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diff --git a/1740-0.txt b/1740-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e560ae --- /dev/null +++ b/1740-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8428 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flying U's Last Stand, 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: The Flying U's Last Stand + +Author: B. M. Bower + +Posting Date: October 5, 2008 [EBook #1740] +Release Date: May, 1999 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND *** + + + + +Produced by Mary Starr + + + + + +THE FLYING-U'S LAST STAND + +By B. M. Bower + + + + +CONTENTS + + 1. OLD WAYS AND NEW + + 2. ANDY GREEN'S NEW ACQUAINTANCE + + 3. THE KID LEARNS SOME THINGS ABOUT HORSES + + 4. ANDY TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME + + 5. THE HAPPY FAMILY TURN NESTERS + + 6. THE FIRST BLOW IN THE FIGHT + + 7. THE COMING OF THE COLONY + + 8. FLORENCE GRACE HALLMAN SPEAKS PLAINLY + + 9. THE HAPPY FAMILY BUYS A BUNCH OF CATTLE + + 10. WHEREIN ANDY GREEN LIES TO A LADY + + ll. THE MOVING CHAPTER IN EVENTS + + 12. SHACKS, LIVESTOCK AND PILGRIMS PROMPTLY AND PAINFULLY + REMOVED + + 13. IRISH WORKS FOR THE CAUSE + + 14. JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER + + 15. THE KID HAS IDEAS OF HIS OWN + + 16. “A RELL OLD COWPUNCHER” + + 17. “LOST CHILD” + + 18. THE LONG WAY ROUND + + 19. HER NAME WAS ROSEMARY + + 20. THE RELL OLD COWPUNCHER GOES HOME + + 21. THE FIGHT GOES ON + + 22. LAWFUL IMPROVEMENTS + + 23. THE WATER QUESTION AND SOME GOSSIP + + 24. THE KID IS USED FOR A PAWN IN THE GAME + + 25. “LITTLE BLACK SHACK'S ALL BURNT UP!” + + 26. ROSEMARY ALLEN DOES A SMALL SUM IN ADDITION + + 27. “IT'S AWFUL EASY TO GET LOST” + + 28. AS IT TURNED OUT + + + + +THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND + + + +CHAPTER 1. OLD WAYS AND NEW + +Progress is like the insidious change from youth to old age, except that +progress does not mean decay. The change that is almost imperceptible +and yet inexorable is much the same, however. You will see a community +apparently changeless as the years pass by; and yet, when the years have +gone and you look back, there has been a change. It is not the same. +It never will be the same. It can pass through further change, but it +cannot go back. Men look back sick sometimes with longing for the things +that were and that can be no more; they live the old days in memory--but +try as they will they may not go back. With intelligent, persistent +effort they may retard further change considerably, but that is the most +that they can hope to do. Civilization and Time will continue the march +in spite of all that man may do. + +That is the way it was with the Flying U. Old J. G. Whitmore fought +doggedly against the changing conditions--and he fought intelligently +and well. When he saw the range dwindling and the way to the watering +places barred against his cattle with long stretches of barbed wire, he +sent his herds deeper into the Badlands to seek what grazing was in the +hidden, little valleys and the deep, sequestered canyons. He cut more +hay for winter feeding, and he sowed his meadows to alfalfa that he +might increase the crops. He shipped old cows and dry cows with his fat +steers in the fall, and he bettered the blood of his herds and raised +bigger cattle. Therefore, if his cattle grew fewer in number, they +improved in quality and prices went higher, so that the result was much +the same. + +It began to look, then, as though J. G. Whitmore was cunningly besting +the situation, and was going to hold out indefinitely against the +encroachments of civilization upon the old order of things on the range. +And it had begun to look as though he was going to best Time at his own +game, and refuse also to grow old; as though he would go on being the +same pudgy, grizzled, humorously querulous Old Man beloved of his men, +the Happy Family of the Flying U. + +Sometimes, however, Time will fill a four-flush with the joker, and then +laugh while he rakes in the chips. J. G. Whitmore had been going his way +and refusing to grow old for a long time--and then an accident, which +is Time's joker, turned the game against him. He stood for just a second +too long on a crowded crossing in Chicago, hesitating between going +forward or back. And that second gave Time a chance to play an accident. +A big seven-passenger touring car mowed him down and left him in a heap +for the ambulance from the nearest hospital to gather on its stretcher. + +The Old Man did not die; he had lived long on the open range and he was +pretty tough and hard to kill. He went back to his beloved Flying U, +with a crutch to help him shuffle from bed to easy chair and back again. + +The Little Doctor, who was his youngest sister, nursed him tirelessly; +but it was long before there came a day when the Old Man gave his crutch +to the Kid to use for a stick-horse, and walked through the living room +and out upon the porch with the help of a cane and the solicitous arm +of the Little Doctor, and with the Kid galloping gleefully before him on +the crutch. + +Later he discarded the help of somebody's arm, and hobbled down to the +corral with the cane, and with the Kid still galloping before him on +“Uncle Gee Gee's” crutch. He stood for some time leaning against the +corral watching some of the boys halter-breaking a horse that was later +to be sold--when he was “broke gentle”--and then he hobbled back again, +thankful for the soft comfort of his big chair. + +That was well enough, as far as it went. The Flying U took it for +granted that the Old Man was slowly returning to the old order of life, +when rheumatism was his only foe and he could run things with his old +energy and easy good management. But there never came a day when the Old +Man gave his cane to the kid to play with. There never came a day when +he was not thankful for the soft comfort of his chair. There never came +a day when he was the same Old Man who joshed the boys and scolded them +and threatened them. The day was always coming--of course!--when his +back would quit aching if he walked to the stable and back without a +long rest between, but it never actually arrived. + +So, imperceptibly but surely, the Old Man began to grow old. The thin +spot on top of his head grew shiny, so that the Kid noticed it and made +blunt comments upon the subject. His rheumatism was not his worst foe, +now. He had to pet his digestive apparatus and cut out strong coffee +with three heaping teaspoons of sugar in each cup, because the Little +Doctor told him his liver was torpid. He had to stop giving the Kid +jolty rides on his knees,--but that was because the Kid was getting too +big for baby play, the Old Man declared. The Kid was big enough to ride +real horses, now, and he ought to be ashamed to ride knee-horses any +more. + +To two things the Old Man clung almost fiercely; the old regime of +ranging his cattle at large and starting out the wagons in the spring +just the same as if twenty-five men instead of twelve went with them; +and the retention of the Happy Family on his payroll, just as if they +were actually needed. If one of the boys left to try other things and +other fields, the Old Man considered him gone on a vacation and expected +him back when spring roundup approached. + +True, he was seldom disappointed in that. For the Happy Family looked +upon the Flying U as home, and six months was about the limit for +straying afar. Cowpunchers to the bone though they were, they bent backs +over irrigating ditches and sweated in the hay fields just for the +sake of staying together on the ranch. I cannot say that they did it +uncomplainingly--for the bunk-house was saturated to the ridge-pole with +their maledictions while they compared blistered hands and pitchfork +callouses, and mourned the days that were gone; the days when they +rode far and free and scorned any work that could not be done from the +saddle. But they stayed, and they did the ranch work as well as the +range work, which is the main point. + +They became engaged to certain girls who filled their dreams and +all their waking thoughts--but they never quite came to the point of +marrying and going their way. Except Pink, who did marry impulsively and +unwisely, and who suffered himself to be bullied and called Percy for +seven months or so, and who balked at leaving the Flying U for the city +and a vicarious existence in theaterdom, and so found himself free quite +as suddenly as he had been tied. + +They intended to marry and settle down--sometime. But there was always +something in the way of carrying those intentions to fulfillment, so +that eventually the majority of the Happy Family found themselves not +even engaged, but drifting along toward permanent bachelorhood. Being of +the optimistic type, however, they did not worry; Pink having set before +them a fine example of the failure of marriage and having returned with +manifest relief to the freedom of the bunk-house. + + + +CHAPTER 2. ANDY GREEN'S NEW ACQUAINTANCE + +Andy Green, chief prevaricator of the Happy Family of the Flying U--and +not ashamed of either title or connection--pushed his new Stetson back +off his untanned forehead, attempted to negotiate the narrow passage +into a Pullman sleeper with his suitcase swinging from his right hand, +and butted into a woman who was just emerging from the dressing-room. He +butted into her so emphatically that he was compelled to swing his left +arm out very quickly, or see her go headlong into the window opposite; +for a fullsized suitcase propelled forward by a muscular young man may +prove a very efficient instrument of disaster, especially if it catches +one just in the hollow back of the knee. The woman tottered and grasped +Andy convulsively to save herself a fall, and so they stood blocking the +passage until the porter arrived and took the suitcase from Andy with a +tip-inviting deference. + +Andy apologized profusely, with a quaint, cowpunchery phrasing that +caused the woman to take a second look at him. And, since Andy Green +would look good to any woman capable of recognizing--and appreciating--a +real man when she saw him, she smiled and said it didn't matter in the +least. + +That was the beginning of the acquaintance. Andy took her by her plump, +chiffon-veiled arm and piloted her to her seat, and he afterward tipped +the porter generously and had his own belongings deposited in the +section across the aisle. Then, with the guile of a foreign diplomat, he +betook himself to the smoking-room and stayed there for three quarters +of an hour. He was not taking any particular risk of losing the +opportunity of an unusually pleasant journey, for the dollar he had +invested in the goodwill of the porter had yielded the information that +the lady was going through to Great Falls. Since Andy had boarded the +train at Harlem there was plenty of time to kill between there and Dry +Lake, which was his destination. + +The lady smiled at him rememberingly when finally he seated himself +across the aisle from her, and without any serious motive Andy smiled +back. So presently they were exchanging remarks about the journey. Later +on, Andy went over and sat beside her and conversation began in earnest. +Her name, it transpired, was Florence Grace Hallman. Andy read it +engraved upon a card which added the information that she was engaged +in the real estate business--or so the three or four words implied. +“Homemakers' Syndicate, Minneapolis and St. Paul,” said the card. Andy +was visibly impressed thereby. He looked at her with swift appraisement +and decided that she was “all to the good.” + +Florence Grace Hallman was tall and daintily muscular as to figure. Her +hair was a light yellow--not quite the shade which peroxide gives, +and therefore probably natural. Her eyes were brown, a shade too close +together but cool and calm and calculating in their gaze, and her +eyebrows slanted upward a bit at the outer ends and were as heavy as +beauty permitted. Her lips were very red, and her chin was very firm. +She looked the successful business woman to her fingertips, and she was +eminently attractive for a woman of that self-assured type. + +Andy was attractive also, in a purely Western way. His gray eyes were +deceivingly candid and his voice was pleasant with a little, humorous +drawl that matched well the quirk of his lips when he talked. He was +headed for home--which was the Flying U--sober and sunny and with enough +money to see him through. He told Florence Hallman his name, and said +that he lived “up the road a ways” without being too definite. Florence +Hallman lived in Minneapolis, she said; though she traveled most of the +time, in the interests of her firm. + +Yes, she liked the real estate business. One had a chance to see the +world, and keep in touch with people and things. She liked the West +especially well. Since her firm had taken up the homeseekers' line she +spent most of her time in the West. + +They had supper--she called it dinner, Andy observed--together, and Andy +Green paid the check, which was not so small. It was after that, when +they became more confidential, that Florence Hallman, with the egotism +of the successful person who believes herself or himself to be of keen +interest to the listener spoke in greater detail of her present mission. + +Her firm's policy was, she said, to locate a large tract of government +land somewhere, and then organize a homeseekers' colony, and settle +the land-hungry upon the tract--at so much per hunger. She thought it +a great scheme for both sides of the transaction. The men who wanted +claims got them. The firm got the fee for showing them the land--and +certain other perquisites at which she merely hinted. + +She thought that Andy himself would be a success at the business. She +was quick to form her opinions of people whom she met, and she knew that +Andy was just the man for such work. Andy, listening with his candid, +gray eyes straying often to her face and dwelling there, modestly failed +to agree with her. He did not know the first thing about the real estate +business, he confessed, nor very much about ranching. Oh, yes--he lived +in this country, and he knew THAT pretty well, but-- + +“The point is right here,” said Florence Grace Hallman, laying her pink +fingertips upon his arm and glancing behind her to make sure that they +were practically alone--their immediate neighbors being still in the +diner. “I'm speaking merely upon impulse--which isn't a wise thing to +do, ordinarily. But--well, your eyes vouch for you, Mr. Green, and we +women are bound to act impulsively sometimes--or we wouldn't be women, +would we?” She laughed--rather, she gave a little, infectious giggle, +and took away her fingers, to the regret of Andy who liked the feel of +them on his forearm. + +“The point is here. I've recognized the fact, all along, that we need +a man stationed right here, living in the country, who will meet +prospective homesteaders and talk farming; keep up their enthusiasm; +whip the doubters into line; talk climate and soil and the future of the +country; look the part, you understand.” + +“So I look like a rube, do I?” Andy's lips quirked a half smile at her. + +“No, of course you don't!” She laid her fingers on his sleeve again, +which was what Andy wanted--what he had intended to bait her into doing; +thereby proving that, in some respects at least, he amply justified Hiss +Hallman in her snap judgment of him. + +“Of course you don't look like a rube! I don't want you to. But you +do look Western--because you are Western to the bone Besides, you look +perfectly dependable. Nobody could look into your eyes and even think +of doubting the truth of any statement you made to them.” Andy snickered +mentally at that though his eyes never lost their clear candor. “And,” + she concluded, “being a bona fide resident of the country, your word +would carry more weight than mine if I were to talk myself black in the +face!” + +“That's where you're dead wrong,” Andy hastened to correct her. + +“Well, you must let me have my own opinion, Mr. Green. You would be +convincing enough, at any rate. You see, there is a certain per cent +of--let us call it waste effort--in this colonization business. We +have to reckon on a certain number of nibblers who won't bite”--Andy's +honest, gray eyes widened a hair's breadth at the frankness of her +language--“when they get out here. They swallow the folders we send +out, but when they get out here and see the country, they can't see it +as a rich farming district, and they won't invest. They go back home and +knock, if they do anything. + +“My idea is to stop that waste; to land every homeseeker that boards our +excursion trains. And I believe the way to do that is to have the right +kind of a man out here, steer the doubtfuls against him--and let his +personality and his experience do the rest. They're hungry enough to +come, you see; the thing is to keep them here. A man that lives right +here, that has all the earmarks of the West, and is not known to be +affiliated with our Syndicate (you could have rigs to hire, and drive +the doubtfuls to the tract)--don't you see what an enormous advantage +he'd have? The class I speak of are the suspicious ones--those who are +from Missouri. They're inclined to want salt with what we say about the +resources of the country. Even our chemical analysis of the soil, and +weather bureau dope, don't go very far with those hicks. They want to +talk with someone who has tried it, you see.” + +“I--see,” said Andy thoughtfully, and his eyes narrowed a trifle. “On +the square, Miss Hallman, what are the natural advantages out here--for +farming? What line of talk do you give those come-ons?” + +Miss Hallman laughed and made a very pretty gesture with her two ringed +hands. “Whatever sounds the best to them,” she said. “If they write and +ask about spuds we come back with illustrated folders of potato crops +and statistics of average yields and prices and all that. If it's dairy, +we have dairy folders. And so on. It isn't any fraud--there ARE +sections of the country that produce almost anything, from alfalfa to +strawberries. You know that,” she challenged. + +“Sure. But I didn't know there was much tillable land left lying around +loose,” he ventured to say. + +Again Miss Hallman made the pretty gesture, which might mean much or +nothing. “There's plenty of land 'lying around loose,' as you call it. +How do you know it won't produce, till it has been tried?” + +“That's right,” Andy assented uneasily. “If there's water to put on +it--” + +“And since there is the land, our business lies in getting people +located on it. The towns and the railroads are back of us. That is, they +look with favor upon bringing settlers into the country. It increases +the business of the country--the traffic, the freights, the merchants' +business, everything.” + +Andy puckered his eyebrows and looked out of the window upon a great +stretch of open, rolling prairie, clothed sparely in grass that was +showing faint green in the hollows, and with no water for miles--as +he knew well--except for the rivers that hurried through narrow bottom +lands guarded by high bluffs that were for the most part barren. The +land was there, all right. But-- + +“What I can't see,” he observed after a minute during which Miss +Florence Hallman studied his averted face, “what I can't see is, where +do the settlers get off at?” + +“At Easy street, if they're lucky enough,” she told him lightly. “My +business is to locate them on the land. Getting a living off it is +THEIR business. And,” she added defensively, “people do make a living on +ranches out here.” + +“That's right,” he agreed again--he was finding it very pleasant to +agree with Florence Grace Hallman. “Mostly off stock, though.” + +“Yes, and we encourage our clients to bring out all the young stock they +possibly can; young cows and horses and--all that sort of thing. There's +quantities of open country around here, that even the most optimistic +of homeseekers would never think of filing on. They can make out, all +right, I guess. We certainly urge them strongly to bring stock with +them. It's always been famous as a cattle country--that's one of our +highest cards. We tell them--” + +“How do you do that? Do you go right to them and TALK to them?” + +“Yes, if they show a strong enough interest--and bank account. I follow +up the best prospects and visit them in person. I've talked to fifty +horny-handed he-men in the past month.” + +“Then I don't see what you need of anyone to bring up the drag,” Andy +told her admiringly. “If you talk to 'em, there oughtn't be any drag!” + +“Thank you for the implied compliment. But there IS a 'drag,' as you +call it. There's going to be a big one, too, I'm afraid--when they get +out and see this tract we're going to work off this spring.” She stopped +and studied him as a chess player studies the board. + +“I'm very much tempted to tell you something I shouldn't tell,” she said +at length, lowering her voice a little. “Remember, Andy Green was a very +good looking man, and his eyes were remarkable for their clear, candid +gaze straight into your own eyes. Even as keen a business woman as +Florence Grace Hallman must be forgiven for being deceived by them. I'm +tempted to tell you where this tract is. You may know it.” + +“You better not, unless you're willing to take a chance,” he told her +soberly. “If it looks too good, I'm liable to jump it myself.” + +Miss Hallman laughed and twisted her red lips at him in what might be +construed as a flirtatious manner. She was really quite taken with Andy +Green. “I'll take a chance. I don't think you'll jump it. Do you know +anything about Dry Lake, up above Havre, toward Great Falls--and the +country out east of there, towards the mountains?” + +The fingers of Andy Green closed into his palms. His eyes, however, +continued to look into hers with his most guileless expression. + +“Y-es--that is, I've ridden over it,” he acknowledged simply. + +“Well--now this is a secret; at least we don't want those mossback +ranchers in there to get hold of it too soon, though they couldn't +really do anything, since it's all government land and the lease has +only just run out. There's a high tract lying between the Bear Paws +and--do you know where the Flying U ranch is?” + +“About where it is--yes.” + +“Well, it's right up there on that plateau--bench, you call it out here. +There are several thousand acres along in there that we're locating +settlers on this spring. We're just waiting for the grass to get nice +and green, and the prairie to get all covered with those blue, blue wind +flowers, and the meadow larks to get busy with their nests, and then +we're going to bring them out and--” She spread her hands again. It +seemed a favorite gesture grown into a habit, and it surely was more +eloquent than words. “These prairies will be a dream of beauty, in a +little while,” she said. “I'm to watch for the psychological time to +bring out the seekers. And if I could just interest you, Mr. Green, to +the extent of being somewhere around Dry Lake, with a good team that +you will drive for hire and some samples of oats and dry-land spuds and +stuff that you raised on your claim--” She eyed him sharply for one so +endearingly feminine. “Would you do it? There'd be a salary, and besides +that a commission on each doubter you landed. And I'd just love to have +you for one of my assistants.” + +“It sure sounds good,” Andy flirted with the proposition, and let his +eyes soften appreciably to meet her last sentence and the tone in which +she spoke it. “Do you think I could get by with the right line of talk +with the doubters?” + +“I think you could,” she said, and in her voice there was a cooing +note. “Study up a little on the right dope, and I think you could +convince--even me.” + +“Could I?” Andy Green knew that cooing note, himself, and one a shade +more provocative. “I wonder!” + +A man came down the aisle at that moment, gave Andy a keen glance and +went on with a cigar between his fingers. Andy scowled frankly, sighed +and straightened his shoulders. + +“That's what I call hard luck,” he grumbled, “got to see that man before +he gets off the train--and the h--worst of it is, I don't know just what +station he'll get off at.” He sighed again. “I've got a deal on,” he +told her confidentially, “that's sure going to keep me humping if I pull +loose so as to go in with you. How long did you say?” + +“Probably two weeks, the way spring is opening out here. I'd want you +to get perfectly familiar with our policy and the details of our scheme +before they land. I'd want you to be familiar with that tract and be +able to show up its best points when you take seekers out there. You'd +be so much better than one of our own men, who have the word 'agent' +written all over them. You'll come back and--talk it over won't you?” + For Andy was showing unmistakable symptoms of leaving her to follow the +man. + +“You KNOW it,” he declared in a tone of “I won't sleep nights till this +thing is settled--and settled right.” He gave her a smile that rather +dazzled the lady, got up with much reluctance and with a glance that had +in it a certain element of longing went swaying down the aisle after the +man who had preceded him. + +Andy's business with the man consisted solely in mixing cigarette smoke +with cigar smoke and of helping to stare moodily out of the window. +Words there were none, save when Andy was proffered a match and muttered +his thanks. The silent session lasted for half an hour. Then the man got +up and went out, and the breath of Andy Green paused behind his nostrils +until he saw that the man went only to the first section in the car and +settled there behind a spread newspaper, invisible to Florence Grace +Hallman unless she searched the car and peered over the top of the paper +to see who was behind. + +After that Andy Green continued to stare out of the window, seeing +nothing of the scenery but the flicker of telegraph posts before his +eyes that were visioning the future. + +The Flying U ranch hemmed in by homesteaders from the East, he saw; +homesteaders who were being urged to bring all the stock they could, and +turn it loose upon the shrinking range. Homesteaders who would fence +the country into squares, and tear up the grass and sow grain that might +never bear a harvest. Homesteaders who would inevitably grow poorer upon +the land that would suck their strength and all their little savings +and turn them loose finally to forage a living where they might. +Homesteaders who would ruin the land that ruined them.... It was not a +pleasing picture, but it was more pleasing than the picture he saw of +the Flying U after these human grass hoppers had settled there. + +The range that fed the Flying U stock would feed no more and hide their +ribs at shipping time. That he knew too well. Old J. G. Whitmore and +Chip would have to sell out. And that was like death; indeed, it IS +death of a sort, when one of the old outfits is wiped out of existence. +It had happened before--happened too often to make pleasant memories for +Andy Green, who could name outfit after outfit that had been forced out +of business by the settling of the range land; who could name dozens +of cattle brands once seen upon the range, and never glimpsed now from +spring roundup until fall. + +Must the Flying U brand disappear also? The good old Flying U, for whose +existence the Old Man had fought and schemed since first was raised the +cry that the old range was passing? The Flying U that had become a part +of his life? Andy let his cigarette grow cold; he roused only to swear +at the porter who entered with dust cloth and a deprecating grin. + +After that, Andy thought of Florence Grace Hallman--and his eyes were +not particularly sentimental. There was a hard line about his mouth +also; though Florence Grace Hallman was but a pawn in the game, after +all, and not personally guilty of half the deliberate crimes Andy laid +upon her dimpled shoulders. With her it was pure, cold-blooded business, +this luring of the land-hungry to a land whose fertility was at best +problematical; who would, for a price, turn loose the victims of her +greed to devastate what little grazing ground was left. + +The train neared Havre. Andy roused himself, rang for the porter and +sent him after his suitcase and coat. Then he sauntered down the aisle, +stopped beside Florence Grace Hallman and smiled down at her with a +gleam behind the clear candor of his eyes. + +“Hard luck, lady,” he murmured, leaning toward her. “I'm just simply +loaded to the guards with responsibilities, and here's where I get off. +But I'm sure glad I met yuh, and I'll certainly think day and night +about you and--all you told me about. I'd like to get in on this land +deal. Fact is, I'm going to make it my business to get in on it. Maybe +my way of working won't suit you--but I'll sure work hard for any boss +and do the best I know how.” + +“I think that will suit me,” Miss Hallman assured him, and smiled +unsuspectingly up into his eyes, which she thought she could read so +easily. “When shall I see you again? Could you come to Great Falls in +the next ten days? I shall be stopping at the Park. Or if you will leave +me your address--” + +“No use. I'll be on the move and a letter wouldn't get me. I'll see yuh +later, anyway. I'm bound to. And when I do, we'll get down to cases. +Good bye.” + +He was turning away when Miss Hallman put out a soft, jewelled hand. +She thought it was diffidence that made Andy Green hesitate perceptibly +before he took it. She thought it was simply a masculine shyness and +confusion that made him clasp her fingers loosely and let them go on the +instant. She did not see him rub his palm down the leg of his dark gray +trousers as he walked down the aisle, and if she had she would not have +seen any significance in the movement. + +Andy Green did that again before he stepped off the train. For he felt +that he had shaken hands with a traitor to himself and his outfit, and +it went against the grain. That the traitor was a woman, and a charming +woman at that, only intensified his resentment against her. A man can +fight a man and keep his self respect; but a man does mortally dread +being forced into a position where he must fight a woman. + + + +CHAPTER 3. THE KID LEARNS SOME THINGS ABOUT HORSES + +The Kid--Chip's Kid and the Little Doctor's--was six years old and big +for his age. Also he was a member in good standing of the Happy Family +and he insisted upon being called Buck outside the house; within it the +Little Doctor insisted even more strongly that he answer to the many +endearing names she had invented for him, and to the more formal one of +Claude, which really belonged to Daddy Chip. + +Being six years old and big for his age, and being called Buck by +his friends, the Happy Family, the Kid decided that he should have a +man's-sized horse of his own, to feed and water and ride and proudly +call his “string.” Having settled that important point, he began to cast +about him for a horse worthy his love and ownership, and speedily he +decided that matter also. + +Therefore, he ran bareheaded up to the blacksmith shop where Daddy Chip +was hammering tunefully upon the anvil, and delivered his ultimatum from +the door way. + +“Silver's going to be my string, Daddy Chip, and I'm going to feed him +myself and ride him myself and nobody else can touch him 'thout I say +they can.” + +“Yes?” Chip squinted along a dully-glowing iron bar, laid it back upon +the anvil and gave it another whack upon the side that still bulged a +little. + +“Yes, and I'm going to saddle him myself and everything. And I want you +to get me some jingling silver spurs like Mig has got, with chains that +hang away down and rattle when you walk.” The Kid lifted one small foot +and laid a grimy finger in front of his heel by way of illustration. + +“Yes?” Chip's eyes twinkled briefly and immediately became intent upon +his work. + +“Yes, and Doctor Dell has got to let me sleep in the bunk-house with the +rest of the fellers. And I ain't going to wear a nightie once more! I +don't have to, do I, Daddy Chip? Not with lace on it. Happy Jack says +I'm a girl long as I wear lace nighties, and I ain't a girl. Am I, Daddy +Chip?” + +“I should say not!” Chip testified emphatically, and carried the iron +bar to the forge for further heating. + +“I'm going on roundup too, tomorrow afternoon.” The Kid's conception +of time was extremely sketchy and had no connection whatever with the +calendar. “I'm going to keep Silver in the little corral and let him +sleep in the box stall where his leg got well that time he broke it. +I 'member when he had a rag tied on it and teased for sugar. And the +Countess has got to quit a kickin' every time I need sugar for my +string. Ain't she, Daddy Chip? She's got to let us men alone or there'll +be something doing!” + +“I'd tell a man,” said Chip inattentively, only half hearing the +war-like declaration of his offspring--as is the way with busy fathers. + +“I'm going to take a ride now on Silver. I