, and he -climbed through and went picking his way across the lumpy meadow in the -starlight. At the farther side he found the horses standing out on a -sandy ridge where the mosquitoes were not quite so pestiferous. The -Little Lost horses snorted and took to their heels, his three following -for a short distance. - -Bud stopped and whistled a peculiar call invented long ago when he was -just Buddy, and watched over the Tomahawk REMUDA. Every horse with the -Tomahawk brand knew that summons--though not every horse would obey -it. But these three had come when they were sucking colts, if Buddy -whistled; and in their breaking and training, in the long trip north, -they had not questioned its authority. They turned and trotted back to -him now and nosed Bud's hands which he held out to them. - -He petted them all and talked to them in an affectionate murmur which -they answered by sundry lipnibbles and subdued snorts. Smoky he singled -out finally, rubbing his back and sides with the flat of his hand from -shoulder to flank, and so to the rump and down the thigh to the hock -to the scanty fetlock which told, to those who knew, that here was an -aristocrat among horses. - -Smoky stood quiet, and Bud's hand lingered there, smoothing the slender -ankle. Bud's fingers felt the fine-haired tail, then gave a little -twitch. He was busy for a minute, kneeling in the sand with one knee, -his head bent. Then he stood up, went forward to Smoky's head, and stood -rubbing the horse's nose thoughtfully. - -"I hate to do it, old boy--but I'm working to make's a home--we've got -to work together. And I'm not asking any more of you than I'd be willing -to do myself, if I were a horse and you were a man." - -He gave the three horses a hasty pat apiece and started back across -the meadow to the fence. They followed him like pet dogs--and when Bud -glanced back over his shoulder he saw in the dim light that Smoky walked -with a slight limp. - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE: SPORT O' KINGS - -Sunday happened to be fair, with not too strong a wind blowing. Before -noon Little Lost ranch was a busy place, and just before dinner it -became busier. Horse-racing seemed to be as popular a sport in the -valley as dancing. Indeed, men came riding in who had not come to the -dance. The dry creek-bed where the horses would run had no road leading -to it, so that all vehicles came to Little Lost and remained there while -the passengers continued on foot to the races. - -At the corral fresh shaven men, in clean shirts to distinguish this as a -dress-up occasion, foregathered, looking over the horses and making bets -and arguing. Pop shambled here and there, smoking cigarettes furiously -and keeping a keen ear toward the loudest betting. He came sidling up to -Bud, who was leading Smoky out of the stable, and his sharp eyes took in -every inch of the horse and went inquiringly to Bud's face. - -"Goin' to run him, young feller--lame as what he is?" he demanded -sharply. - -"Going to try, anyway," said Bud. "I've got a bet up on him, dad." - -"Sho! Fixin' to lose, air ye? You kin call it off, like as not. Jeff -ain't so onreason'ble 't he'd make yuh run a lame horse. Air yuh, Jeff?" - -Jeff strolled up and looked Smoky over with critical eyes. "What's the -matter? Ain't the kid game to run him? Looks to me like a good little -goer." - -"He's got a limp--but I'll run him anyway." Bud glanced up. "Maybe when -he's warmed up he'll forget about it." - -"Seen my Skeeter?" - -"Good horse, I should judge," Bud observed indifferently. "But I ain't -worrying any." - -"Well, neither am I," Jeff grinned. - -Pop stood teetering back and forth, plainly uneasy. "I'd rub him right -good with liniment," he advised Bud. "I'll git some't I know ought t' -help." - -"What's the matter, Pop? You got money up on that cayuse?" Jeff laughed. - -Pop whirled on him. "I ain't got money up on him, no. But if he wasn't -lame I'd have some! I'd show ye 't I admire gameness in a kid. I would -so." - -Jeff nudged his neighbor into laughter. "There ain't a gamer old bird -in the valley than Pop," Jeff cried. "C'm awn, Pop, I'll bet yuh ten -dollars the kid beats me!" - -Pop was shuffling hurriedly out of the corral after the liniment. To -Jeff's challenge he made no reply whatever. The group around Jeff shooed -Smoky gently toward the other side of the corral, thereby convincing -themselves of the limp in his right hind foot. While not so pronounced -as to be crippling, it certainly was no asset to a running horse, and -the wise ones conferred together in undertones. - -"That there kid's a born fool," Dave Truman stated positively. "The -horse can't run. He's got the look of a speedy little animal--but -shucks! The kid don't know anything about running horses. I've been -talking to him, and I know. Jeff, you're taking the money away from him -if you run that race." - -"Well, I'm giving the kid a chance to back out," Jeff hastened to -declare. "He can put it off till his horse gits well, if he wants to. I -ain't going to hold him to it. I never said I was." - -"That's mighty kind of you," Bud said, coming up from behind with a -bottle of liniment, and with Pop at his heels. "But I'll run him just -the same. Smoky has favored this foot before, and it never seemed to -hurt him any. You needn't think I'm going to crawfish. You must think -I'm a whining cuss--say! I'll bet another ten dollars that I don't come -in more than a neck behind, lame horse or not!" - -"Now, kid, don't git chancey," Pop admonished uneasily. "Twenty-five is -enough money to donate to Jeff." - -"That's right, kid. I like your nerve," Jeff cut in, emphasizing his -approval with a slap on Bud's shoulder as he bent to lift Smoky's leg. -"I've saw worse horses than this one come in ahead--it wouldn't be no -sport o' kings if nobody took a chance." - -"I'm taking chance enough," Bud retorted without looking up. "If I don't -win this time I will the next, maybe." - -"That's right," Jeff agreed heartily, winking broadly at the others -behind Bud's back. - -Bud rubbed Smoky's ankle with liniment, listened to various and sundry -self-appointed advisers and, without seeming to think how the sums would -total, took several other small bets on the race. They were small--Pop -began to teeter back and forth and lift his shoulders and pull his -beard--sure signs of perturbation. - -"By Christmas, I'll just put up ten dollars on the kid," Pop finally -cackled. "I ain't got much to lose--but I'll show yuh old Pop ain't -going to see the young feller stand alone." He tried to catch Bud's eye, -but that young man was busy saddling Smoky and returning jibe for jibe -with the men around him, and did not glance toward Pop at all. - -"I'll take this bottle in my pocket, Pop," he said with his back toward -the old man, and mounted carelessly. "I'll ride him around a little and -give him another good rubbing before we run. I'm betting," he added to -the others frankly, "on the chance that exercise and the liniment will -take the soreness out of that ankle. I don't believe it amounts to -anything at all. So if any of you fellows want to bet--" - -"Shucks! Don't go 'n-" Pop began, and bit the sentence in two, dropping -immediately into a deep study. The kid was getting beyond Pop's -understanding. - -A crowd of perhaps a hundred men and women--with a generous sprinkling -of unruly juveniles--lined the sheer bank of the creek-bed and watched -the horses run, and screamed their cheap witticisms at the losers, and -their approval of those who won. The youngster with the mysterious past -and the foolhardiness to bet on a lame horse they watched and discussed, -the women plainly wishing he would win--because he was handsome and -young, and such a wonderful musician. The men were more cold-blooded. -They could not see that Bud's good looks or the haunting melody of his -voice had any bearing whatever upon his winning a race. They called him -a fool, and either refused to bet at all on such a freak proposition as -a lame horse running against Skeeter, or bet against him. A few of the -wise ones wondered if Jeff and his bunch were merely "stringing the kid -along "; if they might not let him win a little, just to make him more -"chancey." But they did not think it wise to bet on that probability. - -While three races were being run Bud rode with the Little Lost men, and -Smoky still limped a little. Jerry Myers, still self-appointed guardian -of Bud, herded him apart and called him a fool and implored him to call -the race off and keep his money in his own pocket. - -Bud was thinking just then about a certain little woman who sat on the -creek bank with a wide-brimmed straw hat shading her wonderful eyes, and -a pair of little, high-arched feet tapping heels absently against the -bank wall. Honey sat beside her, and a couple of the valley women whom -Bud had met at the dance. He had ridden close and paused for a few -friendly sentences with the quartette, careful to give Honey the -attention she plainly expected. But it was not Honey who wore the wide -hat and owned the pretty little feet. Bud pulled his thoughts back from -a fruitless wish that he might in some way help that little woman whose -trouble looked from her eyes, and whose lips smiled so bravely. He did -not think of possession when he thought of her; it was the look in her -eyes, and the slighting tones in which Honey spoke of her. - -"Say, come alive! What yuh going off in a trance for, when I'm talking -to yuh for your own good?" Jerry smiled whimsically, but his eyes were -worried. - -Bud pulled himself together and reined closer. - -"Don't bet anything on this race, Jerry," he advised "Or if you do, -don't bet on Skeeter. But--well, I'll just trade you a little advice for -all you've given me. Don't bet!" - -"What the hell!" surprise jolted out of Jerry. - -"It's my funeral," Bud laughed. "I'm a chancey kid, you see--but I'd -hate to see you bet on me." He pulled up to watch the next race--four -nervy little cow-horses of true range breeding, going down to the -quarter post. - -"They 're going to make false starts aplenty," Bud remarked after the -first fluke. "Jeff and I have it out next. I'll just give Smoke another -treatment." He dismounted, looked at Jerry undecidedly and slapped him -on the knee. "I'm glad to have a friend like you," he said impulsively. -"There's a lot of two-faced sinners around here that would steal a man -blind. Don't think I'm altogether a fool." - -Jerry looked at him queerly, opened his mouth and shut it again so -tightly that his jawbones stood out a little. He watched Bud bathing -Smoky's ankle. When Bud was through and handed Jerry the bottle to keep -for him, Jerry held him for an instant by the hand. - -"Say, for Gawdsake don't talk like that promiscuous, Bud," he begged. -"You might hit too close--" - -"Ay, Jerry! Ever hear that old Armenian proverb, 'He who tells the truth -should have one foot in the stirrup'? I learned that in school." - -Jerry let go Bud's hand and took the bottle, Bud's watch that had his -mother's picture pasted in the back, and his vest, a pocket of which -contained a memorandum of his wagers. Bud was stepping out of his chaps, -and he looked up and grinned. "Cheer up, Jerry. You're going to laugh in -a minute." When Jerry still remained thoughtful, Bud added soberly, "I -appreciate you and old Pop standing by me. I don't know just what you've -got on your mind, but the fact that there's something is hint enough for -me." Whereupon Jerry's eyes lightened a little. - -The four horses came thundering down the track, throwing tiny pebbles -high into the air as they passed. A trim little sorrel won, and there -was the usual confusion of voices upraised in an effort to be heard. -When that had subsided, interest once more centered on Skeeter and -Smoky, who seemed to have recovered somewhat from his lameness. - -Not a man save Pop and Bud had placed a bet on Smoky, yet every man -there seemed keenly interested in the race. They joshed Bud, who grinned -and took it good-naturedly, and found another five dollars in--his -pocket to bet--this time with Pop, who kept eyeing him sharply--and it -seemed to Bud warningly. But Bud wanted to play his own game, this time, -and he avoided Pop's eyes. - -The two men rode down the hoof-scored sand to the quarter post, -Skeeter dancing sidewise at the prospect of a race, Smoky now and then -tentatively against Bud's steady pressure of the bit. - -"He's not limping now," Bud gloated as they rode. But Jeff only laughed -tolerantly and made no reply. - -Dave Truman started them with a pistol shot, and the two horses darted -away, Smoky half a jump in the lead. His limp was forgotten, and for -half the distance he ran neck and neck with Skeeter. Then he dropped to -Skeeter's middle, to his flank--then ran with his black nose even -with Skeeter's rump. Even so it was a closer race than the crowd had -expected, and all the cowboys began to yell themselves purple. - -But when they were yet a few leaps from the wire clothes-line stretched -high, from post to post, Bud leaned forward until he lay flat alongside -Smoky's neck, and gave a real Indian war-whoop. Smoky lifted and -lengthened his stride, came up again to Skeeter's middle, to his -shoulder, to his ears--and with the next leap thrust his nose past -Skeeter's as they finished. - -Well, then there was the usual noise, everyone trying to shout louder -than his fellows. Bud rode to where Pop was sitting apart on a pacing -gray horse that he always rode, and paused to say guardedly, - -"I pulled him, Pop. But at that I won, so if I can pry another race -out of this bunch to-day, you can bet all you like. And you owe me five -dollars," he added thriftily. - -"Sho! Shucks almighty!" spluttered Pop, reaching reluctantly into his -pocket for the money. "Jeff, he done some pullin' himself--I wish I -knowed," he added pettishly, "just how big a fool you air." - -"Hey, come over here!" shouted Jeff. "What yuh nagging ole Pop about?" - -"Pop lost five dollars on that race," Bud called back, and loped over -to the crowd. "But he isn't the only one. Seems to me I've got quite a -bunch of money coming to me, from this crowd!" - -"Jeff, he'd a beat him a mile if his bridle rein had busted," an -arrogant voice shouted recklessly. "Jeff, you old fox, you know damn -well you pulled Skeeter. You must love to lose, doggone yuh." - -"If you think I didn't run right," Jeff retorted, as if a little -nettled, "someone else can ride the horse. That is, if the kid here -ain't scared off with your talk. How about it, Bud? Think you won fair?" - -Bud was collecting his money, and he did not immediately answer the -challenge. When he did it was to offer them another race. He would not, -he said, back down from anyone. He would bet his last cent on -little Smoky. He became slightly vociferative and more than a little -vain-glorious, and within half an hour he had once more staked all the -money he had in the world. The number of men who wanted to bet with -him surprised him a little. Also the fact that the Little Lost men were -betting on Smoky. - -Honey called him over to the bank and scolded him in tones much like her -name, and finally gave him ten dollars which she wanted to wager on -his winning. As he whirled away, Marian beckoned impulsively and leaned -forward, stretching out to him her closed hand. - -"Here's ten," she smiled, "just to show that the Little Lost stands by -its men--and horses. Put it on Smoky, please." When Bud was almost out -of easy hearing, she called to him. "Oh--was that a five or a ten dollar -bill I gave you?" - -Bud turned back, unfolding the banknote. A very tightly folded scrap of -paper slid into his palm. - -"Oh, all right--I have the five here in my pocket," called Marian, and -laughed quite convincingly. "Go on and run! We won't be able to breathe -freely until the race is over." - -Wherefore Bud turned back, puzzled and with his heart jumping. For some -reason Marian had taken this means of getting a message into his hands. -What it could be he did not conjecture; but he had a vague, unreasoning -hope that she trusted him and was asking him to help her somehow. He -did not think that it concerned the race, so he did not risk opening the -note then, with so many people about. - -A slim, narrow-eyed youth of about Bud's weight was chosen to ride -Skeeter, and together they went back over the course to the quarter -post, with Dave to start them and two or three others to make sure that -the race was fair. Smoky was full now of little prancing steps, and held -his neck arched while his nostrils flared in excitement, showing pink -within. Skeeter persistently danced sidewise, fighting the bit, crazy to -run. - -Skeeter made two false starts, and when the pistol was fired, jumped -high into the air and forward, shaking his head, impatient against the -restraint his rider put upon him. Halfway down the stretch he lunged -sidewise toward Smoky, but that level-headed little horse swerved and -went on, shoulder to shoulder with the other. At the very last Skeeter -rolled a pebble under his foot and stumbled--and again Smoky came in -with his slaty nose in the lead. - -Pop rode into the centre of the yelling crowd, his whiskers bristling. -"Shucks almighty!" he cried. "What fer ridin' do yuh call that there? -Jeff Hall, that feller held Skeeter in worse'n what you did yourself! I -kin prove it! I got a stop watch, an' I timed 'im, I did. An' I kin tell -yuh the time yore horse made when he run agin Dave's Boise. He's three -seconds--yes, by Christmas, he's four seconds slower t'day 'n what he's -ever run before! What fer sport d' you call that?" His voice went up and -cracked at the question mark like a boy in his early teens. - -Jeff stalked forward to Skeeter's side. "Jake, did you pull Skeeter?" -he demanded sternly. "I'll swan if this ain't the belly-achiness bunch -I ever seen! How about it, Jake? Did Skeeter do his durndest, or didn't -he? - -"Shore, he did!" Jake testified warmly. "I'da beat, too, if he hadn't -stumbled right at the last. Didn't yuh see him purty near go down? And -wasn't he within six inches of beatin'? I leave it to the crowd!" - -The crowd was full of argument, and some bets were paid under protest. -But they were paid, just the same. Burroback Valley insisted that the -main points of racing law should be obeyed to the letter. Bud collected -his winnings, the Scotch in him overlooking nothing whatever in the -shape of a dollar. Then, under cover of getting his smoking material, he -dared bring out Marian's note. There were two lines in a fine, even hand -on a cigarette paper, and Bud, relieved at her cleverness, unfolded the -paper and read while he opened his bag of tobacco. The lines were like -those in an old-fashioned copy book: - -"Winners may be losers. Empty pockets, safe owner." - -And that was all. Bud sifted tobacco into the paper, rolled it into a -cigarette and smoked it to so short a stub that he burnt his lips. -Then he dropped it beside his foot and ground it into the sand while he -talked. - -He would run Smoky no more that day, he declared, but next Sunday he -would give them all a chance to settle their minds and win back their -losings, providing his horse's ankle didn't go bad again with to-day's -running. Pop, Dave, Jeff and a few other wise ones examined the weak -ankle and disagreed over the exact cause and nature of the weakness. It -seemed all right. Smoky did not flinch from rubbing, though he did lift -his foot away from strange hands. They questioned Bud, who could offer -no positive information on the subject, except that once he and Smoky -had rolled down a bluff together, and Smoky had been lame for a while -afterwards. - -It did not occur to anyone to ask Bud which leg had been lamed, and Bud -did not volunteer the detail. An old sprain, they finally decided, and -Bud replaced his saddle, got his chaps and coat from Jerry, who was -smiling over an extra twenty-five dollars, and rode over to give the -girls their winnings. - -He stayed for several minutes talking with them and hoping for a chance -to thank Marian for her friendly warning. But there was none, and he -rode away dissatisfied and wondering uneasily if Marian thought he was -really as friendly with Honey as that young lady made him appear to be. - -He was one of the first to ride back to the ranch, and he turned Smoky -in the pasture and caught up Stopper to ride with Honey, who said she -was going for a ride when the races were over, and that if he liked to -go along she would show him the Sinks. Bud had professed an eagerness -to see the Sinks which he did not feel until Marian had turned her head -toward Honey and said in her quiet voice: - -"Why the Sinks? You know that isn't safe country to ride in, Honey." - -"That's why I want to ride there," Honey retorted flippantly. "I hate -safe places and safe things." - -Marian had glanced at Bud--and it was that glance which he was -remembering now with a puzzled sense that, like the note, it had meant -something definite, something vital to his own welfare if he could only -find the key. First it was Hen, then Jerry, and now Marian, all warning -him vaguely of danger into which he might stumble if he were not -careful. - -Bud was no fool, but on the other hand he was not one to stampede -easily. He had that steadfast courage, perhaps, which could face danger -and still maintain his natural calm--just as his mother had corrected -grammatical slips in the very sentences which told her of an impending -outbreak of Indians long ago Bud saddled Stopper and the horse which -Honey was to ride, led them to the house and went inside to wait until -the girl was ready. While he waited he played--and hoped that Marian, -hearing, would know that he played for her; and that she would come and -explain the cryptic message. Whether Marian heard and appreciated the -music or not, she failed to appear and let him know. It seemed to him -that she might easily have come into the room for a minute when she knew -he was there, and let him have a chance to thank her and ask her just -what she meant. - -He was just finishing the AVE MARIA which Marian had likened to a breath -of cool air, when Honey appeared in riding skirt and light shirtwaist. -She looked very trim and attractive, and Bud smiled upon her -approvingly, and cut short the last strain by four beats, which was one -way of letting Marian know that he considered her rather unappreciative. - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SINKS - -"We can go through the pasture and cut off a couple of miles," said -Honey when they were mounted. "I hope you don't think I'm crazy, wanting -a ride at this time of day, after all the excitement we've had. But -every Sunday is taken up with horse-racing till late in the afternoon, -and during the week no one has time to go. And," she added with a -sidelong look at him, "there's something about the Sinks that makes me -love to go there. Uncle Dave won't let me go alone." - -Bud dismounted to pull down the two top bars of the pasture gate so that -their horses could step over. A little way down the grassy slope Smoky -and Sunfish fed together, the Little Lost horses grouped nearer the -creek. - -"I love that little horse of yours--why, he's gone lame again!" -exclaimed Honey. "Isn't that a shame! You oughtn't to run him if it does -that to him." - -"He likes it," said Bud carelessly as he remounted. "And so do I, when I -can clean up the way I did today. I'm over three hundred dollars richer -right now than I was this morning." - -"And next Sunday, maybe you'll be broke," Honey added significantly. -"You never know how you are coming out. I think Jeff let you win to-day -on purpose, so you'd bet it all again and lose. He's like that. He don't -care how much he loses one day, because he gets it back some other time. -I don't like it. Some of the boys never do get ahead, and you'll be in -the same fix if you don't look out." - -"You didn't bring me along to lecture me, I know," said Bud with a -good-natured smile. "What about the Sinks? Is it a dangerous place -as--Mrs. Morris says?" - -"Oh, Marian? She never does want me to come. She thinks I ought to stay -in the house always, the way she does. The Sinks is--is--queer. There -are caves, and then again deep holes straight down, and