guess I'll ride in to Dry +Lake and get the mail--and I'm 'pletely outa the makings, too.” + +“Uh-hunh--a--what's that? You keep off Silver. He'll kick the daylights +out of you, Kid. Where's your hat? Didn't your mother tell you she'd tie +a sunbonnet on you if you didn't keep your hat on? You better hike back +and get it, young man, before she sees you.” + +The Kid stared mutinously from the doorway. “You said I could have +Silver. What's the use of having a string if a feller can't ride it? And +I CAN ride him, and he don't kick at all. I rode him just now, in the +little pasture to see if I liked his gait better than the others. I rode +Banjo first and I wouldn't own a thing like him, on a bet. Silver'll do +me till I can get around to break a real one.” + +Chip's hand dropped from the bellows while he stared hard at the Kid. +“Did you go down in the pasture and--Words failed him just then. + +“I'd TELL a man I did!” the Kid retorted, with a perfect imitation +of Chip's manner and tone when crossed. “I've been trying out all the +darned benchest you've got--and there ain't a one I'd give a punched +nickel for but Silver. I'd a rode Shootin' Star, only he wouldn't stand +still so I could get onto him. Whoever broke him did a bum job. The +horse I break will stand, or I'll know the reason why. Silver'll stand, +all right. And I can guide him pretty well by slapping his neck. You did +a pretty fair job when you broke Silver,” the Kid informed his father +patronizingly. + +Chip said something which the Kid was not supposed to hear, and sat +suddenly down upon the stone rim of the forge. It had never before +occurred to Chip that his Kid was no longer a baby, but a most +adventurous man-child who had lived all his life among men and whose +mental development had more than kept pace with his growing body. He had +laughed with the others at the Kid's quaint precociousness of speech and +at his frank worship of range men and range life. He had gone to some +trouble to find a tractable Shetland pony the size of a burro, and had +taught the Kid to ride, decorously and fully protected from accident. + +He and the Little Doctor had been proud of the Kid's masculine traits as +they manifested themselves in the management of that small specimen of +horse flesh. That the Kid should have outgrown so quickly his content +with Stubby seemed much more amazing than it really was. He eyed the Kid +doubtfully for a minute, and then grinned. + +“All that don't let you out on the hat question,” he said, evading the +real issue and laying stress upon the small matter of obedience, as is +the exasperating habit of parents. “You don't see any of the bunch going +around bareheaded. Only women and babies do that.” + +“The bunch goes bareheaded when they get their hats blowed off in the +creek,” the Kid pointed out unmoved. “I've seen you lose your hat mor'n +once, old timer. That's nothing.” He sent Chip a sudden, adorable smile +which proclaimed him the child of his mother and which never failed to +thrill Chip secretly,--it was so like the Little Doctor. “You lend me +your hat for a while, dad,” he said. “She never said what hat I had to +wear, just so it's a hat. Honest to gran'ma, my hat's in the creek and +I couldn't poke it out with a stick or anything. It sailed into the +swimmin' hole. I was goin' to go after it,” he explained further, +“but--a snake was swimmin--and I hated to 'sturb him.” + +Chip drew a sharp breath and for one panicky moment considered +imperative the hiring of a body-guard for his Kid. + +“You keep out of the pasture, young man!” His tone was stern to match +his perturbation. “And you leave Silver alone--” + +The Kid did not wait for more. He lifted up his voice and wept in +bitterness of spirit. Wept so that one could hear him a mile. Wept so +that J. G. Whitmore reading the Great Falls Tribune on the porch, laid +down his paper and asked the world at large what ailed that doggoned kid +now. + +“Dell, you better go see what's wrong,” he called afterwards through the +open door to the Little Doctor, who was examining a jar of germ +cultures in her “office.” “Chances is he's fallen off the stable or +something--though he sounds more mad than hurt. If it wasn't for my +doggoned back--” + +The Little Doctor passed him hurriedly. When her man-child wept, it +Needed no suggestion from J. G. or anyone else to send her flying to the +rescue. So presently she arrived breathless at the blacksmith shop' and +found Chip within, looking in urgent Need of reinforcements, and the Kid +yelling ragefully beside the door and kicking the log wall with vicious +boot-tees. + +“Shut up now or I'll spank you!” Chip was saying desperately when his +wife appeared. “I wish you'd take that Kid and tie him up, Dell,” he +added snappishly. “Here he's been riding all the horses in the little +pasture--and taking a chance on breaking his neck! And he ain't +satisfied with Stubby--he thinks he's entitled to Silver!” + +“Well, why not? There, there, honey--men don't cry when things go +wrong--” + +“No--because they can take it out in cussing!” wailed the Kid. “I +wouldn't cry either, if you'd let me swear all I want to!” + +Chip turned his back precipitately and his shoulders were seen to shake. +The Little Doctor looked shocked. + +“I want Silver for my string!” cried the Kid, artfully transferring his +appeal to the higher court. “I can ride him--'cause I have rode him, in +the pasture; and he never bucked once or kicked or anything. Doggone it, +he likes to have me ride him! He comes a-runnin' up to me when I go down +there, and I give him sugar. And then he waits till I climb on his back, +and then we chase the other horses and play ride circle. He wants to +be my string!” Something in the feel of his mother's arm around his +shoulder whispered hope to the Kid. He looked up at her with his most +endearing smile. “You come down there and I'll show you,” he wheedled. +“We're pals. And I guess YOU wouldn't like to have the boys call you Tom +Thumb, a-ridin' Stubby. He's nothing but a five-cent sample of a horse. +Big Medicine says so. I--I'd rather walk than ride Stubby. And I'm +going on roundup. The boys said I could go when I get a real horse under +me--and I want Silver. Daddy Chip said 'yes' I could have him. And now +he's Injun-giver. Can't I have him, Doctor Dell?” + +The gray-blue eyes clashed with the brown. “It wouldn't hurt anything +to let the poor little tad show us what he can do,” said the gray-blue +eyes. + +“Oh--all right,” yielded the brown, and their owner threw the iron bar +upon the cooling forge and began to turn down his sleeves. “Why don't +you make him wear a hat?” he asked reprovingly. “A little more and he +won't pay any attention to anything you tell him. I'd carry out that +sunbonnet bluff, anyway, if I were you.” + +“Now, Daddy Chip! I 'splained to you how I lost my hat,” reproached the +Kid, clinging fast to the Little Doctor's hand. + +“Yes--and you 'splained that you'd have gone into that deep hole and +drowned--with nobody there to pull you out--if you hadn't been scared of +a water snake,” Chip pointed out relentlessly. + +“I wasn't 'zactly scared,” amended the Kid gravely. “He was havin' such +a good time, and he was swimmin' around so--comf'table--and it wasn't +polite to 'sturb him. Can't I have Silver?” + +“We'll go down and ask Silver what he thinks about it,” said the Little +Doctor, anxious to make peace between her two idols. “And we'll see if +Daddy Chip can get the hat. You must wear a hat, honey; you know what +mother told you--and you know mother keeps her word.” + +“I wish dad did,” the Kid commented, passing over the hat question. “He +said I could have Silver, and keep him in a box stall and feed him my +own self and water him my own self and nobody's to touch him but me.” + +“Well, if daddy said all that--we'll have to think it over, and consult +Silver and see what he has to say about it.” + +Silver, when consulted, professed at least a willingness to own the Kid +for his master. He did indeed come trotting up for sugar; and when he +had eaten two grimy lumps from the Kid's grimier hand, he permitted +the Kid to entice him up to a high rock, and stood there while the Kid +clambered upon the rock and from there to his sleek back. He even waited +until the Kid gathered a handful of silky mane and kicked him on the +ribs; then he started off at a lope, while the Kid risked his balance +to cast a triumphant grin--that had a gap in the middle--back at his +astonished parents. + +“Look how the little devil guides him!” exclaimed Chip surrenderingly. +“I guess he's safe enough, old Silver seems to sabe he's got a kid to +take care of. He sure would strike a different gait with me! Lord how +the time slides by; I can't seem to get it through me that the Kid's +growing up.” + +The Little Doctor sighed a bit. And the Kid, circling grandly on the far +side of the little pasture, came galloping back to hear the verdict. It +pleased him--though he was inclined to mistake a great privilege for a +right that must not be denied. He commanded his Daddy Chip to open the +gate for him so he could ride Silver to the stable and put him in the +box stall; which was a superfluous kindness, as Chip tried to point out +and failed to make convincing. + +The Kid wanted Silver in the box stall, where he could feed him and +water him his own self. So into the box stall Silver reluctantly went, +and spent a greater part of the day with his head stuck out through the +window, staring enviously at his mates in the pasture. + +For several days Chip watched the Kid covertly whenever his small feet +strayed stableward; watched and was full of secret pride at the manner +in which the Kid rose to his new responsibility. Never did a “string” + receive the care which Silver got, and never did rider sit more proudly +upon his steed than did the Kid sit upon Silver. There seemed to be +practically no risk--Chip was amazed at the Kid's ability to ride. +Besides, Silver was growing old--fourteen years being considered ripe +old age in a horse. He was more given to taking life with a placid +optimism that did not startle easily. He carried the Kid's light weight +easily, and he had not lost all his springiness of muscle. The Little +Doctor rode him sometimes, and loved his smooth gallop and his even +temper; now she loved him more when she saw how careful he was of the +Kid. She besought the Kid to be careful of Silver also, and was most +manfully snubbed for her solicitude. + +The Kid had owned Silver for a week, and considered that he was +qualified to give advice to the Happy Family, including his Daddy Chip, +concerning the proper care of horses. He stood with his hands upon his +hips and his feet far apart, and spat into the corral dust and told +Big Medicine that nobody but a pilgrim ever handled a horse the way +Big Medicine was handling Deuce. Whereat Big Medicine gave a bellowing +haw-haw-haw and choked it suddenly when he saw that the Kid desired him +to take the criticism seriously. + +“All right, Buck,” he acceded humbly, winking openly at the Native Son. +“I'll try m'best, old-timer. Trouble with me is, I never had nobody to +learn me how to handle a hoss.” + +“Well, you've got me, now,” Buck returned calmly. “I don't ride MY +string without brushing the hay out of his tail. There's a big long +hay stuck in your horse's tail.” He pointed an accusing finger, and Big +Medicine silently edged close to Douce's rump and very carefully removed +the big, long hay. He took a fine chance of getting himself kicked, but +he did not tell the Kid that. + +“That all right now, Buck?” Big Medicine wanted to know, when he had +accomplished the thing without accident. + +“Oh, it'll do,” was the frugal praise he got. “I've got to go and feed +my string, now. And after a while I'll water him. You want to feed your +horse always before you water him, 'cause eatin' makes him firsty. You +'member that, now.” + +“I'll sure try to, Buck,” Big Medicine promised soberly, and watched the +Kid go striding away with his hat tilted at the approved Happy-Family +angle and his small hands in his pockets. Big Medicine was thinking of +his own kid, and wondering what he was like, and if he remembered his +dad. He waved his hand in cordial farewell when the Kid looked back +and wrinkled his nose in the adorable, Little-Doctor smile he had, and +turned his attention to Deuce. + +The Kid made straight for the box stall and told Silver hello over the +half door. Silver turned from gazing out of the window, and came +forward expectantly, and the Kid told him to wait a minute and not be so +impatience Then he climbed upon a box, got down a heavy canvas nose-bag +with leather bottom, and from a secret receptacle behind the oats box he +brought a paper bag of sugar and poured about a teacupful into the bag. +Daddy Chip had impressed upon him what would be the tragic consequences +if he fed oats to Silver five times a day. Silver would die, and it +would be the Kid that killed him. Daddy Chip had not said anything about +sugar being fatal, however, and the Countess could not always stand +guard over the sugar sack. So Silver had a sweet taste in his mouth +twelve hours of the twenty-four, and was getting a habit of licking his +lips reminiscently during the other twelve. + +The Kid had watched the boys adjust nose bags ever since he could +toddle. He lugged it into the stall, set it artfully upon the floor and +let Silver thrust in his head to the eyes: then he pulled the strap over +Silver's neck and managed to buckle it very securely. He slapped the +sleek neck afterward as his Daddy Chip did, hugged it the way Doctor +Dell did, and stood back to watch Silver revel in the bag. + +“'S good lickums?” he asked gravely, because he had once heard his +mother ask Silver that very question, in almost that very tone. + +At that moment an uproar outside caught his youthful attention. He +listened a minute, heard Pink's voice and a shout of laughter, and ran +to see what was going on; for where was excitement, there the Kid was +also, as nearly in the middle of it as he could manage. His going would +not have mattered to Silver, had he remembered to close the half-door of +the stall behind him; even that would not have mattered, had he not left +the outer door of the stable open also. + +The cause of the uproar does not greatly matter, except that the Kid +became so rapturously engaged in watching the foolery of the Happy +Family that he forgot all about Silver. And since sugar produces thirst, +and Silver had not smelled water since morning, he licked the last sweet +grain from the inside of the nose bag and then walked out of the stall +and the stable and made for the creek--and a horse cannot drink with +a nose bag fastened over his face. All he can do, if he succeeds in +getting his nose into the water, is to drown himself most expeditiously +and completely. + +Silver reached the creek unseen, sought the deepest hole and tried to +drink. Since his nose was covered with the bag he could not do so but he +fussed and splashed and thrust his head deeper until the water ran into +the bag from the top. He backed and snorted and strangled, and in a +minute he fell. Fortunately he struggled a little, and in doing so he +slid backward down the bank so that his head was up the slope a and the +water ran out of the bag, which was all that saved him. + +He was a dead horse, to all appearances at least, when Slim spied him +and gave a yell to bring every human being on the ranch at a run. The +Kid came with the rest, gave one scream and hid his face in the Little +Doctor's skirts, and trembled so that his mother was more frightened +for him than for the horse, and had Chip carry him to the house where he +could not watch the first-aid efforts of the Happy Family. + +They did not say anything, much. By their united strength they pulled +Silver up the bank so that his limp head hung downward. Then they began +to work over him exactly as if he had been a drowned man, except that +they did not, of course, roll him over a barrel. They moved his legs +backward and forward, they kneaded his paunch, they blew into his +nostrils, they felt anxiously for heart-beats. They sweated and gave up +the fight, saying that it was no use. They saw a quiver of the muscles +over the chest and redoubled their efforts, telling one another +hopefully that he was alive, all right. They saw finally a quiver of the +nostrils as well, and one after another they laid palms upon his heart, +felt there a steady beating and proclaimed the fact profanely. + +They pulled him then into a more comfortable position where the sun +shone warmly and stood around him in a crude circle and watched for +more pronounced symptoms of recovery, and sent word to the Kid that his +string was going to be all right in a little while. + +The information was lost upon the Kid, who wept hysterically in his +Daddy Chip's arms listen to anything they told him. He had seen Silver +stretched out dead, with his back in the edge of the creek and his feet +sprawled at horrible angles, and the sight obsessed him and forbade +comfort. He had killed his string; nothing was clear in his mind save +that, and he screamed with his face hidden from his little world. + +The Little Doctor, with anxious eyes and puckered eyebrows, poured +something into a teaspoon and helped Chip fight to get it down the Kid's +throat. And the Kid shrieked and struggled and strangled, as is the way +of kids the world over, and tried to spit out the stuff and couldn't, so +he screamed the louder and held his breath until he was purple, and his +parents were scared stiff. The Old Man hobbled to the door in the midst +of the uproar and asked them acrimoniously why they didn't make that +doggoned Kid stop his howling; and when Chip, his nerves already +strained to the snapping point, told him bluntly to get out and mind +his own business, he hobbled away again muttering anathemas against the +whole outfit. + +The Countess rushed in from out of doors and wanted to know what under +the shinin' sun was the matter with that kid, and advised his frantic +parents to throw water in his face. Chip told her exactly what he had +told the Old Man, in exactly the same tone; so the Countess retreated, +declaring that he wouldn't be let to act that way if he was her kid, and +that he was plumb everlastingly spoiled. + +The Happy Family heard the disturbance and thought the Kid was being +spanked for the accident, which put every man of them in a fighting +humor toward Chip, the Little Doctor, the Old Man and the whole world. +Pink even meditated going up to the White House to lick Chip--or +at least tell him what he thought of him--and he had plenty of +sympathizers; though they advised him half-heartedly not to buy in to +any family mixup. + +It was into this storm centre that Andy Green rode headlong with his own +burden of threatened disaster. + + + +CHAPTER 4. ANDY TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME + +Andy Green was a day late in arriving at the Flying U. First he lost +time by leaving the train thirty miles short of the destination marked +on his ticket, and when he did resume his journey on the next train, he +traveled eighty-four miles beyond Dry Lake, which landed him in Great +Falls in the early morning. There, with the caution of a criminal +carefully avoiding a meeting with Miss Hallman, he spent an hour in +poring over a plat of a certain section of Chouteau County, and in +copying certain description of unoccupied land. + +He had not slept very well the night before and he looked it. He had +cogitated upon the subject of land speculations and the welfare of his +outfit until his head was one great, dull ache; but he stuck to his +determination to do something to block the game of the Homeseekers' +Syndicate. Just what that something would be he had not yet decided. But +on general principles it seemed wise to learn all he could concerning +the particular tract of land about which Florence Grace Hallman had +talked. + +The day was past when range rights might be defended honorably with +rifles and six-shooters and iron nerved men to use them--and I fear +that Andy Green sighed because it was so. Give him the “bunch” and free +swing, and he thought the Homeseekers would lose their enthusiasm before +even the first hot wind blew up from the southwest to wither their +crops. But such measures were not to be thought of; if they fought at +all they must fight with the law behind them--and even Andy's optimism +did not see much hope from the law; none, in fact, since both the law +and the moneyed powers were eager for the coming of homebuilders into +that wide land. All up along the Marias they had built their board +shacks, and back over the benches as far as one could see. There was +nothing to stop them, everything to make their coming easy. + +Andy scowled at the plat he was studying, and admitted to himself that +it looked as though the Home Seekers' Syndicate were going to have +things their own way; unless--There he stuck. There must be some +way out; never in his life had he faced a situation which had been +absolutely hopeless; always there had been some chance to win, if a man +only saw it in time and took it. In this case it was the clerk in the +office who pointed the way with an idle remark. + +“Going to take up a claim, are you?” + +Andy looked up at him with the blank stare of preoccupation, and changed +expression as the question filtered into his brain and fitted somehow +into the puzzle. He grinned, said maybe he would, folded the sheet of +paper filled with what looked like a meaningless jumble of letters +and figures, bought a plat of that township and begged some government +pamphlets, and went out humming a little tune just above a whisper. At +the door he tilted his hat down at an angle over his right eye and took +long, eager steps toward an obscure hotel and his meagre baggage. + +There was no train going east until midnight, and he caught that train. +This time he actually got off at Dry Lake, ate a hurried breakfast, got +his horse out of the livery stable and dug up the dust of the lane with +rapid hoof-beats so that he rode all the way to the first hill followed +by a rolling, gray cloud that never quite caught him. + +When he rode down the Hog's Back he saw the Happy Family bunched around +some object on the creek-bank, and he heard the hysterical screaming of +the Kid up in the house, and saw the Old Man limping excitedly up and +down the porch. A man less astute than Andy Green would have known that +some thing had happened. He hurried down the last slope, galloped along +the creek-bottom, crossed the ford in a couple of leaps and pulled up +beside the group that surrounded Silver. + +“What's been taking place here?” he demanded curiously, skipping the +usual greetings. + +“Hell,” said the Native Son succinctly, glancing up at him. + +“Old Silver looked over the fence into Kingdom Come,” Weary enlarged the +statement a little. “Tried to take a drink with a nose bag on. I guess +he'll come through all right.” + +“What ails the Kid?” Andy demanded, glancing toward the house whence +issued a fresh outburst of shrieks. + +The Happy Family looked at one another and then at the White House. + +“Aw, some folks hain't got a lick of sense when it comes to kids,” Big +Medicine accused gruffly. + +“The Kid,” Weary explained, “put the nose bag on Silver and then left +the stable door open.” + +“They ain't--spanking him for it, are they?” Andy demanded +belligerently. “By gracious, how'd a kid know any better? Little bit of +a tad like that--” + +“Aw, they don't never spank the Kid!” Slim defended the parents loyally. +“By golly, they's been times when I would-a spanked him, if it'd been +me. Countess says it's plumb ridiculous the way that Kid runs over +'em--rough shod. If he's gittin' spanked now, it's the first time.” + +“Well,” said Andy, looking from one to another and reverting to his own +worry as he swung down from his sweating horse, “there's something worse +than a spanked kid going to happen to this outfit if you fellows don't +get busy and do something. There's a swarm of dry-farmers coming in +on us, with their stock to eat up the grass and their darned fences +shutting off the water--” + +“Oh, for the Lord's sake, cut it out!” snapped Pink. “We ain't in the +mood for any of your joshes. We've had about enough excitement for +once.” + +“Ah, don't be a damn' fool,” Andy snapped back. “There's no josh about +it. I've got the whole scheme, just as they framed it up in Minneapolis. +I got to talking with a she-agent on the train, and she gave the whole +snap away; wanted me to go in with her and help land the suckers. I laid +low, and made a sneak to the land office and got a plat of the land, and +all the dope--” + +“Get any mail?” Pink interrupted him, in the tone that took no notice +whatever of Andy's ill news. + +“Time I was hearing from them spurs I sent for.” Andy silently went +through his pockets and produced what mail he had gleaned from the +post-office, and led his horse into the shade of the stable and pulled +off the saddle. Every movement betrayed the fact that he was in the +grip of unpleasant emotions, but to the Happy Family he said not another +word. + +The Happy Family did not notice his silence at the time. But afterwards, +when the Kid had stopped crying and Silver had gotten to his feet and +wobbled back to the stable, led by Chip, who explained briefly and +satisfactorily the cause of the uproar at the house, and the boys had +started up to their belated dinner, they began to realize that for a +returned traveler Andy Green was not having much to say. + +They asked him about his trip, and received brief answers. Had he been +anyone else they would have wanted to know immediately what was eatin' +on him; but since it was Andy Green who sat frowning at his toes and +smoking his cigarette as though it had no comfort or flavor, the boldest +of them were cautious. For Andy Green, being a young man of vivid +imagination and no conscience whatever, had fooled them too often with +his lies. They waited, and they watched him covertly and a bit puzzled. + +Silence and gloom were not boon companions of Andy Green, at any time. +So Weary, having the most charitable nature of any among them, sighed +and yielded the point of silent contention. + +“What was all that you started to tell us about the dry-farmers, Andy?” + he asked indulgently. + +“All straight goods. But there's no use talking to you bone-heads. +You'll set around chewing the rag and looking wise till it's too late to +do anything but holler your heads off.” He got up from where he had been +lounging on a bench just outside the mess house and walked away, +with his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his shoulders drooped +forward. + +The Happy Family looked after him doubtfully. + +“Aw, it's just some darned josh uh his,” Happy Jack declared. “I know +HIM.” + +“Look at the way he slouches along--like he was loaded to the ears with +trouble!” Pink pointed out amusedly. “He'd fool anybody that didn't know +him, all right.” + +“And he fools the fellows that do know him, oftener than anybody else,” + added the Native Son negligently. “You're fooled right now if you think +that's all acting. That HOMBRE has got something on his mind.” + +“Well, by golly, it ain't dry-farmers,” Slim asserted boldly. + +“If you fellows wouldn't say it was a frame-up between us two, I'd go +after him and find out. But...” + +“But as it stands, we'd believe Andy Green a whole lot quicker'n what we +would you,” supplemented Big Medicine loudly. “You're dead right there.” + +“What was it he said about it?” Weary wanted to know. “I wasn't paying +much attention, with the Kid yelling his head off and old Silver gaping +like a sick turkey, and all. What was it about them dryfarmers?” + +“He said,” piped Pink, “that he'd got next to a scheme to bring a big +bunch of dry-farmers in on this bench up here, with stock that they'd +turn loose on the range. That's what he said. He claims the agent wanted +him to go in on it.” + +“Mamma!” Weary held a match poised midway between his thigh and his +cigarette while he stared at Pink. “That would be some mixup--if it was +to happen.” His sunny blue eyes--that were getting little crow's-feet +at their corners--turned to look after the departing Andy. “Where's the +josh?” he questioned the group. + +“The josh is, that he'd like to see us all het up over it, and makin' +war-talks and laying for the pilgrims some dark night with our six-guns, +most likely,” retorted Pink, who happened to be in a bad humor because +in ten minutes he was due at a line of post-holes that divided the big +pasture into two unequal parts. “He can't agitate me over anybody's +troubles but my own. Happy, I'll help Bud stretch wire this afternoon if +you'll tamp the rest uh them posts.” + +“Aw, you stick to your own job! How was it when I wanted you to help +pull the old wire off that hill fence and git it ready to string down +here? You wasn't crazy about workin' with bob wire then, I noticed. You +said--” + +“What I said wasn't a commencement to what I'll say again,” Pink began +truculently, and so the subject turned effectually from Andy Green. + +Weary smoked meditatively while they wrangled, and when the group broke +up for the afternoon's work he went unobtrusively in search of Andy. +He was not quite easy in his mind concerning the alleged joke. He had +looked full at the possibilities of the situation--granting Andy had +told the truth, as he sometimes did--and the possibilities had not +pleased him. He found Andy morosely replacing some broken strands in his +cinch, and he went straight at the mooted question. + +Andy looked up from his work and scowled. “This ain't any joke with me,” + he stated grimly. “It's something that's going to put the Flying U +out of business if it ain't stopped before it gets started. I've been +worrying my head off ever since day before yesterday; I ain't in the +humor to take anything off those imitation joshers up there--I'll tell +yuh that much.” + +“Well, but how do you figure it can be stopped?” Weary sat soberly down +on the oats box and absently watched Andy's expert fingers while they +knotted the heavy cotton cord through the cinch-ring. “We can't stand +'em off with guns.” + +Andy dropped the cinch and stood up, pushing back his hat and then +pulling it forward into place with the gesture he used when he was very +much in earnest. “No, we can't. But if the bunch is game for it there's +a way to block their play--and the law does all our fighting for us. We +don't have to yeep. It's like this, Weary counting Chip and the Little +Doctor and the Countess there's eleven of us that can use our rights up +here on the bench. I've got it all figured out. If we can get Irish and +Jack Bates to come back and help us out, there's thirteen of us. And +we can take homesteads along the creeks and deserts back on the bench, +and--say, do you know how much land we can corral, the bunch of us? Four +thousand acres and if we take our claims right, that's going to mean +that we get a dead immortal cinch on all the bench land that's worth +locating, around here, and we'll have the creeks, and also we'll have +the breaks corralled for our own stock. + +“I've gone over the plat--I brought a copy to show you fellows what we +can do. And by taking up our claims right, we keep a deadline from the +Bear Paws to the Flying U. Now the Old Man owns Denson's ranch, all +south uh here is fairly safe--unless they come in between his south line +and the breaks; and there ain't room for more than two or three claims +there. Maybe we can get some of the boys to grab what there is, and +string ourselves out north uh here too. + +“That's the only way on earth we can save what little feed there is +left. This way, we get the land ourselves and hold it, so there don't +any outside stock come in on us. If Florence Grace Hallman and her bunch +lands any settlers here, they'll be between us and Dry Lake; and they're +dead welcome to squat on them dry pinnacles--so long as we keep their +stock from crossing our claims to get into the breaks. Savvy the burro?” + +“Yes-s--but how'd yuh KNOW they're going to do all this? Mamma! I don't +want to turn dry-farmer if I don't have to!” + +Andy's face clouded. “That's just what'll block the game, I'm afraid. I +don't want to, either. None of the boys'll want to. It'll mean going +up there and baching, six or seven months of the year, by our high +lonesomes. We'll have to fulfill the requirements, if we start +in--because them pilgrims'll be standing around like dogs at a picnic, +waiting for something to drop so they can grab it and run. It ain't +going to be any snap. + +“And there's another thing bothers me, Weary. It's going to be one peach +of a job to make the boys believe it hard enough to make their entries +in time.” Andy grinned wrily. “By gracious, this is where I could see a +gilt-edged reputation for telling the truth!” + +“You could, all right,” Weary agreed sympathetically. “It's going to +strain our swallowers to get all that down, and that's a fact. You ought +to have some proof, if you want the boys to grab it, Andy.” His face +sobered. “Who is this Florence person? If you could get some kinda +proof--a letter, say...” + +“Easiest thing in the world!” Andy brightened at the suggestion. “She's +stopping at the Park, in Great Falls, and she wanted me to come up or +write. Anybody going to town right away? I'll send that foxy dame a +letter that'll produce proof enough. You've helped ma a lot, Weary.” + +Weary scrutinized him sharply and puckered his lips into a doubtful +expression. “I wish I knew for a fact whether all this is straight +goods, Andy,” he said pensively. “Chances are you're just stringing me. +But if you are, old boy, I'm going to take it outa your hide--and don't +you forget that.” He grinned at his own mental predicament. “Honest, +Andy, is this some josh, or do you mean it?” + +“By gracious, I wish it was a josh! But it ain't, darn it. In about +two weeks or so you'll all see the point of this joke--but whether the +joke's on us or on the homeseekers' Syndicate depends on you fellows. +Lord! I wish I'd never told a lie!” + +Weary sat knocking his heels rhythmically against the side of the box +while he thought the matter over from start to hypothetical finish and +back again. Meanwhile Andy Green went on with his work and scowled over +his well-earned reputation that hampered him now just when he needed the +confidence of his fellows in order to save their beloved Flying U from +slow annihilation. Perhaps his mental suffering could not rightly be +called remorse, but a poignant regret it most certainly was, and a sense +of complete bafflement which came out in his next sentence. + +“Even if she wrote me a letter, the boys'd call it a frame-up just the +same. They'd say I had it fixed before I left town. Doctor Cecil's up at +the Falls. They'd lay it to her.” + +“I was thinking of that, myself. What's the matter with getting Chip to +go up with you? Couldn't you ring him in on the agent somehow, so he can +get the straight of it?” + +Andy stood up and looked at Weary a minute. “How'd I make Chip believe +me enough to GO?” he countered. “Darn it, everything looked all smooth +sailing till I got back here to the ranch and the boys come at me with +that same old smart-aleck brand uh talk. I kinda forgot how I've lied +to 'em and fooled 'em right along till they duck every time I open my +face.” His eyes were too full of trouble to encourage levity in his +listener. “You remember that time the boys' rode off and left me laying +out here on the prairie with my leg broke?” he went on dismally. “I'd +rather have that happen to me a dozen times than see 'em set back and +give me the laugh now, just when--Oh, hell!” He dropped the finished +cinch and walked moodily to the door. “Weary, if them dry-farmers come +flockin' in on us while this bunch stands around callin' me a liar, I--” + He did not attempt to finish the sentence; but Weary, staring curiously +at Andy's profile, saw a quivering of the muscles around his lips and +felt a responsive thrill of sympathy and belief that rose above his long +training in caution. + +Spite of past experience he believed, at that moment, every word which +Andy Green had uttered upon the subject of the proposed immigration. He +was about to tell Andy so, when Chip walked unexpectedly out of Silver's +stall and glanced from Weary to Andy standing still in the doorway. +Weary looked at him enquiringly; for Chip must have heard every word +they said, and if Chip believed it-- + +“Have you got that plat with you, Andy?” Chip asked tersely and with +never a doubt in his tone. + +Andy swung toward him like a prisoner who has just heard a jury return +a verdict of not guilty to the judge. “I've got it, yes,” he answered +simply, with only his voice betraying the emotions he felt--and his eye? +“Want it?” + +“I'll take a look at it, if it's handy,” said Chip. + +Andy felt in his inside coat pocket, drew out a thin, folded map of that +particular part of the county with all the government land marked upon +it, and handed it to Chip without a word. He singled out a couple of +pamphlets from a bunch of old letters such as men are in the habit of +carrying upon their persons, and gave them to Chip also. + +“That's a copy of the homestead and desert laws,” he said. “I guess you +heard me telling Weary what kinda deal we're up against, here. Better +not say anything to the Old Man till you have to; no use worrying +him--he can't do nothing.” It was amazing, the change that had come over +Andy's face and manner since Chip first spoke. Now he grinned a little. + +“If you want to go in on this deal,” he said quizzically, “maybe it'll +be just as well if you talk to the bunch yourself about it, Chip. You +ain't any tin, angel, but I'm willing to admit the boys'll believe you; +a whole lot quicker than they would me.” + +“Yes--and they'll probably hand me a bunch of pity for getting stung by +you,” Chip retorted. “I'll take a chance, anyway--but the Lord help you, +Andy if you can't produce proof when the time comes.” + + + +CHAPTER 5. THE HAPPY FAMILY TURN NESTERS + +“Say, Andy, where's them dry-farmers?” Big Medicine inquired at the top +of his voice when the Happy Family had reached the biscuit-and-syrup +stage of supper that evening. + +“Oh, they're trying to make up their minds whether to bring the old +fannin'-mill along or sell it and buy new when they get here,” Andy +informed him imperturbably. “The women-folks are busy going through +their rag bags, cutting the buttons off all the pants that ain't worth +patching no more, and getting father's socks all darned up.” + +The Happy Family snickered appreciatively; this was more like the Andy +Green with whom they were accustomed to deal. + +“What's daughter doin', about now?” asked Cal Emmett, fixing his round, +baby-blue stare upon Andy. + +“Daughter? Why, daughter's leaning over the gate telling him she +wouldn't never LOOK at one of them wild cowboys--the idea! She's +heard all about 'em, and they're too rough and rude for HER. And she's +promising to write every day, and giving him a lock of hair to keep in +the back of his dollar watch. Pass the cane Juice, somebody.” + +“Yeah--all right for daughter. If she's a good looker we'll see if she +don't change her verdict about cowboys.” + +“Who will? You don't call yourself one, do yuh?” Pink flung at him +quickly. + +“Well, that depends; I know I ain't any LADY broncho--hey, cut it out!” + This last because of half a biscuit aimed accurately at the middle of +his face. If you want to know why, search out the history of a +certain War Bonnet Roundup, wherein Pink rashly impersonated a lady +broncho-fighter. + +“Wher'e they going to live when they git here?” asked Happy Jack, +reverting to the subject of dry farmers. + +“Close enough so you can holler from here to their back door, my boy--if +they have their say about it,” Andy assured him cheerfully. Andy felt +that he could afford to be facetious now that he had Chip and Weary on +his side. + +“Aw, gwan! I betche there ain't a word of truth in all that scarey +talk,” Happy Jack fleered heavily. + +“Name your bet. I'll take it.” Andy filled his mouth with hot biscuit +and stirred up the sugar in his coffee like a man who is occupied +chiefly with the joys of the table. + +“Aw, you ain't going to git me that way agin,” Happy Jack declared. +“They's some ketch to it.” + +“There sure is, Happy. The biggest ketch you ever seen in your life. +It's ketch the Flying U outfit and squeeze the life out of it; +that's the ketch.” Andy's tone had in it no banter, but considerable +earnestness. For, though Chip would no doubt convince the boys that the +danger was very real, there was a small matter of personal pride to urge +Andy into trying to convince, them himself, without aid from Chip or any +one else. + +“Well, by golly, I'd like to see anybody try that there scheme,” blurted +Slim. “That's all--I'd just like to see 'em TRY it once!” + +“Oh, you'll see it, all right--and you won't have to wait long, either. +Just set around on your haunches a couple of weeks or so. That's all +you'll have to do, Slim; you'll see it tried, fast enough.” + +Pink eyed him with a wide, purple glance. “You'd like to make us fall +for that, wouldn't you?” he challenged warily. + +Andy gave him a level look. “No, I wouldn't. I'd like to put one over +on you smart gazabos that think you know it all; but I don't want to +bad enough to see the Flying U go outa business just so I could holler +didn't-I-tell-you. There's a limit to what I'll pay for a josh.” + +“Well,” put in the Native Son with his easy drawl, “I'm coming to the +centre with my ante, just for the sake of seeing the cards turned. Deal +'em out, amigo; state your case once more, so we can take a good, square +look at these dry-farmers.” + +“Yeah--go ahead and tell us what's bustin' the buttons off your vest,” + Cal Emmett invited. + +“What's the use?” Andy argued. “You'd all just raise up on your hind +legs and holler your heads off. You wouldn't DO anything about it--not +if you knew it was the truth!” This, of course, was pure guile upon his +part. + +“Oh, wouldn't we? I guess, by golly, we'd do as much for the outfit as +what you would--and a hull lot more if it come to a show-down.” Slim +swallowed the bait. + +“Maybe you would, if you could take it out in talking,” snorted Andy. +“My chips are in. I've got three-hundred-and-twenty acres picked out, up +here, and I'm going to file on 'em before these damned nesters get off +the train. Uh course, that won't be more'n a flea bite--but I can make +it interesting for my next door neighbors, anyway; and every flea bite +helps to keep a dog moving, yuh know.” + +“I'll go along and use my rights,” Weary offered suddenly and seriously. +“That'll make one section they won't get, anyway.” + +Pink gave him a startled look across the table. “You ain't going to grab +it, are yuh?” he demanded disappointedly. + +“I sure am--if it's three-hundred-and-twenty acres of land you mean. If +I don't, somebody else will.” He sighed humorously. “Next summer you'll +see me hoeing spuds, most likely--if the law says I GOT to.” + +“Haw-haw-haw-w!” laughed Big Medicine suddenly. “It'd sure be worth the +price, jest to ride up and watch you two marks down on all fours weedin' +onions.” He laughed again with his big, bull-like bellow. + +“We don't have to do anything like that if we don't want to,” put in +Andy Green calmly. “I've been reading up on the law. There's one little +joker in it I've got by heart. It says that homestead land can be used +for grazing purposes if it's more valuable for pasture than for crops, +and that actual grazing will be accepted instead of cultivation--if it +is grazing land. So--” + +“I betche you can't prove that,” Happy lack interrupted him. “I never +heard of that before--” + +“The world's plumb full of things you never heard of, Happy,” Andy told +him witheringly. “I gave Chip my copy of the homestead laws, and a plat +of the land up here; soon as he hands 'em back I can show you in cold +print where it says that very identical thing. + +“That's what makes it look good to me, just on general principles,” he +went on, his honest, gray eyes taking in the circle of attentive faces. +“If the bunch of us could pool our interests and use what rights we got, +we can corral about four thousand acres--and we can head off outsiders +from grazing in the Badlands, if we take our land right. We've been +overlooking a bet, and don't you forget it. We've been fooling around, +just putting in our time and drawing wages, when we could be owning our +own grazing land by now and shipping our own cattle, if we had enough +sense to last us overnight. + +“A-course, I ain't crazy about turning nester, myself--but we've let +things slide till we've got to come through or get outa the game. It's +a fact, boys, about them dry-farmers coming in on us. That Minneapolis +bunch that the blonde lady works for is sending out a colony of farmers +to take up this land between here and the Bear Paws. The lady tipped her +hand, not knowing where I ranged and thinking I wouldn't be interested +in anything but her. She's a real nice lady, too, and goodlooking--but +a grafter to her last eye winker. And she hit too close home to suit me, +when she named the place where they're going to dump their colony.” + +“Where does the graft come in?” inquired Pink cautiously. “The farmers +get the land, don't they?” + +“Sure, they get the land. And they pungle up a good-sized fee to +Florence Grace Hallman and her outfit, for locating 'em. Also there's +side money in it, near as I can find out. They skin the farmers somehow +on the fare out here. That's their business, according to the lady. They +prowl around through the government plats till they spot a few thousand +acres of land in a chunk; they take a look at it, maybe, and then they +boom it like hell, and get them eastern marks hooked--them with money, +the lady said. Then they ship a bunch out here, locate 'em on the land +and leave it up to THEM, whether they scratch a living or not. She said +they urge the rubes to bring all the stock they can, because there's +plenty of range left. She says they play that up big. You can see for +yourself how that'll work out, around here!” + +Pink eyed him attentively, and suddenly his dimples stood deep. “All +right, I'm It,” he surrendered. + +“It'd be a sin not to fall for a yarn like that, Andy. I expect you made +it all up outa your own head, but that's all right. It's a pleasure to +be fooled by a genius like you. I'll go raising turnips and cabbages +myself.” + +“By golly, you couldn't raise nothing but hell up on that dry bench,” + Slim observed ponderously. “There ain't any water. What's the use uh +talking foolish?” + +“They're going to tackle it, just the same,” Andy pointed out patiently. + +“Well, by golly, if you ain't just lyin' to hear yourself, that there +graftin' bunch had oughta be strung up!” + +“Sure, they had. Nobody's going to argue about that. But seeing we can't +do that, the next best thing is to beat them to it. If they came out +here with their herd of pilgrims and found the land all took up--” Andy +smiled hypnotically upon the goggling group. + +“Haw-haw-haw-w!” bawled Big Medicine. “It'd be wuth it, by cripes!” + +“Yeah--it would, all right. If that talk Andy's been giving us is +straight, about grazing the land instead uh working it--” + +“You can mighty quick find out,” Andy retorted. “Go up and ask Chip +for them land laws, and that plat. And ask him what he thinks about the +deal. You don't have to take my word for it.” Andy grinned virtuously +and pushed back his chair. From their faces, and the remarks they had +made, he felt very confident of the ultimate decision. “What about you, +Patsy?” he asked suddenly, turning to the bulky, bald German cook who +was thumping bread dough in a far corner. “You got any homestead or +desert rights you ain't used?” + +“Py cosh, I got all der rights dere iss,” Patsy returned querulously. +“I got more rights as you shmartys. I got soldier's rights mit fightin'. +Und py cosh, I use him too if dem fellers coom by us mit der dry farms +alreatty!” + +“Well, you son-of-a-gun!” Andy smote him elatedly upon a fat shoulder. +“What do you know about old Patsy for a dead game sport? By gracious, +that makes another three hundred and twenty to the good. Gee, it's lucky +this bunch has gone along turning up their noses at nesters and thinkin' +they couldn't be real punchers and hold down claims too. If any of us +had had sense enough to grab a piece of land and settle down to raise +families, we'd be right up against it now. We'd have to set back and +watch a bunch of down-east rubes light down on us like flies on spilt +molasses, and we couldn't do a thing.” + +“As it is, we'll all turn nesters for the good of the cause!” finished +Pink somewhat cynically, getting up and following Cal and Slim to the +door. + +“Aw, I betche they's some ketch to it!” gloomed Happy Jack. “I betche +Andy jest wants to see us takin' up claims on that dry bench, and then +set back and laugh at us fer bitin' on his josh.” + +“Well, you'll have the claims, won't you. And if you hang onto them +there'll be money in the deal some day. Why, darn your bomb-proof skull, +can't you get it into your system that all this country's bound to +settle up?” Andy's eyes snapped angrily. “Can't you see the difference +between us owning the land between here and the mountains, and a bunch +of outsiders that'll cut it all up into little fields and try to farm +it. If you can't see that, you better go hack a hole in your head with +an axe, so an idea can squeeze in now and then when you ain't looking!” + +“Well, I betche there ain't no colony comin' to settle that there +bench,” Happy Jack persisted stubbornly. + +“Yes there is, by cripes!” trumpeted Big Medicine behind him. “Yes there +is! And that there colony is goin' to be us, and don't you forget it. +It's time I was doin' somethin' fer that there boy uh mine, by cripes! +And soon as we git that fence strung I'm goin' to hit the trail fer the +nearest land office. Honest to grandma, if Andy's lyin' it's goin' to be +the prof't'blest lie HE ever told, er anybody else. I don't care a cuss +about whether them dry-farmers is fixin' to light here or not. That +there land-pool looks good to ME, and I'm comin' in on it with all four +feet!” + +Big Medicine was nothing less than a human land slide when once he threw +himself into anything, be it a fight or a frolic. Now he blocked the +way to the door with his broad shoulders and his big bellow and his +enthusiasm, and his pale, frog-like eyes fixed their protruding stare +accusingly upon the reluctant ones. + +“Cal, you git up there and git that plat and bring it here,” he ordered. +“And fer criminy sakes git that table cleared off, Patsy, so's't we kin +have a place to lay it! What's eatin' on you fellers, standin' around +like girls to a party, waitin' fer somebody to come up and ast you to +dance! Ain't you got head enough to see what a cinch we got, if we only +got sense enough to play it! Honest to grandma you make me sick to look +at yuh! Down in Conconino County the boys wouldn't stand back and wait +to be purty-pleased into a thing like this. You're so scared Andy's got +a josh covered up somewheres, you wouldn't take a drink uh whisky if he +ast yuh up to the bar! You'd pass up a Chris'mas turkey, by cripes, if +yuh seen Andy washin' his face and lookin' hungry! You'd--” + +What further reproach he would have heaped upon them was interrupted by +Chip, who opened the door just then and bumped Big Medicine in the back. +In his hand Chip carried the land plat and the pamphlets, and in his +keen, brown eyes he carried the light of battle for his outfit. The eyes +of Andy Green sent bright glances from him to Big Medicine, and on +to the others. He was too wise then to twit those others with their +unbelief. His wisdom went farther than that; for he remained very +much in the background of the conversation and contented himself with +answering, briefly and truthfully, the questions they put to him about +Florence Grace Hallman and the things she had so foolishly divulged +concerning her plans. + +Chip spread the plat upon an end of the table hastily and effectually +cleared by a sweep of Big Medicine's arm, and the Happy Family crowded +close to stare down at the checker-board picture of their own familiar +bench land. They did not doubt, now--nor did they Hang back reluctantly. +Instead they followed eagerly the trail Chip's cigarette-yellowed finger +took across the map, and they listened intently to what he said about +that trail. + +The clause about grazing the land, he said, simplified matters a whole +lot. It was a cinch you couldn't turn loose and dry-farm that land and +have even a fair chance of reaping a harvest. But as grazing land they +could hold all the land along One Man Creek--and that was a lot. And the +land lying back of that, and higher up toward the foothills, they +could take as desert. And he maintained that Andy had been right in +his judgment: If they all went into it and pulled together they +could stretch a line of claims that would protect the Badland grazing +effectually. + +“I wouldn't ask you fellows to go into this,” said Chip, straightening +from his stooping over the map and looking from one sober face to +another, “just to help the outfit. But it'll be a good thing for you +boys. It'll give you a foothold--something better than wages, if you +stay with your claims and prove up. Of course, I can't say anything +about us buying out your claims--that's fraud, according to Hoyle; +but you ain't simple-minded--you know your land won't be begging for a +buyer, in case you should ever want to sell. + +“There's another thing. This will not only head off the dry-farmers +from overstocking what little range is left--it'll make a dead-line for +sheep, too. We've been letting 'em graze back and forth on the bench +back here beyond our leased land, and not saying much, so long as they +didn't crowd up too close, and kept going. With all our claims under +fence, do you realize what that'll mean for the grass?” + +“Josephine! There's feed for considerable stock, right over there on our +claims, to say nothing of what we'll cover,” exclaimed Pink. + +“I'd tell a man! And if we get water on the desert claims--” Chip +grinned down at him. “See what we've been passing up, all this time. +We've had some of it leased, of course--but that can't be done again. +There's been some wire-pulling, and because we ain't politicians we got +turned down when the Old Man wanted to renew the lease. I can see now +why it was, maybe. This dry-farm business had something to do with it, +if you ask me.” + +“Gee whiz! And here we've been calling Andy a liar,” sighed Cal Emmett. + +“Aw, jest because he happened to tell the truth once, don't cut no ice,” + Happy Jack maintained with sufficient ambiguity to avert the natural +consequences. + +“Of course, it won't be any gold-mine,” Chip added dispassionately. +“But it's worth picking up, all right; and if it'll keep out a bunch +of tight-fisted settlers that don't give a darn for anything but what's +inside their own fence, that's worth a lot, too.” + +“Say, my dad's a farmer,” Pink declared defiantly in his soft treble. +“And while I think of it, them eastern farmers ain't so worse--not the +brand I've seen, anyway. They're narrow, maybe--but they're human. +Damn it, you fellows have got to quit talking about 'em as if they were +blackleg stock or grasshoppers or something.” + +“We ain't saying nothing aginst farmers AS farmers, Little One” Big +Medicine explained forebearingly. “As men, and as women, and as kids, +they're mighty nice folks. My folks have got an eighty-acre farm in +Wisconsin,” he confessed unexpectedly, “and I think a pile of 'em. But +if they was to come out here, trying to horn in on our range, I'd lead +'em gently to the railroad, by cripes, and tell 'em goodbye so's't +they'd know I meant it! Can't yuh see the difference?” he bawled, +goggling at Pink with misleading savageness in his ugly face. + +“Oh, I see,” Pink admitted mildly. “I only just wanted to remind you +fellows that I don't mean anything personal and I don't want you to. +Say, what about One Man Coulee?” he asked suddenly. “That's marked +vacant on the map. I always thought--” + +“Sure, you did!” Chip grinned at him wisely, “because we used it for +a line camp, you thought we owned a deed to it. Well, we don't. We had +that land leased, is all.” + +“Say, by golly, I'll file on that, then,” Slim declared selfishly. For +One Man coulee, although a place of gruesome history, was also desirable +for one or two reasons. There was wood, for instance, and water, and a +cabin that was habitable. There was also a fence on the place, a corral +and a small stable. “If Happy's ghost don't git to playin' music too +much,” he added with his heavy-handed wit. + +“No, sir! You ain't going to have One Man coulee unless Andy, here, says +he don't want it!” shouted Big Medicine. “I leave it to Chip if Andy +hadn't oughta have first pick. He's the feller that's put us onto this, +by cripes, and he's the feller that's going to pick his claim first.” + +Chip did not need to sanction that assertion. The whole Happy Family +agreed unanimously that it should be so, except Slim, who yielded a bit +unwillingly. + +Till midnight and after, they bent heads over the plat and made plans +for the future and took no thought whatever of the difficulties that +might lie before them. For the coming colony they had no pity, and +for the balked schemes of the Homeseekers' Syndicate no compunctions +whatever. + +So Andy Green, having seen his stratagem well on the way to success, +and feeling once more the well-earned confidence of his fellows, slept +soundly that night in his own bed, serenely sure of the future. + + + +CHAPTER 6. THE FIRST BLOW IN THE FIGHT + +Letters went speeding to Irish and Jack Bates, absent members of the +Happy Family of the Flying U; letters that explained the situation with +profane completeness, set forth briefly the plan of the proposed pool, +and which importuned them to come home or make haste to the nearest +land-office and file upon certain quarter-sections therein minutely +described. Those men who would be easiest believed wrote and signed +the letters, and certain others added characteristic postscripts best +calculated to bring results. + +After that, the Happy Family debated upon the boldness of going in +a body to Great Falls to file upon their claims, or the caution of +proceeding instead to Glasgow where the next nearest land-office might +be found. Slim and Happy Jack favored caution and Glasgow. The others +sneered at their timidity, as they were wont to do. + +“Yuh think Florence Grace Hallman is going to stand guard with a +six-gun?” Andy challenged at last. “She's tied up till her colony gets +there. She can't file on all that land herself, can she?” He smiled +reminiscently. “The lady asked me to come up to the Falls and see her,” + he said softly. “I'm going. The rest of you can take the same train, I +reckon--she won't stop you from it, and I won't. And who's to stop you +from filing? The land's there, open for settlement. At least it was +open, day before yesterday.” + +“Well, by golly, the sooner we go the better,” Slim declared fussily. +“That fencin' kin wait. We gotta go and git back before Chip wants to +start out the wagons, too.” + +“Listen here, hombres,” called the Native Son from the window, where +he had been studying the well-thumbed pamphlet containing the homestead +law. “If we want to play dead safe on this, we all better quit the +outfit before we go. Call for our time. I don't like the way some of +this stuff reads.” + +“I don't like the way none of it reads,” grumbled Happy Jack. “I betche +we can't make it go; they's some ketch to it. We'll never git a patent. +I'll betche anything yuh like.” + +“Well, pull out of the game, then!” snapped Andy Green, whose nerves +were beginning to feel the strain put upon them. + +“I ain't in it yet,” said Happy Jack sourly, and banged the door shut +upon his departure. + +Andy scowled and returned to studying the map. Finally he reached for +his hat and gloves in the manner of one who has definitely made up his +mind to some thing. + +“Well, the rest of you can do as you darned please,” he delivered his +ultimatum from the doorway. “I'm going to catch up my horse, draw a +month's wages and hit the trail. I can catch the evening train to +the Falls, easy, and be ready to file on my chunk first thing in the +morning.” + +“Ain't in any rush, are yuh?” Pink inquired facetiously. “If I had my +dinner settled and this cigarette smoked, I might go along--provided you +don't take the trail with yuh.” + +“Hold on, boys, and listen to this,” the Native Son called out +imperatively. “I think we better get a move on, too; but we want to get +a fair running start, and not fall over this hump. Listen here! We've +got to swear that it is not for the benefit of any other person, persons +or corporation, and so on; and farther along it says we must not act +in collusion with any person, persons or corporation, to give them the +benefit of the land. There's more of the same kind, too, but you see--” + +“Well, who's acting in collusion? What's collusion mean anyhow?” Slim +demanded aggressively. + +“It means what we're aiming to do--if anybody could prove it on us,” + explained the Native Son. “My oldest brother's a lawyer, and I caught +some of it from him. And my expert, legal advice is this: to get into a +row with the Old Man, maybe--anyway, quit him cold, so we get our time. +We must let that fact percolate the alleged brains of Dry Lake and +vicinity--and if we give any reason for taking claims right under the +nose of the Flying U, why, we're doing it to spite the Old Man. Sabe? +Otherwise we're going to have trouble--unless that colony scheme is just +a pipe dream of Andy's.” + +The Happy Family had learned to respect the opinions of the Native Son, +whose mixture of Irish blood with good Castilian may have had something +to do with his astuteness. Once, as you may have heard, the Native Son +even scored in a battle of wits with Andy Green, and scored heavily. +And he had helped Andy pull the Flying U out of an extremely ticklish +situation, by his keen wit saving the outfit much trouble and money. +Wherefore they heeded now his warning to the extent of unsmilingly +discussing the obstacle he had pointed out to them. One after another +they read the paragraph which they had before passed over too hastily, +and sensed the possibilities of its construction. Afterward they went +into serious consultation as to ways and means, calling Happy Jack back +so that he might understand thoroughly what must be done. For the Happy +Family was nothing if not thorough, and their partisanship that had been +growing insensibly stronger through the years was roused as it had not +been since Dunk Whittaker drove sheep in upon the Flying U. + +The Old Man, having eaten a slice of roast pork the size of his two +hands, in defiance of his sister's professional prohibition of the +indulgence, was sitting on the sunny side of the porch trying to ignore +the first uneasy symptoms of indigestion. The Little Doctor had taken +his pipe away from him that morning, and had badgered him into taking +a certain decoction whose taste lingered bitterly. The paper he was +reading was four days old and he disagreed with its political policy, +and there was no telling when anyone would have time to go in after the +mail and his favorite paper. Ranch work was growing heavier each year in +proportion to the lightening of range work. He was going to sow another +twenty acres of alfalfa, and to do that he must cut down the size of his +pasture--something that always went against the grain. He had not been +able to renew his lease of government land,--which also went against the +grain. And the Kid, like the last affliction which the Lord sent unto +Job--I've forgotten whether that was boils or the butchery of his +offspring--came loping down the length of the porch and kicked the Old +Man's bunion with a stubby boot-toe. + +Thus was born the psychological moment when the treachery of the Happy +Family would cut deepest. + +They came, bunched and talking low-voiced together with hatbrims hiding +shamed eyes, a type-true group of workers bearing a grievance. Not a man +was absent--the Happy Family saw to that! Even Patsy, big and sloppy and +bearing with him stale kitchen odors, limped stolidly in the rear beside +Slim, who looked guilty as though he had been strangling somebody's +favorite cat. + +The Old Man, bent head-foremost over his growing paunch that he might +caress his outraged bunion, glared at them with belligerent curiosity +from under his graying eyebrows. The group came on and stopped short +at the steps--and I don't suppose the Happy Family will ever look such +sneaks again whatever crime they may commit. The Old Man straightened +with a grunt of pain because of his lame back, and waited. Which made it +all the harder for the Happy Family, especially for Andy Green who had +been chosen spokesman--for his sins perhaps. + +“We'd like our time,” blurted Andy after an unpleasant silence, and +fixed his eyes frigidly upon the lowest rung of the Old Man's chair. + +“Oh, you would, hunh? The whole bunch of yuh?” The Old Man eyed them +incredulously. + +“Yes, the whole bunch of us. We're going to quit.” + +The Old Man's jaw dropped a little, but his eyes didn't waver from +their Hangdog faces. “Well, I never coaxed a man to stay yet,” he stated +grimly, “and I'm gittin' too old in the business to start coaxin' now. +Dell!” He turned stiffly in his chair so that he faced the open door. +“Bring me my time and check books outa the desk!” + +A gray hardness came slowly to the Old Man's face while he waited, his +seamed hands gripping the padded arms of his chair. A tightness pulled +at his lips behind the grizzled whiskers. It never occurred to him now +that the Happy Family might be perpetrating one of their jokes. He had +looked at their faces, you see. They meant to quit him--quit him cold +just as spring work was beginning. They were ashamed of themselves, +of course; they had a right to be ashamed, he thought bitterly. It +hurt--hurt so that he would have died before he would ask for excuse, +reason, grievance, explanation--for whatever motive impelled them. So he +waited, and he gripped the arms of his chair, and he clamped his mouth +shut and did not speak a word. + +The Happy Family had expected him to swear at them stormily; to accuse +them of vile things; to call them such names as his memory could seize +upon or his ingenuity invent. They had been careful to prepare a list of +plausible reasons for leaving then. They had first invented a gold +rumor that they hoped would sound convincing, but Andy had insisted upon +telling him straightforwardly that they did not favor fence-building and +ditch-digging and such back-breaking toil; that they were range men +and they demanded range work or none; that if they must dig ditches and +build fences and perform like menial tasks, they preferred doing it +for themselves. “That,” said Andy, “makes us out such dirty, low-down +sons-of-guns we'd have to climb a tree to look a snake in the eye, but +it's got the grain of truth that'll make it go down. We DON'T love this +farming graft, and the Old Man knows it. He's heard us kicking often +enough. That's where it'll git him. He'll believe this last stretch of +fence is what made us throw him down, and he'll be so mad he'll cuss us +out till the neighbors'll think the smoke's a prairie fire. We'll get +our time, all right' and the things he'll say will likely make us so +hot we can all talk convincing when we hit town. Keep a stiff upper lip, +boys. We got to do it, and he'll make us mad, so it won't be as hard as +you imagine.” + +The theory was good, and revealed a knowledge of human nature that +made one cease to wonder why Andy was a prince of convincing liars. The +theory was good--nothing in the world was the matter with it, except +that in this particular instance it did not work. The Old Man did not +ask for their reasons, excuses or explanations. Neither did he say +anything or do anything to make them mad. He just sat there, with his +face gray and hard, and said nothing at all. + +The Little Doctor appeared with the required books and a fountain pen; +saw the Happy Family standing there like condemned men at the steps; +saw the Old Man's face, and trembled wide-eyed upon the verge of speech. +Then she decided that this was no time for questioning and hurried, +still wide of eye, away from sight of them. The Happy Family did not +look at one another--they looked chiefly at the wall of the house. + +The Old Man reckoned the wages due each one, and wrote a check for the +exact amount. And he spoke no word that did not intimately concern the +matter in hand. He still had that gray, hard look in his face that froze +whatever explanation they would otherwise have volunteered. And when +he handed the last man--who was Patsy--his check, he got up stiffly and +turned his back on them, and went inside and closed the door while yet +they lingered, waiting to explain. + +At the bunk-house, whence they walked silently, Slim turned suddenly +upon their leader. His red face had gone a sallow white, and the whites +of his eyes were veined with red. + +“If that there land business falls down anywhere because you lied to us, +Andy Green' I'll kill you fer this” he stated flatly. + +“If it Does, Slim, I'll stand and let yuh shoot me as full of lead as +you like,” Andy promised, in much the same tone. Then he strove to shake +off the spell of the Old Man's stricken silence. “Buck up, boys. He'll +thank us for what we aim to do--when he knows all about it.” + +“Well, it seems to me,” sighed Weary lugubriously, “we mighta managed it +without hitting the Old Man a wallop in the back, like that.” + +“How'n hell did I know he'd take it the way he did?” Andy questioned +sharply, and began throwing his personal belongings into his “war-bag” + as if he had a grudge against his own clothes. + +“Aw, looks to me like he was glad to git shet of us!” grumbled Happy +Jack. “I betche he's more tickled than sorry, right now.” + +It was an exceedingly unhappy Family that rode up the Hog's Back upon +their private mounts, and away from the Flying U; in spite of Chip's +assurance that he would tell the Old Man all about it as soon as he +could, it was an ill-humored Family that rode into Dry Lake and cashed +their several checks at the desk of the General store which also did +an informal banking business, and afterwards took the train for Great +Falls. + +The news spread through the town that old J. G. Whitmore had fired the +Happy Family in a bunch for some unforgivable crime against the peace +and dignity of the outfit, and that the boys were hatching up some +scheme to get even. From the gossip that was rolled relishfully upon the +tongues of the Dry Lake scandal lovers, the Happy Family must have been +more than sufficiently convincing. + + + +CHAPTER 7. THE COMING OF THE COLONY + +If you would see northern Montana at its most beautiful best, you should +see it in mid-May when the ground-swallows are nesting and the meadow +larks are puffing their throats and singing of their sweet ecstasy +with life; when curlews go sailing low over the green, grassy billows, +peering and perking with long bills thrust rapier-wise through the sunny +stillness, and calling shrilly, “Cor-r-ECK, cor-r-eck!”--which, I take +it, is simply their opinion of world and weather given tersely in plain +English. You should see the high prairies then, when all the world +is a-shimmer with green velvet brocaded brightly in blue and pink and +yellow flower-patterns; when the heat waves go quivering up to meet the +sun, so that the far horizons wave like painted drop-scenes stirred by a +breeze; when a hypnotic spell of peace and bright promises is woven over +the rangeland--you should see it then, if you would love it with a sweet +unreason that will last you through all the years to come. + +The homeseekers' Syndicate, as represented by Florence Grace +Hallman--she of the wheat-yellow hair and the tempting red lips and the +narrow, calculating eyes and stubborn chin--did well to wait for the +spell of the prairies when the wind flowers and the lupines blue the +hillsides and the new grass paints green the hollows. + +There is in us all a deep-rooted instinct to create, and never is that +instinct so nearly dominant as in the spring when the grass and the +flowers and the little, new leaves and the birds all sing the song of +Creation together. Then is when case-hardened city dwellers study the +bright array of seed-packets in the stores, and meditate rashly upon +the possibilities of back-yard gardening. Then is when the seasoned +country-dwellers walk over their farms in the sunset and plan largely +for harvest time. Then is when the salaried-folk read avidly the +real-estate advertisements, and pore optimistically over folders and +dream of chicken ranches and fruit ranches and the like. Surely, then, +the homeseekers' Syndicate planned well the date of their excursion into +the land of large promise (and problematical fulfillment) which lay east +of Dry Lake. + +Rumors of the excursion seeped through the channels of gossip and set +the town talking and chuckling and speculating--after the manner of very +small towns. + +Rumors grew to definite though erroneous statements of what was to take +place. Definite statements became certified facts that bore fruit in +detailed arrangements. + +Came Florence Grace Hallman smilingly from Great Falls, to canvass the +town for “accommodations.” Florence Grace Hallman was a capable woman +and a persuasive one, though perhaps a shade too much inclined to take +certain things for granted--such as Andy's anchored interest in her and +her project, and the probability of the tract remaining just as it had +been when last she went carefully over the plat in the land office. +Florence Grace Hallman had been busy arranging the details of the coming +of the colony, and she had neglected to visit the land office +lately. Since she cannily represented the excursion as being merely a +sight-seeing trip--or some such innocuous project--she failed also to +receive any inkling of recent settlements. + +On a certain sunny morning in mid-May, the Happy Family stood upon the +depot platform and waited for the westbound passenger, that had attached +to it the special car of the homeseekers' Syndicate. The Happy Family +had been very busy during the past three weeks. They had taken all the +land they could, and had sighed because they could still look from their +claims upon pinnacles as yet unclaimed save by the government. They had +done well. From the south line of Meeker's land in the very foothills +of the Bear Paws, to the north line of the Flying U, the chain of +newly-filed claims remained unbroken. It had taken some careful work +upon the part of the Happy Family to do this and still choose land +not absolutely worthless except from a scenic viewpoint. But they had +managed it, with some bickering and a good deal of maneuvering. Also +they had hauled loads of lumber from Dry Lake, wherewith to build their +monotonously modest ten-by-twelve shacks with one door and one +window apiece and a round hole in the roof big enough for a length of +stove-pipe to thrust itself aggressively into the open and say by its +smoke signal whether the owner was at home. And now, having heard of the +mysterious excursion due that day, they had come to see just what would +take place. + +“She's fifteen minutes late,” the agent volunteered, thrusting his head +through the open window. “Looking for friends, boys?” + +“Andy is,” Pink informed him cheerfully. “The rest of us are just +hanging around through sympathy. It's his girl coming.” + +“Well, I guess he thinks he needs a housekeeper now,” the agent grinned. +“Why don't you fellows get busy now and rustle some cooks?” + +“Girls don't like to cook over a camp-fire,” Cal Emmett told him +soberly. “We kinda thought we ought to build our shacks first.” + +“You can pick you out some when the train gets in,” said the agent, +accepting a match from Weary. “There's a carload of--” He pulled in his +head hurriedly and laid supple fingers on the telegraph key to answer a +call, and the Happy Family moved down to the other end of the platform +where there was more shade. + +The agent presently appeared pushing the truck of outgoing express, +a cheap trunk and a basket “telescope” belonging to one of the hotel +girls--who had quit her job and was sitting now inside waiting for +the train and seeing what she could of the Flying U boys through the +window--and the mail sack. He placed the truck where the baggage car +would come to a halt, stood for a minute looking down the track where a +smudge of smoke might at any moment be expected to show itself over the +low ridge of a hill, glanced at the lazy group in the patch of shade and +went back into the office. + +“There's her smoke,” Cal Emmett announced in the midst of an apathetic +silence. + +Weary looked up from whittling a notch in the end of a platform plank +and closed his jack-knife languidly. + +Andy pushed his hat backward and then tilted it forward over one eyebrow +and threw away his cigarette. + +“Wonder if Florence Grace will be riding point on the bunch?” he +speculated aloud. “If she is, I'm liable to have my hands full. Florence +Grace will sure be sore when she finds out how I got into the game.” + +“Aw, I betche there ain't no such a person,” said Happy Jack, doubter to +the last. + +“I wish there wasn't,” sighed Andy. “Florence Grace is kinda getting +on my nerves. If I done what I feel like doing, I'd crawl under the +platform and size up the layout through a crack. Honest to gracious, +Boys, I hate to meet that lady.” + +They grinned at him heartlessly and stared at the black smudge that was +rolling toward them. “She's sure hittin' her up,” Pink vouchsafed with a +certain tenseness of tone. That train was not as ordinary trains; dimly +they felt that it was relentlessly bringing them trouble, perhaps; +certainly a problem--unless the homeseekers hovered only so long as +it took them to see that wisdom lay in looking elsewhere for a home. +Still-- + +“If this was August instead of May, I wouldn't worry none about them +pilgrims staying long,” Jack Bates voiced the thought that was uppermost +in their minds. + +“There comes two livery rigs to haul 'em to the hotel,” Pink pointed out +as he glanced toward town. “And there's another one. Johnny told me every +room they've got is spoke for, and two in every bed.” + +“That wouldn't take no crowd,” Happy Jack grumbled, remembering the +limitations of Dry Lake's hotel. “Here come Chip and the missus. Wonder +what they want?” + +The Little Doctor left Chip to get their tickets and walked quickly +toward them. + +“Hello, boys! Waiting for someone, or just going somewhere?” + +“Waiting. Same to you, Mrs. Chip,” Weary replied. + +“To me? Well, we're going up to make our filings. Claude won't take a +homestead, because we'll have to stay on at the Flying U, of course, and +we couldn't hold one. But we'll both file desert claims. J. G. hasn't +been a bit well, and I didn't dare leave him before--and of course +Claude wouldn't go till I did. That the passenger coming, or a freight?” + +“It's the train--with the dry-farmers,” Andy informed her with a glance +at the nearing smoke-smudge. + +“Is it? We aren't any too soon then, are we? I left Son at home--and he +threatened to run away and live with you boys. I almost wish I'd brought +him along. He's been perfectly awful. So have the men Claude hired to +take your places, if you want to know, boys. I believe that is what +made J. G. sick--having those strange men on the place. He's been like a +bear.” + +“Didn't Chip tell him--” + +“He did, yes. He told him right away, that evening. But--J. G. has such +stubborn ideas. We couldn't make him believe that anyone would be crazy +enough to take up that land and try to make a living farming it. He--” + She looked sidewise at Andy and pursed her lips to Keep from smiling. + +“He thinks I lied about it, I suppose,” said that young man shrewdly. + +“That's what he says. He pretends that you boys meant to quit, and just +thought that up for an excuse. He'll be all right--you mustn't pay any +attention--” + +“Here she comes!” + +A black nose thrust through a Deep cut that had a curve to it. At their +feet the rails began to hum. The Little Doctor turned hastily to see if +Chip were coming. The agent came out with a handful of papers and stood +waiting with the rest. Stragglers moved quickly, and the discharged +waitress appeared and made eyes covertly at Pink, whom she considered +the handsomest one of the lot. + +The train slid up, slowed and stopped. Two coaches beyond the platform a +worried porter descended and placed the box-step for landing passengers, +and waited. From that particular coach began presently to emerge a +fluttering, exclaiming stream of humanity--at first mostly feminine. +They hovered there upon the cindery path and lifted their faces to watch +for others yet to come, and the babble of their voices could be, heard +above the engine sounds. + +The Happy Family looked dumbly at one another and drew back closer to +the depot wall. + +“Aw, I knowed there was some ketch to it!” blurted Happy Jack with +dismal satisfaction. “That there ain't no colony--It's nothin' but a +bunch of schoolma'ams!” + +“That lady ridin' point is the lady herself,” Andy murmured, edging +behind Weary and Pink as the flutter came closer. “That's Florence Grace +Hallman, boys.” + +“Well, by golly, git out and speak your little piece, then!” muttered +Slim, and gave Andy an unexpected push that sent him staggering out into +the open just as the leaders were coming up. + +“Why, how de do, Mr. Green!” cried the blonde leader of the flock. “This +is an unexpected pleasure, I'm sure.” + +“Yes ma'am, it is,” Andy assented mildly, with an eye cocked sidewise in +search of the guilty man. + +The blonde leader paused, her flock coming to a fluttering, staring +stand behind her. The nostrils of the astonished Happy Family caught a +mingled odor of travel luncheons and perfume. + +“Well, where have you been, Mr. Green? Why didn't you come and see me?” + demanded Florence, Grace Hallman in the tone of one who has a right +to ask leading questions. Her cool, brown, calculating eyes went +appraisingly over the Happy Family while she spoke. + +“I've been right around here, all the time,” Andy gave meek account of +himself. “I've been busy.” + +“Oh. Did you go over the tract, Mr. Green?” she lowered her voice. + +“Yes-s--I went over it.” + +“And what do you think of it--privately?” + +“Privately--it's pretty big.” Andy sighed. The bigness of that tract had +worried the Happy Family a good deal. + +“Well, the bigger the better. You see I've got 'em started.” She +flicked a glance backward at her waiting colony. “You men are perfectly +exasperating! Why didn't you tell me where you were and what you were +doing?” She looked up at him with charming disapproval. “I feel like +shaking you! I could have made good use of you, Mr. Green.” + +“I was making pretty good use of myself,” Andy explained, and wished he +knew who gave him that surreptitious kick on the ankle. Did the chump +want an introduction? Well! In that case-- + +“Miss Hallman, if you don't mind I'd like to introduce some men I +rounded up and brought here,” he began before the Happy Family could +move out of the danger zone of his imagination. “Representative +citizens, you see. You can sic your bunch onto 'em and get a lot of +information. This is Mr. Weary Davidson, Miss Hallman: He's a hayseed +that lives out that way and he talks spuds better than anything else. +And here's Slim--I don't know his right name--he raises hogs to a +fare-you-well. And this is Percy Perkins”--meaning Pink--“and he's +another successful dryfarmer. Goats is his trade. He's got a lot of 'em. +And Mr. Jack Bates, he raises peanuts--or he's trying 'em this year--and +has contracts to supply the local market. Mr. Happy Jack is our local +undertaker. He wants to sell out if he can, because nobody ever dies +in this country and that makes business slow. He's thinking some of +starting a duck-ranch. This man”--indicating Big Medicine--“has got +the finest looking crop of volunteer wild oats in the country. He knows +all about 'em. Mr. Emmett, here, can put you wise to cabbage-heads; +that's his specialty. And Mr. Miguel Rapponi is up here from Old Mexico +looking for a favorable location for an extensive rubber plantation. The +natural advantages here are simply great for rubber. + +“I've gone to some trouble gathering this bunch together for you, Miss +Hallman. I don't reckon you knew there was that many dry-farmers in the +country. They've all got ranches of their own, and the prettiest folders +you ever sent under a four-cent stamp can't come up to what these men +can tell you. Your bunch won't have to listen to one man, only--here's +half a dozen ready and waiting to talk.” + +Miss Hallman was impressed. A few of the closest homeseekers she +beckoned and introduced to the perspiring Happy Family--mostly feminine +homeseekers, of whom there were a dozen or so. The men whom the hotel +had sent down with rigs waited impatiently, and the unintroduced male +colonists stared at the low rim of Lonesome Prairie and wondered if over +there lay their future prosperity. + +When the Happy Family finally made their escape, red-faced and muttering +threats, Andy Green had disappeared, and no one knew when he went or +where. He was not in Rusty Brown's place when the Happy Family went to +that haven and washed down their wrongs in beer. Pink made a hurried +trip to the livery stable and reported that Andy's horse was gone. + +They were wondering among themselves whether he would have the nerve to +go home and await their coming--home at this stage of the game meaning +One Man coulee, which Andy had taken as a homestead and desert claim and +where the Happy Family camped together until such time as their claim +shacks were habitable. Some thought that he was hiding in town, and +advised a thorough search before they took to their horses. The Native +Son--he of mixed Irish and Spanish blood--told them with languid +certainty that Andy was headed straight for the camp because he would +figure that in camp was where they would least expect to find him. + +The opinions of the Native Son were usually worth adopting. In this +case, however, it brought them into the street at the very moment when +Florence Grace Hallman and two homeseekers had ventured from the hotel +in search of them. Slim and Jack Bates and Cal Emmett saw them in time +and shied across the street and into the new barber shop where they sat +themselves down and demanded unnecessary hair-cuts and a shampoo apiece, +and spied upon their unfortunate fellows through the window while they +waited; but the others met the women fairly since it was too late to +turn back without making themselves ridiculous. + +“I was wondering,” began Miss Hallman in her brisk, business tone, +“if some of you gentlemen could not help us out in the matter of +conveyances. I have made arrangements for most of my guests, but we +simply can't squeeze another one into the rigs I have engaged--and I've +engaged every vehicle in town except a wheelbarrow I saw in the back +yard of the hotel.” + +“How many are left out?” asked Weary, since no one else showed any +symptoms of speech. + +“Oh, not many, thank goodness. Just us three here. You've met Miss +Allen, Mr. Davidson--and Miss Price. And so have you other gentlemen, +because I introduced you at the depot. I went blandly ahead and told +everybody just which rig they were to ride in, and put three in a seat, +at that, and in counting noses I forgot to count our own--” + +“I really don't see how she managed to overlook mine,” sighed Miss +Allen, laying a dainty, gloved finger upon a nose that had the tiniest +possible tilt to it. “Nobody ever overlooked my nose before; it's almost +worth walking to the tract.” + +Irish, standing close beside Weary and looking enough like him to be +a twin instead of a mere cousin, smiled down at her with traitorous +admiration. Miss Allen's nose was a nice nose, and above it twinkled a +pair of warm brown eyes with humorous little wrinkles, around them; and +still above them fluffed a kinky-curly mass of brown hair. Weary looked +at her also, but he did not smile, because she looked a little like his +own schoolma'am, Miss Ruty Satterly--and the resemblance hurt a sore +place in his heart. + +“--So if any of you gentlemen could possibly take us out to the tract, +we'd be eternally grateful, besides keeping our independence intact with +the usual payment. Could you help us out?” + +“We all came in on horseback,” Weary stated with a gentle firmness that +was intended to kill their hopes as painlessly as possible. + +“Wouldn't there be room on behind?” asked Miss Allen with hope still +alive and flourishing. + +“Lots of room,” Weary assured her. “More room than you could possibly +use.” + +“But isn't there any kind of a rig that you could buy, beg, borrow or +steal?” Miss Hallman insisted. “These girls came from Wisconsin to take +up claims, and I've promised to see that they get the best there is +to be had. They are hustlers, if I know what the word means. I have a +couple of claims in mind, that I want them to see--and that's why +we three hung back till the rest were all arranged for. I had a rig +promised that I was depending on, and at the last minute discovered it +was not to be had. Some doctor from Havre came and got it for a trip +into the hills. There's no use talking; we just must get out to the +tract as soon as the others do--a little sooner wouldn't hurt. Couldn't +you think of some way?” + +“We'll try,” Irish promised rashly, his eyes tying to meet Miss Allen's +and succeeding admirably. + +“What has become of Mr. Green?” Miss Hallman demanded after she had +thanked Irish with a smile for the qualified encouragement. + +“We don't know,” Weary answered mildly. “We were trying to locate him +ourselves.” + +“Oh, were you? He seems a rather uncertain young man. I rather counted +on his assistance; he promised--” + +“Mr. Irish has thought of a rig he can use, Miss Hallman,” said the +Allen girl suddenly. “He's going to drive us out himself. Let's hurry +and get ready, so we can start ahead of the others. How many minutes +will it take you, Mr. Irish, to have that team here, for us?” + +Irish turned red. He HAD thought of a rig, and he had thought of driving +them himself, but he could not imagine how Miss Allen could possibly; +have known his thoughts. Then and there he knew who would occupy the +other half of the front seat, in case he did really drive the team he +had in mind. + +“I told you she's a hustler,” laughed Miss Hallman. “She'll be raising +bigger crops than you men--give her a year to get started. Well, girls, +come on, then.” + +They turned abruptly away, and Irish was left to his accounting with the +Happy Family. He had not denied the thoughts and intentions imputed to +him by the twinkling-eyed Miss Allen. They walked on toward the livery +stable--where was manifested an unwonted activity--waiting for Irish to +clear himself; which he did not do. + +“You going to drive them women out there?” Pink demanded after an +impatient silence. + +“Why not? Somebody'll have to.” + +“What team are you going to use!” asked Jack Bates. + +“Chip's” Irish did not glance around, but kept striding down the middle +of the road with his hands stuck deep in his pockets. + +“Don't you think you need help, amigo?” the Native Son insinuated +craftily. “You can't talk to three girls at once; I could be hired to go +along and take one off your hands. That should help some.” + +“Like hell you will!” Irish retorted with characteristic bluntness. Then +he added cautiously, “Which one?” + +“That old girl with the blue eyes should not be permitted to annoy the +driver,” drawled the Native Son. “Also, Florence Grace might want some +intelligent person to talk to.” + +“Well, I got my opinion of any man that'll throw in with that bunch,” + Pink declared hotly. “Why don't you fellows keep your own side the +fence. What if they are women farmers? They can do just as much +harm--and a darn sight more. You make me sick.” + +“Let 'em go,” Weary advised calmly. “They'll be a lot sicker when the +ladies discover what they've helped do to that bench-land. Come on, +boys--let's pull out, away from all these lunatics. I hate to see them +get stung, but I don't see what we can do about it--only, if they come +around asking me what I think of that land, I'm going to tell 'em.” + +“And then they'll ask you why you took claims up there, and you'll +tell 'em that, too--will you?” The Native Son turned and smiled at him +ironically. + +That was it. They could not tell the truth without harming their own +cause. They could not do anything except stand aside and see the thing +through to whatever end fate might decree. They thought that Irish and +the Native Son were foolish to take Chip's team and drive those women +fifteen miles or so that they might seize upon land much better left +alone; but that was the business of Irish and the Native Son, who did +not ask for the approval of the Happy Family before doing anything they +wanted to do. + +The Happy Family saddled and rode back to the claims, gravely discussing +the potentialities of the future. Since they rode slowly while they +talked, they were presently overtaken by a swirl of dust, behind which +came the matched browns which were the Flying U's crack driving team, +bearing Irish and Miss Allen of the twinkling eyes upon the front seat +of a two seated spring-wagon that had seen far better days than this. +Native Son helped to crowd the back seat uncomfortably, and waved a hand +with reprehensible cheerfulness as they went rattling past. + +The Happy Family stared after them with frowning disapproval, and Weary +turned in the saddle and looked ruefully at his fellows. + +“Things won't ever be the same around here,” he predicted soberly. +“There goes the beginning of the end of the Flying U, boys--and we ain't +big enough to stop it.” + + + +CHAPTER 8. FLORENCE GRACE HALLMAN SPEAKS PLAINLY + +Andy Green rode thoughtfully up the trail from his cabin in One Man +coulee, his hat tilted to the south to shield his face from the climbing +sun, his eyes fixed absently upon the yellow soil of the hillside. Andy +was facing a problem that concerned the whole Happy Family--and the +Flying U as well. He wanted Weary's opinion, and Miguel Rapponi's, and +Pink's--when it came to that, he wanted the opinion of them all. + +Thus far the boys had been wholly occupied with getting their shacks +built and in rustling cooking outfits and getting themselves settled +upon their claims with an air of convincing permanency. Also they had +watched with keen interest--which was something more vital than mere +curiosity--developments where the homeseekers were concerned, and had +not given very much thought to their next step, except in a purely +general way. + +They all recognized the fact that, with all these new settlers buzzing +around hunting claims where there was some promise of making things +grow, they would have to sit very tight indeed upon their own land if +they would avoid trouble with “jumpers.” Not all the homeseekers were +women. There were men, plenty of them; a few of them were wholly lacking +in experience it is true, but perhaps the more greedy for land because +of their ignorance. The old farmers had looked askance at the high, dry +prairie land, where even drinking water must be hauled in barrels +from some deep-set creek whose shallow gurgling would probably cease +altogether when the dry season came on the heels of June. The old +farmers had asked questions that implied doubt. They had wanted to know +about sub-soil, and average rainfall, and late frosts, and markets. The +profusely illustrated folders that used blue print for emphasis here and +there, seemed no longer to satisfy them. + +The Happy Family did not worry much about the old farmers who knew the +game, but there were town men who had come to see the fulfillment of +their dreams; who had burned their bridges, some of them, and would +suffer much before they would turn back to face the ridicule of their +friends and the disheartening task of getting; a fresh foothold in the +wage-market. These the Happy Family knew for incipient enemies once +the struggle for existence was fairly begun. And there were the +women--daring rivals of the men in their fight for independence--who +had dreamed dreams and raised up ideals for which they would fight +tenaciously. School-teachers who hated the routine of the schools, and +who wanted freedom; who were willing to work and wait and forego the +little, cheap luxuries which are so dear to women; who would cheerfully +endure loneliness and spoiled complexions and roughened hands and broken +nails, and see the prairie winds and sun wipe the sheen from their +hair; who would wear coarse, heavy-soled shoes and keep all their pretty +finery packed carefully away in their trunks with dainty sachet pads +for month after month, and take all their pleasure in dreaming of the +future; these would fight also to have and to hold--and they would fight +harder than the men, more dangerously than the men, because they would +fight differently. + +The Happy Family, then, having recognized these things and having +measured the fighting-element, knew that they were squarely up against +a slow, grim, relentless war if they would save the Flying U. They knew +that it was going to be a pretty stiff proposition, and that they would +have to obey strictly the letter and the spirit of the land laws, or +there would be contests and quarrels and trouble without end. + +So they hammered and sawed and fitted boards and nailed on tar-paper and +swore and jangled and joshed one another and counted nickels--where they +used to disdain counting anything but results--and badgered the life out +of Patsy because he kicked at being expected to cook for the bunch just +the same as if he were in the Flying U mess-house. Py cosh, he wouldn't +cook for the whole country just because they were too lazy to cook for +themselves, and py cosh if they wanted him to cook for them they could +pay him sixty dollars a month, as the Old Man did. + +The Happy Family were no millionaires, and they made the fact plain to +Patsy to the full extent of their vocabularies. But still they begged +bread from him, a loaf at a time, and couldn't see why he objected to +making pie, if they furnished the stuff. Why, for gosh sake, had they +planted him in the very middle of their string of claims, then? With a +dandy spring too, that never went dry except in the driest years, and +not more than seventy-five yards, at the outside, to carry water. Up +hill? Well, what of that? Look at Pink--had to haul water half a mile +from One Man