tracks of -wildcats and lions. And in some places you can hear gurgles and rumbles. -I love to be there just at sundown, because the shadows are spooky and -it makes you feel--oh, you know--kind of creepy up your back. You don't -know what might happen. I--do you believe in ghosts and haunted places, -Bud?" - -"I'd need a lot of scaring before I did. Are the Sinks haunted?" - -"No-o--but there are funny noises and people have got lost there. Anyway -they never showed up afterwards. The Indians claim it's haunted." She -smiled that baring smile of hers. "Do you want to turn around and go -back?" - -"Sure. After we've had our ride, and seen the sights." And he added with -some satisfaction, "The moon 's full to-night, and no clouds." - -"And I brought sandwiches," Honey threw in as especial blessing. "Uncle -Dave will be mad, I expect. But I've never seen the Sinks at night, with -moonlight." - -She was quiet while the horses waded Sunk Creek and picked their way -carefully over a particularly rocky stretch beyond. "But what I'd rather -do," she said, speaking from her thoughts which had evidently carried -forward in the silence, "is explore Catrock Canyon." - -"Well, why not, if we have time?" Bud rode up alongside her. "Is it -far?" - -Honey looked at him searchingly. "You must be stranger to these parts," -she said disbelievingly. "Do you think you can make me swallow that?" - -Bud looked at her inquiringly, which forced her to go on. - -"You must know about Catrock Canyon, Bud Birnie. Don't try to make me -believe you don't." - -"I don't. I never heard of it before that I remember. What is it makes -you want to explore it?" - -Honey studied him. "You're the queerest specimen I ever did see," she -exclaimed pettishly. "Why, it's not going to hurt you to admit you know -Catrock Canyon is--unexplorable." - -"Oh. So you want to explore it because it's unexplorable. Well, why is -it unexplorable?" - -Honey looked around her at the dry sageland they were crossing. "Oh, you -make me TIRED!" she said bluntly, with something of the range roughness -in her voice. "Because it is, that's all." - -"Then I'd like to explore it myself," Bud declared. - -"For one thing," Honey dilated, "there's no way to get in there. Up on -the ridge this side, where the rock is that throws a shadow like a cat's -head on the opposite wall, you can look down a ways. But the two sides -come so close together at the top that you can't see the bottom of the -canyon at all. I've been on the ridge where I could see the cat's head." - -Bud glanced speculatively up at the sun, and Honey, catching his -meaning, shook her head and smiled. - -"If we get into the Sinks and back to-day, they will do enough talking -about it; or Uncle Dave will, and Marian. I--I thought perhaps you'd be -able to tell me about--Catrock Canyon." - -"I'm able to say I don't know a thing about it. If no one can get into -it, I should think that's about all, isn't it?" - -"Yes--you'd think so," Honey agreed enigmatically, and began to talk -of the racing that day, and of the dance, and of other dances and other -races yet to come. Bud discussed these subjects for a while and then -asked boldly, "When's Lew coming back?" - -"Lew?" Honey shot a swift glance at him. "Why?" She looked ahead at the -forbidding, craggy hills toward which she had glanced when she spoke of -Catrock. "Why, I don't know. How should I?" - -Bud saw that he had spoken unwisely. "I was thinking he'd maybe hate -to miss another running match like to-day," he explained guilelessly. -"Everybody and his dog seemed to be there to-day, and everybody had -money up. All," he modified, "except the Muleshoe boys. I didn't see any -of them." - -"You won't," Honey told him with some emphasis. "Uncle Dave and the -Muleshoe are on the outs. They never come around except for mail and -things from the store. And most always they send Hen. Uncle Dave and -Dirk Tracy had an awful row last winter. It was next thing to a killing. -So of course the outfits ain't on friendly terms." - -This was more than Pop had gossiped to Bud, and since the whole thing -was of no concern to him, and Honey plainly objected to talking about -Marian's husband, he was quite ready to fix his interest once more upon -the Sinks. He was surprised when they emerged from a cluster of small, -sage-covered knolls, directly upon the edge of what at first sight -seemed to be another dry river bed--sprawled wider, perhaps, with -irregular arms thrust back into the less sterile land. They rode down a -steep, rocky trail and came out into the Sinks. - -It was an odd, forbidding place, and the farther up the gravelly bottom -they rode, the more forbidding it became. Bud thought that in the time -when Indians were dangerous as she-bears the Sinks would not be a place -where a man would want to ride. There were too many jutting crags, too -many unsuspected, black holes that led back--no one knew just where. - -Honey led the way to an irregular circle of waterwashed cobbles and -Bud peered down fifty feet to another dry, gravelly bottom seemingly a -duplicate of the upper surface. She rode on past other caves, and let -him look down into other holes. There were faint rumblings in some of -these, but in none was there any water showing save in stagnant pools in -the rock where the rain had fallen. - -"There's one cave I like to go into," said Honey at last. "It's a little -farther on, but we have time enough. There's a spring inside, and we -can eat our sandwiches. It isn't dark-there are openings to the top, and -lots of funny, winding passages. That," she finished thrillingly, "is -the place the Indians claim is haunted." - -Bud did not shudder convincingly, and they rode slowly forward, picking -their way among the rocks. The cave yawned wide open to the sun, which -hung on the top of Catrock Peak. They dismounted, anchored the reins -with rocks and went inside. - -When Bud had been investigative Buddy, he had explored more caves than -he could count. He had filched candles from his mother and had crept -back and back until the candle flame flickered warning that he was -nearing the "damps" Indians always did believe caves were haunted, -probably because they did not understand the "damps", and thought evil -spirits had taken those who went in and never returned. Buddy had once -been lost in a cave for four harrowing hours, and had found his way out -by sheer luck, passing the skeleton of an Indian and taking the tomahawk -as a souvenir. - -Wherefore this particular cave, with a spring back fifty feet from the -entrance where a shaft of sunlight struck the rock through some obscure -slit in the rock, had no thrill for him. But the floor was of fine, -white sand, and the ceiling was knobby and grotesque, and he was quite -willing to sit there beside the spring and eat two sandwiches and talk -foolishness with Honey, using that part of his mind which was not busy -with the complexities of winning money on the speed of his horses when -three horses represented his entire business capital, and with wondering -what was wrong with Burroback Valley, that three persons of widely -different viewpoints had felt it necessary to caution him,--and had -couched their admonitions in such general terms that he could not feel -the force of their warning. - -He was thinking back along his life to where false alarms of Indian -outbreaks had played a very large part in the Tomahawk's affairs, and -how little of the ranch work would ever have been done had they listened -to every calamity howler that came along. Honey was talking, and he was -answering partly at random, when she suddenly laughed and got up. - -"You must be in love, Bud Birnie. You just said 'yes' when I asked you -if you didn't think water snakes would be coming out this fall with -their stripes running round them instead of lengthwise! You didn't hear -a word--now, did you?" - -"I heard music," Bud lied gallantly, "and I knew it was your voice. I'd -probably say yes if you asked me whether the moon wouldn't look better -with a ruffle around it." - -"I'll say the moon will be wondering where we are, if we don't start -back. The sun's down." - -Bud got up from sitting cross-legged like a Turk, helped Honey to her -feet--and felt her fingers clinging warmly to his own. He led the way -to the cave's mouth, not looking at her. "Great sunset," he observed -carelessly, glancing up at the ridge while he held her horse for her to -mount. - -Honey showed that she was perfectly at home in the saddle. She rode on -ahead, leaving Bud to mount and follow. He was just swinging leisurely -into the saddle when Stopper threw his head around, glancing back -toward the level just beyond the cave. At the same instant Bud heard the -familiar, unmistakable swish of a rope headed his way. - -He flattened himself along Stopper's left shoulder as the loop settled -and tightened on the saddle horn, and dropped on to the ground as -Stopper whirled automatically to the right and braced himself against -the strain. Bud turned half kneeling, his gun in his hand ready for the -shot he expected would follow the rope. But Stopper was in action-the -best ropehorse the Tomahawk had ever owned. For a few seconds he stood -braced, his neck arched, his eyes bright and watchful. Then he leaped -forward, straight at the horse and the rider who was in the act of -leveling his gun. The horse hesitated, taken unaware by the onslaught. -When he started to run Stopper was already passing him, turning sharply -to the right again so that the rope raked the horse's front legs. Two -jumps and Stopper had stopped, faced the horse and stood braced again, -his ears perked knowingly while he waited for the flop. - -It came--just as it always did come when Stopper got action on the end -of a rope. Horse and rider came down together. They would not get up -until Bud wished it--he could trust Stopper for that--so Bud walked over -to the heap, his gun ready for action--and that, too, could be trusted -to perform with what speed and precision was necessary. There would be -no hasty shooting, however; Buddy had learned to save his bullets for -real need when ammunition was not to be had for the asking, and grown-up -Bud had never outgrown the habit. - -He picked up the fellow's six-shooter which he had dropped when he fell, -and stood sizing up the situation. - -By the neckerchief drawn across his face it was a straight case of -holdup. Bud stooped and yanked off the mask and looked into the glaring -eyes of one whom he had never before seen. - -"Well, how d'yuh like it, far as you've got?" Bud asked curiously. -"Think you were holding up a pilgrim, or what?" - -Just then, BING-GG sang a rifle bullet from the ridge above the cave. -Bud looked that way and spied a man standing half revealed against the -rosy clouds that were already dulling as dusk crept up from the low -ground. It was a long shot for a six-shooter, but Buddy used to shoot -antelope almost that far, so Bud lifted his arm and straightened it, -just as if he were pointing a finger at the man, and fired. He had the -satisfaction of seeing the figure jerk backward and go off over the -ridge in a stooping kind of run. - -"He'd better hurry back if he wants another shot at me," Bud grinned. -"It'll be so dark down here in a minute he couldn't pick me up with his -front sight if I was--as big a fool as you are. How about it? I'll just -lead you into camp, I think--but you sure as hell couldn't get a job -roping gateposts, on the strength of this little exhibition." - -He went over to Stopper and untied his own rope, giving an approving pat -to that business-like animal. "Hope your leg isn't broken or anything," -he said to the man when he returned and passed the loop over the -fellow's head and shoulders, drawing it rather snugly around his body -and pinning his arms at the elbows. "It would be kind of unpleasant if -they happen to take a notion to make you walk all the way to jail." - -He beckoned Stopper, who immediately moved up, slackening the rope. The -thrown horse drew up his knees, gave a preliminary heave and scrambled -to his feet, Bud taking care that the man was pulled free and safe. The -fellow stood up sulkily defiant, unable to rest much of his weight on -his left leg. - -Bud had ten busy minutes, and it was not until they were both mounted -and headed for Little Lost, the captive with his arms tied behind him, -his feet tied together under the horse, which Bud led, that Bud had time -to wonder what it was all about. Then he began to look for Honey, who -had disappeared. But in the softened light of the rising moon mingling -with the afterglow of sunset, he saw the deep imprints of her horse's -hoofs where he had galloped homeward. Bud did not think she ran away -because she was frightened; she had seemed too sure of herself for that. -She had probably gone for help. - -A swift suspicion that the attack might have been made from jealousy -died when Bud looked again at his prisoner. The man was swarthy, low of -brow--part Indian, by the look of him. Honey would never give the fellow -a second thought. So that brought him to the supposition that robbery -had been intended, and the inference was made more logical when Bud -remembered that Marian had warned him against something of the sort. -Probably he and Honey had been followed into the Sinks, and even though -Bud had not seen this man at the races, his partner up on the ridge -might have been there. It was all very simple, and Bud, having arrived -at the obvious conclusion, touched Stopper into a lope and arrived at -Little Lost just as Dave Truman and three of his men were riding down -into Sunk Creek ford on their way to the Sinks. They pulled up, staring -hard at Dave and his captive. Dave spoke first. - -"Honey said you was waylaid and robbed or killed--both, we took it, from -her account. How'd yuh come to get the best of it so quick?" - -"Why, his horse got tangled up in the rope and fell down, and fell on -top of him," Bud explained cheerfully. "I was bringing him in. He's -a bad citizen, I should judge, but he didn't do me any damage, as it -turned out, so I don't know what to do with him. I'll just turn him over -to you, I think." - -"Hell! I don't want him," Dave protested. "I'll pass him along to the -sheriff--he may know something about him. Nelse and Charlie, you take -and run him in to Crater and turn him over to Kline. You tell Kline what -he done--or tried to do. Was he alone, Bud?" - -"He had a partner up on the ridge, so far off I couldn't swear to him if -I saw him face to face. I took a shot at him, and I think I nicked him. -He ducked, and there weren't any more rifle bullets coming my way." - -"You nicked him with your six-shooter? And him so far off you couldn't -recognize him again?" Dave looked at Bud sharply. "That's purty good -shootin', strikes me." - -"Well, he stood up against the sky-line, and he wasn't more than -seventy-five yards," Bud explained. "I've dropped antelope that far, -plenty of times. The light was bad, this evening." - -"Antelope," Dave repeated meditatively, and winked at his men. "All -right, Bud--we'll let it stand at antelope. Boys, you hit for Crater -with this fellow. You ought to make it there and back by tomorrow noon, -all right." - -Nelse took the lead rope from Bud and the two started off up the creek, -meaning to strike the road from Little Lost to Crater, the county seat -beyond Gold Gap mountains. Bud rode on to the ranch with his boss, and -tried to answer Dave's questions satisfactorily without relating his own -prowess or divulging too much of Stopper's skill; which was something of -a problem for his wits. - -Honey ran out to meet him and had to be assured over and over that he -was not hurt, and that he had lost nothing but his temper and the ride -home with her in the moonlight. She was plainly upset and anxious that -he should not think her cowardly, to leave him that way. - -"I looked back and saw a man throwing his rope, and you--it looked as if -he had dragged you off the horse. I was sure I saw you falling. So I ran -my horse all the way home, to get Uncle Dave and the boys," she told -him tremulously. And then she added, with her tantalizing half smile, "I -believe that horse of mine could beat Smoky or Skeeter, if I was scared -that bad at the beginning of a race." - -Bud, in sheer gratitude for her anxiety over him, patted Honey's hand -and told her she must have broken the record, all right, and that she -had done exactly the right thing. And Honey went to bed happy that -night. - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN: EVEN MUSHROOMS HELP - -Bud wanted to have a little confidential talk with Marian. He hoped that -she would be willing to tell him a great deal more than could be written -on one side of a cigarette paper, and he was curious to hear what it -was. On the other hand, he wanted somehow to let her know that he was -anxious to help her in any way possible. She needed help, of that he was -sure. - -Lew returned on Tuesday, with a vile temper and rheumatism in his left -shoulder so that he could not work, but stayed around the house and too -evidently made his wife miserable by his presence. On Wednesday morning -Marian had her hair dressed so low over her ears that she resembled a -lady of old Colonial days--but she did not quite conceal from Bud's -keen eyes the ugly bruise on her temple. She was pale and her lips were -compressed as if she were afraid to relax lest she burst out in tears or -in a violent denunciation of some kind. Bud dared not look at her, nor -at Lew, who sat glowering at Bud's right hand. He tried to eat, tried to -swallow his coffee, and finally gave up the attempt and left the table. - -In getting up he touched Lew's shoulder with his elbow, and Lew let out -a bellow of pain and an oath, and leaned away from him, his right hand -up to ward off another hurt. - -"Pardon me. I forgot your rheumatism," Bud apologized perfunctorily, his -face going red at the epithet. Marian, coming toward him with a plate -of biscuits, looked him full in the eyes and turned her glance to her -husband's back while her lips curled in the bitterest, the most scornful -smile Bud had ever seen on a woman's face. She did not speak--speech -was impossible before that tableful of men--but Bud went out feeling as -though she had told him that her contempt for Lew was beyond words, and -that his rheumatism brought no pity whatever. - -Wednesday passed, Thursday came, and still there was no chance to speak -a word in private. The kitchen drudge was hedged about by open ears and -curious eyes, and save at meal-time she was invisible to the men unless -they glimpsed her for a moment in the kitchen door. - -Thursday brought a thunder storm with plenty of rain, and in the drizzle -that held over until Friday noon Bud went out to an old calf shed -which he had discovered in the edge of the pasture, and gathered his -neckerchief full of mushrooms. Bud hated mushrooms, but he carried them -to the machine shed and waited until he was sure that Honey was in the -sitting room playing the piano--and hitting what Bud called a blue note -now and then--and that Lew was in the bunk-house with the other men, and -Dave and old Pop were in Pop's shack. Then, and then only, Bud took long -steps to the kitchen door, carrying his mushrooms as tenderly as though -they were eggs for hatching. - -Marian was up to her dimpled elbows in bread dough when he went in. -Honey was still groping her way lumpily through the Blue Danube Waltz, -and Bud stood so that he could look out through the white-curtained -window over the kitchen table and make sure that no one approached the -house unseen. - -"Here are some mushrooms," he said guardedly, lest his voice should -carry to Honey. "They're just an excuse. Far as I'm concerned you can -feed them to the hogs. I like things clean and natural and wholesome, -myself. I came to find out what's the matter, Mrs. Morris. Is there -anything I can do? I took the hint you gave me in the note, Sunday, and -I discovered right away you knew what you were talking about. That was a -holdup down in the Sinks. It couldn't have been anything else. But -they wouldn't have got anything. I didn't have more than a dollar in my -pocket." - -Marian turned her head, and listened to the piano, and glanced up at -him. - -"I also like things clean and natural and wholesome," she said quietly. -"That's why I tried to put you on your guard. You don't seem to fit in, -somehow, with--the surroundings. I happen to know that the races held -here every Sunday are just thinly veiled attempts to cheat the unwary -out of every cent they have. I should advise you, Mr. Birnie, to be very -careful how you bet on any horses." - -"I shall," Bud smiled. "Pop gave me some good advice, too, about running -horses. He says, 'It's every fellow for himself, and mercy toward none.' -I'm playing by their rule, and Pop expects to make a few dollars, too. -He said he'd stand by me." - -"Oh! He did?" Marian's voice puzzled Bud. She kneaded the bread -vigorously for a minute. "Don't depend too much on Pop. He's--variable. -And don't go around with a dollar in your pocket--unless you don't mind -losing that dollar. There are men in this country who would willingly -dispense with the formality of racing a horse in order to get your -money." - -"Yes--I've discovered one informal method already. I wish I knew how I -could help YOU." - -"Help me--in what way?" Marian glanced out of the window again as if -that were a habit she had formed. - -"I don't know. I wish I did. I thought perhaps you had some trouble -that--My mother had the same look in her eyes when we came back to -the ranch after some Indian trouble, and found the house burned and -everything destroyed but the ground itself. She didn't say anything -much. She just began helping father plan how we'd manage until we could -get material and build another cabin, and make our supplies hold out. -She didn't complain. But her eyes had the same look I've seen in yours, -Mrs. Morris. So I feel as if I ought to help you, just as I'd help -mother." Bud's face had been red and embarrassed when he began, but his -earnestness served to erase his selfconsciousness. - -"You're different--just like mother," he went on when Marian did not -answer. "You don't belong here drudging in this kitchen. I never saw a -woman doing a man's work before. They ought to have a man cooking for -all these hulking men." - -"Oh, the kitchen!" Marian exclaimed impatiently. "I don't mind the -cooking. That's the least--" - -"It isn't right, just the same. I--I don't suppose that's it altogether. -I'm not trying to find out what the trouble is--but I wish you'd -remember that I'm ready to do anything in the world that I can. You -won't misunderstand that, I'm sure." - -"No-o," said Marian slowly. "But you see, there's nothing that you can -do--except, perhaps, make things worse for me." Then, to lighten that -statement, she smiled at him. "Just now you can help me very much if you -will go in and play something besides the Blue Danube Waltz. I've had -to listen to that ever since Honora sent away for the music with the -winter's grocery order, last October. Tell Honora you got her some -mushrooms. And don't trust anyone. If you must bet on the horses, do so -with your eyes open. They're cheats--and worse, some of them." - -Bud's glance followed hers through the window that overlooked the -corrals and the outbuildings. Lew was coming up to the house with a -slicker over his head to keep off the drizzle. - -"Well, remember I'd do anything for you that I'd do for my mother or my -sister Dulcie. And I wish you'd call on me just as they would, if you -get in a pinch and need me. If I know you'll do that I'll feel a lot -better satisfied." - -"If I need you be sure that I shall let you know. And I'll say -that 'It's a comfort to have met one white man,'" Marian assured him -hurriedly, her anxious eyes on her approaching husband. - -She need not have worried over his coming, so far as Bud was concerned. -For Bud was in the sitting-room and had picked Honey off the piano -stool, had given her a playful shake and was playing the Blue Danube -as its composer intended that it should be played, when Lew entered the -kitchen and kicked the door shut behind him. - -Bud spent the forenoon conscientiously trying