Creek, and no trail. Look at Weary--had to pack water twice +as far as Patsy. And hadn't they clubbed together and put up his darned +shack first thing, just so he COULD get busy and cook? What did the old +devil expect, anyway? + +Well--you see that the Happy Family had been fully occupied in the +week since the arrival of the homeseekers' excursion. They could not be +expected to give very much thought to their next steps. But there was +Andy, who had only to move into the cabin in One Man coulee, with a +spring handy, and a stable for his horse, and a corral and everything. +Andy had not been harassed with the house-building and settling, except +as he assisted the others. As fast as the shacks were up, the Happy +Family had taken possession, so that now Andy was alone, stuck down +there in the coulee out of sight of everybody. Pink had once named One +Man coulee as the lonesomest hole in all that country, and he had not +been far wrong. But at any rate the lonesomeness had served one good +purpose, for it had started Andy to thinking out the details of their so +called land-pool. Now the thinking had borne fruit to the extent that he +felt an urgent need of the Happy Family in council upon the subject. + +As he topped at last the final rise which put him on a level with the +great undulating bench-land gashed here and there with coulees and +narrow gulches that gave no evidence of their existence until one rode +quite close, he lifted his head and gazed about him half regretfully, +half proudly. He hated to see that wide upland dotted here and there +with new, raw buildings, which proclaimed themselves claim-shacks as far +a one could see them. Andy hated the sight of claim-shacks with a hatred +born of long range experience and the vital interests of the cattleman. +A claim-shack stuck out on the prairie meant a barbed wire fence +somewhere in the immediate vicinity; and that meant a hindrance to the +easy handling of herds. A claim-shack meant a nester, and a nester was a +nuisance, with his plowed fields and his few head of cattle that must +be painstakingly weeded out of a herd to prevent a howl going up to high +heaven. Therefore, Andy Green instinctively hated the sight of a shack +on the prairie. On the other hand, those shacks belonged to the Happy +Family--and that pleased him. From where he sat on his horse he could +count five in sight, and there were more hidden by ridges and tucked +away in hollows. + +But there were others going up--shacks whose owners he did not know. +He scowled when he saw, on distant hilltops, the yellow skeletons +that would presently be fattened with boards and paper and made the +dwelling-place of interlopers. To be sure, they had as much right to +take government land as had he or any of his friends--but Andy, being a +normally selfish person, did not think so. + +From one partially built shack three quarters of a mile away on a bald +ridge which the Happy Family had passed up because of its barrenness and +the barrenness of the coulee on the other side, and because no one was +willing to waste even a desert right on that particular eighty-acres, +a team and light buggy came swiftly toward him. Andy, trained to quick +thinking, was puzzled at the direction the driver was taking. That +eighty acres joined his own west line, and unless the driver was lost +or on the way to One Man coulee, there was no reason whatever for coming +this way. + +He watched and saw that the team was comin' straight toward him over +the uneven prairie sod, and at a pace that threatened damage to the +buggy-springs. Instinctively Andy braced himself in the saddle. At a +half mile he knew the team, and it did not require much shrewdness to +guess at the errand. He twitched the reins, turned his spurred heels +against his horse and went loping over the grassland to meet the person +who drove in such haste; and the probability that he was meeting trouble +halfway only sent him the more eagerly forward. + +Trouble met him with hard, brown eyes and corn yellow hair blown in +loose strands across cheeks roughened by the spring winds and sun-glare +of Montana. Trouble pulled up and twisted sidewise in the seat and +kicked the heads off some wild larkspurs with her whip while her tongue +flayed the soul of Andy Green with sarcasm. + +“Well, I have found out just how you helped me colonize this tract, Mr. +Green,” she began with a hard inflection under the smoothness of her +voice. “I must compliment you upon your promptness and thoroughness in +the matter; for an amateur you have made a remarkable showing--in--in +treachery and deceit. I really did not suppose you had it in you.” + +“Remember, I told you I might buy in if it looked good to me,” Andy +reminded her in the mildest tone of which he was capable--and he could +be as mild as new milk when he chose. + +Florence Grace Hallman looked at him with a lift of her full upper lip +at the left side. “It does look good, then? You told Mr. Graham and that +Mr. Wirt a different story, Mr. Green. You told them this land won't +raise white beans, and you were at some pains, I believe, to explain why +it would not. You convinced them, by some means or other, that the whole +tract is practically worthless for agricultural purposes. Both Mr. +Wirt and Mr. Graham had some capital to invest here, and now they are +leaving, and they have persuaded several others to leave with them. Does +it really look good to you--this land proposition?” + +“Not your proposition--no, it don't.” Andy faced her with a Keen level +glance as hard as her own. One could get the truth straight from the +shoulder if one pushed Andy Green into a corner. “You know and I know +that you're trying to cold-deck this bunch. The land won't raise white +beans or anything else without water, and you know it. You can plant +folks on the land and collect your money and tell 'em goodbye and go to +it--and that settles your part of it. But how about the poor devils that +put in their time and money?” + +Florence Grace Hallman spread her hands in a limited gesture because of +the reins, and smiled unpleasantly. “And yet, you nearly broke your neck +filing on the land yourself and getting a lot of your friends to file,” + she retorted. “What was your object, Mr. Green--since the land is +worthless?” + +“My object don't matter to anyone but myself.” Andy busied himself with +his smoking material and did not look at her. + +“Oh, but it Does! It matters to me, Mr. Green, and to my company, and to +our clients.” + +“I'll have to buy me a new dictionary,” Andy observed casually, reaching +behind him to scratch a match on the skirt of his saddle. “The one I've +got don't say anything about 'client' and 'victim' meaning the same +thing. It's getting all outa date.” + +“I brought enough clients”--she emphasized the word--“to settle every +eighty acres of land in that whole tract. The policy of the company was +eminently fair. We guaranteed to furnish a claim of eighty, acres to +every person who joined our homeseekers' Club, and free pasturage to all +the stock they wanted to bring. Failing to do that, we pledged ourselves +to refund the fee and pay all return expenses. We could have located +every member of this lot, and more--only for YOU.” + +“Say, it'd be just as easy to swear as to say 'you' in that tone uh +voice,” Andy pointed out placidly. + +“You managed to gobble up just exactly four thousand acres of this +tract--and you were careful to get all the water and all the best land. +That means you have knocked us out of fifty settlements--” + +“Fifty wads of coin to hand back to fifty come-ons, and fifty return +tickets for fifty fellows glad to get back--tough luck, ain't it?” Andy +smiled sympathetically. “You oughta be glad I saved your conscience that +much of a load, anyway.” + +Florence Grace Hallman bit her lip to control her rage. “Smart talk +isn't going to help you, Mr. Green. You've simply placed yourself in +a position you can't' hold. You've put it up to us to fight--and we're +going to do it. I'm playing fair with you. I'll tell you this much: I've +investigated you and your friends pretty thoroughly, and it's easy to +guess what your object is. We rather expected the Flying U to fight this +colonization scheme, so we are neither surprised nor unprepared. Mr. +Green, for your own interest and that of your employer, let me advise +you to abandon your claims now, before we begin action in the matter. +It will be simpler, and far, far cheaper. We have our clients to look +after, and we have the law all on our side. These are bona fide settlers +we are bringing in; men and women whose sole object is to make homes for +themselves. The land laws are pretty strict, Mr. Green. If we set the +wheels in motion they will break the Flying U.” + +Andy grinned while he inspected his cigarette. “Funny--I heard a man +brag once about how he'd break the Flying U, with sheep,” he drawled. +“He didn't connect, though; the Flying U broke him.” He smoked until he +saw an angry retort parting the red lips of the lady, and then continued +calmly: + +“The Flying U has got nothing to do with this case. As a matter of fact, +old man Whitmore is pretty sore at us fellows right now, because we quit +him and turned nesters right under his nose. Miss Hallman, you'll have +one sweet time proving that we ain't bona fide settlers. We're just +crazy to make homes for ourselves. We think it's time we settled +down--and we're settling here because we're used to this country. We're +real sorry you didn't find it necessary to pay your folks for the fun of +pointing out the land to us and steering us to the land office--but we +can't help that. We needed the money to buy plows.” He looked at her +full with his honest, gray eyes that could so deceive his fellow men--to +say nothing of women. “And that reminds me, I've got to go and borrow a +garden rake. I'm planting a patch of onions,” he explained engagingly. +“Say, this farming is a great game, isn't it? Well, good day, Miss +Hallman. Glad I happened to meet you.” + +“You won't be when I get through with you!” predicted the lady with her +firm chin thrust a little forward. “You think you've got everything your +own way, don't you? Well, you've just simply put yourself in a position +where we can get at you. You deceived me from the very start--and now +you shall pay the penalty. I've got our clients to protect--and besides +that I shall dearly love to get even. Oh, you'll squeal for mercy, +believe me!” She touched up the horses with her whip and went bumping +away over the tough sod. + +“Wow!” ejaculated Andy, looking after her with laughter in his eyes. +“She's sure one mad lady, all right. But shucks!” He turned and galloped +off toward the farthest claim, which was Happy Jack's and the last one +to be furnished with a lawful habitation. + +He was lucky. The Happy Family were foregathered there, wrangling with +Happy Jack over some trifling thing. He joined zealously in the argument +and helped them thrash Happy Jack in the word-war, before he came at his +errand. + +“Say, boys, we'll have to get busy now,” he told them seriously at last. +“Florence Grace is onto us bigger'n a wolf--and if I'm any judge, that +lady's going to be some fighter. We've either got to plow up a bunch of +ground and plant some darn thing, or else get stock on and pasture it. +They ain't going to over look any bets from now on. I met her back here +on the bench. She was so mad she talked too much and I got next to their +scheme--seems like we've knocked the Syndicate outa quite a bunch of +money, all right. They want this land, and they think they're going to +get it. + +“Now my idea is this: We've got to have stock, or we can't graze the +land. And if we take Flying U cattle and throw 'em on here, they'll +contest us for taking fake claims, for the outfit. So what's the matter +with us buying a bunch from the Old Man?” + +“I'm broke,” began Pink promptly, but Andy stopped him. + +“Listen here. We buy a bunch of stock and give him mortgages for the +money, with the cattle for security. We graze 'em till the mortgage runs +out--till we prove up, that means--and then we don't spot up, and +the Old Man takes the stock back, see? We're grazing our own stock, +according to law--but the outfit--” + +“Where do we git off at?” demanded Happy Jack suspiciously. “We got to +live--and it takes money to buy grub, these days.” + +“Well, we'll make out all right. We can have so many head of cattle +named for the mortgage; there'll be increase, and we should get that. By +the time we all prove up we'll have a little bunch of stock of our own' +d' uh see? And we'll have the range--what there is left. These squatters +ain't going to last over winter, if you ask me. And it'll be a long, +cold day when another bunch of greenhorns bites on any colony scheme.” + +“How do you know the Old Man'll do that, though?” Weary wanted to know. +“He's pretty mad. I rode over to the ranch last week to see Chip, and +the Old Man wouldn't have anything to say to me.” + +“Well, what's the matter with all of us going? He can't pass up the +whole bunch. We can put it up to him just the way it is, and he'll see +where it's going to be to his interest to let us have the cattle. Why, +darn it, he can't help seeing now why we quit!” Pink looked ready to +start then, while his enthusiasm was fresh. + +“Neither can Florence Grace help seeing why we did it,” Andy +supplemented dryly. “She can think what she darn pleases--all we got to +do is deliver the goods right up to the handle, on these claims and not +let her prove anything on us.” + +“It'll take a lot uh fencing,” Happy Jack croaked pessimistically. “We +ain't got the money to buy wire and posts, ner the time to build the +fence.” + +“What's the matter with rang-herding 'em?” Andy seemed to have thought +it all out, and to have an answer for every objection. “We can take +turns at that--and we must all be careful and don't let 'em graze on our +neighbors!” + +Whereat the Happy Family grinned understandingly. + +“Maybe the Old Man'll let us have three or four hundred head uh cows on +shares,” Cal hazarded optimistically. + +“Can't take 'em that way,” said the Native Son languidly. “It wouldn't +be safe. Andy's right; the way to do is buy the cattle outright, and +give a mortgage on the bunch. And I think we better split the bunch, +and let every fellow buy a few head. We can graze 'em together--the law +can't stop us from doing that.” + +“Sounds good--if the Old Man will come to the centre,” said Weary +dubiously. The chill atmosphere of Flying U coulee, with strangers in +the bunk-house and with the Old Man scowling at his paper on the porch, +had left its effect upon Weary, sunny-souled as he was. + +“Oh, he'll come through,” cried Cal, moving toward his horse, “gee whiz, +he's got to! Come on--let's go and get it done with. As it stands now, +we ain't got a thing to do but set around and look wise--unless we go +spoiling good grass with plows. First thing we know our neighbors will +be saying we ain't improving our claims!” + +“You improve yours every time you git off it!” stated Happy Jack +spitefully because of past wrongs. “You could improve mine a whole lot +that way, too,” he added when he heard the laugh of approval from the +others. + +They rung all the changes possible upon that witticism while they +mounted and rode away, every man of them secretly glad of some excuse +for making overtures to the Old Man. Spite of the excitement of getting +on to their claims, and of watching strangers driving here and there in +haste, and hauling loads of lumber toilfully over the untracked grass +and building chickencoop dwellings as nearly alike as the buttons on +a new shirt--spite of all that they had felt keenly their exile from +Flying U ranch. They had stayed away, for two reasons: one was a latent +stubbornness which made them resent the Old Man's resentment; the other +was a matter of policy, as preached by Andy Green and the Native Son. It +would not do, said these two cautious ones, to be running to the Flying +U outfit all the time. + +So the Happy Family had steered clear since that afternoon when they had +simulated treachery to the outfit. And fate played them a scurvy trick +in spite of their caution, for just as they rode down the Hog's Back and +across the ford, Florence Grace Hallman rode away from the White House +and met them fairly at the stable. + +Florence Grace smiled a peculiar smile as she went past them. A smile +that promised she would not forget; a smile that told them how sure +she felt of having caught them fairly. With the smile went a chilly, +supercilious bow that was worse than a direct cut, and which the Happy +Family returned doubtfully, not at all sure of the rules governing +warfare with a woman. + + + +CHAPTER 9. THE HAPPY FAMILY BUYS A BUNCH OF CATTLE + +With the Kid riding gleefully upon Weary's shoulder they trooped up the +path their own feet had helped wear deep to the bunk-house. They looked +in at the open door and snorted at the cheerlessness of the place. + +“Why don't you come back here and stay?” the Kid demanded. “I was going +to sleep down here with you--and now Doctor Dell won't let me. These +hobees are no good. They're damn' bone-head. Daddy Chip says so. I wish +you'd come back, so I can sleep with you. One man's named Ole and he's +got a funny eye that looks at the other one all the time. I wish you'd +come back.” + +The Happy Family wished the same thing, but they did not say so. Instead +they told the Kid to ask his mother if he couldn't come and visit them +in their new shacks, and promised indulgences that would have shocked +the Little Doctor had she heard them. So they went on to the house, +where the Old Man sat on the porch looking madder than when they had +left him three weeks before. + +“Why don't yuh run them nesters outa the country?” he demanded peevishly +when they were close enough for speech. “Here they come and accuse me +to my face of trying to defraud the gov'ment. Doggone you boys, what +you think you're up to, anyway? What's three or four thousand acres when +they're swarming in here like flies to a butcherin'? They can't make a +living--serve 'em right. What you doggone rowdies want now?” + +Not a cordial welcome, that--if they went no deeper than his words. But +there was the old twinkle back of the querulousness in the Old Man's +eyes, and the old pucker of the lips behind his grizzled whiskers. +“You've got that doggone Kid broke to foller yuh so we can't keep him +on the ranch no more,” he added fretfully. “Tried to run away twice, +on Silver. Chip had to go round him up. Found him last time pretty near +over to Antelope coulee, hittin' the high places for town. Might as well +take yuh back, I guess, and save time running after the Kid.” + +“We've got to hold down our claims,” Weary minded him regretfully. In +three weeks, he could see a difference the Old Man, and the change hurt +him. + +Lines were deeper drawn, and the kind old eyes were a shade more sunken. + +“What's that amount to?” grumbled the Old Man, looking from one to the +other under his graying eye brows. “You can't stop them dry-farmers from +taking the country. Yuh might as well try to dip the Missouri dry with a +bucket. They'll flood the country with stock--” + +“No, they won't,” put in Big Medicine, impatient for the real meat of +their errand. “By cripes, we got a scheme to beat that--you tell 'im, +Weary.” + +“We want to buy a bunch of cattle from you,” Weary said obediently. “We +want to graze our claims, instead of trying to crop the land. We haven't +any fence up, so we'll have to range-herd our stock, of course. I--don't +hardly think any nester stock will get by us, J. G. And seeing our land +runs straight through from Meeker's line fence to yours, we kinda think +we've got the nesters pretty well corralled. They're welcome to the +range between Antelope coulee and Dry Lake, far as we're concerned. Soon +as we can afford it,” he added tranquilly, “we'll stretch a fence along +our west line that'll hold all the darn milkcows they've a mind to ship +out here.” + +“Huh!” The Old Man studied them quizzically, his chin on his chest. + +“How many yuh want?” he asked abruptly. + +“All you'll sell us. We want to give mortgages, with the stock for +security.” + +“Oh, yuh do, ay? What if I have to foreclose on yuh?” The pucker of his +lips grew more pronounced. “Where do you git off at, then?” + +“Well, we kinda thought we could fix it up to save part of the increase +outa the wreck, anyway.” + +“Oh. That's it ay?” He studied them another minute. “You'll want all my +best cows, too, I reckon--all that grade stock I shipped in last spring. +Ay?” + +“We wouldn't mind,” grinned Weary, glancing at the others roosting at +ease along the edge of the porch. + +“Think you could handle five-hundred head--the pick uh the bunch?” + +“Sure, we could! We'd rather split 'em up amongst us, though--let every +fellow buy so many. We can throw in together on the herding.” + +“Think you can keep the milk-cows between you and Dry Lake, ay?” The Old +Man chuckled--the first little chuckle since the Happy Family left him +so unceremoniously three weeks before. “How about that, Pink?” + +“Why, I think we can,” chirped Pink cheerfully. + +“Huh! Well, you're the toughest bunch, take yuh up one side and down +the other, I ever seen keep onta jail--I guess maybe you can do it. But +lemme tell you boys something--and I want you to remember it: You don't +want to git the idea in your heads you're going to have any snap; you +ain't. If I know B from a bull's foot, you've got your work cut out for +yuh. I've been keeping cases pretty close on this dry-farm craze, and +this stampede for claims. Folks are land crazy. They've got the idea +that a few acres of land is going to make 'em free and independent--and +it don't matter much what the land is, or where it is. So long as it's +land, and they can git it from the government for next to nothing, +they're satisfied. And yuh want to remember that. Yuh don't want to take +it for granted they're going to take a look at your deadline and back +up. If they ship in stock, they're going to see to it that stock don't +starve. You'll have to hold off men and women that's making their last +stand, some of 'em, for a home of their own. They ain't going to give +up if they can help it. You get a man with his back agin the wall, and +he'll fight till he drops. I don't need to tell yuh that.” + +The Happy Family listened to him soberly, their eyes staring broodily at +the picture he conjured. + +“Well, by golly, we're makin' our last stand, too,” Slim blurted with +his customary unexpectedness. “Our back's agin the wall right now. If we +can't hold 'em back from takin' what little range is left, this outfit's +going under. We got to hold 'em, by golly, er there won't be no more +Flying U.” + +“Well,” said Andy Green quietly, “that's all right. We're going to hold +'em.” + +The Old Man lifted his bent head and looked from one to another. Pride +shone in his eyes, that had lately stared resentment. “Yuh know, don't +yuh, the biggest club they can use?” He leaned forward a little, his +lips working under his beard. + +“Sure, we know. We'll look out for that.” Weary smiled hearteningly. + +“We want a good lawyer to draw up those mortgages,” put in the Native +Son lazily. “And we'll pay eight per cent. interest.” + +“Doggonedest crazy bunch ever I struck,” grumbled the Old Man with +grateful insincerity. “What you fellers don't think of, there ain't any +use in mentioning. Oh, Dell! Bring out that jug Blake sent me! Doggoned +thirsty bunch out here--won't stir a foot till they sample that wine! +Got to get rid of 'em somehow--they claim to be full uh business as +a jack rabbit is of fleas! When yuh want to git out and round up them +cows? Wagon's over on Dry creek som'ers--or ought to be. Yuh might take +your soogans and ride ove' there tomorrow or next day and ketch 'em. +I'll write a note to Chip and tell 'im what's to be done. And while +you're pickin' your bunch you can draw wages just the same as ever, and +help them double-dutch blisterin' milk-fed pilgrims with the calf crop.” + +“We'll sure do that,” promised Weary for the bunch. “We can start in the +morning, all right.” + +“Take a taste uh this wine. None of your tobacco-juice stuff; this comes +straight from Fresno. Senator Blake sent it the other day. Fill up that +glass, Dell! What yuh want to be so doggone stingy fer? Think this bunch +uh freaks are going to stand for that? They can't git the taste outa +less'n a pint. This ain't any doggone liver-tonic like you dope out.” + +The Little Doctor smiled understandingly and filled their glasses with +the precious wine from sunland. She did not know what had happened, but +she did know that the Old Man had seized another hand-hold on life in +the last hour, and she was grateful. She even permitted the Kid to +take a tiny sip, just because the Happy Family hated to see him refused +anything he wanted. + +So Flying U coulee was for the time being filled with the same old +laughter and the same atmosphere of care-free contentment with life. The +Countess stewed uncomplainingly in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the +boys. The Old Man grumbled hypocritically at them from his big chair, +and named their faults in the tone that transmuted them into virtues. +The Little Doctor heard about Miss Allen and her three partners, who +were building a four-room shack on the four corners of four claims, and +how Irish had been caught more than once in the act of staring fixedly +in the direction of that shack. She heard a good many things, and she +guessed a good many more. + +By mid afternoon the Old Man was fifty per cent brighter and better than +he had been in the morning, and he laughed and bullied them as of old. +When they left he told them to clear out and stay out, and that if he +caught them hanging around his ranch, and making it look as if he were +backing them and trying to defraud the government, he'd sic the dog onto +them. Which tickled the Kid immensely, because there wasn't any dog to +sic. + + + +CHAPTER 10. WHEREIN ANDY GREEN LIES TO A LADY + +In the soft-creeping dusk came Andy Green, slouched in the saddle with +the weariness of riding since dawn; slouched to one side and singing, +with his hat far back on his head and the last of a red sunset tinting +darkly the hills above him. Tip-toe on a pinnacle a great, yellow star +poised and winked at him knowingly. Andy's eyes twinkled answer as he +glanced up that way. “We've got her going, old-timer,” he announced +lazily to the star. + +Six miles back toward the edge of the “breaks” which are really the +beginning of the Badlands that border the Missouri River all through +that part of Montana, an even five hundred head of the Flying U's best +grade cows and their calves were settling down for the night upon a +knoll that had been the bed-ground of many a herd. At the Flying U +ranch, in the care of the Old Man, were the mortgages that would make +the Happy Family nominal owners of those five hundred cows and their +calves. In the morning Andy would ride back and help bring the herd upon +its spring grazing ground, which was the claims; in the meantime he was +leisurely obeying an impulse to ride into One Man coulee and spend +the night under his own roof. And, say what you will, there is a +satisfaction not to be denied in sleeping sometimes under one's own +roof; and it doesn't matter in the least that the roof is made of +prairie dirt thrown upon cottonwood poles. So he sang while he rode, and +his voice boomed loud in the coulee and scared long stilled echoes into +repeating the song: + + “We're here because we're here, because we're here, + because we're here, + + “We're here because we're here, because we're here, + because we're here--” + +That, if you please, is a song; there are a lot more verses exactly +like this one, which may be sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne with much +effectiveness when one is in a certain mood. So Andy sang, while his +tired horse picked its way circumspectly among the scattered rocks of +the trail up the coulee. + + “It's time you're here, it's time you're here, + It's time that you were here--” + +mocked an echo not of the hills. + +Andy swore in his astonishment and gave his horse a kick as a mild hint +for haste. He thought he knew every woman-voice in the neighborhood--or +had until the colony came--but this voice, high and sweet and with a +compelling note that stirred him vaguely, was absolutely strange. While +he loped forward, silenced for the moment, he was conscious of a swift, +keen thankfulness that Pink had at the last minute decided to stay in +camp that night instead of accompanying Andy to One Man. He was in +that mood when a sentimental encounter appealed to him strongly; and a +woman's voice, singing to him from One Man cabin, promised undetermined +adventure. + +He did not sing again. There had been something in the voice that held +him quiet, listening, expectant. But she also was silent after that +last, high note--like a meadow lark startled in the middle of his song, +thought Andy whimsically. + +He came within sight of the cabin, squatting in the shadow of the grove +at its back. He half expected to see a light, but the window was +dark, the door closed as he had left it. He felt a faint, unreasoning +disappointment that it was so. But he had heard her. That high note that +lingered upon the word “here” still tingled his senses. His eyes sent +seeking glances here and there as he rode up. + +Then a horse nickered welcomingly, and someone rode out from the deeper +shadow at the corner of the cabin, hesitated as though tempted to +flight, and came on uncertainly. They met full before the cabin, and the +woman leaned and peered through the dusk at Andy. + +“Is this--Mr. Mallory--Irish?” she asked nervously. “Oh dear! Have I +gone and made a fool of myself again?” + +“Not at all! Good evening, Miss Allen.” Andy folded his hands upon the +saddle horn and regarded her with a little smile, Keen for what might +come next. + +“But you're not Irish Mallory. I thought I recognized the voice, or I +wouldn't have--” She urged her horse a step closer, and Andy observed +from her manner that she was not accustomed to horses. She reined as if +she were driving, so that the horse, bewildered, came sidling up to him. +“Who are you?” she asked him sharply. + +“Me? Why, I'm a nice young man--a lot better singer than Irish. I guess +you never heard him, did you?” He kept his hands folded on the horn, his +whole attitude passive--a restful, reassuring passivity that lulled her +uneasiness more than words could have done. + +“Oh, are you Andy Green? I seem to connect that name with your +voice--and what little I can see of you.” + +“That's something, anyway.” Andy's tone was one of gratitude. “It's two +per cent. better than having to tell you right out who I am. I met you +three different times, Miss Allen,” he reproached. + +“But always in a crowd,” she defended, “and I never talked with you, +particularly.” + +“Oh, well, that's easily fixed,” he said. “It's a nice night,” he added, +looking up appreciatively at the brightening star-sprinkle. “Are you +living on your claim now? We can talk particularly on the way over.” + +Miss Allen laughed and groped for a few loose hairs, found them and +tucked them carefully under her hatcrown. Andy remembered that gesture; +it helped him to visualize her clearly in spite of the deepening night. + +“How far have you ridden today, Mr. Green?” she asked irrelevantly. + +“Since daylight, you mean? Not so very far counting miles--We were +trailing a herd, you see. But I've been in the saddle since sunrise, +except when I was eating.” + +“Then you want a cup of coffee, before you ride any farther. If I get +down, will you let me make it or you? I'd love to. I'm crazy to see +inside your cabin, but I only rode up and tried to peek in the window +before you came. I have two brothers and a cousin, so I understand men +pretty well and I know you can talk better when you aren't hungry.” + +“Are you living on your claim?” he asked again, without moving. + +“Why, yes. We moved in last week.” + +“Well, we'll ride over, then, and you can make coffee there. I'm not +hungry right now.” + +“Oh.” She leaned again and peered at him, trying to read his face. “You +don't WANT me to go in!” + +“Yes, I do--but I don't. If you stayed and made coffee, tomorrow you'd +be kicking yourself for it, and you'd be blaming me.” Which, considering +the life he had lived, almost wholly among men, was rather astute of +Andy Green. + +“Oh.” Then she laughed. “You must have some sisters, Mr. Green.” She was +silent for a minute, looking at him. “You're right,” she said quietly +then. “I'm always making a fool of myself, just on the impulse of the +moment. The girls will be worried about me, as it is. But I don't want +you to ride any farther, Mr. Green. What I came to say need not take +very long, and I think I can find my way home alone, all right.” + +“I'll take you home when you're ready to go,” said Andy quietly. All at +once he had wanted to shield