to teach Honey that the -rests are quite as important to the tempo of a waltz measure as are the -notes. Honey's talent for music did not measure up to her talent for -coquetry; she received about five dollars' worth of instruction and no -blandishments whatever, and although she no doubt profited thereby, at -last she balked and put her lazy white hands over her ears and refused -to listen to Bud's inexorable "One, two, three, one, two, three-and one, -two, three." Whereupon Bud laughed and returned to the bunk-house. - -He arrived in the middle of a heated argument over Jeff Hall's tactics -in racing Skeeter, and immediately was called upon for his private, -personal opinion of Sunday's race. Bud's private, personal opinion -being exceedingly private and personal, he threw out a skirmish line of -banter. - -Smoky could run circles around that Skeeter horse, he boasted, and -Jeff's manner of riding was absolutely unimportant, non-essential and -immaterial. He was mighty glad that holdup man had fallen down, last -Sunday, before he got his hands on any money, because that money was -going to talk long and loud to Jeff Hall next Sunday. Now that Bud had -started running his horse for money, working for wages looked foolish -and unprofitable. He was now working merely for healthful exercise and -to pass the time away between Sundays. His real mission in life, he had -discovered, was to teach Jeff's bunch that gambling is a sin. - -The talk was carried enthusiastically to the dinner table, where Bud -ignored the scowling proximity of Lew and repeated his boasts in a -revised form as an indirect means of letting Marian know that he meant -to play the Burroback game in the Burroback way--or as nearly as he -could--and keep his honesty more or less intact. He did not think she -would approve, but he wanted her to know. - -Once, when Buddy was fifteen, four thoroughbred cows and four calves -disappeared mysteriously from the home ranch just before the calves had -reached branding age. Buddy rode the hills and the valleys every spare -minute for two weeks in search of them, and finally, away over the ridge -where an undesirable neighbor was getting a start in cattle, Buddy found -the calves in a fenced field with eight calves belonging--perhaps--to -the undesirable neighbor. - -Buddy did not ride down to the ranch and accuse the neighbor of stealing -the calves. Instead, he painstakingly sought a weak place in the fence, -made a very accidental looking hole and drove out the twelve calves, -took them over the ridge to Tomahawk and left them in a high, mountain -meadow pretty well surrounded by matted thickets. There, because there -was good grass and running water, the calves seemed quite as happy as in -the field. - -Then Buddy hurried home and brought a branding iron and a fresh horse, -and by working very hard and fast, he somehow managed to plant a deep -tomahawk brand on each one of the twelve calves. He returned home very -late and very proud of himself, and met his father face to face as -he was putting away the iron. Explanations and a broken harness strap -mingled painfully in Buddy's memory for a long time afterwards, but the -full effect of the beating was lost because Buddy happened to hear Bob -Birnie confide to mother that the lad had served the old cattle-thief -right, and that any man who could start with one thoroughbred cow and -in four years have sufficient increase from that cow to produce eight -calves a season, ought to lose them all. - -Buddy had not needed his father's opinion to strengthen his own -conviction that he had performed a worthy deed and one of which no man -need feel ashamed. Indeed, Buddy considered the painful incident of -the buggy strap a parental effort at official discipline, and held no -particular grudge against his father after the welts had disappeared -from his person. - -Wherefore Bud, the man, held unswervingly to the ethical standard of -Buddy the boy. If Burroback Valley was scheming to fleece a stranger at -their races and rob him by force if he happened to win, then Bud felt -justified in getting every dollar possible out of the lot of them. At -any rate, he told himself, he would do his darndest. It was plain enough -that Pop was trying to make an opportunity to talk confidentially, but -with a dozen men on the place it was easy enough to avoid being alone -without arousing the old man's suspicions. Marian had told him to -trust no one; and Bud, with his usual thoroughness, applied the warning -literally. - -Sunday morning he caught up Smoky and rode him to the corral. Smoky -had recovered from his lameness, and while Bud groomed him for the -afternoon's running the men of Little Lost gathered round him and -offered advice and encouragement, and even volunteered to lend him money -if he needed it. But Bud told them to put up their own bets, and never -to worry about him. Their advice and their encouragement, however, he -accepted as cheerfully as they were given. - -"Think yuh can beat Skeeter, young feller?" Pop shambled up to inquire -anxiously, his beard brushing Bud's shoulder while he leaned close. -"Remember what I told ye. You stick by me an' I'll stick by you. You -shook on it, don't forgit that, young feller." - -Bud had forgotten, but he made haste to redeem his promise. "Last -Sunday, Pop, I had to play it alone. To-day-well, if you want to make an -honest dollar, you know what to do, don't you?" - -"Sho! I'm bettin' on yore horse t'day, an' mind ye, I want to see my -money doubled! But that there lameness in his left hind ankle--I don't -see but what that kinda changes my opinion a little mite. You shore he -won't quit on ye in the race, now? Don't lie to ole Pop, young feller!" - -"Say! He 's the gamest little horse in the state, Pop. He never has -quit, and he never will." Bud stood up and laid a friendly hand on the -old fellow's shoulder. "Pop, I'm running him to-day to win. That's the -truth. I'm going to put all I've got on him. Is that good enough?" - -"Shucks almighty! That's good enough fer me,--plenty good fer me," Pop -cackled, and trotted off to find someone who had little enough faith in -Smoky to wager a two-to-one against him. - -It seemed to Bud that the crowd was larger than that of a week ago, and -there was no doubt whatever that the betting was more feverish, and that -Jeff meant that day to retrieve his losses. Bud passed up a very good -chance to win on other races, and centred all his betting on Smoky. He -had been throughout the week boastful and full of confidence, and now he -swaggered and lifted his voice in arrogant challenge to all and sundry. -His three hundred dollars was on the race, and incidentally, he never -left Smoky from the time he led him up from pasture until the time came -when he and Jeff Hall rode side by side down to the quarter post. - -They came up in a small whirlwind of speed and dust, and Smoky was under -the wire to his ears when Skeeter's nose showed beyond it. Little Lost -was jubilant. Jeff Hall and his backers were not. - -Bud's three hundred dollars had in less than a minute increased to a -little over nine hundred, though all his bets had been moderate. By the -time he had collected, his pockets were full and his cocksureness had -increased to such an unbearable crowing that Jeff Hall's eyes were -venomous as a snake's. Jeff had been running to win, that day, and he -had taken odds on Skeeter that had seemed to him perfectly safe. - -"I'll run yuh horse for horse!" he bellowed and spat out an epithet that -sent Bud at him white-lipped. - -"Damn yuh, ride down to the quarter post and I'll show you some -running!" Bud yelled back. "And after you've swallowed dust all the way -up the track, you go with me to where the women can't see and I'll lick -the living tar outa you!" - -Jeff swore and wheeled Skeeter toward the starting post, beckoning -Bud to follow. And Bud, hastily tucking in a flapping bulge of striped -shirt, went after him. At that moment he was not Bud, but Buddy in one -of his fighting moods, with his plans forgotten while he avenged an -insult. - -Men lined up at the wire to judge for themselves the finish, and Dave -Truman rode alone to start them. No one doubted but that the start would -be fair--Jeff and Bud would see to that! - -For the first time in months the rein-ends stung Smoky's flanks when he -was in his third jump. Just once Bud struck, and was ashamed of the blow -as it fell. Smoky did not need that urge, but he flattened his ears and -came down the track a full length ahead of Skeeter, and held the pace -to the wire and beyond, where he stopped in a swirl of sand and went -prancing back, ready for another race if they asked it of him. - -"Guess Dave'll have to bring out Boise and take the swellin' outa that -singin' kid's pocket," a hardfaced man shouted as Jeff slid off -Skeeter and went over to where his cronies stood bunched and conferring -earnestly together. - -"Not to-day, he needn't. I've had all the excitement I want; and I'd -like to have time to count my money before I lose it," Bud retorted. -"Next Sunday, if it's a clear day and the sign is right, I might run -against Boise if it's worth my while. Say, Jeff, seeing you're playing -hard luck, I won't lick you for what you called me. And just to show my -heart's right, I'll lend you Skeeter to ride home. Or if you want to buy -him back, you can have him for sixty dollars or such a matter. He 's a -nice little horse,--if you aren't in a hurry!" - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WHY BUD MISSED A DANCE - -"Bud, you're fourteen kinds of a damn fool and I can prove it," Jerry -announced without prelude of any kind save, perhaps, the viciousness -with which he thrust a pitchfork into a cock of hay. The two were -turning over hay-cocks that had been drenched with another unwelcome -storm, and they had not been talking much. "Forking" soggy hay when -the sun is blistering hot and great, long-billed mosquitoes are boring -indefatigably into the back of one's neck is not a pastime conducive to -polite and animated conversation. - -"Fly at it," Bud invited, resting his fork while he scratched a smarting -shoulder. "But you can skip some of the evidence. I know seven of the -kinds, and I plead guilty. Any able-bodied man who will deliberately -make a barbecue of himself for a gang of blood-thirsty insects ought to -be hanged. What's the rest?" - -"You can call that mild," Jerry stated severely. "Bud, you're playing to -lose the shirt off your back. You've got a hundred dollar forfeit up -on next Sunday's running match, so you'll run if you have to race Boise -afoot. That's all right if you want the risk--but did it ever occur to -you that if all the coin in the neighborhood is collected in one man's -pocket, there'll be about as many fellows as there are losers, that will -lay awake till sun-up figuring how to heel him and ride off with the -roll? I ain't over-stocked with courage, myself. I'd rather be broke in -Burroback Valley than owner of wealth. It's healthier." - -He thrust his fork into another settled heap, lifted it clear of the -ground with one heave of his muscular shoulders, and heard within a -strident buzzing. He held the hay poised until a mottled gray -snake writhed into view, its ugly jaws open and its fangs showing -malevolently. - -"Grab him with your fork, Bud," Jerry said coolly. "A rattler--the -valley's full of 'em,--some of 'em 's human." - -The snake was dispatched and the two went on to the next hay-cock. -Bud was turning over more than the hay, and presently he spoke more -seriously than was his habit with Jerry. - -"You're full enough of warnings, Jerry. What do you want me to do about -it?" - -"Drift," Jerry advised. "There's moral diseases just as catching as -smallpox. This part of the country has been settled up by men that came -here first because they wanted to hide out. They've slipped into darn -crooked ways, and the rest has either followed suit or quit. All through -this rough country. It's the same-over in the Black Rim, across Thunder -Mountains, and beyond that to the Sawtooth, a man that's honest is a -man that's off his range. I'd like to see you pull out--before you're -planted." - -Bud looked at Jerry, studied him, feature by feature. "Then what are you -doing here?" he demanded bluntly. "Why haven't you pulled out?" - -"Me?" Jerry bit his lip. "Bud, I'm going to take a chance and tell you -the God's-truth. I dassent. I'm protected here because I keep my mouth -shut, and because they know I've got to or they can hand me over. I had -some trouble. I'm on the dodge, and Little Lost is right handy to the -Sinks and--Catrock Canyon. There ain't a sheriff in Idaho that would -have one chance in a thousand of getting me here. But you--say!" He -faced Bud. "You ain't on the dodge, too, are yuh?" - -"Nope," Bud grinned. "Over at the Muleshoe they seemed to think I was. I -just struck out for myself, and I want to show up at home some day with -a stake I made myself. It's just a little argument with my dad that I -want to settle. And," he added frankly, "I seem to have struck the -right place to make money quickly. The very fact that they're a bunch of -crooks makes my conscience clear on the point of running my horse. I'm -not cheating them out of a cent. If Jeff's horse is faster than Smoky, -Jeff is privileged to let him out and win if he can. It isn't my fault -if he 's playing to let me win from the whole bunch in the hope that -he can hold me up afterwards and get the roll. It's straight 'give and -take'--and so far I've been taking." - -Jerry worked for a while, moodily silent. "What I'd like is to see you -take the trail; while the takin's good," he said later. "I've got to -keep my mouth shut. But I like yuh, Bud. I hate like hell to see you -walking straight into a trap." - -"Say, I'm as easily trapped as a mountain lion," Bud told him -confidently. - -Whereat Jerry looked at him pityingly. "You going to that dance up at -Morgan's?" - -"Sure! I'm going to take Honey and--I think Mrs. Morris if she decides -to go. Honey mentioned it last night. Why?" - -"Oh, nothing." Jerry shouldered his fork and went off to where a jug of -water was buried in the hay beside a certain boulder which marked -the spot. He drank long, stopped for a short gossip with Charley, who -strolled over for a drink, and went to work on another row. - -Bud watched him, and wondered if Jerry had changed rows to avoid -further talk with him; and whether Jerry had merely been trying to get -information from him, and had either learned what he wanted to know, -or had given up the attempt. Bud reviewed mentally their desultory -conversation and decided that he had accidentally been very discreet. -The only real bit of information he had given Jerry was the fact that he -was not "on the dodge"--a criminal in fear of the law--and that surely -could harm no man. - -That he intended to run against Boise on Sunday was common knowledge; -also that he had a hundred dollar forfeit up on the race. And that he -was going to a dance with Honey was of no consequence that he could see. - -Bud was beginning to discount the vague warnings he had received. Unless -something definite came within his knowledge he would go about his -business exactly as if Burroback Valley were a church-going community. -He would not "drift." - -But after all he did not go to the dance with Honey, or with anyone. He -came to the supper-table freshly shaved and dressed for the occasion, -ate hungrily and straightway became a very sick young man. He did not -care if there were forty dances in the Valley that night. His head was -splitting, his stomach was in a turmoil. He told Jerry to go ahead with -Honey, and if he felt better after a while he would follow. Jerry at -first was inclined to scepticism, and accused Bud of crawfishing at the -last minute. But within ten minutes Bud had convinced him so completely -that Jerry insisted upon staying with him. By then Bud was too sick to -care what was being done, or who did it. So Jerry stayed. - -Honey came to the bunk-house in her dance finery, was met in the doorway -by Jerry and was told that this was no place for a lady, and reluctantly -consented to go without her escort. - -A light shone dimly in the kitchen after the dancers had departed, -wherefore Jerry guessed that Marian had not gone with the others, -and that he could perhaps get hold of mustard for an emetic or a -plaster--Jerry was not sure which remedy would be best, and the -patient, wanting to die, would not be finicky. He found Marian measuring -something drop by drop into half a glass of water. She turned, saw who -had entered, and carefully counted three more drops, corked the bottle -tightly and slid it into her apron pocket, and held out the glass to -Jerry. - -"Give him this," she said in a soft undertone. "I'm sorry, but I hadn't -a chance to say a word to the boy, and so I couldn't think of any other -way of making sure he would not go up to Morgan's. I put something into -his coffee to make him sick. You may tell him, Jerry, if you like. I -should, if I had the chance. This will counteract the effects of the -other so that he will be all right in a couple of hours." - -Jerry took the glass and stood looking at her steadily. "That sure was -one way to do it," he observed, with a quirk of the lips. "It's none of -my business, and I ain't asking any questions, but--" - -"Very sensible, I'm sure," Marian interrupted him. "I wish he'd leave -the country. Can't you--?" - -"No. I told him to pull out, and he just laughed at me. I knowed they -was figuring on ganging together to-night--" - -Marian closed her hands together with a gesture of impatience. "Jerry, I -wish I knew just how bad you are!" she exclaimed. "Do you dare stand by -him? Because this thing is only beginning. I couldn't bear to see him go -up there to-night, absolutely unsuspecting--and so I made him sick. Tell -that to anyone, and you can make me--" - -"Say, I ain't a damned skunk!" Jerry muttered. "I'm bad enough, maybe. -At any rate you think so." Then, as usually happened, Jerry decided to -hold his tongue. He turned and lifted the latch of the screen door. "You -sure made a good job of it," he grinned. "I'll go an' pour this into Bud -'fore he loses his boots!" - -He did so, and saved Bud's boots and half a night's sleep besides. -Moreover, when Bud, fully recovered, searched his memory of that supper -and decided that it was the sliced cucumbers that had disagreed with -him, Jerry gravely assured him that it undoubtedly was the combination -of cucumber and custard pie, and that Bud was lucky to be alive after -such reckless eating. - -Having missed the dance altogether, Bud looked forward with impatience -to Sunday. It is quite possible that others shared with him that -impatience, though we are going to adhere for a while to Bud's point of -view and do no more than guess at the thoughts hidden behind the fair -words of certain men in the Valley. - -Pop's state of mind we are privileged to know, for Pop was seen making -daily pilgrimage to the pasture where he could watch Smoky limping -desultorily here and there with Stopper and Sunfish. On Saturday -afternoon Bud saw Pop trying to get his hands on Smoky, presumably to -examine the lame ankle. But three legs were all Smoky needed to keep him -out of Pop's reach. Pop forgot his rheumatism and ran pretty fast for a -man his age, and when Bud arrived Pop's vocabulary had limbered up to a -more surprising activity than his legs. - -"Want to bet on yourself, Pop?" Bud called out when Pop was running -back and forth, hopefully trying to corner Smoky in a rocky draw. "I'm -willing to risk a dollar on you, anyway." - -Pop whirled upon him and hurled sentences not written in the book of -Parlor Entertainment. The gist of it was that he had been trying all -the week to have a talk with Bud, and Bud had plainly avoided him after -promising to act upon Pop's advice and run so as to make some money. - -"Well, I made some," Bud defended. "If you didn't, it's just because you -didn't bet strong enough." - -"I want to look at that horse's hind foot," Pop insisted. - -"No use. He's too lame to run against Boise. You can see that yourself." - -Pop eyed Bud suspiciously, pulling his beard. "Are you fixin' to -double-cross me, young feller?" he wanted to know. "I went and made some -purty big bets on this race. If you think yo're goin' to fool ole Pop, -you 'll wish you hadn't. You got enemies already in this valley, lemme -tell yuh. The Muleshoe ain't any bunch to fool with, and I'm willing -to say 't they're laying fer yuh. They think," he added shrewdly, "'t -you're a spotter, or something. Air yuh?" - -"Of course I am, Pop! I've spotted a way to make money and have -fun while I do it." Bud looked at the old man, remembered Marian's -declaration that Pop was not very reliable, and groped mentally for a -way to hearten the old man without revealing anything better kept to -himself, such as the immediate effect of a horse hair tied just above -a horse's hoof, also the immediate result of removing that hair. -Wherefore, he could not think of much to say, except that he would not -attempt to run a lame horse against Boise. - -"All I can say is, to-morrow morning you keep your eyes open, Pop, and -your tongue between your teeth. And no matter what comes up, you use -your own judgment." - -To-morrow morning Pop showed that he was taking Bud's advice. When the -crowd began to gather--much earlier than usual, by the way, and much -larger than any crowd Bud had seen in the valley--Pop was trotting here -and there, listening and pulling his whiskers and eyeing Bud sharply -whenever that young man appeared in his vicinity. - -Bud led Smoky up at noon--and Smoky was still lame. Dave looked at him -and at Bud, and grinned. "I guess that forfeit money's mine," he said in -his laconic way. "No use running that horse. I could beat him afoot." - -This was but the beginning. Others began to banter and jeer Bud, Jeff's -crowd taunting him with malicious glee. The singin' kid was going to -have some of the swelling taken out of his head, they chortled. He had -been crazy enough to put up a forfeit on to-day's race, and now his -horse had just three legs to run on. - -"Git out afoot, kid!" Jeff Hall yelled. "If you kin run half as fast as -you kin talk, you'll beat Boise four lengths in the first quarter!" - -Bud retorted in kind, and led Smoky around the corral as if he hoped -that the horse would recover miraculously just to save his master's -pride. The crowd hooted to see how Smoky hobbled along, barely touching -the toe of his lame foot to the ground. Bud led him back to the manger -piled with new hay, and faced the jeering crowd belligerently. Bud -noticed several of the Muleshoe men in the crowd, no doubt drawn to -Little Lost by the talk of Bud's spectacular winnings for two Sundays. -Hen was there, and Day Masters and Cub. Also there were strangers who -had ridden a long way, judging by their sweaty horses. In the midst of -the talk and laughter Dave led out Boise freshly curried and brushed and -arching his neck proudly. - -"No use, Bud," he said tolerantly. "I guess you're set back that forfeit -money--unless you want to go through the motions of running a lame -horse." - -"No, sir, I'm not going to hand over any forfeit money without making -a fight for it!" Bud told him, anger showing in his voice. "I'm no such -piker as that. I won't run Smoky, lame as he is "--Bud probably nudged -his own ribs when he said that!--"but if you'll make it a mile, I'll -catch up my old buckskin packhorse and run the race with him, by -thunder! He's not the quickest horse in the world, but he sure can run a -long while!" - -They yelled and slapped one another on the back, and otherwise comported -themselves as though a great joke had been told them; never dreaming, -poor fools, that a costly joke was being perpetrated. - -"Go it, kid. You run your packhorse, and I'll rive yuh five to one on -him!" a friend of Jeff Hall's yelled derisively. - -"I'll just take you up on that, and I'll make it one hundred dollars," -Bud shouted back. "I'd run a turtle for a quarter, at those odds!" - -The crowd was having hysterics when Bud straddled a Little Lost horse -and, loudly declaring that he would bring back Sunfish, led Smoky -limping back to the pasture. He returned soon, leading the buckskin. The -crowd surged closer, gave Sunfish a glance and whooped again. Bud's face -was red with apparent anger, his eyes snapped. He faced them defiantly, -his hand on Sunfish's thin, straggling mane. - -"You're such good sports, you'll surely appreciate my feelings when I -say that this horse is mine, and I'm going to run him and back him to -win!" he cried. "I may be a darn fool, but I'm no piker. I know what -this horse can do when I try to catch him up on a frosty morning--and -I'm going to see if he can't go just as fast and just as long when I'm -on him as he can when I'm after him." - -"We'll go yuh, kid! I'll bet yuh five to one," a man shouted. "You name -the amount yourself." - -"Fifty," said Bud, and the man nodded and jotted down the amount. - -"Bud, you're a damn fool. I'll bet you a hundred and make it ten to -one," drawled Dave, stroking Boise's face affectionately while he looked -superciliously at Sunfish standing half asleep in the clamor, with his -head sagging at the end of his long, ewe neck. "But if you'll take my -advice, go turn that fool horse back in the pasture and run the bay if -you must run something." - -"The bay's a rope horse. I don't want to spoil him by running him. That -little horse saved my life, down in the Sinks. No, Sunfish has run times -enough from me--now he 's got to run for me, by thunder. I'll bet on -him, too!" - -Jeff pushed his way through to Bud. He was smiling with that crafty -look in his eyes which should have warned a child that the smile went no -deeper than his lips. - -"Bud, doggone it, I like yore nerve. Besides, you owe me something for -the way you trimmed me last Sunday. I'll just give you fifteen to one, -and you put up Skeeter at seventy-five, and as much money as yo're a -mind to. A pile of it come out of my pocket, so-" - -"Well, don't holler your head off, Jeff. How's two hundred?" - -"Suits me, kid." He winked at the others, who knew how sure a thing he -had to back his wager. "It 'll be a lot of money if I should lose--" -He turned suddenly to Dave. "How much was that you put up agin the kid, -Dave?" - -"One hundred dollars, and a ten-to-one shot I win," Dave drawled. "That -ought to satisfy yuh it ain't a frame-up. The kid's crazy, that's all." - -"Oh! Am I?" Bud turned hotly. "Well, I've bet half of all the money -I have in the world. And I'm game for the other half--" He stopped -abruptly, cast one look at Sunfish and another at Boise, stepping about -uneasily, his shiny coat rippling, beautiful. He turned and combed -Sunfish's scanty mane with his gloved fingers. Those nearest saw that -his lips were trembling a little and mistook his hidden emotion for -anger. - -"You got him going," a man whispered in Jeff's ear. "The kid's crazy mad. -He'll bet the shirt off his back if yuh egg him on a little more." - -Jeff must have decided to "egg" Bud on. By the time the crowd had -reached the course, and the first, more commonplace races were over, -the other half of his money was in the hands of the stake-holder, who -happened on this day to be Jerry. And the odds varied from four to one -up to Jeff Hall's scornful fifteen. - -"Bet yuh five hundred dollars against your bay horse," Lew offered when -Bud confessed that he had not another dollar to bet.-- - -"All right, it's a go with me," Bud answered recklessly. "Get his -hundred, Jerry, and put down Stopper." - -"What's that saddle worth?" another asked meaningly. - -"One hundred dollars," snapped Bud. "And if you want to go further, -there are my chaps and spurs and this silver-mounted bridle-and my boots -and hat-and I'll throw in Sunfish for whatever you say his hide's worth. -Who wants the outfit?" - -"I'll take 'em," said Jeff, and permitted Jerry and Dave to appraise the -outfit, which Bud piled contemptuously in a heap. - -He mounted Sunfish bareback with a rope halter. Bud was bareheaded and -in his sock feet. His eyes were terribly blue and bright, and his face -was flushed as a drunken man's. He glanced over to the bank where -the women and children were watching. It seemed to him that one woman -fluttered her handkerchief, and his heart beat unevenly for a minute. - -Then he was riding at a walk down the course to the farthest post, and -the crowd was laughing at the contrast between the two horses. Boise -stepped springily, tossing his head, his eyes ablaze with ardor for the -race. Beside him Sunfish walked steadily as if he were carrying a pack. -He was not a pretty horse to look at. His neck was long and thin, his -mane and tail scanty and uneven, a nondescript sorrel. His head looked -large, set on the end of that neck, his nose was dished in and his eyes -had a certain veiled look, as if he were hiding a bad disposition under -those droopy lids. Without a saddle he betrayed his high, thin withers, -the sway in his back, his high hip bones. His front legs were flat, with -long, stringy-looking muscles under his unkempt buckskin hide. Even the -women laughed at Sunfish. - -Beside them two men rode, the starter and another to see that the start -was fair. So they receded down the flat, yellow course and dwindled to -mere miniature figures against the sand, so that one could not tell one -horse from another. - -The crowd bunched, still laughing at how the singin' kid was going to -feel when he rode again to meet them. It would cure him of racing, they -said. It would be a good lesson; serve him right for coming in there and -thinking, because he had cleaned up once or twice, that he could not be -beaten. - -"Here they come," Jeff Hall announced satisfiedly, and spat into the -sand as a tiny blue puff of smoke showed beside one of the dots, and two -other dots began to grow perceptibly larger within a yellow cloud which -rolled along the earth. - -Men reined this way and that, or stood on their toes if they were afoot, -the better to see the two rolling dots. In a moment one dot seemed -larger than the other. One could glimpse the upflinging of knees as two -horses leaped closer and closer. - -"Well-l-he's keepin' Dave in sight--that's more than what I expected -he'd do," Jeff observed. - -It was Pop who suddenly gave a whoop that cracked and shrilled into -falsetto. - -"Shucks a'mighty! Dave, he's a-whippin' up to keep the KID in sight!" he -quavered. "Shucks--a'MIGHTY, he 's a-comin'!" - -He was. Lying forward flattened along Sunfish's hard-muscled shoulders, -Bud was gaining and gaining--one length, then two lengths as he shot -under the wire, slowed and rode back to find a silent crowd watching -him. - -He was clothed safely again in chaps, boots, spurs, hat--except that I -have named the articles backward; cowpuncher that he was, Bud put on his -hat before he even reached for his boots--and was collecting his wagers -relentlessly as Shylock ever took his toll, before he paid any attention -to the atmosphere around him. Then, because someone shouted a question -three inches from his ear, Bud turned and laughed as he faced them. - -"Why, sure he's from running stock! I never said he wasn't--because none -of you make-believe horsemen had sense enough to see the speed in him -and get curious. You bush-racers never saw a real race-horse before, I -guess. They aren't always pretty to look at, you know. Sunfish has -all the earmarks of speed if you know how to look for them. He's -thoroughbred; sired by Trump, out of Kansas Chippy--if that means -anything to you fellows." He looked them over, eyes meeting eyes until -his glance rested on Jeff Hall. "I've got his registration papers in my -grip, if you aren't convinced. And," he added by way of rubbing it in, -"I guess I've got about all the money there is in this valley." - -"No, you ain't!" Pop Truman cackled, teetering backward and forward -while he counted his winnings. "I bet on ye, young feller. Brought me in -something, too. It did so!" - - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WHILE THE GOING'S GOOD - -At supper Bud noticed that Marian, standing at his right side, set down -his cup of coffee with her right hand, and at the same instant he felt -her left hand fumble in his pocket and then touch his elbow. She went -on, and Bud in his haste to get outside drank his coffee so hot that it -scalded his mouth. Jerry rose up and stepped backward over the bench as -Bud passed him, and went out at his heels. - -"Go play the piano for half an hour and then meet me where you got them -mushrooms. And when you quit playing, duck quick. Tell Honey you'll be -back in a minute. Have her hunt for music for yuh while you're out--or -something like that. Don't let on." - -Bud might have questioned Jerry, but that cautious young man was already -turning back to call something--to Dave, so Bud went around the corner, -glancing into the pantry window as he passed. Marian was not in sight, -nor was Honey at the moment when he stood beside the step of the -post-office. - -Boldness carries its own talisman against danger. Bud went in--without -slamming the door behind him, you may be sure--and drew his small -notebook from his inside pocket. With that to consult frequently, he sat -down by the window where the failing light was strongest, and proceeded -to jot down imaginary figures on the paper he pulled from his coat -pocket and unfolded as if it were of no value whatever to him. The piano -playing ordered by Jerry could wait. - -What Marian had to say on this occasion could not be written upon a -cigarette paper. In effect her note was a preface to Jerry's commands. -Bud saw where she had written words and erased them so thoroughly that -the cheap paper was almost worn through. She had been afraid, poor lady, -but her fear could not prevent the writing. - -"You must leave to-night for Crater and cash the checks given you to pay -the bets. Go to Crater. If you don't know the way, keep due north after -you have crossed Gold Gap. There's the stage road, but they'll watch -that, I'm afraid. They mean to stop payment on the checks. But -first they will kill you if they can. They say you cheated with that -thoroughbred horse. They took their losses so calmly--I knew that they -meant to rob you. To show you how I know, it was Lew you shot on the -ridge that night. His rheumatism was caused by your bullet that nicked -his shoulder. So you see what sort we are--go. Don't wait--go now." - -Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, smiling at -him. - -"Well, how much is it?" she teased when she saw he had discovered her. - -Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns of figures, -his hat-brim hiding his face. - -"Over eleven thousand dollars," he announced, and twisted the paper -in his fingers while he went over to her. "Almost enough to start -housekeeping!" - -Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she pretended to -have dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to tuck the paper out of -sight. "I feel pretty much intoxicated to-night, Honey," he said. "I -think I need soothing, or something--and you know what music does to the -savage breast. Let 's play." - -"All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought you were -mad," Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the little gate in the -half partition just as Bud was vaulting the counter, which gave her -a great laugh and a chance for playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and -immediately regretted the caress. - -Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his mandolin and -played that while Honey thumped out chords for him. As he had half -expected, most of the men strayed in and perched here and there -listening just as if there had not been a most unusual horserace to -discuss before they slept. Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost -boys so thoughtful, and this silence struck him all at once as something -sinister, like a beast of prey stalking its kill. - -Two waltzes he played--and then, in the middle of a favorite two-step, -a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and Bud came as close to -swearing as a well-behaved young man may come in the presence of a lady. - -"Now I'll have to go get a new E string," he complained. "You play the -Danube for the boys--the way I taught you--while I get this fixed. I've -an extra string down in the bunk-house; it won't take five minutes to -get it." He laid the mandolin down on his chair, bolted out through the -screen door which he slammed after him to let Jerry know that he was -coming, and walked halfway to the bunk-house before he veered off around -the corner of the machine shed and ran. - -Jerry was waiting by the old shed, and without a word he led Bud behind -it where Sunfish was standing saddled and bridled. - -"You got to go, Bud, while the going's good. I'd go with yuh if I -dared," Jerry mumbled guardedly. "You hit for Crater, Bud, and put that -money in the bank. You can cut into the stage road where it crosses -Oldman Creek, if you go straight up the race track to the far end, and -follow the trail from there. You can't miss it--there ain't but one way -to go. I got yuh this horse because he's worth more'n what the other two -are, and he's faster. And Bud, if anybody rides up on yuh, shoot. Don't -monkey around about it. And you RIDE!" - -"All right," Bud muttered. "But I'll have to go down in the pasture -and get my money, first. I've got my own private bank down there, and I -haven't enough in my pockets to play penny ante more than one round." - -"Hell!" Jerry's hand lifted to Bud's shoulder and gripped it for a -minute. "That's right on the road to the Sinks, man!" He stood biting -his lips, thinking deeply, turning his head now and then as little -sounds came from the house: the waltz Honey was playing, the post-office -door slamming shut. - -"You tell me where that money's cached, Bud, and I'll go after it. I -guess you'll have to trust me--I sure wouldn't let yuh go down to the -pasture yourself right now. Where is it?" - -"Look under that flat rock right by the gate post, where the top bars -hit the ground. It's wrapped up in a handkerchief, so just bring -the package. It's been easy to tuck things under the rock when I was -putting up the bars. I'll wait here." - -"Good enough--I'd sure have felt easier if I'd known you wasn't carrying -all that money." Whereupon Jerry disappeared, and his going made no -sound. - -Bud stood beside Sunfish, wondering if he had been a fool to trust -Jerry. By his own admission Jerry was living without the law, and this -might easily be a smooth scheme of robbery. He turned and strained his -eyes into the dusk, listening, trying to hear some sound that would -show which way Jerry had gone. He was on the point of following -him--suspicion getting the better of his faith--when Sunfish moved his -head abruptly to one side, bumping Bud's head with his cheek. At the -same instant a hand touched Bud's arm. - -"I saw you from the kitchen window," Marian whispered tensely. "I was -afraid you hadn't read my note, or perhaps wouldn't pay any attention to -it. I heard you and Jerry--of course he won't dare go with you and show -you the short-cut, even if he knows it. There's a quicker way than -up the creek-bed. I have Boise out in the bushes, and a saddle. I was -afraid to wait at the barn long enough to saddle him. You go--he's -behind that great pile of rocks, back of the corrals. I'll wait for -Jerry." She gave him a push, and Bud was so astonished that he made no -reply whatever, but did exactly as she had told him to do. - -Boise was standing behind the peaked outcropping of rock, and beside -him was a stock-saddle which must have taxed Marian's strength to carry. -Indeed, Bud thought she must have had wings, to do so much in so short a -space of time; though when he came to estimate that time he decided that -he must have been away from the house ten minutes, at least. If Marian -followed him closely enough to see him duck behind the machine shed and -meet Jerry, she could run behind the corral and get Boise out by way of -the back door of the stable. There was a path, screened from the corral -by a fringe of brush, which went that way. The truth flashed upon him -that one could ride unseen all around Little Lost. - -He was just dropping the stirrup down from the saddle horn when Marian -appeared with Jerry and Sunfish close behind her. Jerry held out the -package. - -"She says she'll show you a short cut," he whispered. "She says I don't -know anything about it. I guess she's right--there's a lot I don't know. -Lew 's gone, and she says she'll be back before daylight. If they miss -Boise they'll think you stole him. But they won't look. Dave wouldn't -slam around in the night on Boise--he thinks too much of him. Well--beat -it, and I sure wish yuh luck. You be careful, Marian. Come back this -way, and if you see a man's handkerchief hanging on this bush right here -where I'm standing, it'll mean you've been missed." - -"Thank you, Jerry," Marian whispered. "I'll look for it. Come, Bud--keep -close behind me, and don't make any noise." - -Bud would have protested, but Marian did not give him a chance. She -took up the reins, grasped the saddle horn, stuck her slipper toe in -the stirrup and mounted Boise as quickly as Bud could have done it--as -easily, too, making allowance for the difference in their height. Bud -mounted Sunfish and followed her down the trail which led to the race -track; but when they had gone through the brush and could see starlight -beyond, she turned sharply to the left, let Boise pick his way carefully -over a rocky stretch and plunged into the brush again, leaning low in -the saddle so that the higher branches would not claw at her hair and -face. - -When they had once more come into open ground with a shoulder of Catrock -Peak before them, Marian pulled up long enough to untie her apron and -bind it over her hair like a peasant woman. She glanced back at Bud, -and although darkness hid the expression on her face, he saw her eyes -shining in the starlight. She raised her hand and beckoned, and Bud -reined Sunfish close alongside. - -"We're going into a spooky place now," she leaned toward him to whisper. -"Boise knows the way, and your horse will follow." - -"All right," Bud whispered back. "But you'd better tell me the way and -let me go on alone. I'm pretty good at scouting out new trails. I don't -want you to get in trouble--" - -She would not listen to more of that, but pushed him back with the flat -of her bare hand and rode ahead of him again. Straight at the sheer -bluff, that lifted its huge, rocky shape before them, she led the way. -So far as Bud could see she was not following any trail; but was aiming -at a certain point and was sure enough of the ground to avoid detours. - -They came out upon the bank of the dry river-bed. Bud knew it by the -flatness of the foreground and the general contour of the mountains -beyond. But immediately they turned at a sharp angle, travelled for a -few minutes with the river-bed at their backs, and entered a narrow slit -in the mountains where two peaks had been rent asunder in some titanic -upheaval when the world was young. The horses scrambled along the rocky -bottom for a little way, then Boise disappeared. - -Sunfish halted, threw his head this way and that, gave a suspicious -sniff and turned carefully around the corner of a square-faced boulder. -In front was blackness. Bud urged him a little with rein and soft -pressure of the spurs, and Sunfish stepped forward. He seemed reassured -to find firm, smooth sand under his feet, and hurried a little until -Boise was just ahead clicking his feet now and then against a rock. - -"Coming?" Marian's voice sounded subdued, muffled by the close walls of -the tunnel-like crevice. - -"Coming," Bud assured her quietly "At your heels." - -"I always used to feel spooky when I was riding through here," Marian -said, dropping back so that they rode side by side, stirrups touching. -"I was ten when I first made the trip. It was to get away from Indians. -They wouldn't come into these places. Eddie and I found the way through. -We were afraid they were after us, and so we kept going, and our horses -brought us out. Eddie--is my brother." - -"You grew up here?" Bud did not know how much incredulity was in his -voice. "I was raised amongst the Indians in Wyoming. I thought you were -from the East." - -"I was in Chicago for three years," Marian explained. "I studied every -waking minute, I think. I wanted to be a singer. Then--I came home to -help bury mother. Father--Lew and father were partners, and I--married -Lew. I didn't know--it seemed as though I must. Father put it that way. -The old story, Bud. I used to laugh at it in novels, but it does happen. -Lew had a hold over father and Eddie, and he wanted me. I married him, -but it did no good, for father was killed just a little more than a -month afterwards. We had a ranch, up here in the Redwater Valley, about -halfway to Crater. But it went--Lew gambled and drank and--so he took me -to Little Lost. I've been there for two years." - -The words of pity--and more--that crowded forward for utterance, Bud -knew he must not speak. So he said nothing at all. - -"Lew has always held Eddie over my head," she went on pouring out her -troubles to him. "There's a gang, called the Catrock Gang, and Lew is -one of them. I told you Lew is the man you shot. I think Dave Truman -is in with them--at any rate he shuts his eyes to whatever goes on, -and gets part of the stealings, I feel sure. That's why Lew is such a -favorite. You see, Eddie is one--I'm trusting you with my life, almost, -when I tell you this. - -"But I couldn't stand by and not lift a hand to save you. I knew they -would kill you. They'd have to, because I felt that you would fight and -never give up. And you are too fine a man for those beasts to murder for -the money you have. I knew, the minute I saw Jeff paying you his losings -with a check, and some of the others doing the same, just what would -happen. Jeff is almost as bad as the Catrockers, except that he is too -cowardly to come out into the open. He gave you a check; and everyone -who was there knew he would hurry up to Crater and stop payment on it, -if he could do it and keep out of your sight. Those cronies of his would -do the same--so they paid with checks. - -"And the Catrock gang knew that. They mean to get hold of you, rob -and-and-kill you, and forge the endorsement on the checks and let one -man cash them in Crater before payment can be stopped. Indeed, the gang -will see to it that Jeff stays away from Crater. Lew hinted that while -they were about it they might as well clean out the bank. It wouldn't be -the first time," she added bitterly. - -She stopped then and asked for a match, and when Bud gave her one she -lighted a candle and held it up so that she could examine the walls. -"It's a natural tunnel," she volunteered in a different tone. "Somewhere -along here there is a branch that goes back into the hill and ends in a -blow-hole. But we're all right so far." - -She blew out the candle and urged Boise forward, edging over to the -right. - -"Wasn't that taking quite a chance, making a light?" Bud asked as they -went on. - -"It was, but not so great a chance as missing the way. Jerry didn't hear -anything of them when he went to the pasture gate, and they may not come -through this way at all. They may not realize at first that you have -left, and even when they did they would not believe at first that you -had gone to Crater. You see"--and in the darkness Bud could picture her -troubled smile--"they think you are an awful fool, in some ways. The -way you bet to-day was pure madness." - -"It would have been, except that I knew I could win." - -"They never bet like that. They always 'figure', as they call it, that -the other fellow is going to play some trick on them. Half the time Jeff -bets against his own horse, on the sly. They all do, unless they feel -sure that their own trick is best." - -"They should have done that to-day," Bud observed dryly. "But you've -explained it. They thought I'm an awful fool." - -Out of the darkness came Marian's voice. "It's because you're so -different. They can't understand you." - -Bud was not interested in his own foolishness just then. Something in -her voice had thrilled him anew with a desire to help her and with the -conviction