her, to protect her from even so slight an +unconventionality as making his coffee for him. He had felt averse to +putting her at odds with her conventional self, of inviting unfavorable +criticism of himself; dimly, because instinct rather than cold analysis +impelled him. What he had told her was the sum total of his formulated +ideas. + +“Well, I'm ready to go now, since you insist on my being conventional. +I did not come West with the expectation of being tied to a book of +etiquette, Mr. Green. But I find one can't get away from it after all. +Still, living on one's own claim twelve miles from a town is something!” + +“That's a whole lot, I should say,” Andy assured her politely, and +refrained from asking her what she expected to do with that eighty +acres of arid land. He turned his tired horse and rode alongside her, +prudently waiting for her to give the key. + +“I'm not supposed to be away over here, you know,” she began when they +were near the foot of the bluff up which the trail wound seeking the +easiest slopes and avoiding boulders and deep cuts. “I'm supposed to +be just out riding, and the girls expected me back by sundown. But I've +been trying and trying to find some of you Flying U boys--as they call +you men who have taken so much land--on your claims. I don't know that +what I could tell you would do you a particle of good--or anyone else. +But I wanted to tell you, anyway, just to clear my own mind.” + +“It does lots of good just to meet you,” said Andy with straightforward +gallantry. “Pleasures are few and far between, out here.” + +“You said that very nicely, I'm sure,” she snubbed. “Well, I'm going +to tell you, anyway--just on the chance of doing some good.” Then she +stopped. + +Andy rode a rod or two, glancing at her inquiringly, waiting for her to +go on. She was guiding her horse awkwardly where it needed only to be +let alone, and he wanted to give her a lesson in riding. But it seemed +too early in their acquaintance for that, so he waited another minute. + +“Miss Hallman is going to make you a lot of trouble,” she began +abruptly. “I thought perhaps it might be better for you--all of +you--if you knew it in advance, so there would be no sudden anger and +excitement. All the settlers are antagonistic, Mr. Green--all but me, +and one or two of the girls. They are going to do everything they can to +prevent your land-scheme from going through. You are going to be watched +and--and your land contested--” + +“Well, we'll be right there, I guess, when the dust settles,” he filled +in her thought unmoved. + +“I--almost hope so,” she ventured. “For my part, I can see the +side--your side. I can see where it is very hard for the cattle men to +give up their range. It is like the big plantations down south, when +the slaves were freed. It had to be done, and yet it was hard upon those +planters who depended on free labor. They resented it deeply; deeply +enough to shed blood--and that is one thing I dread here. I hope, Mr. +Green, that you will not resort to violence. I want to urge you all +to--to--” + +“I understand,” said Andy softly. “A-course, we're pretty bad when we +get started, all right. We're liable to ride up on dark nights and shoot +our enemies through the window--I can't deny it, Miss Allen. And if it +comes right to a show-down, I may as well admit that some of us would +think nothing at all of taking a man out and hanging him to the first +three we come to, that was big enough to hold him. But now that ladies +have come into the country, a-course we'll try and hold our tempers +down all we can. Miss Hallman, now--I don't suppose there's a man in the +bunch that would shoot her, no matter what she done to us. We take pride +in being polite to women. You've read that about us, haven't you, Miss +Allen? And you've seen us on the stage--well, it's a fact, all right. +Bad as we are, and wild and tough, and savage when we're crossed, a lady +can just do anything with us, if she goes at it the right way.” + +“Thank you. I felt sure that you would not harm any of us. Will you +promise not to be violent--not to--to--” + +Andy sat sidewise in the saddle, so that he faced her. Miss Allen could +just make out his form distinctly; his face was quite hidden, except +that she could see the shine of his eyes. + +“Now, Miss Allen,” he protested with soft apology “You musta known what +to expect when you moved out amongst us rough characters. You know I can +make any promises about being mild with the men that try to get the best +of us. If you've got friends--brothers--anybody here that you think a +lot of Miss Allen, I advise you to send 'em outa the country, before +trouble breaks loose; because when she starts she'll start a-popping. +I know I can't answer for my self, what I'm liable to do if they bother +me; and I'm about the mildest one in the bunch. What the rest of the +boys would do--Irish Mallory for instance--I hate to think, Miss Allen. +I--hate--to--think!” + +Afterwards, when he thought it all over dispassionately, Andy +wondered why he had talked to Miss Allen like that. He had not done +it deliberately, just to frighten her--yet he had frightened her to a +certain extent. He had roused her apprehension for the safety of her +neighbors and the ultimate well-being of himself and his fellows. She +had been so anxious over winning him to more peaceful ways that she had +forgotten to give him any details of the coming struggle. Andy was sorry +for that. He wished, on the way home, that he knew just what Florence +Grace Hallman intended to do. + +Not that it mattered greatly. Whatever she did, Andy felt that it would +be futile. The Happy Family were obeying the land laws implicitly, +except as their real incentive had been an unselfish one. He could not +feel that it was wrong to try and save the Flying U; was not loyalty a +virtue? And was not the taking of land for the preservation of a fine, +fair dealing outfit that had made itself a power for prosperity and +happiness in that country, a perfectly laudable enterprise? Andy +believed so. + +Even though they did, down in their deepest thoughts, think of the +Flying U's interest, Andy did not believe that Florence Grace Hallman or +anyone else could produce any evidence that would justify a contest for +their land. Though they planned among themselves for the good of +the Flying U, they were obeying the law and the dictates of their +range-conscience and their personal ideas of right and justice and +loyalty to their friends and to themselves. They were not conspiring +against the general prosperity of the country in the hope of great +personal gain. When you came to that, they were saving fifty men from +bitter disappointment--counting one settler to every eighty acres, as +the Syndicate apparently did. + +Still, Andy wondered why he had represented himself and his friends to +be such bloodthirsty devils. He grinned wickedly over some of the things +he had said, and over her womanly perturbation and pleading that they +would spare the lives of their enemies. Oh, well--if she repeated half +to Florence Grace Hallman, that lady would maybe think twice before she +tackled the contract of boosting the Happy Family off their claims. So +at the last he managed to justify his lying to her. He liked Miss Allen. +He was pleased to think that at least she would not forget him the +minute he was out of her sight. + +He went to sleep worrying, not over the trouble which Florence Grace +Hallman might be plotting to bring upon him, but about Miss Allen's +given name and her previous condition of servitude. He hoped that she +was not a stenographer, and he hoped her first name was not Mary; and +if you know the history of Andy Green you will remember that he had a +reason for disliking both the name and the vocation. + + + +CHAPTER 11. A MOVING CHAPTER IN EVENTS + +Having nothing more than a general warning of trouble ahead to disturb +him, Andy rode blithely back down the coulee and met the herd just after +sunrise. Dreams of Miss Allen had left a pleasant mood behind them, +though the dreams themselves withdrew behind the veil of forgetfulness +when he awoke. He wondered what her first name was. He wondered how far +Irish's acquaintance with her had progressed, but he did not worry much +about Irish. Having represented himself to be an exceedingly dangerous +man, and having permitted himself to be persuaded into promising +reform and a calm demeanor--for her sake--he felt tolerably sure of her +interest in him. He had heard that a woman loves best the taming of a +dangerous man, and he whistled and sang and smiled until the dust of the +coming herd met him full. Since he felt perfectly sure of the result, he +hoped that Florence Grace Hallman would start something, just so that he +might show Miss Allen how potent was her influence over a bad, bad man +who still has virtues worth nurturing carefully. + +Weary, riding point on the loitering herd, grinned a wordless greeting. +Andy passed with a casual wave of his hand and took his place on the +left flank. From his face Weary guessed that all was well with the +claims, and the assurance served to lighten his spirits. Soon he heard +Andy singing at the top of his voice, and his own thoughts fell into +accord with the words of the ditty. He began to sing also, whenever +he knew the words. Farther back, Pink took it up, and then the others +joined in, until all unconsciously they had turned the monotonous drive +into a triumphal march. + +“They're a little bit rough I must confess, the most of them at least,” + prompted Andy, starting on the second verse alone because the others +didn't know the song as well as he. He waited a second for them to join +him, and went on extolling the valor of all true cowboys: + + “But long's you do not cross their trail you can live with + them at peace. + + “But if you do they're sure to rule, the day you come to + their land, + + “For they'll follow you up and shoot it out, and do it man to + man.” + +“Say, Weary! They tell me Florence Grace is sure hittin' the warpost! +Ain't yuh scared?” + +Weary shook his head and rode forward to ease the leaders into a narrow +gulch that would cut off a mile or so of the journey. + +“Taking 'em up One Man?” called Pink, and got a nod for answer. There +was a lull in the singing while they shouted and swore at these stubborn +cows who would have tried to break back on the way to a clover patch, +until the gulch broadened into an arm of One Man Coulee itself. It was +all peaceful and easy and just as they had planned. The morning was cool +and the cattle contented. They were nearing their claims, and all that +would remain for them to do was the holding of their herd upon the +appointed grazing ground. So would the requirements of the law be +fulfilled and the machinations of the Syndicate be thwarted and the land +saved to the Flying U, all in one. + +And then the leaders, climbing the hill at a point half a mile below +Andy's cabin, balked, snorted and swung back. Weary spurred up to push +them forward, and so did Andy and Pink. They rode up over the ridge +shouting and urging the reluctant cattle ahead, and came plump into the +very dooryard of a brand new shack. A man was standing in the doorway +watching the disturbance his presence had created; when he saw the three +riders come bulging up over the crest of the bluff, his eyes widened. + +The three came to a stop before him, too astonished to do more than +stare. Once past the fancied menace of the new building and the man, the +cattle went trotting awkwardly across the level, their calves galloping +alongside. + +“Hello,” said Weary at last, “what do you think you're doing here?” + +“Me? I'm holding down a claim. What are you doing?” The man did not seem +antagonistic or friendly or even neutral toward them. He seemed to be +waiting. He eyed the cattle that kept coming, urged on by those who +shouted at them in the coulee below. He watched them spread out and go +trotting away after the leaders. + +“Say, when did yuh take this claim?” Andy leaned negligently forward and +looked at him curiously. + +“Oh, a week or so ago. Why?” + +“I just wondered. I took it up myself, four weeks ago. Four forties I've +got, strung out in a line that runs from here to yonder. You've got over +on my land--by mistake, of course. I just thought I'd tell yuh,” he added +casually, straightening up, “because I didn't think you knew it before.” + +“Thanks.” The man smiled one-sidedly and began filling a pipe while he +watched them. + +“A-course it won't be much trouble to move your shack,” Andy continued +with neighborly interest. “A wheelbarrow will take it, easy. Back here +on the bench a mile or so, yuh may find a patch of ground that nobody +claims.” + +“Thanks.” The man picked a match from his pocket and striking it on the +new yellow door-casing lighted his pipe. + +Andy moved uneasily. He did not like that man, for all he appeared so +thankful for information. The fellow had a narrow forehead and broad, +high cheek bones and a predatory nose. His eyes were the wrong shade of +blue and the lids drooped too much at the outer corners. Andy studied +him curiously. Did the man know what he was up against, or did he not? +Was he sincere in his ready thanks, or was he sarcastic? The man looked +up at him then. His eyes were clean of any hidden meaning, but they +were the wrong shade of blue--the shade that is opaque and that you feel +hides much that should be revealed to you. + +“Seems like there's been quite a crop of shacks grown up since I rode +over this way,” Weary announced suddenly, returning from a brief scurry +after the leaders, that inclined too much toward the south in their +travel. + +“Yes, the country's settling up pretty fast,” conceded the man in the +doorway. + +“Well, by golly!” bellowed Slim, popping up from below on a heaving +horse. Slim was getting fatter every year, and his horses always +puffed when they climbed a hill under his weight. His round eyes glared +resentfully at the man and the shack and at the three who were sitting +there so quietly on their horses--just as if they had ridden up for a +friendly call. “Ain't this shack on your land?” he spluttered to Andy. + +“Why, yes. It is, just right at present.” Andy admitted, following the +man's example in the matter of a smoke, except that Andy rolled and +lighted a cigarette. “He's going to move it, though.” + +“Oh. Thanks.” With the one-sided smile. + +“Say, you needn't thank ME,” Andy protested in his polite tone. “YOU'RE +going to move it, you know.” + +“You may know, but I don't,” corrected the other. + +“Oh, that's all right. You may not know right now, but don't let that +worry yuh. This is sure a great country for pilgrims to wise up in.” + +Big Medicine came up over the hill a hundred feet or so from them; +goggled a minute at the bold trespass and came loping across the +intervening space. “Say, by cripes, what's this mean?” he bawled. +“Claim-jumper, hey? Say, young feller, do you realize what you're +doing--squattin' down on another man's land. Don't yuh know +claim-jumpers git shot, out here? Or lynched?” + +“Oh, cut out all that rough stuff!” advised the man wearily. “I know who +you are, and what your bluff is worth. I know you can't held a foot of +land if anybody is a mind to contest your claims. I've filed a contest +on this eighty, here, and I'm going to hold it. Let that soak into your +minds. I don't want any trouble--I'm even willing to take a good deal +in the way of bluster, rather than have trouble. But I'm going to stay. +See?” He waved his pipe in a gesture of finality and continued to +smoke and to watch them impersonally, leaning against the door in that +lounging negligence which is so irritating to a disputant. + +“Oh, all right--if that's the way you feel about it,” Andy replied +indifferently, and turned away. “Come on, boys--no use trying to bluff +that gazabo. He's wise.” + +He rode away with his face turned over his shoulder to see if the others +were going to follow. When he was past the corner and therefore out of +the man's sight, he raised his arm and beckoned to them imperatively, +with a jerk of his head to add insistence. The four of them looked after +him uncertainly. Weary kicked his horse and started, then Pink did +the same. Andy beckoned again, more emphatically than before, and Big +Medicine, who loved a fight as he loved to win a jackpot, turned +and glared at the man in the doorway as he passed. Slim was rumbling +by-golly ultimatums in his fat chest when he came up. + +“Pink, you go on back and put the boys next, when they come up with the +drag they won't do anything much but hand out a few remarks and ride +on.” Andy said, in the tone of one who knows exactly what he means +to do. “This is my claim-jumper. Chances are I've got three more to +handle--or will have. Nothing like starting off right. Tell the boys +just rag the fellow a little and ride on, like we did. Get the cattle up +here and set Happy and Slim day-herding and the rest of us'll get busy.” + +“You wouldn't tell for a dollar, would yuh?” Pi asked him with his +dimples showing. + +“I've got to think it out first,” Andy evaded, “feel all the symptoms of +an idea. You let me alone a while.” + +“Say, yuh going to tell him he's been found out and yuh know his past,” + began Slim, “like yuh done Dunk? I'll bet, by golly--” + +“Go on off and lay down!” Andy retorted pettishly. “I never worked the +same one off on you twice, did I? Think I'm getting feeble-minded? It +ain't hard to put his nibs on the run--that's dead easy. Trouble is I +went and hobbled myself. I promised a lady I'd be mild.” + +“Mamma!” muttered Weary, his sunny eyes taking in the shack-dotted +horizon. “Mild!--and all these jumpers on our hands!” + +“Oh, well--there's more'n one way to kill a cat,” Andy reminded them +cheerfully. “You go on back and post the boys, Pink, not to get too +riled.” + +He galloped off and left them to say and think what they pleased. He was +not uneasy over their following his advice or waiting for his plan. For +Andy Green had risen rapidly to a tacit leadership, since first he +told them of the coming colony. From being the official Ananias of the +outfit, king of all joke-makers, chief irritator of the bunch, whose +lightest word was suspected of hiding some deep meaning and whose +most innocent action was analysed, he had come to the point where +they listened to him and depended upon him to see a way out of +every difficulty. They would depend upon him now; of that he was +sure--therefore they would wait for his plan. + +Strange as it may seem, the Happy Family had not seriously considered +the possibility of having their claims “jumped” so long as they kept +valid their legal residence. They had thought that they would be watched +and accused of collusion with the Flying U, and they intended to be +extremely careful. They meant to stay upon their claims at least seven +months in the year, which the law required. They meant to have every +blade of grass eaten by their own cattle, which would be counted as +improving their claims. They meant to give a homelike air of permanency +to their dwellings. They had already talked over a tentative plan +of bringing water to their desert claims, and had ridden over the +bench-land for two days, with the plat at hand for reference, that they +might be sure of choosing their claims wisely. They had prepared for +every contingency save the one that had arisen--which is a common +experience with us all. They had not expected that their claims would +be jumped and contests filed so early in the game, as long as they +maintained their residence. + +However, Andy was not dismayed at the turn of events. It was stimulating +to the imagination to be brought face to face with an emergency such as +this, and to feel that one must handle it with strength and diplomacy +and a mildness of procedure that would find favor in the eyes of a girl. + +He looked across the waving grass to where the four roomed shack was +built upon the four corners of four “eighties” so that four women might +live together and yet be said to live upon their own claims. That was +drawing the line pretty fine, of course; finer than the Happy Family +would have dared to draw it. But no one would raise any objection, on +account of their being women and timid about living alone. Andy smiled +sympathetically because the four conjunctive corners of the four claims +happened to lie upon a bald pinnacle bare of grass or shelter or water, +even. The shack stood bleakly revealed to the four winds--but also it +over looked the benchland and the rolling, half-barren land to the +west, which comprised Antelope Coulee and Dry Coulee and several other +good-for-nothing coulees capable of supporting nothing but coyotes and +prairie dogs and gophers. + +A mile that way Andy rode, and stopped upon the steep side of a gulch +which was an arm of Antelope Coulee. He looked down into the gulch, +searched with his eyes for the stake that marked the southeast corner of +the eighty lying off in this direction from the shack, and finally saw +it fifty yards away on a bald patch of adobe. + +He resisted the temptation to ride over and call upon Miss Allen--the +resistance made easier by the hour, which was eight o'clock or +thereabouts--and rode back to the others very well satisfied with +himself and his plan. + +He found the whole Happy Family gathered upon the level land just +over his west line, extolling resentment while they waited his coming. +Grinning, he told them his plan, and set them grinning also. He gave +them certain work to be done, and watched them scatter to do his +bidding. Then he turned and rode away upon business of his own. + +The claim-jumper, watching the bench land through a pair of field +glasses, saw a herd of cows and calves scattered and feeding contentedly +upon the young grass a mile or so away. Two men on horseback loitered +upon the outer fringe of the herd. From a distance hilltop came the +staccato sound of hammers where an other shack was going up. Cloud +shadows slid silently over the land, with bright sunlight chasing after. +Of the other horsemen who had come up the bluff with the cattle, he saw +not a sign. So the man yawned and went in to his breakfast. + +Many times that day he stood at the corner of his shack with the glasses +sweeping the bench-land. Toward noon the cattle drifted into a coulee +where there was water. In a couple of hours they drifted leisurely +back upon high ground and scattered to their feeding, still watched and +tended by the two horsemen who looked the most harmless of individuals. +One was fat and red-faced and spent at least half of his time lying +prone upon some slope in the shade of his horse. The other was thin +and awkward, and slouched in the saddle or sat upon the ground with his +knees drawn up and his arms clasped loosely around them, a cigarette +dangling upon his lower lip, himself the picture of boredom. + +There was nothing whatever to indicate that events were breeding in that +peaceful scene, and that adventure was creeping close upon the watcher. +He went in from his fourth or fifth inspection, and took a nap. + +That night he was awakened by a pounding on the side of the shack where +was his window. By the time he had reached the middle of the floor--and +you could count the time in seconds--a similar pounding was at the door. +He tried to open the door and couldn't. He went to the window and could +see nothing, although the night had not been dark when he went to +bed. He shouted, and there was no reply; nor could he hear any talking +without. His name, by the way, was H. J. Owens, though his name does not +matter except for convenience in mentioning him. Owens, then, lighted a +lamp, and almost instantly was forced to reach out quickly and save it +from toppling, because one corner of the shack was lifting, lifting... + +Outside, the Happy Family worked in silence. Before they had left One +Man Coulee they had known exactly what they were to do, and how to do +it. They knew who was to nail the hastily constructed shutter over the +window. They knew who was to fasten the door so that it could not be +opened from within. They knew also who were to use the crow-bars, who +were to roll the skids under the shack. + +There were twelve of them--because Bert Rogers had insisted upon +helping. In not many more minutes than there were men, they were in +their saddles, ready to start. The shack lurched forward after the +straining horses. Once it was fairly started it moved more easily than +you might think it could do, upon crude runners made of cottonwood logs +eight inches or so in diameter and long enough for cross pieces bolted +in front and rear. The horses pulled it easily with the ropes tied to +the saddle-horns, just as they had many times pulled the roundup wagons +across mirey creeks or up steep slopes; just as they had many times +pulled stubborn cattle or dead cattle--just as they had been trained +to pull anything and everything their masters chose to attach to their +ropes. + +Within, Owens called to them and cursed them. When they had just gained +an even pace, he emptied his revolver through the four sides of the +shack. But he did not know where they were, exactly, so that he was +compelled to shoot at random. And since the five shots seemed to have +no effect whatever upon the steady progress of the shack, he decided to +wait until he could see where to aim. There was no use, he reflected, +in wasting good ammunition when there was a strong probability that he +would need it later. + +After a half hour or more of continuous travel, the shack tilted on a +steep descent. H. J. Owens blew out his lamp and swore when a box came +sliding against his shins in the dark. The descent continued until it +was stopped with a jolt that made him bite his tongue painfully, so that +tears came into the eyes that were the wrong shade of blue to please +Andy Green. He heard a laugh cut short and a muttered command, and that +was all. The shack heaved, toppled, righted itself and went on down, and +down, and down; jerked sidewise to the left, went forward and then swung +joltingly the other way. When finally it came to a permanent stand it +was sitting with an almost level floor. + +Then the four corners heaved upward, two at a time, and settled with a +final squeal of twisted boards and nails. There was a sound of confused +trampling, and after that the lessening sounds of departure. Mr. Owens +tried the door again, and found it still fast. He relighted the lamp, +carried it to the window and looked upon rough boards outside the glass. +He meditated anxiously and decided to remain quiet until daylight. + +The Happy Family worked hard, that night. Before daylight they were in +their beds and snoring except the two who guarded the cattle. Each was +in his own cabin. His horse was in his corral, smooth-coated and dry. +There was nothing to tell of the night's happenings,--nothing except the +satisfied grins on their faces when they woke and remembered. + + + +CHAPTER 12. SHACKS, LIVE STOCK AND PILGRIMS PROMPTLY AND PAINFULLY REMOVED + + “I'm looking rather seedy now, while holding down my + claim, + And my grub it isn't always served the best, + And the mice play shyly round me as I lay me down to rest In + my little old sod shanty on my claim. + Oh, the hinges are of leather and the windows have no glass, + And the roof it lets the howling blizzards in, + And I hear the hungry kiote as he sneaks up through + grass-- + +“Say! have they got down the hill yet, Pink;” Pink took his cigarette +from his fingers, leaned and peered cautiously through the grimy window. +“Unh-huh. They're coming up the flat.” + +Whereupon Andy Green, ostentatiously washing his breakfast dishes, +skipped two or three verses and lifted his voice in song to fit the +occasion. + + “How I wish that some kind-hearted girl would pity on me + take, + And relieve me of the mess that I am in! + Oh, the angel, how I'd bless her if her home with me she'd + make, + In my little old sod shanty-- + +“Got her yet?” And he craned his neck to look. “Aw, they've pulled up, +out there, listening!” + + “My clothes are plastered o'er with dough, I'm looking like a + fright, + And everything is scattered round the room--” + +“Why don't yuh stop that caterwauling?” Pink demanded fretfully. “You'll +queer the whole play if you keep it up. They'll swear you're drunk!” + +There was sense in that. Andy finished the line about remaining two +happy lovers in his little old sod shanty, and went to the door with the +dishpan. He threw out the water, squeezed the dishrag in one hand and +gave the inside of the pan a swipe before he appeared to discover that +Miss Allen and Florence Grace Hallman were riding up to his door. As a +matter of fact, he had seen them come over the top of the bluff and had +long ago guessed who they were. + +He met them with a smile of surprised innocence, and invited them +inside. They refused to come, and even Miss Allen showed a certain +reproachful coolness toward him. Andy felt hurt at that, but he did not +manifest the fact. Instead he informed them that it was a fine morning. +And were they out taking a look around? + +They were. They were looking up the men who had perpetrated the outrage +last night upon four settlers. + +“Outrage?” Andy tilted the dishpan against the cabin wall, draped the +dishrag over the handle and went forward, pulling down his sleeves. +“What outrage is that, Miss Hallman? Anybody killed?” + +Miss Hallman watched him with her narrowed glance. She saw the quick +glance he gave Miss Allen, and her lids narrowed still more. So that +was it! But she did not swerve from her purpose, for all this unexpected +thrust straight to the heart of her self-love. + +“You know that no one was killed. But you damaged enough property to +place you on the wrong side of the law, Mr. Green. Not one of those +shacks can be gotten out of the gulch except in pieces!” + +Andy smiled inside his soul, but his face was bewildered; his eyes fixed +themselves blankly upon her face. “Me? Damaging property? Miss Hallman, +you don't know me yet!” Which was perfectly true. “What shacks are you +talking about? In what gulch? All the shacks I've seen so far have been +stuck up on bald pinnacles where the blizzards will hit 'em coming +and going next winter.” He glanced again at Miss Allen with a certain +sympathetic foretaste of what she would suffer next winter if she stayed +in her shack. + +“Don't try to play innocent, Mr. Green.” Florence Grace Hallman drew her +brows together. “We all know perfectly well who dragged those shacks off +the claims last night.” + +“Don't you mean that you think you know? I'm afraid you've kinda taken +it for granted I'd be mixed up in any deviltry you happened to hear +about. I've got in bad with you--I know that--but just the same, I hate +to be accused of everything that takes place in the country. All this is +sure interesting news to me. Whereabouts was they taken from? And when, +and where to? Miss Allen, you'll tell me the straight of this, won't +you? And I'll get my hoss and you'll show me what gulch she's talking +about, won't you?” + +Miss Allen puckered her lips into a pout which meant indecision, and +glanced at Florence Grace Hallman. And Miss Hallman frowned at being +shunted into the background and referred to as she, and set her teeth +into her lower lip. + +“Miss Allen prefers to choose her own company,” she said with distinct +rudeness. “Don't try to wheedle her--you can't do it. And you needn't +get your horse to ride anywhere with us, Mr. Green. It's useless. I just +wanted to warn you that nothing like what happened last night will be +tolerated. We know all about you Flying U men--you Happy Family.” She +said it as if she were calling them something perfectly disgraceful. +“You may be just as tough and bad a you please--you can't frighten +anyone into leaving the country or into giving up one iota of their +rights. I came to you because you are undoubtedly the ring-leader of the +gang.” She accented gang. “You ought to be shot for what you did +last night. And if you keep on--” She left the contingency to his +imagination. + +“Well, if settling up the country means that men are going to be shot +for going to bed at dark and asleeping till sun-up, all I've got to say +is that things ain't like they used to be. We were all plumb peaceful +here till your colony came, Miss Hallman. Why, the sheriff never got out +this way often enough to know the trails! He always had to ask his way +around. If your bunch of town mutts can't behave themselves and leave +each other alone, I don't know what's to be done about it. We ain't +hired to keep the peace.” + +“No, you've been hired to steal all the land you can and make all the +trouble you can. We understand that perfectly.” + +Andy shook his head in meek denial, and with a sudden impulse turned +toward the cabin. “Oh, Pink!” he called, and brought that boyish-faced +young man to the door, his eyes as wide and as pure as the eyes of a +child. + +Pink lifted his hat with just the proper degree of confusion to impress +the girls with his bashfulness and