that he was desperately in need of help. There was a pathetic -patience in her tone when she summarized he whole affair in those last -two sentences. It was as if she were telling him how her whole life -was darkened because she herself was different--because they could not -understand a woman so fine, so true and sweet. - -"What will happen if you are missed? If you go back and discover Jerry's -handkerchief on that bush, what will you do? You can't go back if they -find out--" There was no need for him to finish that sentence. - -"I don't know," said Marian, "what I shall do. I hadn't thought much -about it." - -"I haven't thought much about anything else," Bud told her -straightforwardly. "If Jerry flags you, you 'd better keep going. -Couldn't you go to friends?" - -"I could--if I had any. Bud, you don't understand. Eddie is the only -relative I have on earth, that I know at all. He is--he's with the -Catrockers and Lew dominates him completely. Lew has pushed Ed into -doing things so that I must shield both or neither. And Eddie's just a -boy. So I've no one at all." - -Bud studied this while they rode on through the defile that was more -frequently a tunnel, since the succession of caves always had an outlet -which Marian found. She had stopped now and dismounted, and they were -leading their horses down a steep, scrambling place with the stars -showing overhead. - -"A blowhole," Marian informed him briefly. "We'll come into another -cave, soon, and while it's safe if you know it, I'll explain now that -you must walk ahead of your horse and keep your right hand always in -touch with the wall until we see the stars again. There's a ledge-five -feet wide in the narrowest place, if you are nervous about ledges--and -if you should get off that you'd have a drop of ten feet or so. We found -that the ledge makes easier travelling, because the bottom is full of -rocks and nasty depressions that are noticeable only with lights." - -She started off again, and Bud followed her, his gloved fingers touching -the right wall, his soul humbled before the greatness of this little -woman with the deep, troubled eyes. When they came out into the -starlight she stopped and listened for what seemed to Bud a very long -time. - -"If they are coming, they are a long way behind us," she said -relievedly, and remounted. "Boise knows his trail and has made -good time. And your horse has proven beyond all doubt that he's a -thoroughbred. I've seen horses balk at going where we have gone." - -"And I've seen men who counted themselves brave as any, who wouldn't do -what you are doing to-night; Jerry, for instance. I wish you'd go back. -I can't bear having you take this risk." - -"I can't go back, Bud. Not if they find I've gone." Then he heard her -laugh quietly. "I can't imagine now why I stayed and endured it all this -while. I think I only needed the psychological moment for rebellion, and -to-night the moment came. So you see you have really done me a service -by getting into this scrape. It's the first time I have been off the -ranch in a year." - -"If you call that doing you a service, I'm going to ask you to let me -do something also for you." Bud half smiled to himself in the darkness, -thinking how diplomatic he was. "If you're found out, you'll have to -keep on going, and I take it you wouldn't be particular where you went. -So I wish you 'd take charge of part of this money for me, and if you -leave, go down to my mother, on the Tomahawk ranch, out from Laramie. -Anyone can tell you where it is, when you get down that way If you need -any money use it. And tell mother I sent her the finest cook in the -country. Mother, by the way, is a great musician, Marian. She taught -me all I know of music. You'd get along just fine with mother. And she -needs you, honest. She isn't very strong, yet she can't find anyone to -suit, down there--" - -"I might not suit, either," said Marian, her voice somewhat muffled. - -"Oh, I'm not afraid of that. And--there's a message I want to send--I -promised mother I'd--" - -"Oh, hush! You're really an awfully poor prevaricator, Bud. This is to -help me, you're planning." - -"Well--it's to help me that I want you to take part of the money. The -gang won't hold you up, will they? And I want mother to have it. I want -her to have you, too,--to help out when company comes drifting in there, -sometimes fifteen or twenty strong. Especially on Sunday. Mother has to -wait on them and cook for them, and--as long as you are going to cook -for a bunch, you may as well do it where it will be appreciated, and -where you'll be treated like a--like a lady ought to be treated." - -"You're even worse--" began Marian, laughing softly, and stopped -abruptly, listening, her head turned behind them. "Sh-sh-someone is -coming behind us," she whispered. "We're almost through--come on, and -don't talk!" - - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING POINT - -They plunged into darkness again, rode at a half trot over smooth, hard -sand, Bud trusting himself wholly to Marian and to the sagacity of the -two horses who could see, he hoped, much better than he himself could. -His keen hearing had caught a faint sound from behind them--far back in -the crevice-like gorge they had just quitted, he believed. For Marian's -sake he stared anxiously ahead, eager for the first faint suggestion of -starlight before them. It came, and he breathed freer and felt of his -gun in its holster, pulling it forward an inch or two. - -"This way, Bud," Marian murmured, and swung Boise to the left, against -the mountain under and through which they seemed to have passed. She led -him into another small gorge whose extent he could not see, and stopped -him with a hand pressed against Sunfish's shoulder. - -"We'd better get down and hold our horses quiet," she cautioned. "Boise -may try to whinny, and he mustn't." - -They stood side by side at their horses' heads, holding the animals -close. For a time there were no sounds at all save the breathing of the -horses and once a repressed sigh from Marian. Bud remembered suddenly -how tired she must be. At six o'clock that morning she had fed twelve -men a substantial breakfast. At noon there had been dinner for several -more than twelve, and supper again at six--and here she was, risking -her life when she should be in bed. He felt for her free hand, found it -hanging listlessly by her side and took it in his own and held it there, -just as one holds the hand of a timid child. Yet Marian was not timid. - -A subdued mutter of voices, the click of hoofs striking against stone, -and the pursuers passed within thirty feet of them. Boise had lifted -his head to nicker a salute, but Marian's jerk on the reins stopped him. -They stood very still, not daring so much as a whisper until the sounds -had receded and silence came again. - -"They took the side-hill trail," whispered Marian, pushing Boise -backward to turn him in the narrow defile. "You'll have to get down -the hill into the creek-bed and follow that until you come to the stage -road. There may be others coming that way, but they will be two or three -miles behind you. This tunnel trail cuts off at least five miles but we -had to go slower, you see. - -"Right here you can lead Sunfish down the bluff to the creek. It's all -dry, and around the first bend you will see where the road crosses. Turn -to the left on that and ride! This horse of yours will have to show the -stuff that's in him. Get to Crater ahead of these men that took the hill -trail. They'll not ride fast--they never dreamed you had come through -here, but they came to cut off the distance and to head you off. With -others behind, you must beat them all in or you'll be trapped between." - -She had left Boise tied hastily to a bush and was walking ahead of Bud -down the steep, rocky hillside to show him the easiest way amongst the -boulders Halfway down, Bud caught her shoulder and stopped her. - -"I'm not a kid," he said firmly. "I can make it from here alone. Not -another step, young lady. If you can get back home You'll be doing -enough. Take this--it's money, but I don't know how much. And watch your -chance and go down to mother with that message. Birnie, of the Tomahawk -outfit--you'll find out in Laramie where to go. And tell mother I'm all -right, and she'll see me some day--when I've made my stake. God bless -you, little woman. You're the truest, sweetest little woman in the -world. There's just one more like you--that's mother. Now go back--and -for God's sake he careful!" - -He pressed money into her two hands, held them tightly together, kissed -them both hurriedly and plunged down the hill with Sunfish slipping and -sliding after him. For her safety, if not for his own, he meant to get -away from there as quickly as possible. - -In the creek bed he mounted and rode away at a sharp gallop, glad that -Sunfish, thoroughbred though he was, had not been raised tenderly in -stall and corral, but had run free with the range horses and had learned -to keep his feet under him in rough country or smooth. When he reached -the crossing of the stage road he turned to the left as Marian had -commanded and put Sunfish to a pace that slid the miles behind him. - -With his thoughts clinging to Marian, to the harshness which life had -shown her who was all goodness and sweetness and courage, Bud forgot to -keep careful watch behind him, or to look for the place where the hill -trail joined the road, as it probably did some distance from Crater. -It would be a blind trail, of course--since only the Catrock gang and -Marian knew of it. - -They came into the road not far behind him, out of rock-strewn, brushy -wilderness that sloped up steeply to the rugged sides of Gold Gap -mountains. Sunfish discovered them first, and gave Bud warning just -before they identified him and began to shoot. - -Bud laid himself along the shoulder of his horse with a handful of mane -to steady him while he watched his chance and fired back at them. There -were four, just the number he had guessed from the sounds as they came -out of the tunnel. A horse ran staggering toward him with the others, -faltered and fell. Bud was sorry for that. It had been no part of his -plan to shoot down the horses. - -The three came on, leaving the fourth to his own devices--and that, too, -was quite in keeping with the type of human vultures they were. They -kept firing at Bud, and once he felt Sunfish wince and leap forward as -if a spur had raked him. Bud shot again, and thought he saw one horseman -lurch backward. But he could not be sure--they were going at a terrific -pace now, and Sunfish was leaving them farther and farther behind. They -were outclassed, hopelessly out of pistol range, and they must have -known it, for although they held to the chase they fired no more shots. - -Then a dog barked, and Bud knew that he was passing a ranch. He could -smell the fresh hay in the stacks, and a moment later he descried the -black hulk of ranch buildings. Sunfish was running easily, his breath -unlabored. Bud stood in the stirrups and looked back. They were still -coming, for he could hear the pound of hoofs. - -The ranch was behind him. Clear starlight was all around, and the bulk -of near mountains. The road seemed sandy, yielding beneath the pound -of Sunfish's hoofs. Bud leaned forward again in the saddle, and planned -what he would do when he reached Crater; found time, also, to hope that -Marian had gone back, and had not heard the shooting. - -Another dog barked, this time on the right. Bud saw that they were -passing a picket fence. The barking of this dog started another farther -ahead and to the left. Houses so close together could only mean that -he was approaching Crater. Bud began to pull Sunfish down to a more -conventional pace. He did not particularly want to see heads thrust -from windows, and questions shouted to him. The Catrock gang might have -friends up this way. It would be strange, Bud thought, if they hadn't. - -He loped along the road grown broader now and smoother. Many houses he -passed, and the mouths of obscure lanes. Dogs ran out at him. Bud slowed -to a walk and turned in the saddle, listening. Away back, where he had -first met the signs of civilization, the dog he had aroused was barking -again, his deep baying blurred by the distance. Bud grinned to himself -and rode on at a walk, speaking now and then to an inquiring dog and -calling him Purp in a tone that soothed. - -Crater, he discovered in a cursory patrol of the place, was no more than -an overgrown village. The court-house and jail stood on the main street, -and just beyond was the bank. Bud rode here and there, examining closely -the fronts of various buildings before he concluded that there was only -the one bank in Crater. When he was quite sure of that he chose place -near by the rear of the bank, where one horse and a cow occupied a -comfortable corral together with hay. He unsaddled Sunfish and turned -him there, himself returning to the bank before those other night-riders -had more than reached the first straggling suburbs of the town. - -On the porch of the court-house, behind a jutting corner pillar that -seemed especially designed for the concealment of a man in Bud's -situation, he rolled cigarette which he meant to smoke later on when the -way was clear, and waited for the horsemen to appear. - -Presently they came, rode to a point opposite the court-house and bank -with no more than a careless glance that way, and halted in front of an -uninviting hotel across the street. Two remained on their horses while -the third pounded on the door and shook it by the knob and finally -raised the landlord from his sleep. There was a conference which Bud -witnessed with much interest. A lamp had been lighted in the bare -office, and against the yellow glow Bud distinctly saw the landlord nod -his head twice--which plainly betokened some sort of understanding. - -He was glad that he had not stopped at the hotel. He felt much more -comfortable on the court-house porch. "Mother's guardian angels must be -riding 'point' to-night," he mused. - -The horsemen rode back to a livery stable which Bud had observed but had -not entered. There they also sought for news of him, it would appear. -You will recall, however, that Bud had ridden slowly into the business -district of Crater, and his passing had been unmarked except by the -barking of dogs that spent their nights in yammering at every sound -and so were never taken seriously. The three horsemen were plainly -nonplussed and conferred together in low tones before they rode on. It -was evident that they meant to find Bud if they could. What they meant -to do with him Bud did not attempt to conjecture. He did not intend to -be found. - -After a while the horsemen rode back to the hotel, got the landlord out -with less difficulty than before and had another talk with him. - -"He stole a horse from Dave Truman," Bud heard one of the three say -distinctly. "That there running horse Dave had." - -The landlord tucked in his shirt and exclaimed at the news, and Bud -heard him mention the sheriff. But nothing came of that evidently. They -talked further and reined their horses to ride back whence they came. - -"He likely's give us the slip outside of town, some place," one man -concluded. "We'll ride back and see. If he shows up, he'll likely want -to eat... And send Dick out to the Stivers place. We'll come a-running." -He had lowered his voice so that Bud could not hear what was to happen -before the landlord sent Dick, but he decided he would not pry into the -matter and try to fill that gap in the conversation. - -He sat where he was until the three had ridden back down the sandy road -which served as a street. Then he slipped behind the court-house and -smoked his cigarette, and went and borrowed hay from the cow and the -horse in the corral and made himself some sort of bed with his saddle -blanket to help out, and slept until morning. - - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE CATROCK GANG - -A woman with a checkered apron and a motherly look came to let her -chickens out and milk the cow, and woke Bud so that she could tell him -she believed he had been on a "toot", or he never would have taken such -a liberty with her corral. Bud agreed to the toot, and apologized, and -asked for breakfast. And the woman, after one good look at him, handed -him the milk bucket and asked him how he liked his eggs. - -"All the way from barn to breakfast," Bud grinned, and the woman -chuckled and called him Smarty, and told him to come in as soon as the -cow was milked. - -Bud had a great breakfast with the widow Hanson. She talked, and Bud -learned a good deal about Crater and its surroundings, and when he spoke -of holdup gangs she seemed to know immediately what he meant, and -told him a great deal more about the Catrockers than Marian had done. -Everything from murdering and robbing a peddler to looting the banks at -Crater and Lava was laid to the Catrockers. They were the human buzzards -that watched over the country and swooped down wherever there was money. -The sheriff couldn't do anything with them, and no one expected him to, -so far as Bud could discover. - -He hesitated a long time before he asked about Marian Morris. Mrs. -Hanson wept while she related Marian's history, which in substance was -exactly what Marian herself had told Bud. Mrs. Hanson, however, told how -Marian had fought to save her father and Ed, and how she had married Lew -Morris as a part of her campaign for honesty and goodness. Now she was -down at Little Lost cooking for a gang of men, said Mrs. Hanson, when -she ought to be out in the world singing for thousands and her in silks -and diamonds instead of gingham dresses and not enough of them. - -"Marian Collier is the sweetest thing that ever grew up in this -country," the old lady sniffled. "She's one in a thousand and when she -was off to school she showed that she wasn't no common trash. She wanted -to be an opery singer, but then her mother died and Marian done what -looked to be her duty. A bird in a trap is what I call her." - -Bud regretted having opened the subject, and praised the cooking by way -of turning his hostess's thoughts into a different channel. He asked -her if she would accept him as a boarder while he was in town, and was -promptly accepted. - -He did not want to appear in public until the bank was opened, and -he was a bit troubled over identification. There could be no harm, he -reflected, in confiding to Mrs. Hanson as much as was necessary of -his adventures. Wherefore he dried the dishes for her and told her his -errand in town, and why it was that he and his horse had slept in her -corral instead of patronizing hotel and livery stable. He showed her the -checks he wanted to cash, and asked her, with flattering eagerness for -her advice, what he should do. He had been warned, he said, that Jeff -and his friends might try to beat him yet by stopping payment, and he -knew that he had been followed by them to town. - -"What You'll do will be what I tell ye," Mrs Hanson replied with -decision. "The cashier is a friend to me--I was with his wife last month -with her first baby, and they swear by me now, for I gave her good care. -We'll go over there this minute, and have talk with him. He'll do what -he can for ye, and he'll do it for my sake." - -"You don't know me, remember," Bud reminded her honestly. - -The widow Hanson gave him a scornful smile and toss of her head. "And -do I not?" she demanded. "Do you think I've buried three husbands and -thinking now of the fourth, without knowing what's wrote a man's face? -Three I buried, and only one died his bed. I can tell if a man's honest -or not, without giving him the second look. If you've got them checks -you should get the money on them--for I know their stripe. Come on with -me to Jimmy Lawton's house. He's likely holding the baby while Minie -does the dishes." - -Mrs. Hanson guessed shrewdly. The cashier of the Crater County Bank was -doing exactly what she said he would be doing. He was sitting in the -kitchen, rocking a pink baby wrapped in white outing flannel with blue -border, when Mrs. Hanson, without the formality of more than one warning -tap on the screen door, walked in with Bud. She held out her hands for -the baby while she introduced the cashier to Bud. In the next breath she -was explaining what was wanted of the bank. - -"They've done it before, and ye know it's plain thievery and ought to be -complained about. So now get your wits to work, Jimmy, for this friend -of mine is entitled to his money and should have it if it is there to be -had." - -"Oh, it's there," said Jimmy. He looked at his watch, looked at the -kitchen clock, looked at Bud and winked. "We open at nine, in this -town," he said. "It lacks half an hour--but let me see those checks." - -Very relievedly Bud produced them, watched the cashier scan each one to -make sure that they were right, and quaked when Jimmy scowled at Jeff -Hall's signature on the largest check of all. "He had a notion to use -the wrong signature, but he may have lost his nerve. It's all right, Mr. -Birnie. Just endorse these, and I'll take them into the bank and attend -to them the first thing I do after the door is open. You'd better come -in when I open up--" - -"The gang had some talk about cleaning out the bank while they 're about -it," Bud remembered suddenly. "Can't you appoint me something, or hire -me as a guard and let me help out? How many men do you have here in this -bank?" - -"Two, except when the president's in his office in the rear. That's fine -of you to offer. We've been held up, once--and they cleaned us out of -cash." Jimmy turned to Mrs. Hanson. "Mother, can't you run over and -have Jess come and swear Mr. Birnie in as a deputy? If I go, or he goes, -someone may notice it and tip the gang off." - -Mrs. Hanson hastily deposited the baby in its cradle and went to call -"Jess", her face pink with excitement. - -"You're lucky you stopped at her house instead of some other place," -Jimmy observed. "She's a corking good woman. As a deputy sheriff, you'll -come in mighty handy if they do try anything, Mr. Birnie--if you're the -kind of a man you look to be. I'll bet you can shoot. Can you?" - -"If you scare me badly enough, I might get a cramp in my trigger -finger," Bud confessed. Jimmy grinned and went back to considering his -own part. - -"I'll cash these checks for you the first thing I do. And as deputy you -can go with me. I'll have to unlock the door on time, and if they mean -to stop payment, and clean the bank too, it will probably be done all -at once. It has been a year since they bothered us, so they may need a -little change. If Jess isn't busy he may stick around." - -"No one expects him to round up the gang, I heard." - -"No one expects him to go into Catrock Canyon after them. He'll round -them up, quick enough, if he can catch them far enough from their -holes." - -Jess returned with Mrs. Hanson, swore in a new deputy, eyed Bud -curiously, and agreed to remain hidden across the road from the bank -with a rifle. He nodded understandingly when Bud warned him that the -looting was a matter of hearsay on his part, and departed with an -awkward compliment to Mrs. Jim about hoping that the baby was going to -look like her. - -Jim lived just behind the bank, and a high board fence between the two -buildings served to hide his coming and going. But Bud took off his hat -and walked stooping,--by special request of Mrs. Hanson--to make sure -that he was not observed. - -"I think I'll stand out in front of the window," said Bud when they were -inside. "It will look more natural, and if any of these fellows show up -I'd just as soon not show my brand the first thing." - -They showed up, all right, within two minutes of the unlocking of the -bank and the rolling up of the shades. Jeff Hall was the first man -to walk in, and he stopped short when he saw Bud lounging before the -teller's window and the cashier busy within. Other men were straggling -up on the porch, and two of them entered. Jeff walked over to Bud, who -shifted his position enough to bring him facing Jeff, whom he did not -trust at all. - -"Mr. Lawton," Jeff began hurriedly, "I want to stop payment on a check -this young feller got from me by fraud. It's for five thousand eight -hundred dollars, and I notify you--" - -"Too late, Mr. Hall. I have already accepted the checks. Where did the -fraud come in? You can bring suit, of course, to recover." - -"I'll tell you, Jimmy. He bet that my horse couldn't beat Dave Truman's -Boise. A good many bet on the same thing. But my horse proved to have -more speed, so a lot of them are sore." Bud chuckled as other Sunday -losers came straggling in. - -"Well, it's too late. I have honored the checks," Jimmy said crisply, -and turned to hand a sealed manila envelope to the bookkeeper with -whispered instructions. The bookkeeper, who had just entered from the -rear of the office, turned on his heel and left again. - -Jeff muttered something to his friends and went outside as if their -business were done for the day. - -"I gave you five thousand in currency and the balance in a cashier's -check," Jimmy whispered through he wicket. "Sent it to the house, We -don't keep a great deal--ten thousand's our limit in cash, and I don't -think you want to pack gold or silver--" - -"No, I didn't. I'd rather--" - -Two men came in, one going over to the desk where he apparently wrote -a check, the other came straight to the window. Bud looked into the -heavily bearded face of a man who had the eyes of Lew Morris. He shifted -his position a little so that he faced the man's right side. The one at -the desk was glancing slyly over his shoulder at the bookkeeper, who had -just returned to his work. - -"Can you change this twenty so I can get seven dollars and a quarter -out of it?" asked the man at he window. As he slid the bill through the -wicket he started to sneeze, and reached backward--for his handkerchief, -apparently. - -"Here's one," said Bud. "Don't sneeze too hard, old-timer, or you're -liable to sneeze your whiskers all off. It's happened before." - -Someone outside fired a shot in at Bud, clipping his hatband in front. -At the sound of the shot the whiskered one snatched his gun out, and the -cashier shot him. Bud had sent a shot through the outside window and hit -somebody--whom, he did not know, for he had no time to look. The young -fellow at the desk had whirled, and was pointing a gun shakily, first -at he cashier and then at Bud. Bud fired and knocked he gun out of his -hand, then stepped over the man he suspected was Lew and caught the -young fellow by the wrist. - -"You're Ed Collier--by your eyes and your mouth," Bud said in a rapid -undertone. "I'm going to get you out of this, if you'll do what I say. -Will you?" - -"He got me in here, honest," the young fellow quaked. He couldn't be -more than nineteen, Bud guessed swiftly. - -"Let me through, Jimmy," Bud ordered hurriedly. "You got the man that -put up this job. I'll take the kid out the back way, if you don't mind." - -Jimmy opened the steel-grilled door and let them through. - -"Ed Collier," he said in a tone of recognition. "I heard he was -trailing--" - -"Forget it, Jimmy. If the sheriff asks about him, say he got out. Now, -Ed, I'm going to take you over to Mrs. Hanson's. She'll keep an eye on -you for a while." - -Eddie was looking at the dead man on the floor, and trembling so that he -did not attempt to reply; and by way of Jimmy's back fence and the widow -Hanson's barn and corral, Bud got Eddie safe into the kitchen just as -that determined lady was leaving home with a shotgun to help defend the -honor of the town. - -Bud took her by the shoulder and told her what he wanted her to do. -"He's Marian's brother, and too young to be with that gang. So keep him -here, safe and out of sight, until I come. Then I'll want to borrow your -horse. Shall I tie the kid?" - -"And me an able-bodied woman that could turn him acrost my knee?" Mrs. -Hanson's eyes snapped. - -"It's more likely the boy needs his breakfast. Get along with ye!" - -Bud got along, slipping into the bank by the rear door and taking a hand -in the desultory firing in the street. The sheriff had a couple of men -ironed and one man down and the landlord of the hotel was doing a great -deal of explaining that he had never seen the bandits before. Just by -way of stimulating his memory Bud threw a bullet close to his heels, -and the landlord thereupon grovelled and wept while he protested his -innocence. - -"He's a damn liar, sheriff," Bud called across the hoof-scarred road. -"He was talking to them about eleven o'clock last night. There were -three that chased me into town, and they got him up out of bed to find -out whether I'd stopped there. I hadn't, luckily for me. If I had he'd -have showed them the way to my room, and he'd have had a dead boarder -this morning. Keep right on shedding tears, you old cut-throat! I was -sitting on the court-house porch, last night, and I heard every word -that passed between you and the Catrockers!" - -"I've been suspicioning here was where they got their information -right along," the sheriff commented, and slipped the handcuffs on -the landlord. Investigation proved that Jeff Hall and his friends had -suddenly decided that they had no business with the bank that day, and -had mounted and galloped out of town when the first shot was fired. -Which simplified matters a bit for Bud. - -In Jimmy Lawton's kitchen he received his money, and when the prisoners -were locked up he saved himself some trouble with the sheriff by -hunting him up and explaining just why he had taken the Collier boy into -custody. - -"You know yourself he's just a kid, and if you send him over the road -he's a criminal for life. I believe I can make a decent man of him. I -want to try, anyway. So you just leave me this deputy's badge, and make -my commission regular and permanent, and I'll keep an eye on him. Give -me a paper so I can get a requisition and bring him back to stand trial, -any time he breaks out. I'll be responsible for him, sheriff." - -"And who in blazes are you?" the sheriff inquired, with a grin to remove -the sting of suspicion. "Name sounded familiar, too!" - -"Bud Birnie of the Tomahawk, down near Laramie; Telegraph Laramie if you -like and find out about me. - -"Good Lord! I know the Tomahawk like a book!" cried the sheriff. "And -you're Bob Birnie's boy! Say! D'you remember dragging into camp on the -summit one time when you was about twelve years old--been hidin' out -from Injuns about three days? Well, say! I'm the feller that packed you -into the tent, and fed yuh when yuh come to. Remember the time I rode -down and stayed over night at yore place, the time Bill Nye come down -from his prospect hole up in the Snowies, bringin' word the Injuns was -up again?" The sheriff grabbed Bud's hand and held it, shaking it up and -down now and then to emphasize his words. - -"Folks called you Buddy, then. I remember yuh, helpin' your mother cook -'n' wash dishes for us fellers. I kinda felt like I had a claim on yuh, -Buddy. - -"Say, Bill Nye, he's famous now. Writin' books full of jokes, and all -that. He always was a comical cuss. Don't you remember how the bunch -of us laughed at him when he drifted in about dark, him and four -burros--that one he called Boomerang, that he named his paper after in -Laramie? I've told lots of times what he said when he come stoopin' into -the kitchen--how Colorou had sent him word that he'd give Bill just -four sleeps to get outa there. An, 'Hell!' says Bill. 'I didn't need -any sleeps!' An' we all turned to and cooked a hull beef yore dad had -butchered that day--and Bill loaded up with the first chunks we had -ready, and pulled his freight. He sure didn't need any sleeps--" - -"Yes, you bet I remember. Jesse Cummings is your name. I sure ought -to remember you, for you and your partner saved my life, I expect. I -thought I'd seen you before, when you made me deputy. How about the kid? -Can I have him? Lew Morris, the man that kept him on the wrong side of -the law, is dead, I heard the doctor say. Jimmy got him when he pulled -his gun." - -"Why, yes--if the town don't git onto me turnin' him loose, I guess you -can have the kid for all I care. He didn't take any part in the holdup, -did he Buddy?" - -"He was over by the customers' desk when Lew started, to hold up the -cashier." - -"Well I got enough prisoners so I guess he won't be missed. But you look -out how yuh git him outa town. Better wait til kinda late to-night. I -sure would like to see him git a show. Them two Collier kids never did -have a square deal, far as I've heard. But be careful, youngster. I want -another term off this county if I can get it. Don't go get me in bad." - -"I won't," Bud promised and hurried back to Mrs. Hanson's house. - -That estimable lady was patting butter in a wooden bowl when Bud went -in. She turned and brushed a wisp of gray hair from her face with her -fore arm and sh-shed him into silent stepping, motioning toward an inner -room. Bud tiptoed and looked, saw Ed Collier fast asleep, swaddled in a -blanket, and grinned his approval. - -He made sure that the sleep was genuine, also that the blanket swaddling -was efficient. Moreover, he discovered that Mrs. Hanson had very -prudently attached a thin wire to the foot of the blanket cocoon, -had passed the wire through a knot hole in a cupboard set into the -partition, and to a sheep bell which she no doubt expected to ring upon -provocation--such as a prisoner struggling to release his feet from a -gray blanket fastened with many large safety pins. - -"He went right to sleep, the minute I'd fed him and tied him snug," -Mrs. Hanson murmured. "He was a sulky divvle and wouldn't give a decent -answer to me till he had his stomach filled. From the way he waded into -the ham and eggs, I guess a square meal and him has been strangers for a -long time." - -Sleep and Ed Collier must have been strangers also, for Bud attended the -inquest of Lew Morris, visited afterwards with Sheriff Cummings, who -was full of reminiscence and wanted to remind Bud of everything that had -ever happened within his knowledge during the time when they had been -neighbors with no more than forty miles or so between them. The sheriff -offered Bud a horse and saddle, which he promised to deliver to the -widow's corral after the citizens of Crater had gone to bed. And while -he did not say that it would be Ed's horse, Bud guessed shrewdly that -it would. After that, Bud carefully slit the lining of his boots tucked -money and checks into the opening he had made, and did a very neat -repair job. - -All that while Ed Collier slept. When Bud returned for his supper Ed had -evidently just awakened and was lying on his back biting his lip while -he eyed the wire that ran from his feet to the parting of a pair of -calico curtains. He did not see Bud, who was watching him through a -crack in the door at the head of the bed. Ed was plainly puzzled at the -wire and a bit resentful. He lifted his feet until the wire was well -slackened, held them poised for a minute and deliberately brought them -down hard on the floor. - -The result was all that he could possibly have expected. Somewhere was -a vicious clang, the rattle of a tin pan and the approaching outcry of -a woman. Bud retreated to the kitchen to view the devastation and -discovered that a sheep bell not too clean had been dislodged from a -nail and dragged through one pan of milk into another, where it was -rolling on its edge, stirring the cream that had risen. As Mrs. Hanson -rushed in from the back yard, Bud returned to the angry captive's side. - -"I've got him safe," he soothed Mrs. Hanson and her shotgun. "He just -had a nightmare. Perhaps that breakfast you fed him was too hearty. -I'll look after him now, Mrs. Hanson. We won't be bothering you long, -anyway." - -Mrs. Hanson was talking to herself when she went to her milk pans, and -Bud released Eddie Collier, guessing how humiliating it must be to be -a young fellow pinned into a blanket with safety pins, and knowing from -certain experiences of his own that humiliation is quite as apt to breed -trouble as any other emotion. - -Eddie sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at Bud. His eyes were -like Marian's in shape and color, but their expression was suspicion, -defiance, and watchfulness blended into one compelling stare that -spelled Fear. Or so Bud read it, having trapped animals of various -grades ever since he had caught the "HAWNTOAD", and seen that look many, -many times in the eyes of his catch. - -"How'd you like to take a trip with me--as a kind of a partner?" Bud -began carelessly, pulling a splinter off the homemade bed for which Mrs. -Hanson would not thank him--and beginning to whittle it to a sharp point -aimlessly, as men have a way of doing when their minds are at work upon -a problem which requires--much constructive thinking. - -"Pardner in what?" Eddie countered sullenly. - -"Pardner in what I am planning to do to make money. I can make money, -you know--and stay on friendly terms with the sheriff, too. That's -better than your bunch has been able to do. I don't mind telling -you--it's stale news, I guess--that I cleaned up close to twelve -thousand dollars in less than a month, off a working capital of three -thoroughbred horses and about sixty dollars cash. And I'll add the -knowledge that I was playing against men that would slip a cold deck -if they played solitaire, they were so crooked. And if that doesn't -recommend me sufficiently, I'll say I'm a deputy sheriff of Crater -County, and Jesse Cummings knows my past. I want to hire you to go with -me and make some money, and I'll pay you forty a month and five per cent -bonus on my profits at the end of two years. The first year may not show -any profits, but the second year will. How does it sound to you?" - -He had been rolling a cigarette, and now he offered the "makings" to Ed, -who accepted them mechanically, his eyes still staring hard at Bud. He -glanced toward the door and the one little window where wild cucumber -vines were thickly matted, and Bud interpreted his glance. - -"Lew and another Catrocker--the one that tried to rope me down in the -Sinks--are dead, and three more are in jail. Business won't be very -brisk with the Catrock gang for a while." - -"If you're trying to bribe me into squealing on the rest, you're a damn -fool," said Eddie harshly. "I ain't the squealing kind. You can lead me -over to jail first. I'd rather take my chances with the others." He was -breathing hard when he finished. - -"Rather than work for me?" Bud sliced off the sharp point which he had -so carefully whittled, and began to sharpen a new one. Eddie watched him -fascinatedly. - -"Rather than squeal on the bunch. There's no other reason in God's world -why you'd make me an offer like that. I ain't a fool quite, if my head -does run up to a peak." - -Bud chewed his lip, whittled, and finally threw the splinter away. When -he turned toward Eddie his eyes were shiny. - -"Kid, you're breaking your sister's heart, following this trail. I'd -like to see you give her a chance to speak your name without blinking -back tears. I'd like to see her smile all the way from her dimples to -her eyes when she thinks of you. That's why I made the offer--that and -because I think you'd earn your wages." - -Eddie looked at him, looked away, staring vacantly at the wall. His -eyelashes were blinking very fast, his lip began to tremble. "You--I--I -never wanted to--I ain't worth saving--oh, hell! I never had a chance -before--" He dropped sidewise on the bed, buried his face in his arms -and sobbed hoarsely, like the boy he was. - - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN: BUD RIDES THROUGH CATROCK AND LOSES MARIAN - -"You'll have to show me the trail, pardner," said Bud when they were -making their way cautiously out of town by way of the tin can suburbs. -"I could figure out the direction all right, and make it by morning; but -seeing you grew up here, I'll let you pilot." - -"You'll have to tell me where you want to go, first," said Eddie with a -good deal of sullenness still in his voice. - -"Little Lost." Without intending to do so, Bud put a good deal of -meaning in his voice. - -Eddie did not say anything, but veered to the right, climbing higher -on the slope than Bud would have gone. "We can take the high trail," he -volunteered when they stopped to rest the horses. "It takes up over the -summit and down Burroback Valley. It's longer, but the stage road -edges along the Sinks and--it might be rough going, after we get down a -piece." - -"How about the side-hill trail, through Catrock Peak?" - -Eddie turned sharply. In the starlight Bud was watching him, wondering -what he was thinking. - -"How'd you get next to any side-hill trail?" Eddie asked after a minute. -"You been over it?" - -"I surely have. And I expect to go again, to-nigh! A young fellow about -your size is going to act a pilot, and get me to Little Lost as quick as -possible. It'll be daylight at that." - -"If you got another day coming, it better be before daylight we get -there," Eddie retorted glumly. H hesitated, turned his horse and led the -way down the slope, angling down away from the well-travelled trail over -the summit of Gold Gap. - -That hesitation told Bud, without words, how tenuous was his hold -upon Eddie. He possessed sufficient imagination to know that his own -carefully discipline past, sheltered from actual contact with evil, had -given him little enough by which to measure the soul of a youth like -Eddie Collier. - -How long Eddie had supped and slept with thieves and murderers, Bud -could only guess. From the little that Marian had told him, Eddie's -father had been one of the gang. At least, she had plainly stated that -he and Lew had been partners--though Collier might have been ranching -innocently enough, and ignorant of Lew's real nature. - -At all events, Eddie was a lad well schooled in inequity such as the -wilderness fosters in sturdy fashion. Wide spaces give room for great -virtues and great wickedness. Bud felt that he was betting large odds on -an unknown quantity. He was placing himself literally in the hands of an -acknowledged Catrocker, because of the clean gaze of a pair of eyes, the -fine curve of the mouth. - -For a long time they rode without speech. Eddie in the lead, Bud -following, alert to every little movement in the sage, every little -sound of the night. That was what we rather naively call "second -nature", habit born of Bud's growing years amongst dangers which every -pioneer family knows. Alert he was, yet deeply dreaming; a tenuous dream -too sweet to come true, he told himself; a dream which he never dared to -dream until the cool stars, and the little night wind began to whisper -to him that Marian was free from the brute that had owned her. He -scarcely dared think of it yet. Shyly he remembered how he had held -her hand to give her courage while they rode in darkness; her poor -work-roughened little hand, that had been old when he took it first, -and had warmed in his clasp. He remembered how he had pressed her hands -together when they parted--why, surely it was longer ago than last -night!--and had kissed them reverently as he would kiss the fingers of a -queen. - -"Hell's too good for Lew Morris," he blurted unexpectedly, the thought -of Marian's bruised cheek coming like a blow. - -"Want to go and tell him so? If you don't yuh better shut up," Eddie -whispered fierce warning. "You needn't think all the Catrockers are dead -or in jail. They's a few left and they'd kill yuh quicker'n they'd take -a drink." - -Bud, embarrassed at the emotion behind his statement, rather than -ashamed of the remark itself, made no reply. - -Much as Eddie desired silence, he himself pulled up and spoke again when -Bud had ridden close. - -"I guess you come through the Gap," he whispered. "They's a shorter way -than that--Sis don't know it. It's one the bunch uses a lot--if they -catch us--I can save my hide by makin' out I led you into a trap. You'll -get yours, anyway. How much sand you got?" - -Bud leaned and spat into the darkness. "Not much. Maybe enough to get -through this scary short-cut of yours." - -"You tell the truth when you say scary. It's so darn crazy to go down -Catrock Canyon maybe they won't think we'd tackle it. And if they catch -us, I'll say I led yuh in--and then--say, I'm kinda bettin' on your -luck. The way you cleaned up on them horses, maybe luck'll stay with -you. And I'll help all I can, honest." - -"Fine." Bud reached over and closed his fingers around Eddie's thin, -boyish arm. "You didn't tell me yet why the other trail isn't good -enough." - -"I heard a sound in the Gap tunnel, that's why. You maybe didn't -know what it was. I know them echoes to a fare-ye-well. Somebody's -there--likely posted waiting." He was motionless for a space, listening. - -"Get off-easy. Take off your spurs." Eddie was down, whispering eagerly -to Bud. "There's a draft of air from the blow-holes that comes this way. -Sound comes outa there a lot easier than it goes in. Sis and I found -that out. Lead your horse--if they jump us, give him a lick with the -quirt and hide in the brush." - -Like Indians the two made their way down a rambling slope not far from -where Marian had guided Bud. To-night, however, Eddie led the way to the -right instead of the left, which seemed to Bud a direction that would -bring them down Oldman creek, that dry river bed, and finally, perhaps, -to the race track. - -Eddie never did explain just how he made his way through a maze of -water-cut pillars and heaps of sandstone so bewildering that Bud -afterward swore that in spite of the fact that he was leading Sunfish, -he frequently found himself at that patient animal's tail, where they -were doubled around some freakish pillar. Frequently Eddie stopped and -peered past his horse to make sure that Bud had not lost the trail. -And finally, because he was no doubt worried over that possibility, he -knotted his rope to his saddle horn, brought back a length that reached -a full pace behind the tail of the horse, and placed the end in Bud's -hand. - -"If yuh lose me you're a goner," he whispered. "So hang onto that, no -matter what comes. And don't yuh speak to me. This is hell's corral and -we're walking the top trail right now." He made sure that Bud had the -loop in his hand, then slipped back past his horse and went on, walking -more quickly. - -Bud admitted afterwards that he was perfectly willing to be led like a -tame squirrel around the top of "hell's corral", whatever that was. All -that Bud saw was an intricate assembly of those terrific pillars, whose -height he did not know, since he had no time to glance up and estimate -the distance. There was no method, no channel worn through in anything -that could be called a line. Whatever primeval torrent had honeycombed -the ledge had left it so before ever its waters had formed a straight -passage through. How Eddie knew the way he could only conjecture, -remembering how he himself had ridden devious trails down on the -Tomahawk range when he was a boy. It rather hurt his pride to realize -that never had he seen anything approaching this madman's trail. - -Without warning they plunged into darkness again. Darkness so black -that Bud knew they had entered another of those mysterious, subterranean -passages which had created such names as abounded in the country: -the "Sinks", "Little Lost", and Sunk River itself which disappeared -mysteriously. He was beginning to wonder with a grim kind of humor if he -himself was not about to follow the example of the rivers and disappear, -when the soft padding of their footfalls blurred under the whistling of -wind. Fine particles of sand stung him, a blast full against him -halted him for a second. But the rope pulled steadily and he went on, -half-dragged into starlight again. - -They were in a canyon; deep, sombre in its night shadows, its width made -known to him by the strip of starlight overhead. Directly before them, -not more than a hundred yards, a light shone through a window. - -The rope slackened in his hands, and Eddie slipped back to him shivering -a little as Bud discovered when he laid a hand on his arm. - -"I guess I better tie yuh--but it won't be so yuh can't shoot. Get on, -and let me tie your feet into the stirrups. I--I guess maybe we can get -past, all right--I'll try--I want to go and take that job you said you'd -give me!" - -"What's the matter, son? Is that