his awe of their presence. His eyes +were the same pansy-purple as when the Flying U first made tumultuous +acquaintance with him. His apparent innocence had completely fooled the +Happy Family, you will remember. They had called him Mamma's Little Lamb +and had composed poetry and horrific personal history for his benefit. +The few years had not changed him. His hair was still yellow and curly. +The dimples still dodged into his cheeks unexpectedly; he was still much +like a stick of dynamite wrapped in white tissue and tied with a ribbon. +He looked an angel of innocence, and in reality he was a little devil. + +Andy introduced him, and Pink bowed and had all the appearance of +blushing--though you will have to ask Pink how he managed to create that +optical illusion. “What did you want?” he asked in his soft, girlish +voice, turning to Andy bashfully. But from the corner of his eye Pink +saw that a little smile of remembrance had come to soften Miss Hallman's +angry features, and that the other girl was smiling also. Pink hated +that attitude of pleasant patronage which women were so apt to take +toward him, but for the present it suited his purpose to encourage it. + +“Pink, what time was it when we went to bed last night?” Andy asked him +in the tone of one who wished to eliminate all doubt of his virtue. + +“Why--it was pretty early. We didn't light the lamp at all, you +remember. You went to bed before I did--we couldn't see the cards--” He +stopped confusedly, and again he gave the two women the impression that +he blushed. “We weren't playing for money,” he hurriedly explained. +“Just for pastime. It's--pretty lonesome--sometimes.” + +“Somebody did something to somebody last night,” Andy informed Pink +with a resentful impatience. “Miss Hallman thinks we're the guilty +parties--me in particular, because she don't like me. It's something +about some shacks--damaging property, she called it. Just what was it +you said was done, Miss Hallman?” He turned his honest, gray eyes toward +her and met her suspicious look steadily. + +Miss Hallman bit her lip. She had been perfectly sure of the guilt of +Andy Green, and of the others who were his friends. Now, in spite of +all reason she was not so sure. And there had been nothing more tangible +than two pairs of innocent-looking eyes and the irreproachable manners +of two men to change her conviction. + +“Well, I naturally took it for granted that you did it,” she weakened. +“The shacks were moved off eighties that you have filed upon, Mr. +Green. Mr. Owens told me this morning that you men came by his place +and threatened him yesterday, and ordered him to move. No one else would +have any object in molesting him or the others.” Her voice hardened +again as her mind dwelt upon the circumstances. “It must have been you!” + she finished sharply. + +Whereupon Pink gave her a distressed look that made Miss Hallman flush +unmistakably. “I'm just about distracted, this morning,” she apologized. +“I took it upon myself to see these settlers through--and everybody +makes it just as hard as possible for me. Why should all you fellows +treat us the way you do? We--” + +“Why, we aren't doing a thing!” Pink protested diffidently. “We thought +we'd take up some claims and go to ranching for ourselves, when we +got discharged from the Flying U. We didn't mean any harm--everybody's +taking up claims. We've bought some cattle and we're going to try +and get ahead, like other folks. We--I wanted to cut out all this +wildness--” + +“Are those your cattle up on the hill? Some men shipped in four carloads +of young stock, yesterday, to Dry Lake. They drove them out here +intending to turn them on the range, and a couple of men--” + +“Four men,” Miss Allen corrected with a furtive twinkle in her eyes. + +“Some men refused to let them cross that big coulee back there. They +drove the cattle back toward Dry Lake, and told Mr. Simmons and Mr. +Chase and some others that they shouldn't come on this bench back here +at all. That was another thing I wanted to see you men about.” + +“Maybe they were going to mix their stock up with ours,” Pink ventured +mildly. + +“Your men shot, and shot, and shot--the atmosphere up there is shot so +full of holes that the wind just whistles through!” Miss Allen informed +then gravely, with her eyebrows all puckered together and the furtive +little twinkle in her eyes. “And they yelled so that we could hear them +from the house! They made those poor cows and those poor, weenty calves +just go trotting back across the coulee. My new book on farming says +you positively must not hurry cattle. It--oh, it does something to the +butter-fat--joggles it all up or something--I'll lend you the book. +I found the chapter on Proper Treatment of Dairy Stock, and I watched +those men with the book in my hands. Why, it was terribly unscientific, +the way they drove those cow-critters!” + +“I'll come over and get the book,” Andy promised her, with a look in +his eyes that displeased Miss Hallman very much. “We're ashamed of our +ignorance. We'd like to have you learn us what's in the book.” + +“I will. And every week--just think of that! I'm to get a real farm +paper.” + +“I'd like to borrow the paper too,” Andy declared instantly. + +“Oh, and--what's going to be done about all those bullet-holes? +They--they might create a draught--” + +“We'll ride around that way and plug 'em up,” Andy assured her solemnly. +“Whenever you've got time to show me about where they're at.” + +“It will be a pleasure. I can tell where they are, but they're too +high for me to reach. Wherever the wind whistles there's a hole in the +atmosphere. And there are places where the air just quivers, so you can +see it. That is the shock those bold, bad men gave it with the words +they used. They--used--words, Mr. Green! If we could scheme some way to +pull out all those wrinkles--I do love a nice, clean, smooth atmosphere +where I live. It's so wrinkly--” + +“I'll attend to all that, right away.” + +Miss Hallman decided that she had nothing further to say to Mr. Green. +She wheeled her horse rather abruptly and rode off with a curt goodbye. +Miss Allen, being new at the business of handling a horse, took more +time in pulling her mount around. While her back was turned to Florence +Grace and her face was turned toward Pink and Andy, she gave them a +twinkling glance that had one lowered eyelid to it, twisted her lips, +and spoke sharply to her horse. They might make of it what they would. +Florence Grace looked back impatiently--perhaps suspiciously also--and +saw Miss Allen coming on with docile haste. + +So that ended the interview which Miss Hallman had meant to be so +impressive. A lot of nonsense that left a laugh behind and the idea that +Miss Allen at least did not disapprove of harassing claim-jumpers. Andy +Green was two hundred per cent. more cheerful after that, and his brain +was more active and his determination more fixed. For all that he stared +after them thoughtfully. + +“She winked at us--if I've got eyes in my head. What do you reckon she +meant, Pink?” he asked when the two riders had climbed over the ridge. +“And what she said about the bold, bad men shooting holes that have +to be plugged up--and about liking a nice, smooth atmosphere? Do you +suppose she meant that it's liable to take bold, bad men to clean the +atmosphere, or--” + +“What difference does it make what she meant? There's jumpers left--two +on Bud's place--and he's oary-eyed over it, and was going to read 'em +the riot act proper, when I left to come over here. And a couple of men +drove onto that south eighty of Mig's with a load of lumber, just as I +come by. Looks to me like we've got our hands full, Andy. There'll be +holes to plug up somewhere besides in the atmosphere, if you ask me.” + +“Long as they don't get anything on us I ain't in the state of mind +where I give a darn. That little brown-eyed Susan'll keep us posted if +they start anything new--what did she mean by that wink, do you reckon?” + +“Ah, don't get softening of the emotions,” Pink advised impatiently. +“That's the worst thing we've got to steer clear of, Andy! All them +women in the game is going to make it four times as hard to stand 'em +off. Irish is foolish over this one you're gettin' stuck on--you'll be +fighting each other, if you don't look out. That Florence Grace lady +ain't so slow--she's going to use the women to keep us fellows guessing.” + +Andy sighed. “We can block that play, of course,” he said. “Come on, +Pink, let's go round up the boys and see what's been taking place with +them cattle. Shipped in four carloads already, have they?” He began +pulling on his chaps rather hurriedly. “Worst of it is, you can't +stampede a bunch of darned tame cows, either,” he complained. + +They found Irish and the Native Son on day-herd, with the cattle +scattered well along the western line of the claims. Big Medicine, +Weary, Cal Emmett and Jack Bates were just returning from driving the +settlers' stock well across Antelope Coulee which had been decided upon +as a hypothetical boundary line until such time as a fence could be +built. + +They talked with the day-herders, and they talked with the other four. +Chip came up from the ranch with the Kid riding proudly beside him on +Silver, and told them that the Honorable Mr. Blake was at the Flying U +and had sent word that he would be pleased to take the legal end of +the fight, if the Happy Family so desired. Which was in itself a vast +encouragement. The Honorable Blake had said that they were well within +their rights thus far, and advised them to permit service of the contest +notices, and to go calmly on fulfilling the law. Which was all very well +as far as it went, providing they were permitted to go on calmly. + +“What about them cattle they're trying to git across our land?” Slim +wanted to know. “We got a right to keep 'em off, ain't we?” + +Chip said that he thought they had, but to make sure, he would ask the +Honorable Blake. Trespassing, he said, might be avoided-- + +Right there Andy was seized with an idea. He took Chip--because of his +artistic talents which, he said, had been plumb wasted lately--to one +side. After wards they departed in haste, with Pink and Weary galloping +close at their heels. In a couple of hours they returned to the boundary +where the cattle still fed all scattered out in a long line, and behind +them drove Pink and Weary in the one wagon which the Family possessed. + +“It oughta help some,” grinned Andy, when the Native Son came curiously +over to see what it was they were erecting there on the prairie. “It's a +fair warning, and shows 'em where to head in at.” + +The Native Son read the sign, which was three feet long and stood nailed +to two posts ready for planting solidly in the earth. He showed his +even, white teeth in a smile of approval. “Back it up, and it ought to +do some good,” he said. + +They dug holes and set the posts, and drove on to where they meant to +plant another sign exactly like the first. That day they planted twelve +sign-boards along their west line. They might not do any good, but they +were a fair warning and as such were worth the trouble. + +That afternoon Andy was riding back along the line when he saw a rider +pull up at the first sign and read it carefully. He galloped in haste to +the spot and found that his suspicions were correct; it was Miss Allen. + +“Well,” she said when he came near, “I suppose that means me. Does it?” + She pointed to the sign, which read like this: + +WARNING!! NO TRESPASSING EAST OF HERE All Shacks, Live-Stock and +Pilgrims Promptly AND Painfully Removed From These Premises + +“I'm over the line,” she notified him, pulling her horse backward a few +feet. “You're getting awfully particular, seems to me. Oh, did you know +that a lot of men are going to play it's New Year's Eve and hold watch +meetings tonight?” + +“Never heard a word about it,” he declared truthfully, and waited for +more. + +“That's not strange--seeing it's a surprise party. Still--I'm sure you +are expected to--attend.” + +“And where is all this to take place?” Andy looked at her intently, +smiling a little. + +“Oh, over there--and there--and there.” She pointed to three new +shacks--the official dwellings of certain contestants. “Stag parties, +they are, I believe. But I doubt if they'll have any very exciting time; +most of these new settlers are too busy getting the ground ready for +crops, to go to parties. Some people are pretty disgusted, I can tell +you, Mr. Green. Some people talk about ingratitude and wonder why the +colony doesn't hang together better. Some people even wonder why it is +that folks are interested mainly in their own affairs, and decline to +attend watch meetings and--receptions. So I'm afraid very few, except +your nearest neighbors, will be present, after all might I ask when you +expect to--to MOVE again, Mr. Green?” + +Smiling still, Andy shook his head. “I expect to be pretty busy this +spring,” he told her evasively. “Aren't any of you ladies invited to +those parties, Miss Allen?” + +“Not a one. But let me tell you something, Mr. Green. Some folks think +that perhaps we lady-settlers ought to organize a club for the well +being of our intellects. Some folks are trying to get up parties +just for women--see the point? They think it would be better for +the--atmosphere.” + +“Oh.” Andy studied the possibilities of such a move. If Florence Grace +should set the women after them, he could see how the Happy Family would +be hampered at every turn. “Well, I must be going. Say, did you know +this country is full of wild animals, Miss Allen? They prowl around +nights. And there's a gang of wild men that hang out up there in those +mountains--they prowl around nights, too. They're outlaws. They kill +off every sheriff's party that tries to round them up, and they kidnap +children and ladies. If you should hear any disturbance, any time, don't +be scared. Just stay inside after dark and keep your door locked. And if +you should organize that ladies' club, you better hold your meetings in +the afternoon, don't you think?” + +When he had ridden on and left her, Andy was somewhat ashamed of such +puerile falsehoods. But then, she had started the allegorical method of +imparting advice, he remembered. So presently went whistling to round up +the boys and tell them what he had learned. + + + +CHAPTER 13. IRISH WORKS FOR THE CAUSE + +Big Medicine with Weary and Chip to bear him company, rode up to the +shack nearest his own, which had been hastily built by a raw-boned Dane +who might be called truly Americanized. Big Medicine did not waste time +in superfluities or in making threats of what he meant to do. He called +the Dane to the door--claim-jumpers were keeping close to their cabins, +these days--and told him that he was on another man's land, and asked +him if he meant to move. + +“Sure I don't intend to move!” retorted the Dane with praiseworthy +promptness. “I'm going to hold 'er down solid.” + +“Yuh hear what says, boys.” Big Medicine turned to his companions “He +ain't going to git off'n my land, he says. Weary, yuh better go tell the +bunch I need'em.” + +Weary immediately departed. He was not gone so very long, and when he +returned the Happy Family was with him, even to Patsy who drove the +wagon with all the ease of a veteran of many roundups. The Dane tried +bluster, but that did not seem to work. Nothing seemed to work, except +the Happy Family. + +There in broad daylight, with no more words than were needful, they +moved the Dane, and his shack. When they began to raise the building he +was so unwise as to flourish a gun, and thereby made it perfectly right +and lawful that Big Medicine should take the gun away from him and march +him ahead of his own forty-five. + +They took the shack directly past one of the trespassing signs, and Big +Medicine stopped accommodatingly while the Dane was permitted to +read the sign three times aloud. That the Dane did not seem truly +appreciative of the privilege was no fault of Big Medicine's, surely. +They went on, skidding the little building sledlike over the uneven +prairie. They took it down into Antelope Coulee and left it there, right +side up and with not even a pane of glass broken in the window. + +“There, darn yuh, live there awhile!” Andy gritted to when the timbers +were withdrawn from beneath the cabin and they were ready to leave. “You +can't say we damaged your property--this time. Come back, and there's no +telling what we're liable to do.” + +Since Big Medicine kept his gun, the Dane could do nothing but swear +while he watched them ride up the hill and out of sight. + +They made straight for the next interloper, remarking frequently that it +was much simpler and easier to do their moving in daylight. There they +had an audience, for Florence Grace rode furiously up just as they were +getting under way. The Happy Family spoke very nicely to Florence Grace, +and when she spoke very sharply to them they were discreetly hard of +hearing and became absorbed in their work. + +Several settlers came before that shack was moved, but they only stood +around and talked among themselves, and were careful not to get in the +way or to hinder, and to lower their voices so that the Happy Family +need not hear unless they chose to listen. + +So they slid that shack into the coulee, righted it carefully and left +it there--where it would be exceedingly difficult to get it out, by the +way; since it is much easier to drag a building down hill than up, and +the steeper the hill and the higher, the greater the difference. + +They loaded the timbers into the wagon and methodically on to the next +shack, their audience increased to a couple of dozen perturbed settlers. +The owner of this particular shack, feeling the strength of numbers +behind him, was disposed to argue the point. + +“Oh, you'll sweat for this!” he shouted impotently when the Happy Family +was placing the timbers. + +“Ah, git outa the way!” said Andy, coming toward him with a crowbar. +“We're sweating now, if that makes yuh feel any better.” + +The man got out of the way, and went and stood with the group of +onlookers, and talked vaguely of having the law on them--whatever he +meant by that. + +By the time they had placed the third shack in the bottom of the coulee, +the sun was setting. They dragged the timbers up the steep bluff with +their ropes and their saddle-horses, loaded them on to the wagon and +threw the crowbars and rolling timbers in, and turned to look curiously +and unashamed at their audience. Andy, still tacitly their leader, rode +a few steps forward. + +“That'll be all today,” he announced politely. “Except that load of +lumber back here on the bench where it don't belong--we aim to haul that +over the line. Seeing your considerable interest in our affairs, I'll +just say that we filed on our claims according to law, and we're living +on 'em according to law. Till somebody proves in court that we're not, +there don't any shack, or any stock, stay on our side the line any +longer than it takes to get them off. There's the signs, folks--read 'em +and take 'em to heart. You can go home now. The show's over.” + +He lifted his hat to the women--and there were several now--and went +away to join his fellows, who had ridden on slowly till he might +overtake them. He found Happy Jack grumbling and predicting evil, as +it was his nature to do, but he merely straightened his aching back and +laughed at the prophecies. + +“As I told you before, there's more than one way to kill a cat,” he +asserted tritely but never the less impressively. “Nobody can say +we wasn't mild; and nobody can say we hadn't a right to get those +chickencoops off our land. If you ask me, Florence Grace will have to +go some now if she gets the best of the deal. She overlooked a bet. +We haven't been served with any contest notices yet, and so we ain't +obliged to take their say-so. Who's going to stand guard tonight? We've +got to stand our regular shifts, if we want to keep ahead of the game. +I'm willing to be It. I'd like to make sure they don't slip any stock +across before daylight.” + +“Say, it's lucky we've got a bunch of boneheads like them to handle,” + Pink observed thankfully. “Would a bunch of natives have stood around +like that with their hands in their pockets and let us get away with the +moving job? Not so you could notice!” + +“What we'd better do,” cut in the Native Son without any misleading +drawl, “is try and rustle enough money to build that fence.” + +“That's right,” assented Cal. “Maybe the Old Man--” + +“We don't go to the Old Man for so much as a bacon rind!” cried the +Native Son impatiently. “Get it into your systems, boys, that we've +got to ride away around the Flying U. We ought to be able to build that +fence, all right, without help from anybody. Till we do we've got to +hang and rattle, and keep that nester stock from getting past us. I'll +stand guard till midnight.” + +A little more talk, and some bickering with Slim and Happy Jack, the two +chronic kickers, served to knock together a fair working organization. +Weary and Andy Green were informally chosen joint leaders, because +Weary could be depended upon to furnish the mental ballast for Andy's +imagination. Patsy was told that he would have to cook for the outfit, +since he was too fat to ride. They suggested that he begin at, once, by +knocking together some sort of supper. Moving houses, they declared, was +work. They frankly hoped that they would not have to move many more--and +they were very positive that they would not be compelled to move the +same shack twice, at any rate. + +“Say, we'll have quite a collection of shacks down in Antelope Coulee if +we keep on,” Jack Bates reminded them. “Wonder where they'll get water?” + +“Where's the rest of them going to get water?” Cal Emmett challenged the +crowd. “There's that spring the four women up here pack water from--but +that goes dry in August. And there's the creek--that goes dry too. +On the dead, I feel sorry for the women--and so does Irish,” he added +dryly. + +Irish made an uncivil retort and swung suddenly away from the group. +“I'm going to ride into town, boys,” he announced curtly. “I'll be back +in the morning and go on day-herd.” + +“Maybe you will and maybe you won't,” Weary amended somewhat +impatiently. “This is certainly a poor time for Irish to break out,” he +added, watching his double go galloping toward the town road. + +“I betche he comes back full and tries to clean out all them nesters,” + Happy Jack predicted. For once no one tried to combat his pessimism--for +that was exactly what every one of them believed would happen. + +“He's stayed sober a long while--for him,” sighed Weary, who never could +quite shake off a sense of responsibility for the moral defections of +his kinsman. “Maybe I better go along and ride herd on him.” Still, he +did not go, and Irish presently merged into the dusky distance. + +As is often the case with a family's black sheep, his intentions were +the best, even though they might have been considered unorthodox. While +the Happy Family took it for granted that he was gone because an old +thirst awoke within him, Irish was thinking only of the welfare of +the outfit. He did not tell them, because he was the sort who does not +prattle of his intentions, one way or the other. If he did what he meant +to do there would be time enough to explain; if he failed there was +nothing to be said. + +Irish had thought a good deal about the building of that fence, and +about the problem of paying for enough wire and posts to run the fence +straight through from Meeker's south line to the north line of the +Flying U. He had figured the price of posts and the price of wire and +had come somewhere near the approximate cost of the undertaking. He was +not at all sure that the Happy Family had faced the actual figures on +that proposition. They had remarked vaguely that it was going to cost +some money. They had made casual remarks about being broke personally +and, so far as they knew, permanently. + +Irish was hot-headed and impulsive to a degree. He was given to +occasional tumultuous sprees, during which he was to be handled with +extreme care--or, better still, left entirely alone until the spell was +over. He looked almost exactly like Weary, and yet he was almost his +opposite in disposition. Weary was optimistic, peace-loving, steady as +the sun above him except for a little surface-bubbling of fun that +kept him sunny through storm and calm. You could walk all over +Weary--figuratively speaking--before he would show resentment. You could +not step very close to Irish without running the risk of consequences. +That he should, under all that, have a streak of calculating, +hard-headed business sense, did not occur to them. + +They rode on, discussing the present situation and how best to meet it; +the contingencies of the future, and how best to circumvent the active +antagonism of Florence Grace Hallman and the colony for which she stood +sponsor. They did not dream that Irish was giving his whole mind to +solving the problem of raising money to build that fence, but that is +exactly what he was doing. + +Some of you at least are going to object to his method. Some of +you--those of you who live west of the big river--are going to +understand his point of view, and you will recognize his method as +being perfectly logical, simple, and altogether natural to a man of his +temperament and manner of life. It is for you that I am going to relate +his experiences. Sheltered readers, readers who have never faced life in +the raw, readers who sit down on Sunday mornings with a mind purged of +worldly thoughts and commit to memory a “golden text” which they forget +before another Sunday morning, should skip the rest of this chapter for +the good of their morals. The rest is for you men who have kicked up +alkali dust and afterwards washed out the memory in town; who have gone +broke between starlight and sun; who know the ways of punchers the West +over, and can at least sympathize with Irish in what he meant to do that +night. + +Irish had been easing down a corner of the last shack, with his back +turned toward three men who stood looking on with the detached interest +which proved they did not own this particular shack. One was H. J. +Owens--I don't think you have met the others. Irish had not. He had +overheard this scrap of conversation while he worked: + +“Going to town tonight?” + +“Guess so--I sure ain't going to hang out on this prairie any more than +I have to. You going?” + +“Ye-es--I think I will. I hear there's been some pretty swift games +going, the last night or two. A fellow in that last bunch Florence +rounded up made quite a clean up last night.” + +“That so, let's go on in. This claim-holding gets my goat anyway. I +don't see where--” + +That was all Irish heard, but that was enough. + +Had he turned in time to catch the wink that one speaker gave to the +other, and the sardonic grin that answered the lowered eyelid, he would +have had the scrap of conversation properly focused in his mind, and +would not have swallowed the bait as greedily as he did. But we all make +mistakes. Irish made the mistake of underestimating the cunning of his +enemies. + +So here he was, kicking up the dust on the town trail just as those +three intended that he should do. But that he rode alone instead of in +the midst of his fellows was not what the three had intended; and that +he rode with the interest of his friends foremost in his mind was also +an unforeseen element in the scheme. + +Irish did not see H. J. Owens anywhere in town--nor did he see either of +the two men who had stood behind him. But there was a poker game running +in Rusty Brown's back room, and Irish immediately sat in without further +investigation. Bert Rogers was standing behind one of the players, and +gave Irish a nod and a wink which may have had many meanings. Irish +interpreted it as encouragement to sail in and clean up the bunch. + +There was money enough in sight to build that fence when he sat down. +Irish pulled his hat farther over his eyebrows, rolled and lighted a +cigarette while he waited for that particular jackpot to be taken, and +covertly sized up the players. + +Every one of them was strange to him. But then, the town was full of +strangers since Florence Grace and her Syndicate began to reap a harvest +off the open country, so Irish merely studied the faces casually, as a +matter of habit They were nesters, of course--real or prospective. They +seemed to have plenty of money--and it was eminently fitting that the +Happy Family's fence should be built with nester money. + +Irish had in his pockets exactly eighteen dollars and fifty-cents. He +bought eighteen dollars' worth of chips and began to play. Privately he +preferred stud poker to draw, but he was not going to propose a change; +he felt perfectly qualified to beat any three pilgrims that ever came +West. + +Four hands he played and lost four dollars. He drank a glass of beer +then, made himself another cigarette and settled down to business, +feeling that he had but just begun. After the fifth hand he looked +up and caught again the eye of Bert Rogers. Bert pulled his eyebrows +together in a warning look, and Irish thought better of staying that +hand. He did not look at Bert after that, but he did watch the other +players more closely. + +After awhile Bert wandered away, his interest dulling when he saw +that Irish was holding his own and a little better. Irish played on, +conservative to such a degree that in two hours he had not won more than +fifteen dollars. The Happy Family would have been surprised to see him +lay down kings and refuse to draw to them which he did once, with a +gesture of disgust that flipped them face up so that all could see. +He turned them over immediately, but the three had seen that this tall +stranger, who had all the earmarks of a cowpuncher, would not draw to +kings but must have something better before he would stay. + +So they played until the crowd thinned; until Irish, by betting safely +and sticking to a caution that must have cost him a good deal in the way +of self-restraint, had sixty dollars' worth of chips piled in front of +him. + +Some men, playing for a definite purpose, would have quit at that. Irish +did not quit, however. He wanted a certain sum from these nesters. He +had come to town expecting to win a certain sum from them. He +intended to play until he got it or went broke. He was not using any +trickery--and he had stopped one man in the middle of a deal, with a +certain look in his eye remarking that he'd rather have the top card +than the bottom one, so that he was satisfied they were not trying to +cheat. + +There came a deal when Irish looked at his cards, sent a slanting look +at the others and laid down his five cards with a long breath. He raised +the ante four blue ones and rolled and lit a cigarette while the three +had drawn what cards they thought they needed. The man at Irish's +left had drawn only one card. Now he hesitated and then bet with some +assurance. Irish smoked imperturbably while the other two came in, and +then he raised the bet three stacks of blues. His neighbor raised him +one stack, and the next man hesitated and then laid down his cards. The +third man meditated for a minute and raised the bet ten dollars. Irish +blew forth a leisurely smoke wreath and with a sweep of his hand sent in +all his chips. + +There was a silent minute, wherein Irish smoked and drummed absently +upon the table with his fingers that were free. His neighbor frowned, +grunted and threw down his hand. The third man did the same. Irish made +another sweep of his hand and raked the table clean of chips. + +“That'll do for tonight,” he remarked dryly. “I don't like to be a hog.” + +Had that ended the incident, sensitive readers might still read and +think well of Irish. But one of the players was not quite sober, and he +was a poor loser and a pugnacious individual anyway, with a square +face and a thick neck that went straight up to the top of his head. His +underlip pushed out, and when Irish turned away, to cash in his chips, +this pugnacious one reached over and took a look at the cards Irish had +held. + +It certainly was as rotten a hand as a man could hold. Suits all mixed, +and not a face card or a pair in the lot. The pugnacious player had +held a king high straight, and he had stayed until Irish sent in all his +chips. He gave a bellow and jumped up and hit Irish a glancing blow back +of the ear. Let us not go into details. You know Irish--or you should +know him by this time. A man who will get away with a bluff like +that should be left alone or brained in the beginning of the +fight--especially when he can look down on the hair of a six-foot man, +and has muscles hardened by outdoor living. When the dust settled, two +chairs were broken and some glasses swept off the bar by heaving bodies, +and two of the three players had forgotten their troubles. The third was +trying to find the knob on the back door, and could not because of the +buzzing in his head and the blood in his