where the Catrockers hang out?" Bud -swung into the saddle. "I trust you, kid. You're her brother." - -"I--I want to live like Sis wants me to. But I've got to tie yuh, Mr. -Birnie, and that looks--But they'd k--you don't know how they kill -traitors. I saw one--" He leaned against Bud's leg, one hand reaching up -to the saddle horn and gripping it in a passing frenzy. "If you say so," -he whispered rapidly, "we'll sneak up and shoot 'em through the window -before they get a chance--" - -Bud reached out his hand and patted Eddie on the shoulder. "That job of -yours don't call for any killing we can avoid," he said. "Go ahead and -tie me. No use of wasting lead on two men when one will do. It's all -right. I trust you, pardner." - -Eddie's shoulders stiffened. He stood up, looked toward the light and -gripped Bud's hand. "I thought they'd be asleep--what was home," -he said. "We got to ride past the cabin to get out through another -water-wash. But you take your coat and tie your horse's feet, and I'll -tie mine. I--can't tie you, Mr. Birnie. We'll chance it together." - -Bud did not say anything at all, for which Eddie seemed grateful. They -muffled eight hoofs, rode across the canyon's bottom and passed the -cabin so closely that the light of a smoky lantern on a table was -plainly visible to Bud, as was the shaggy profile of a man who sat with -his arms folded, glowering over a pipe. He heard nothing. Bud halted -Sunfish and looked again to make sure, while Eddie beckoned frantically. -They went on undisturbed--the Catrockers kept no dogs. - -They passed a couple of corrals, rode over springy sod where Bud dimly -discerned hay stubble. Eddie let down a set of bars, replaced them -carefully, and they crossed another meadow. It struck Bud that the -Catrockers were fairly well entrenched in their canyon, with plenty of -horse feed at least. - -They followed a twisting trail along the canyon's wall, rode into -another pit of darkness, came out into a sandy stretch that seemed -hazily familiar to Bud. They crossed this, dove into the bushes -following a dim trail, and in ten minutes Eddie's horse backed suddenly -against Sunfish's nose. Bud stood in his stirrups, reins held firmly in -his left hand, and in his right his six-shooter with the hammer lifted, -ready to snap down. - -A tall figure stepped away from the peaked rocks and paused at Bud's -side. - -"I been waiting for Marian," he said bluntly. "You know anything about -her?" - -"She turned back last night after she had shown me the way." Bud's -throat went dry. "Did they miss her?" He leaned aggressively. - -"Not till breakfast time, they didn't. I was waiting here, most all -night--except right after you folks left. She wasn't missed, and I never -flagged her--and she ain't showed up yet!" - -Bud sat there stunned, trying to think what might have happened. Those -dark passages through the mountains--the ledge-- "Ed, you know that -trail she took me over? She was coming back that way. She could get -lost--" - -"No she couldn't--not Sis. If her horse didn't act the fool--what horse -was it she rode?" Ed turned to Jerry as if he would know. - -"Boise," Bud spoke quickly, as though seconds were precious. "She said -he knew the way." - -"He sure ought to," Eddie replied emphatically. "Boise belongs to Sis, -by rights. The mare got killed and Dad gave him to Sis when he was a -suckin' colt, and Sis raised him on cow's milk and broke him herself. -She rode him all over. Lew took and sold him to Dave, and gambled the -money, and Sis never signed no bill of sale. They couldn't make her. -Sis has got spunk, once you stir her up. She'll tackle anything. She's -always claimed Boise is hers. Boise knows the Gap like a book. Sis -couldn't get off the trail if she rode him." - -"Something happened, then," Bud muttered stubbornly. "Four men came -through behind us, and we waited out in the dark to let them pass. Then -she sent me down to the creek-bottom, and she turned back. If they got -her--" He turned Sunfish in the narrow brush trail. "She's hurt, or they -got her--I'm going back!" he said grimly. - -"Hell! you can't do any good alone," Eddie protested, coming after him. -"We'll go look for her, Mr. Birnie, but we've got to have something so -we can see. If Jerry could dig up a couple of lanterns--" - -"You wait. I'm coming along," Jerry called guardedly. "I'll bring -lanterns." - -To Bud that time of waiting was torment. He had faced danger and tragedy -since he could toddle, and fear had never overridden the titillating -sense of adventure. But then the danger had been for himself. Now terror -conjured pictures whose horror set him trembling. Twenty-four hours and -more had passed since he had kissed Marian's hand and let her go--to -what? The inky blackness of those tunnelled caverns in the Gap -confronted his mind like a nightmare. He could not speak of it--he dared -not think of it, and yet he must. - -Jerry came on horseback, with three unlighted lanterns held in a cluster -by their wire handles. Eddie immediately urged his horse into the brushy -edge of the trail so that he might pass Bud and take the lead. "You sure -made quick time," he remarked approvingly to Jerry. - -"I raided Dave's cache of whiskey or I'd have been here quicker," Jerry -explained. "We might need some." - -Bud gritted his teeth. "Ride, why don't yuh?" he urged Eddie harshly. -"What the hell ails that horse of yours? You got him hobbled?" - -Eddie glanced back over his bobbing shoulder as his horse trotted along -the blind trail through the brush. "This here ain't no race track," he -expostulated. "We'll make it quicker without no broken legs." - -There was justice in his protest and Bud said nothing. But Sunfish's -head bumped the tail of Eddie's horse many times during that ride. Once -in the Gap, with a lighted lantern in his rein hand and his six-shooter -in the other--because it was ticklish riding, in there with lights -revealing them to anyone who might be coming through--he was content to -go slowly, peering this way and that as he rode. - -Once Eddie halted and turned to speak to them. "I know Boise wouldn't -leave the trail. If Sis had to duck off and hide from somebody, he'd -come back to the trail. Loose, he'd do that. Sis and I used to explore -around in here just for fun, and kept it for our secret till Lew found -out. She always rode Boise. I'm dead sure he'd bring her out all right." - -"She hasn't come out--yet. Go on," said Bud, and Eddie rode forward -obediently. - -Three hours it took them to search the various passages where Eddie -thought it possible that Marian had turned aside. Bud saw that the trail -through was safe as any such trail could be, and he wondered at the -nerve and initiative of the girl and the boy who had explored the place -and found where certain queer twists and turns would lead. Afterwards he -learned that Marian was twelve and Eddie ten when first they had hidden -there from Indians, and they had been five years in finding where every -passage led. Also, in daytime the place was not so fearsome, since -sunlight slanted down into many a passageway through the blow-holes high -above. - -"She ain't here. I knew she wasn't," Eddie announced when the final -tunnel let them into the graying light of dawn beyond the Peak. - -"In that case--" Bud glanced from him to Jerry, who was blowing out his -lantern. - -Jerry let down the globe carefully, at the same time glancing soberly -at Bud. "The kid knows better than we do what would happen if Lew met up -with her and Boise." - -Eddie shook his head miserably, his eyes fixed helpessly upon Bud. "Lew -never, Mr. Birnie. I was with him every minute from dark till--till the -cashier, shot him. We come up the way I took you through the canyon. Lew -never knew she was gone any more than I did." - -Jerry bit his lip. "Kid, what if the gang run acrost her, KNOWING Lew -was dead?" he grated. "And her on Boise? The word's out that Bud stole -Boise. Dave and the boys rode out to round him up--and they ain't done -it, so they're still riding--we'll hope. Kid, you know damn well your -gang would double-cross Dave in a minute, now Lew's killed. If they got -hold of the horse, do yuh think they'd turn him over to Dave?" - -"No, you bet your life they wouldn't!" Eddie retorted. - -"And what about HER?" Bud cut in with ominous calm. "She's your sister, -kid. Would you be worried if you knew they had HER and the horse?" - -Eddie gulped and looked away. "They wouldn't hurt her unless they knew't -Lew was dead," he said. "And them that went to Crater was killed or -jailed, so--" He hesitated. "It looked to me like Anse was setting up -waiting for the bunch to get back from Crater. He--he's always jumpy -when they go off and stay, and it'd be just like him to set there and -wait till daylight. It looks to me, Mr. Birnie, like him and--and the -rest don't know yet that the Crater job was a fizzle. They wouldn't -think of such a thing as taking Sis, or Boise either, unless they knew -Lew was dead." - -"Are you sure of that?" Bud had him in a grip that widened the boy's -eyes with something approaching fear. - -"Yes sir, Mr. Birnie, I'm sure. What didn't go to Crater stayed in -camp--or was gone on some other trip. No, I'm sure!" He jerked away with -sudden indignation at Bud's disbelief. "Say! Do you think I'm bad enough -to let my sister get into trouble with the Catrockers? I know they never -got her. More'n likely it's Dave." - -"Dave went up Burroback Valley," Jerry stated flatly. "Him and the boys -wasn't on this side the ridge. They had it sized up that Bud might go -from Crater straight across into Black Rim, and they rode up to catch -him as he comes back across." Jerry grinned a little. "They wanted that -money you peeled off the crowd Sunday, Bud. They was willing you should -get to Crater and cash them checks before they overhauled yuh and strung -yuh up." - -"You don't suppose they'd hurt Marian if they found her with the horse? -She might have followed along to Crater--" - -"She never," Eddie contradicted. And Jerry declared in the same breath, -"She'd be too much afraid of Lew. No, if they found her with the horse -they'd take him away from her and send her back on another one to do -the kitchen work," he conjectured with some contempt. "If they found YOU -without the horse--well--men have been hung on suspicion, Bud. Money's -something everybody wants, and there ain't a man in the valley but what -has figured your winnings down to the last two-bit piece. It's just a -runnin' match now to see what bunch gets to yuh first." - -"Oh, the money! I'd give the whole of it to anyone that would tell me -Marian 's safe," Bud cried unguardedly in his misery. Whereat Jerry and -Ed looked at each other queerly. - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY: "PICK YOUR FOOTING!" - -The three sat irresolutely on their horses at the tunnel's end of the -Gap, staring out over the valley of the Redwater and at the mountains -beyond. Bud's face was haggard and the lines of his mouth were hard. It -was so vast a country in which to look for one little woman who had not -gone back to see Jerry's signal! - -"I'll bet yuh Sis cleared out," Eddie blurted, looking at Bud eagerly, -as if he had been searching for some comforting word. "Sis has got lots -of sand. She used to call me a 'fraid cat all the time when I didn't -want to go where she did. I'll bet she just took Boise and run off with -him. She would, if she made up her mind--and I guess she'd had about as -much as she could stand, cookin' at Little Lost--" - -Bud lifted his head and looked at Eddie like a man newly awakened. "I -gave her money to take home for me, to my mother, down Laramie way. I -begged her to go if she was liable to be in trouble over leaving the -ranch. But she said she wouldn't go--not unless she was missed. She knew -I'd come back to the ranch. I just piled her hands full of bills in the -dark and told her to use them if she had to--" - -"She might have done it," Jerry hazarded hopefully. "Maybe she did sneak -in some other way and get her things. She'd have to take some clothes -along. Women folks always have to pack. By gosh, she could hide Boise -out somewhere and--" - -For a young man in danger of being lynched by his boss for horse -stealing and waylaid and robbed by a gang notorious in the country, -Bud's appetite for risk seemed insatiable that morning. For he added the -extreme possibility of breaking his neck by reckless riding in the next -hour. - -He swung Sunfish about and jabbed him with the spurs, ducking into the -gloom of the Gap as if the two who rode behind were assassins on his -trail. Once he spoke, and that was to Sunfish. His tone was savage. - -"Damn your lazy hide, you've been through here twice and you've got -daylight to help--now pick up your feet and travel!" - -Sunfish travelled; and the pace he set sent even Jerry gasping now and -then when he came to the worst places, with the sound of galloping hoofs -in the distance before him, and Eddie coming along behind and lifting -his voice warningly now and then. Even the Catrockers had held the Gap -in respect, and had ridden its devious trail cautiously. But caution was -a meaningless word to Bud just then while a small flame of hope burned -steadily before him. - -The last turn, where on the first trip Sunfish lost Boise and balked for -a minute, he made so fast that Sunfish left a patch of yellowish hair -on a pointed rock and came into the open snorting fire of wrath. He went -over the rough ground like a bouncing antelope, simply because he was -too mad to care how many legs he broke. At the peak of rocks he showed -an inclination to stop, and Bud, who had been thinking and planning -while he hoped, pulled him to a stand and waited for the others to come -up. They could not go nearer the corrals without incurring the danger of -being overheard, and that must not happen. - -"You damn fool," gritted Jerry when he came up with Bud. "If I'd knowed -you wanted to commit suicide I'd a caved your head in with a rock and -saved myself the craziest ride I ever took in m' life!" - -"Oh, shut up!" Bud snapped impatiently. "We're here, aren't we? Now -listen to me, boys. You catch up my horses--Jerry, are you coming along -with me? You may as well. I'm a deputy sheriff, and if anybody stops you -for whatever you've done, I'll show a warrant for your arrest. And by -thunder," he declared with a faint grin, "I'll serve it if I have to -to keep you with me. I don't know what you've done, and I don't care. I -want you. So catch up my horses--and Jerry, you can pack my war-bag and -roll your bed and mine, if I'm too busy while I'm here." - -"You're liable to be busy, all right," Jerry interpolated grimly. - -"Well, they won't bother you. Ed, you better get the horses. Take -Sunfish, here, and graze him somewhere outa sight. We'll keep going, and -we might have to start suddenly." - -"How about Sis? I thought--" - -"I'm going to turn Little Lost upside down to find her, if she's here. -If she isn't, I'm kinda hoping she went down to mother. She said there -was no other place where she could go. And she'd feel that she had to -deliver the money, perhaps--because I must have given her a couple of -thousand dollars. It was quite a roll, mostly in fifties and hundreds, -and I'm short that much. I'm just gambling that the size of made her -feel she must go." - -"That'd be Sis all over, Mr. Birnie." Eddie glanced around him uneasily. -The sun was shining level in his eyes, and sunlight to Eddie had long -meant danger. "I guess we better hurry, then. I'll get the horses down -outa sight, and come back here afoot and wait." - -"Do that, kid," said Bud, slipping wearily off Sunfish. He gave the -reins into Eddie's hand, motioned Jerry with his head to follow, and -hurried down the winding path to the corrals. The cool brilliance of the -morning, the cheerful warbling of little, wild canaries in the bushes -as he passed, for once failed to thrill him with joy of life. He was -wondering whether to go straight to the house and search it if necessary -to make sure that she had not been there, or whether Indian cunning -would serve him best. His whole being ached for direct action; his heart -trembled with fear lest he should jeopardize Marian's safety by his -impetuous haste to help her. - -Pop, coming from the stable just as Bud was crossing the corral, settled -the question for him. Pop peered at him sharply, put a hand to the small -of his back and came stepping briskly toward him, his jaw working like a -sheep eating hay. - -"Afoot, air ye?" he exclaimed curiously. "What-fer idea yuh got in yore -head now, young feller? Comin' back here afoot when ye rid two fast -horses? Needn't be afraid of ole Pop--not unless yuh lie to 'im and try -to git somethin' fur nothin'. Made off with Lew's wife, too, didn't ye? -Oh, there ain't much gits past ole Pop, even if he ain't the man he used -to be. I seen yuh lookin' at her when yuh oughta been eatin'. I seen -yuh! An' her watchin' you when she thought nobuddy'd ketch her at it! -Sho! Shucks a'mighty! You been playin' hell all around, now, ain't ye? -Needn't lie--I know what my own eyes tells me!" - -"You know a lot, then, that I wish I knew. I've been in Crater all the -time, Pop. Did you know Lew was mixed up in a bank robbery yesterday, -and the cashier of the bank shot him? The rest of the gang is dead or in -jail. The sheriff did some good work there for a few minutes." - -Pop pinched in his lips and stared at Bud unwinkingly for a minute. -"Don't lie to me," he warned petulantly. "Went to Crater, did ye? Cashed -them checks, I expect." - -Bud pulled his mouth into a rueful grin. "Yes, Pop, I cashed the checks, -all right--and here's what's left of the money. I guess," he went -on while he pulled out a small roll of bills and licked his finger -preparatory to counting them, "I might better have stuck to running my -horses. Poker's sure a fright. The way it can eat into a man's pocket--" - -"Went and lost all that money on poker, did ye?" Pop's voice was shrill. -"After me tellin' yuh how to git it--and showin' yuh how yuh could beat -Boise--" the old man's rage choked him. He thrust his face close to -Bud's and glared venomously. - -"Yes, and just to show you I appreciate it, I'm going to give you what's -left after I've counted off enough to see me through to Spokane. I feel -sick, Pop. I want change of air. And as for riding two fast horses to -Crater--" he paused while he counted slowly, Pop licking his lips avidly -as he watched,--"why I don't know what you mean. I only ride one horse -at a time, Pop, when I'm sober. And I was sober till I hit Crater." - -He stopped counting when he reached fifty dollars and gave the rest to -Pop, who thumbed the bank notes in a frenzy of greed until he saw that -he had two hundred dollars in his possession. The glee which he tried -to hide, the crafty suspicion that this was not all of it the returning -conviction that Bud was actually almost penniless, and the cunning -assumption of senility, was pictured on his face. Pop's poor, miserly -soul was for a minute shamelessly revealed. Distraught though he was, -Bud stared and shuddered a little at the spectacle. - -"I always said 't you're a good, honest, well-meaning boy," Pop cackled, -slyly putting the money out of sight while he patted Bud on the -shoulder. "Dave he thought mebby you took and stole Boise--and if I was -you, Bud, I'd git to Spokane quick as I could and not let Dave ketch ye. -Dave's out now lookin' for ye. If he suspicioned you'd have the gall to -come right back to Little Lost, I expect mebby he'd string yuh up, young -feller. Dave's got a nasty temper--he has so!" - -"There's something else, Pop, that I don't like very well to be accused -of. You say Mrs. Morris is gone. I don't know a thing about that, or -about the horse being gone. I've been in Crater. I'd just got my money -out of the bank when it was held up, and Lew was shot." - -Pop teetered and gummed his tobacco and grinned foxily. "Shucks! I don't -care nothin' about Lew's wife goin', ner I don't care nothin' much about -the horse. They ain't no funral uh mine, Bud. Dave an' Lew, let 'em look -after their own belongin's." - -"They'll have to, far as I'm concerned," said Bud. "What would I want -of a horse I can beat any time I want to run mine? Dave must think I'm -scared to ride fast, since Sunday! And Pop, I've got troubles enough -without having a woman on my hands. Are you sure Marian's gone?" - -"SURE?" Pop snorted. "Honey, she's had to do the cookin' for me an' -Jerry--and if I ain't sure--" - -Bud did not wait to hear him out. There was Honey, whom he would very -much like to avoid meeting; so the sooner he made certain of Marian's -deliberate flight the better, since Honey was not an early riser. He -went to the house and entered by way of the kitchen, feeling perfectly -sure all the while that Pop was watching him. The disorder there was -sufficiently convincing that Marian was gone, so he tip-toed across the -room to a door through which he had never seen any one pass save Lew and -Marian. - -It was her bedroom, meagrely furnished, but in perfect order. On the -goods-box dresser with a wavy-glassed mirror above it, her hair brush, -comb and a few cheap toilet necessities lay, with the comb across a -nail file as if she had put it down hurriedly before going out to serve -supper to the men. Marian, then, had not stolen home to pack things -for the journey, as Jerry had declared a woman would do. Bud sent a -lingering glance around the room and closed the door. Hope was still -with him, but it was darkened now with doubts. - -In the kitchen again he hesitated, wanting his guitar and mandolin and -yet aware of the foolishness of burdening himself with them now. Food -was a different matter, however. Dave owed him for more than three weeks -of hard work in the hayfield, so Bud collected from the pantry as much -as he could carry, and left the house like a burglar. - -Pop was fiddling with the mower that stood in front of the machine shed, -plainly waiting for whatever night transpire. And since the bunk-house -door was in plain view and not so far away as Bud wished it, he went -boldly over to the old man, carrying his plunder on his shoulder. - -"Dave owes me for work, Pop, so I took what grub I needed," he explained -with elaborate candor. "I'll show you what I've got, so you'll know I'm -not taking anything that I've no right to." He set down the sack, -opened it and looked up into what appeared to be the largest-muzzled -six-shooter he had ever seen in his life. Sheer astonishment held him -there gaping, half stooped over the sack. - -"No ye don't, young feller!" Pop snarled vindictively. "Yuh think -I'd let a horse thief git off 'n this ranch whilst I'm able to pull a -trigger? You fork her that money you got on ye, first thing yuh do! it's -mine by rights--I told yuh I'd help ye to win money off 'n the valley -crowd, and I done it. An' what does you do? Never pay a mite of -attention to me after I'd give ye all the inside workin's of the -game--never offer to give me my share--no, by Christmas, you go steal a -horse of my son's and hide him out somewheres, and go lose mighty near -all I helped yuh win, playin' poker! Think I'm goin' to stand for that? -Think two hundred dollars is goin' to even things up when I helped ye to -win a fortune? Hand over that fifty you got on yuh!" - -Very meekly, his face blank, Bud reached into his pocket and got the -money. Without a word he pulled two or three dollars in silver from his -trousers pockets and added that to the lot. "Now what?" he wanted to -know. - -"Now You'll wait till Dave gits here to hang yuh fer horse-stealing!" -shrilled Pop. "Jerry! Oh, Jerry! Where be yuh? I got 'im, by -Christmas--I got the horse thief--caught him carryin good grub right -outa the house!" - -"Look out, Jerry!" called Bud, glancing quickly toward the bunk-house. - -Now, Pop had without doubt been a man difficult to trick in his youth, -but he was old, and he was excited, tickled over his easy triumph. He -turned to see what was wrong with Jerry. - -"Look out, Pop, you old fool, You'll bust a blood-vessel if you don't -quiet down," Bud censured mockingly, wresting the gun from the clawing, -struggling old man in his arms. He was surprised at the strength and -agility of Pop, and though he was forcing him backward step by step into -the machine shed, and knew that he was master of the situation, he had -his hands full. - -"Wildcats is nothing to Pop when he gets riled," Jerry grinned, coming -up on the run. "I kinda expected something like this. What yuh want done -with him, Bud?" - -"Gag him so he can't holler his head off, and then take him along--when -I've got my money back," Bud panted. "Pop, you're about as appreciative -as a buck Injun." - -"Going to be hard to pack him so he'll ride," Jerry observed quizzically -when Pop, bound and gagged, lay glaring at them behind the bunk-house. -"He don't quite balance your two grips, Bud. And we do need hat grub." - -"You bring the grub--I'll take Pop--" Bud stopped in the act of -lifting the old man and listened. Honey's voice was calling Pop, with -embellishments such Bud would never have believed a part of Honey's -vocabulary. From her speech, she was coming after him, and Pop's jaws -worked frantically behind Bud's handkerchief. - -Jerry tilted his head toward the luggage he had made a second trip for, -picked up Pop, clamped his hand over the mouth that was trying to betray -them, and slipped away through the brush glancing once over his shoulder -to make sure that Bud was following him. - -They reached the safe screen of branches and stopped there for a minute, -listening to Honey's vituperations and her threats of what she would do -to Pop if he did not come up and start a fire. - -She stopped, and hoofbeats sounded from the main road. Dave and his men -were coming. - -In his heart Bud thanked Little Lost for that hidden path through the -bushes. He heard Dave asking Honey what was the matter with her, heard -the unwomanly reply of the girl, heard her curse Pop for his neglect -of the kitchen stove at that hour of the morning. Heard, too, her -questioning of Dave. Had they found Bud, or Marian? - -"If you got 'em together, and didn't string 'em both up to the nearest -tree--" - -Bud bit his lip and went on, his face aflame with rage at the -brutishness of a girl he had half respected. "Honey!" he whispered -contemptuously. "What a name for that little beast!" - -At the rocks Eddie was waiting with Stopper, upon whom they hurriedly -packed the beds and Bud's luggage. They spoke in whispers when they -spoke at all, and to insure the horse's remaining quiet Eddie had tied a -cotton rope snugly around its muzzle. - -"I'll take Pop," Bud whispered, but Jerry shook his head and once more -shouldered the old fellow as he would carry a bag of grain. So they -slipped back down the trail, took a turn which Bud did not know, and -presently Bud found that Jerry was keeping straight on. Bud made an -Indian sign on the chance that Jerry would understand it, and with his -free hand Jerry replied. He was taking Pop somewhere. They were to wait -for him when they had reached the horses. So they separated for a space. - -"This is sure a great country for hideouts, Mr. Birnie," Eddie ventured -when they had put half a mile between themselves and Little Lost, and -had come upon Smoky, Sunfish and Eddie's horse feeding quietly in a -tiny, spring-watered basin half surrounded with rocks. "If you know the -country you can keep dodgin' sheriffs all your life--if you just have -grub enough to last." - -"Looks to me as if there aren't many wasted opportunities here," Bud -answered with some irony. "Is there an honest man in the whole country, -Ed? I'd just like to know." - -Eddie hesitated, his eyes anxiously trying to read Bud's meaning and his -mood. "Not right around the Sinks, I guess," he replied truthfully. "Up -at Crater there are some, and over to Jumpoff. But I guess this valley -would be called pretty tough, all right. It's so full of caves and -queer places it kinda attracts the ones that want to hide out." Then he -grinned. "It's lucky for you it's like that, Mr. Birnie, or I don't see -how you'd get away. Now I can show you how to get clear away from here -without getting caught. But I guess we ought to have breakfast first. -I'm pretty hungry. Ain't you? I can build a fire against that crack in -the ledge over there, and the smoke will go away back underneath so -it won't show. There's a blow-hole somewhere that draws smoke like a -chimney." - -Jerry came after a little, sniffing bacon. He threw himself down beside -the fire and drew a long breath. "That old skunk's heavier than what you -might think," he observed whimsically. "I packed him down into one of -them sink holes and untied his feet and left him to scramble out best -way he can. It'll take him longer'n it took me. Having the use of your -hands helps quite a lot. And the use of your mouth to cuss a little. -But he'll make it in an hour or two--I'm afraid." He looked at Bud, a -half-shamed tenderness in his eyes. "It sure was hard to leave him like -I did. It was like walking on your toes past a rattler curled up asleep -somewhere, afraid you might spoil his nap. Only Pop wasn't asleep." -He sat up and reached his hand for a cup of coffee which Eddie was -offering. "Anyway, I had the fun of telling the old devil what I -thought about him," he added, and blew away the steam and took another -satisfying nip. - -"He'll put them on our trail, I suppose," said Bud, biting into a ragged -piece of bread with a half-burned slice of hot bacon on it. - -"When he gets to the ranch he will. His poison fangs was sure loaded -when I left. He said he wanted to cut your heart out for robbing him, -and so forth, ad swearum. We'd best not leave any trail." - -"We ain't going to," Eddie assured him eagerly. "I'm glad being with -the Catrockers is going to do some good, Mr. Birnie. It'll help you git -away, and that'll help find Sis. I guess she hit down where you live, -maybe. How far can your horse travel to-day--if he has to?" - -Bud looked across to where Sunfish, having rolled in a wet spot near -the spring and muddied himself to his satisfaction, was greedily at work -upon a patch of grass. "If he has to, till he drops in his tracks. And -that won't be for many a mile, kid. He's thoroughbred; a thoroughbred -never knows when to quit." - -"Well, there ain't any speedy trail ahead of us today," Eddie vouchsafed -cheeringly. "There's half-a mile maybe where we can gallop, and the rest -is a case of picking your footing." - -"Let's begin picking it, then," said Bud, and got up, reaching for his -bridle. - -By devious ways it was that Eddie led them out of that sinister country -surrounding the Sinks. In the beginning Bud and Jerry exchanged glances, -and looked at their guns, believing that it would be through Catrock -Canyon they would have to ride. Eddie, riding soberly in the lead, had -yet a certain youthful sense of his importance. "They'll never think of -following yuh this way, unless old Pop Truman gits back in time to tell -'em I'm travelling with yuh," he observed once when they had penetrated -beyond the neighborhood of caves and blow-holes and were riding safely -down a canyon that offered few chances of their being observed save from -the front, which did not concern them. - -"I guess you don't know old Pop is about the ringeader of the -Catrockers. Er he was, till he began to git kinda childish about -hoarding money, and then Dave stepped in. And Mr. Birnie, I guess you'd -have been dead when you first came there, if it hadn't been that Dave -and Pop wanted to give you a chance to get a lot of money off of Jeff's -bunch. Lew was telling how you kept cleaning up, and he said right along -that they was taking too much risk having you around. Lew said he bet -you was a detective. Are you, Mr. Birnie?" - -Bud was riding with his shoulders sagged forward, his thoughts with -Marian--wherever she was. He had been convinced that she was not at -Little Lost, that she had started for Laramie. But now that he was away -from that evil spot his doubts returned. What if she were still in the -neighborhood--what if they found her? Memory of Honey's vindictiveness -made him shiver, Honey was the kind of woman who would kill. - -"I am, from now on, kid," he said despondently. "We're going to ride -till we find your sister. And if those hell-hounds got her--" - -"They didn't, from the way Honey talked," Jerry comforted. "We'll find -her at Laramie, don't you ever think we won't!" - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: TRAILS END - -At the last camp, just north of the Platte, Bud's two black sheep -balked. Bud himself, worn by sleepless nights and long hours in the -saddle, turned furiously when Jerry announced that he guessed he and Ed -wouldn't go any farther. - -"Well, damn you both for ungrateful hounds!" grated Bud, hurt to the -quick. "I hope you don't think I brought you this far to help hold me in -the saddle; I made it north alone, without any mishap. I think I could -have come back all right. But if you want to quit here, all right. You -can high-tail it back to your outlaws--" - -"Well, if you go 'n put it that way!" Jerry expostulated, lifting both -hands high in the air in a vain attempt to pull the situation toward the -humorous. "You're a depity sheriff, and you got the drop." He grinned, -saw that Bud's eyes were still hard and his mouth unyielding, and -lowered his hands, looking crestfallen as a kicked pup that had tried to -be friendly. - -"You can see for yourself we ain't fit to go 'n meet your mother -and your father like we was--like we'd went straight," Eddie put in -explanatorily. "You've been raised good, and--say, it makes a man want -to BE good to see how a feller don't have to be no preacher to live -right. But it don't seem square to let you take us right home with you, -just because you're so darned kind you'd do it and never think a thing -about it. We ain't ungrateful--I know I ain't. But--but--" - -"The kid's said it, Bud," Jerry came to the rescue. "We come along -because it was a ticklish trip you had ahead. And I've knowed as good -riders as you are, that could stand a little holding in the saddle when -some freak had tried to shoot 'em out of it. But you're close to home -now and you don't need us no more, and so we ain't going to horn in on -the prodigal calf's milkbucket. Marian, She's likely there--" - -"If Sis ain't with your folks we'll hunt her up," Eddie interrupted -eagerly. "Sis is your kind--she--she's good enough for yuh, Bud, and I -hope she--ll--well if she's got any sense she will--well, if it comes to -the narrying point, I--well, darn it, I'd like to see Sis git as good a -man as you are!" Eddie, having bluntered that far, went headlong as if -he were afraid to stop. "Sis is educated, and she's an awful good singer -and a fine girl, only I'm her brother. But I'm going to live honest from -now on, Bud, and I hope you won't hold off on account of me. I -ain't going to have sis feel like crying when she thinks about me! -You--you--said something that hurt like a knife, Bud, when you told me -that, up in Crater. And she wasn't to blame for marryn' Lew--and she -done that outa goodness, the kind you showed to Jerry and me. And we -don't want to go spoilin' everything by letting your folks see what -you're bringin' home with yuh! And it might hurt Sis with your folks, if -they found out that I'm--" - -Bud had been standing by his horse, looking from one to the other, -listening, watching their faces, measuring the full depth of their -manhood. "Say! you remind me of a story the folks tell on me," he said, -his eyes shining, while his voice strove to make light of it all. "Once, -when I was a kid in pink-aprons, I got lost from the trail-herd my folks -were bringing up from Texas. It was comin' dark, and they had the whole -outfit out hunting me, and everybody scared to death. When they were all -about crazy, they claim I came walking up to the camp-fire dragging -a dead snake by the tail, and carrying a horn toad in my shirt, and -claiming they were mine because I 'ketched 'em.' I'm not branding that -yarn with any moral--but figure it out for yourself, boys." - -The two looked at each other and grinned. "I ain't dead yet," Eddie -made sheepish comment. "Mebbe you kinda look on me as being a horn toad, -Bud." - -"When you bear in mind that my folks raised that kid, You'll realize -that it takes a good deal to stampede mother." Bud swung into the saddle -to avoid subjecting his emotions to the cramped, inadequate limitations -of speech. "Let's go, boys. She's a long trail to take the kinks out of -before supper-time." - -They stood still, making no move to follow. Bud reined Smoky around so -that he faced them, reached laboriously into that mysterious pocket of -a cowpuncher's trousers which is always held closed by the belt of his -chaps, and which invariably holds in its depths the things he wants in a -hurry. They watched him curiously, resolutely refusing to interpret his -bit of autobiography, wondering perhaps why he did not go. - -"Here she is." Bud had disinterred the deputy sheriff's badge, and began -to polish it by the primitive but effectual method of spitting on it and -then rubbing vigorously on his sleeve. "You're outside of Crater County, -but by thunder you're both guilty of resisting an officer, and county -lines don't count!" He had pinned the badge at random on his coat while -he was speaking, and now, before the two realized what he was about, he -had his six-shooter out and aimed straight at them. - -Bud had never lived in fear of the law. Instantly was sorry when he -saw the involuntary stiffening of their muscles, the quick wordless -suspicion and defiance that sent their eyes in shifty glances to right -and left before their hands lifted a little. Trust him, love him they -might, there was that latent fear of capture driven deep into their -souls; so deep that even he had not erased it. - -Bud saw--and so he laughed. - -"I've got to show my folks that I've made a gathering," he said. "You -can't quit, boys. And I'm going to take you to the end of the trail, now -you've started." He eyed them, saw that they were still stubborn, and -drew in his breath sharply, manfully meeting the question in their -minds. - -"We've left more at the Sinks than the gnashing of teeth," he said -whimsically. "A couple of bad names, for instance. You're two bully -good friends of mine, and--damn it, Marian will want to see both of you -fellows, if she's there. If she isn't--we'll maybe have a big circle -to ride, finding her. I'll need you, no matter what's ahead." He looked -from one to the other, gave a snort and added impatiently, "Aw, fork -your horses and don't stand there looking like a couple of damn fools!" - -Whereupon Jerry shook his head dissentingly, grinned and gave Eddie so -emphatic an impulse toward his horse that the kid went sprawling. - -"Guess We're up against it, all right--but I do wish yo 'd lose that -badge!" Jerry surrendered, and flipped the bridle reins over the neck of -his horse. "Horn toad is right, the way you're scabbling around amongst -them rocks," he called light-heartedly to the kid. "Ever see a purtier -sunrise? I never!" - -I don't know what they thought of the sunset. Gorgeous it was, with many -soft colors blended into unnamable tints and translucencies, and the -songs of birds in the thickets as they passed. Smoky, Sunfish and -Stopper walked briskly, ears perked forward, heads up, eyes eager to -catch the familiar landmarks that meant home. Bud's head was up, also, -his eyes went here and there, resting with a careless affection on those -same landmarks which spelled home. He would have let Smoky's reins have -a bit more slack and would have led his little convoy to the corrals -at a gallop, had not hope begun to tremble and shrink from meeting -certainty face to face. Had you asked him then, I think Bud would have -owned himself a coward. Until he had speech with home-folk he would -merely be hoping that Marian was there; but until he had speech with -them he need not hear that they knew nothing of her. Bud--like, however, -he tried to cover his trepidation with a joke. - -"We'll sneak up on 'em," he said to Ed and Jerry when the roofs of -house and stables came into view. - -"Here's where I grew up, boys. And in a minute or two more you'll see -the greatest little mother on earth--and the finest dad," he added, -swallowing the last of his Scotch stubbornness. - -"And Sis, I hope," Eddie said wistfully. "I sure hope she's here." - -Neither Jerry nor Bud answered him at all. Smoky threw up his head -suddenly and gave a shrill whinny, and a horse at the corrals answered -sonorously. - -"Say! That sounds to me like Boise!" Eddie exclaimed, standing up in his -stirrups to look. - -Bud turned pale, then flushed hotly. "Don't holler!" he muttered, and -held Smoky back a little. For just one reason a young man's heart pounds -as Bud's heart pounded then. Jerry looked at him, took a deep breath -and bit his lip thoughtfully. It may be that Jerry's heartbeats were not -quite normal just then, but no one would ever know. - -They rode slowly to a point near the corner of the table, and there Bud -halted the two with his lifted hand. Bud was trembling a little--but he -was smiling, too. Eddie was frankly grinning, Jerry's face was the face -of a good poker-player--it told nothing. - -In a group with their backs to them stood three: Marian, Bud's mother -and his father. Bob Birnie held Boise by the bridle, and the two women -were stroking the brown nose of the horse that moved uneasily, with -little impatient head-tossings. - -"He doesn't behave like a horse that has made the long trip he has -made," Bud's mother observed admiringly. "You must be a wonderful little -horsewoman, my dear, as well as a wonderful little woman in every other -way. Buddy should never have sent you on such a trip--just to bring home -money, like a bank messenger! But I'm glad that he did! And I do wish -you would consent to stay--such an afternoon with music I haven't had -since Buddy left us. You could stay with me and train for the -concert work you intend doing. I'm only an old ranch woman in a slat -sunbonnet--but I taught my Buddy--and have you heard him?" - -"An old woman in a slat sunbonnet--oh, how can you? Why, you're the most -wonderful woman in the whole world." Marian's voice was almost tearful -in its protest. "Yes--I have heard--your Buddy." - -"'T is the strangest way to go about selling a horse that I ever saw," -Bob Birnie put in dryly, smoothing his beard while he looked at them. -"We'd be glad to have you stay, lass. But you've asked me to place a -price on the horse, and I should like to ask ye a question or two. How -fast did ye say he could run?" - -Marian laid an arm around the shoulders of the old lady in a slat -sunbonnet and patted her arm while she answered. - -"Well, he beat everything in the country, so they refused to race -against him, until Bud came with his horses," she replied. "It took -Sunfish to outrun him. He 's terribly fast, Mr. Birnie. I--really, I -think he could beat the world's record--if Bud rode him!" - -Just here you should picture Ed and Jerry with their hands over their -mouths, and Bud wanting to hide his face with his hat. - -Bob Birnie's beard behaved oddly for a minute, while he leaned and -stroked Boise's flat forelegs, that told of speed. "Wee-ll," he -hesitated, soft-heartedness battling with the horse-buyer's keenness, -"since Bud is na ere to ride him, he'll make a good horse for the -roundup. I'll give ye "--more battling--"a hundred and fifty dollars for -him, if ye care to sell--" - -"Here, wait a minute before you sell to that old skinflint!" Bud shouted -exuberantly, dismounting with a rush. The rush, I may say, carried him -to the little old lady in the slat sunbonnet, and to that other little -lady who was staring at him with wide, bright yes. Bud's arms went -around his mother. Perhaps by accident he gathered in Marian also--they -were standing very close, and his arms were very long--and he was slow -to discover his mistake. - -"I'll give you two hundred for Boise, and I'll throw in one brother, and -one long-legged, good-for-nothing cowpuncher--" - -"Meaning yourself, Buddy?" came teasingly from he slat sunbonnet, whose -occupant had not been told just everything. "I'll be surprised if she'll -have you, with that dirty face and no shave for a week and more. But -if she does, you're luckier than you deserve, for riding up on us like -this! We've heard all about you, Buddy--though you were wise to send -this lassie to gild your faults and make a hero of you!" - -Now, you want to know how Marian managed to live through that. I will -say that she discovered how tenaciously a young man's arms may cling -when he thinks he is embracing merely his mother; but she freed herself -and ran to Eddie, fairly pulled him off his horse, and talked very -fast and incoherently to him and Jerry, asking question after question -without waiting for a reply to any of them. All this, I suppose, in the -hope that they would not hear, or, hearing, would not understand what -that terrible, wonderful little woman was saying so innocently. - -But you cannot faze youth. Eddie had important news for Sis, and he felt -that now was the time to tell it before Marian blushed any redder, so -he pulled her face up to his, put his lips so close to her ear that his -breath tickled, and whispered--without any preface whatever that she -could marry Bud any time now, because she was a widow. - -"Here! Somebody--Bud--quick! Sis has fainted! Doggone it, I only told -her Lew's dead and she can marry you--shucks! I thought she'd be glad!" - -Down on the Staked Plains, on an evening much like the evening when Bud -came home with his "stake" and his hopes and two black sheep who were -becoming white as most of us, a camp-fire began to crackle and wave -smoke ribbons this way and that before it burned steadily under the -supper pots of a certain hungry, happy group which you know. - -"It's somewhere about here that I got lost from camp when I was a kid," -Bud observed, tilting back his hat and lifting a knee to snap a dry -stick over it. "Mother'd know, I bet. I kinda wish we'd brought her and -dad along with us. That's about eighteen years ago they trailed a herd -north--and here we are, taking our trail--herd north on the same trail! -I kinda wish now I'd picked up a bunch of yearling heifers along with -our two-year-olds. We could have brought another hundred head just as -well as not. They sure drive nice. Mother would have enjoyed this trip." - -"You think so, do you?" Marian gave him a superior little smile along -with the coffee-boiler. "If you'd heard her talk about that trip north -when there weren't any men around listening, you'd change your mind. -Bud Birnie, you are the SIMPLEST creature! You think, because a woman -doesn't make a fuss over things, she doesn't mind. Your mother told me -that it was a perfect nightmare. She taught you music just in the hope -that you'd go back to civilization and live there where there are some -modern improvements, and she could visit you! And here you are--all -rapped up in a bunch of young stock, dirty as pig and your whiskers--ow! -Bud! Stop that immediatly, or I'll go put my face in a cactus just for -relief!" - -"Maybe you're dissatisfied yourself with my bunch of cattle. Maybe you -didn't go in raptures over our aim and make more plans in a day than -four men could carry out in a year. Maybe you wish your husband was a -man that was content to pound piano keys all his life and let his hair -grow long instead of his whiskers. If you hate this, why didn't you say -so?" - -"I was speaking," said Marian as dignifiedly as was possible, "of your -mother. She was raised in civilization, and she has simply made the best -of pioneering all her married life. I was born and raised in cow-country -and I love it. As I said before, you are the SIMPLEST creature! Would -you really bring a father and mother a honeymoon trail--especially when -the bride didn't want them, and they would much rather stay home?" - -"Hey!" cried Eddie disgustedly, coming up from a shallow creek with a -bucket of water and a few dry sticks. "The coffee's upset and putting -the fire out. Gee whiz! Can't you folks quit love-makin' and tend to -business long enough to cook a meal?" - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cow-Country, by B. M. 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