eyes. Irish had welts and two +broken knuckles and a clear conscience, and he was so mad he almost +wound up by thrashing Rusty, who had stayed behind the bar and taken +no hand in the fight. Rusty complained because of the damage to his +property, and Irish, being the only one present in a condition to +listen, took the complaint as a personal insult. + +He counted his money to make sure he had it all, evened the edges of the +package of bank notes and thrust the package into his pocket. If Rusty +had kept his face closed about those few glasses and those chairs, he +would have left a “bill” on the bar to pay for them, even though he did +need every cent of that money. He told Rusty this, and he accused him of +standing in with the nesters and turning down the men who had helped him +make money' all these years. + +“Why, darn your soul, I've spent money enough over this bar to buy out +the whole damn joint, and you know it!” he cried indignantly. “If you +think you've got to collect damages, take it outa these blinkety-blink +pilgrims you think so much of. Speak to 'em pleasant, though, or you're +liable to lose the price of a beer, maybe! They'll never bring you the +money we've brought you, you--” + +“They won't because you've likely killed 'em both,” Rusty retorted +angrily. “You want to remember you can't come into town and rip things +up the back the way you used to, and nobody say a word. You better +drift, before that feller that went out comes back with an officer. You +can't--” + +“Officer be damned!” retorted Irish, unawed. + +He went out while Rusty was deciding to order him out, and started for +the stable. Halfway there he ducked into the shadow of the blacksmith +shop and watched two men go up the street to Rusty's place, walking +quickly. He went on then, got his horse hurriedly without waiting to +cinch the saddle, led him behind the blacksmith shop where he would +not be likely to be found, and tied him there to the wreck of a freight +wagon. + +Then he went across lots to where Fred Wilson, manager of the general +store, slept in a two-room shack belonging to the hotel. The door was +locked--Fred being a small man with little trust in Providence or in +his overt physical prowess--and so he rapped cautiously upon the window +until Fred awoke and wanted to know who in thunder was there. + +Irish told his name, and presently went inside. “I'm pulling outa town, +Fred,” he explained, “and I don't know when I'll be in again. So I want +you to take an order for some posts and bob wire and steeples. I--” + +“Why didn't you come to the store?” Fred very naturally demanded, +peevish at being wakened at three o'clock in the morning. “I saw you in +town when I closed up.” + +“I was busy. Crawl back into bed and cover up, while I give you the +order. I'll want a receipt for the money, too--I'm paying in advance, +so you won't have any excuse for holding up the order. Got any thing to +write on?” + +Fred found part of an order pad and a pencil, and crept shivering into +his bed. The offer to pay in advance had silenced his grumbling, as +Irish expected it would. So Irish gave the order--thirteen hundred cedar +posts, I remember--I don't know just how much wire, but all he would +need. + +“Holy Macintosh! Is this for YOU?” Fred wanted to know as he wrote it +down. + +“Some of it. We're fencing our claims. If I don't come after the stuff +myself, let any of the boys have it that shows up. And get it here as +quick as you can--what you ain't got on hand--” + +Fred was scratching his jaw meditatively with the pencil, and staring +at the order. “I can just about fill that order outa stock on hand,” he +told Irish. “When all this land rush started I laid in a big supply of +posts and wire. First thing they'd want, after they got their shacks up. +How you making it, out there?” + +“Fine,” said Irish cheerfully, feeling his broken knuckles. “How much is +all that going to cost? You oughta make us a rate on it, seeing it's a +cash sale, and big.” + +“I will.” Fred tore out a sheet and did some mysterious figuring, +afterwards crumpling the paper into a little wad and hipping it behind +the bed. “This has got to be on the quiet, Irish. I can't sell wire and +posts to those eastern marks at this rate, you know. This is just for +you boys--and the profit for us is trimmed right down to a whisper.” He +named the sum total with the air of one who confers a great favor. + +Irish grinned and reached into his pocket. “You musta knocked your +profit down to fifty percent.,” he fleered. “But it's a go with me.” He +peeled off the whole roll, just about. He had two twenties left in +his hand when he stopped. He was very methodical that night. He took a +receipt for the money before he left and he looked at it with glistening +eyes before he folded it with the money. “Don't sell any posts and wire +till our order's filled, Fred,” he warned. “We'll begin hauling right +away, and we'll want it all.” + +He let himself out into the cool starlight, walked in the shadows to +where he had left his horse, mounted and rode whistling away down the +lane which ended where the hills began. + + + +CHAPTER 14. JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER + +A gray clarity of the air told that daylight was near. The skyline +retreated, the hills came out of the duskiness like a photograph in the +developer tray. Irish dipped down the steep slope into Antelope Coulee, +cursing the sprinkle of new shacks that stood stark in the dawn on +every ridge and every hilltop, look where one might. He loped along the +winding trail through the coulee's bottom and climbed the hill beyond. +At the top he glanced across the more level upland to the east and his +eyes lightened. Far away stood a shack--Patsy's, that was. Beyond that +another, and yet another. Most of the boys had built in the coulees +where was water. They did not care so much about the view--over which +Miss Allen had grown enthusiastic. + +He pulled up in a certain place near the brow of the hill, and looked +down into the narrower gulch where huddled the shacks they had moved. He +grinned at the sight. His hand went involuntarily to his pocket and the +grin widened. He hurried on that he might the sooner tell the boys of +their good luck; all the material for that line fence bought and paid +for--there would certainly laugh when they heard where the money had +come from! + +First he thought that he would locate the cattle and tell his news to +the boys on guard. He therefore left the trail and rode up on a ridge +from which he could overlook the whole benchland, with the exception of +certain gulches that cut through. The sky was reddening now, save where +banked clouds turned purple. A breeze crept over the grass and carried +the fresh odor of rain. Close beside him a little brown bird chittered +briskly and flew away into the dawn. + +He looked away to where the Bear Paws humped, blue-black against the +sky, the top of Old Baldy blushing faintly under the first sun rays. He +looked past Wolf Butte, where the land was blackened with outcroppings +of rock. His eyes came back leisurely to the claim country. A faint +surprise widened his lids, and he turned and sent a glance sweeping to +the right, toward Flying U Coulee. He frowned, and studied the bench +land carefully. + +This was daybreak, when the cattle should be getting out for their +breakfast-feed. They should be scattered along the level just before +him. And there were no cattle anywhere in sight. Neither were there any +riders in sight. Irish gave a puzzled grunt and turned in his saddle, +looking back toward Dry Lake. That way, the land was more broken, and +he could not see so far. But as far as he could see there were no cattle +that way either. Last night when he rode to town the cattle of the +colonists had been feeding on the long slope three or four miles from +where he stood, across Antelope Coulee where he had helped the boys +drive them. + +He did not waste many minutes studying the empty prairie from the +vantage point of that ridge, however. The keynote of Irish's nature +was action. He sent his horse down the southern slope to the level, and +began looking for tracks, which is the range man's guide-book. He was +not long in finding a broad trail, in the grass where cattle had lately +crossed the coulee from the west. He knew what that meant, and he swore +when he saw how the trail pointed straight to the east--to the broken, +open country beyond One Man Coulee. What had the boys been thinking +of, to let that nester stock get past them in the night? What had the +line-riders been doing? They were supposed to guard against just such a +move as this. + +Irish was sore from his fight in town, and he had not had much sleep +during the past forty-eight hours, and he was ravenously hungry. He +followed the trail of the cattle until he saw that they certainly had +gotten across the Happy Family claims and into the rough country beyond; +then he turned and rode over to Patsy's shack, where a blue smoke column +wobbled up to the fitful air-current that seized it and sent it flying +toward the mountains. + +There he learned that Dry Lake had not hugged to itself all the events +of the night. Patsy, smoking a pipefull of Durham while he waited for +the teakettle to boil, was wild with resentment. In the night, while +he slept, something had heaved his cabin up at one corner. In a minute +another corner heaved upward a foot or more. Patsy had yelled while he +felt around in the darkness for his clothes, and had got no answer, save +other heavings from below. + +Patsy was not the man to submit tamely to such indignities. He had +groped and found his old 45-70 riffle, that made a noise like a young +cannon and kicked like a broncho cow. While the shack lurched this way +and that, Patsy pointed the gun toward the greatest disturbance and +fired. He did not think: he hit anybody, but he apologized to Irish for +missing and blamed the darkness for the misfortune. Py cosh, he sure +tried--witness the bullet holes which he had bored through the four +sides of the shack; he besought Irish to count them; which Irish did +gravely. And what happened then? + +Then? Why, then the Happy Family had come; or at least all those who had +been awake and riding the prairie had come pounding up out of the dark, +their horses running like rabbits, their blood singing the song of +battle. They had grappled with certain of the enemy--Patsy broke open +the door and saw tangles of struggling forms in the faint starlight. +The Happy Family were not the type of men who must settle every argument +with a gun, remember. Not while their hands might be used to fight with. +Patsy thought that they licked the nesters without much trouble. He +knew that the settlers ran, and that the Happy Family chased them clear +across the line and then came back and let the shack down where it +belonged upon the rock underpining. + +“Und py cosh! Dey vould move my shack off'n my land!” he grunted +ragefully as he lived over the memory. + +Irish went to the door and looked out. The wind had risen in the last +half hour, so that his hat went sailing against the rear wall, but he +did not notice that. He was wondering why the settlers had made this +night move against Patsy. Was it an attempt to irritate the boys to some +real act of violence--something that would put them in fear of the law? +Or was it simply a stratagem to call off the night-guard so that they +might slip their cattle across into the breaks? They must have counted +on some disturbance which would reach the ears of the boys on guard. If +Patsy had not begun the bombardment with his old rifle, they would very +likely have fired a few shots themselves--enough to attract attention. +With that end in view, he could see why Patsy's shack had been chosen +for the attack. Patsy's shack was the closest to where they had been +holding the cattle. It was absurdly simple, and evidently the ruse had +worked to perfection. + +“Where are the boys at now?” he asked abruptly, turning to Patsy who had +risen and knocked the ashes from his pipe and was slicing bacon. + +“Gone after the cattle. Dey stampede alreatty mit all der noise,” Patsy +growled, with his back to Irish. + +So it was just as Irish had suspected. He faced the west and the +gathering bank of “thunder heads” that rode swift on the wind and +muttered sullenly as they rode, and he hesitated. Should he go after the +boys and help them round up the stock and drive it back, or should he +stay where he was and watch the claims? There was that fence--he must +see to that, too. + +He turned and asked Patsy if all the boys were gone. But Patsy did not +know. + +Irish stood in the doorway until breakfast was ready whereupon he sat +down and ate hurriedly--as much from habit as from any present need of +haste. A gust of wind made the flimsy cabin shake, and Patsy went to +close the door against its sudden fury. + +“Some riders iss coming now,” he said, and held the door half closed +against the wind. “It ain't none off der boys,” he added, with the +certainty which came of his having watched, times without number, while +the various members of the Happy Family rode in from the far horizons to +camp. “Pilgrims, I guess--from der ridin'.” + +Irish grunted and reached for the coffee pot, giving scarce a thought to +Patsy's announcement. While he poured his third cup of coffee he made a +sudden decision. He would get that fence off his mind, anyway. + +“Say, Patsy, I've rustled wire and posts--all we'll need. I guess I'll +just turn this receipt over to you and let you get busy. You take the +team and drive in today and get the stuff headed out here pronto. +The nesters are shipping in more stock--I heard in town that they're +bringing in all they can rustle, thinkin' the stock will pay big money +while the claims are getting ready to produce. I heard a couple of marks +telling each other just how it was going to work out so as to put 'em +all on Easy Street--the darned chumps! Free grass--that's what they +harped on; feed don't cost anything. All yuh do is turn 'em loose and +wait till shippin' season, and then collect. That's what they were +talking. + +“The sooner that fence is up the better. We can't put in the whole +summer hazing their cattle around. I've bought the stuff and paid for +it. And here's forty dollars you can use to hire it hauled out here. +Us fellows have got to keep cases on the cattle, so you 'tend to this +fence.” He laid the money and Fred's receipt upon the table and set +Patsy's plate over them to hold them safe against the wind that rattled +the shack. He had forgotten all about the three approaching riders, +until Patsy turned upon him sharply. + +“Vot schrapes you been into now?” he demanded querulously. “Py cosh +you done somet'ings. It's der conshtable comin' alreatty. I bet you be +pinched.” + +“I bet I don't,” Irish retorted, and made for the one window, which +looked toward the hills. “Feed 'em some breakfast, Patsy. And you drive +in and tend to that fencing right away, like I told you.” + +He threw one long leg over the window sill, bent his lean body to pass +through the square opening, and drew the other leg outside. He startled +his horse, which had walked around there out of the wind, but he caught +the bridle-reins and led him a few steps farther where he would be out +of the direct view from the window. Then he stopped and listened. + +He heard the three ride up to the other side of the shack and shout to +Patsy. He heard Patsy moving about inside, and after a brief delay open +the door. He heard the constable ask Patsy if he knew anything about +Irish, and where he could be found; and he heard Patsy declare that he +had enough to do without keeping track of that boneheaded cowpuncher who +was good for nothing but to fight and get into schrapes. + +After that he heard Patsy ask the constable if they had had any +breakfast before leaving town. He heard certain saddle-sounds which +told of their dismounting in response to the tacit invitation. And then, +pulling his hat firmly down upon his head, Irish led his horse quietly +down into a hollow behind the shack, and so out of sight and hearing of +those three who sought him. + +He did not believe that he was wanted for anything very serious; they +meant to arrest him, probably, for laying out those two gamblers with +a chair and a bottle of whisky respectively. A trumped-up charge, very +likely, chiefly calculated to make him some trouble and to eliminate +him from the struggle for a time. Irish did not worry at all over their +reason for wanting him, but he did not intend to let them come close +enough to state their errand, because he did not want to become guilty +of resisting an officer--which would be much worse than fighting nesters +with fists and chairs and bottles and things. + +In the hollow he mounted and rode down the depression and debouched upon +the wide, grassy coulee where lay a part of his own claim. He was not +sure of the intentions of that constable, but he took it for granted +that he would presently ride on to Irish's cabin in search of him; also +that he would look for him further, and possibly with a good deal of +persistence; which would be a nuisance and would in a measure hamper the +movements and therefore the usefulness of Irish. For that reason he was +resolved to take no chance that could be avoided. + +The sun slid behind the scurrying forerunners of the storm and struggled +unavailingly to shine through upon the prairie land. From where he was +Irish could not see the full extent of the storm-clouds, and while he +had been on high land he had been too absorbed in other matters to pay +much attention. Even now he did no more than glance up casually at the +inky mass above him, and decided that he would do well to ride on to his +cabin and get his slicker. + +By the time he reached his shack the storm was beating up against the +wind which had turned unexpectedly to the northeast. Mutterings of +thunder grew to sharper booming. It was the first real thunderstorm of +the season, but it was going to be a hard one, if looks meant anything. +Irish went in and got his slicker and put it on, and then hesitated over +riding on in search of the cattle and the men in pursuit of them. + +Still, the constable might take a notion to ride over this way in spite +of the storm. And if he came there would be delay, even if there were +nothing worse. So Irish, being one to fight but never to stand idle, +mounted again and turned his long-suffering horse down the coulee as the +storm swept up. + +First a few large drops of rain pattered upon the earth and left blobs +of wet where they fell. His horse shook its head impatiently and went +sidling forward until an admonitory kick from Irish sent him straight +down the dim trail. Then the clouds opened recklessly the headgates and +let the rain down in one solid rush of water that sluiced the hillsides +and drove muddy torrents down channels that had been dry since the snow +left. + +Irish bent his head so that his hat shielded somewhat his face, and +rode doggedly on. It was not the first time that he had been out in a +smashing, driving thunderstorm, and it would not be his last if his +life went on logically as he had planned it. But it was not the more +comfortable because it was an oft-repeated experience. And when the +first fury had passed and still it rained steadily and with no promise +of a let-up, his optimism suffered appreciably. + +His luck in town no longer cheered him. He began to feel the loss of +sleep and the bone-weariness of his fight and the long ride afterwards. +His breakfast was the one bright spot, and saved him from the gnawing +discomfort of an empty stomach--at first. + +He went into One Man Coulee and followed it to the arm that would +lead to the rolling, ridgy open land beyond, where the “breaks” of the +Badlands reached out to meet the prairie. He came across the track of +the herd, and followed it to the plain. Once out in the open, however, +the herd had seemed to split into several small bunches, each going in +a different direction. Which puzzled Irish a little at first. Later, he +thought he understood. + +The cattle, it would seem, had been driven purposefully into the edge of +the breaks and there made to scatter out through the winding gulches +and canyons that led deeper into the Badlands. It was the trick of +range-men--he could not believe that the strange settlers, ignorant +of the country and the conditions, would know enough to do this. He +hesitated before several possible routes, the rain pouring down +upon him, a chill breeze driving it into his face. If there had been +hoofprints to show which way the boys had gone, the rain had washed them +so that they looked dim and old and gave him little help. + +He chose what seemed to him the gorge which the boys would be most +likely to follow--especially at night and if they were in open pursuit +of those who had driven the cattle off the benchland; and that the +cattle had been driven beyond this point was plain enough, for otherwise +he would have overtaken stragglers long before this. + +It was nearing noon when he came out finally upon a little, open flat +and found there Big Medicine and Pink holding a bunch of perhaps a +hundred cattle which they had gleaned from the surrounding gulches and +little “draws” which led into the hills. The two were wet to the skin, +and they were chilled and hungry and as miserable as a she-bear sent up +a tree by yelping, yapping dogs. + +Big Medicine it was who spied him first through the haze of falling +water, and galloped heavily toward him, his horse flinging off great +pads of mud from his feet as he came. + +“Say!” he bellowed when he was yet a hundred yards away. “Got any grub +with yuh?” + +“No!” Irish called back. + +“Y'AIN'T” Big Medicine's voice was charged with incredulous reproach. +“What'n hell yuh doin' here without GRUB? Is Patsy comin' with the +wagon?” + +“No. I sent Patsy on in to town after--” + +“Town? And us out here--” Big Medicine choked over his wrongs. + +Irish waited until he could get in a word and then started to explain. +But Pink rode up with his hatbrim flapping soggily against one dripping +cheek when the wind caught it, and his coat buttoned wherever there were +buttons, and his collar turned up, and looking pinched and draggled and +wholly miserable. + +“Say! Got anything to eat?” he shouted when he came near, his voice +eager and hopeful. + +“No!” snapped Irish with the sting of Big Medicine's vituperations +rankling fresh in his soul. + +“Well why ain't yuh? Where's Patsy?” Pink came closer and eyed the +newcomer truculently. + +“How'n hell do I know?” Irish was getting a temper to match their own. + +“Well, why don't yuh know? What do yuh think you're out here for? To +tell us you think it's going to rain? If we was all of us like you, +there'd be nothing to it for the nester-bunch. It's a wonder you come +alive enough to ride out this way at all! I don't reckon you've even got +anything to drink!” Pink paused a second, saw no move toward producing +anything wet and cheering, and swore disgustedly. “Of course not! You +needed it all yourself! So help me Josephine, if I was as low-down +ornery as some I could name I'd tie myself to a mule's tail and let him +kick me to death! Ain't got any grub! Ain't got--” + +Irish interrupted him then with a sentence that stung. Irish, remember, +distinctly approved of himself and his actions. True, he had forgotten +to bring anything to eat with him, but there was excuse for that in the +haste with which he had left his own breakfast. Besides how could he +be expected to know that the cattle had been driven away down here, and +scattered, and that the Happy Family would not have overtaken them long +before? Did they think he was a mind-reader? + +Pink, with biting sarcasm, retorted that they did not. That it took a +mind to read a mind. He added that, from the looks of Irish, he must +have started home drunk, anyway, and his horse had wandered this far of +his own accord. Then three or four cows started up a gulch to the right +of them and Pink, hurling insults over his shoulder, rode off to turn +them back. So they did not actually come to blows, those two, though +they were near it. + +Big Medicine lingered to bawl unforgivable things at; Irish, and +Irish shouted back recklessly that they had all acted like a bunch of +sheepherders, or the cattle would never have been driven off the bench +at all. He declared that anybody with the brains of a sick sage hen +would have stopped the thing right in the start. He said other things +also. + +Big Medicine said things in reply, and Pink, returning to the scene with +his anger grown considerably hotter from feeding upon his discomfort, +made a few comments pertinent to the subject of Irish's shortcomings. + +You may scarcely believe it, unless you have really lived, and have +learned how easily small irritations grow to the proportions of real +trouble, and how swiftly--but this is a fact: Irish and Big Medicine +became so enraged that they dismounted simultaneously and Irish jerked +off his slicker while Big Medicine was running up to smash him for some +needless insult. + +They fought, there in the rain and the mud and the chill wind that +whipped their wet cheeks. They fought just as relentlessly as though +they had long been enemies, and just as senselessly as though they were +not grown men but schoolboys. They clinched and pounded and smashed +until Pink sickened at the sight and tore them apart and swore at them +for crazy men and implored them to have some sense. They let the cattle +that had been gathered with so much trouble drift away into the gulches +and draws where they must be routed out of the brush again, or perhaps +lost for days in that rough country. + +When the first violence of their rage had like the storm settled to a +cold steadiness of animosity, the two remounted painfully and turned +back upon each other. + +Big Medicine and Pink drew close together as against a common foe, and +Irish cursed them both and rode away--whither he did not know nor care. + + + +CHAPTER 15. THE KID HAS IDEAS OF HIS OWN + +The Old Man sat out in his big chair on the porch, smoking and staring +dully at the trail which led up the bluff by way of the Hog's Back to +the benchland beyond. Facing him in an old, cane rocking chair, the +Honorable Blake smoked with that air of leisurely enjoyment which +belongs to the man who knows and can afford to burn good tobacco and who +has the sense to, burn it consciously, realizing in every whiff its rich +fragrance. The Honorable Blake flicked a generous half-inch of ash from +his cigar upon a porch support and glanced shrewdly at the Old Man's +abstracted face. + +“No, it wouldn't do,” he observed with the accent of a second +consideration of a subject that coincides exactly with the first. “It +wouldn't do at all. You could save the boys time, I've no doubt--time +and trouble so far as getting the cattle back where they belong +is concerned. I can see how they must be hampered for lack of +saddle-horses, for instance. But--it wouldn't do, Whitmore. If they +come to you and ask for horses don't let them have them. They'll manage +somehow--trust them for that. They'll manage--” “But doggone it, Blake, +it's for--” + +“Sh-sh--” Blake held up a warning hand. “None of that, my dear Whitmore! +These young fellows have taken claims in--er--good faith.” His bright +blue eyes sparkled with a sudden feeling. “In the best of good faith, if +you ask me. I--admire them intensely for what they have started out to +do. But--they have certain things which they must do, and do alone. If +you would not thwart them in accomplishing what they have set out to do, +you must go carefully; which means that you must not run to their aid +with your camp-wagons and your saddle-horses, so they can gather the +cattle again and drive them back where they belong. You would not be +helping them. They would get the cattle a little easier and a little +quicker--and lose their claims.” + +“But doggone it, Blake, them boys have lived right here at the Flying +U--why, this has been their home, yuh might say. They ain't like the +general run of punchers that roam around, workin' for this outfit and +for that; they've stuck. Why, doggone it, what they done here when I +got hurt in Chicago and they was left to run themselves, why, that alone +puts me under obligations to help 'em out in this scrape. Anybody could +see that. Ain't I a neighbor? Ain't neighbors got a right to jump in and +help each other? There ain't no law agin--” + +“Not against neighbors--no.” Blake uncrossed his perfectly trousered +legs and crossed them the other way, after carefully avoiding any +bagging tendency. “But this syndicate--or these contestants--will try to +prove that you are not a neighbor only, but a--backer of the boys in a +land-grabbing scheme. To avoid--” + +“Well, doggone your measly hide, Blake, I've told you fifty times +I ain't!” The Old Man sat forward in his chair and shook his fist +unabashed at his guest. “Them boys cooked that all up amongst +themselves, and went and filed on that land before ever I knowed a thing +about it. How can yuh set there and say I backed 'em? And that blonde +Jezebel--riding down here bold as brass and turnin' up her nose at Dell, +and callin' me a conspirator to my face!” + +“I sticked a pin in her saddle blanket, Uncle Gee-gee. I'll bet she +wished she'd stayed away from here when her horse bucked her off.” + The Kid looked up from trying to tie a piece of paper to the end of a +brindle kitten's switching tail, and smiled his adorable smile--that had +a gap in the middle. + +“Hey? You leave that cat alone or he'll scratch yuh. Blake, if you can't +see--” + +“He! He's a her and her name's Adeline. Where's the boys, Uncle +Gee-gee?” + +“Hey? Oh, away down in the breaks after their cattle that got away. You +keep still and never mind where they've gone.” His mind swung back to +the Happy Family, combing the breaks for their stock and the stock of +the nesters, with an average of one saddle-horse apiece and a camp outfit +of the most primitive sort--if they had any at all, which he doubted. +The Old Man had eased too many roundups through that rough country not +to realize keenly the difficulties of the Happy Family. + +“They need horses,” he groaned to Blake, “and they need help. If you +knowed the country and the work as well as I do you'd know they've got +to have horses and help. And there's their claims--fellers squatting +down on every eighty--four different nesters fer every doggoned one of +the bunch to handle! And you tell me I got to set here and not lift a +hand. You tell me I can't put men to work on that fence they want built. +You tell me I can't lend 'em so much as a horse!” + +Blake nodded. “I tell you that, and I emphasize it,” he assured the +other, brushing off another half inch of ash from his cigar. “If you +want to help those boys hold their land, you must not move a finger.” + +“He's wiggling all of 'em!” accused the Kid sternly, and pointed to the +Old Man drumming irritatedly upon his chair arms. “He don't want to help +the boys, but I do. I'll help 'em get their cattle, Mr. Blake. I'm one +of the bunch anyway. I'll lend 'em my string.” + +“You've been told before not to butt in to grownup talk,” his uncle +reproved him irascibly. “Now you cut it out. And take that string +off'n that cat!” he added harshly. “Dell! Come and look after this kid! +Doggone it, a man can't talk five minutes--” + +The Kid giggled irrepressibly. “That's one on you, old man. You saw +Doctor Dell go away a long time ago. Think she can hear yuh when she's +away up on the bench?” + +“You go on off and play!” commanded the Old Man. “I dunno what yuh want +to pester a feller to death for--and say! Take that string off'n that +cat!” + +“Aw gwan! It ain't hurting the cat. She likes it.” He lifted the kitten +and squeezed her till she yowled. “See? She said yes, she likes it.” + +The Old Man returned to the trials of the Happy Family, and the Kid +sat and listened, with the brindle kitten snuggled uncomfortably, head +downward in his arms. + +The Kid had heard a good deal, lately, about the trials of his beloved +“bunch.” About the “nesters” who brought cattle in to eat up the grass +that belonged to the cattle of the bunch. The Kid understood that +perfectly--since he had been raised in the atmosphere of range talk. +He had heard about the men building shacks on the claims of the Happy +Family--he understood that also; for he had seen the shacks himself, +and he had seen where there had been slid down hill into the bottom of +Antelope Coulee. He knew all about the attack on Patsy's cabin and +how the Happy Family had been fooled, and the cattle driven off and +scattered. The breaks--he was a bit hazy upon the subject of breaks. He +had heard about them all his life. The stock got amongst them and had to +be hunted out. He thought--as nearly as could be put in words--that it +must be a place where all the brakes grow that are used on wagons and +buggies. These were of wood, therefore they must grow somewhere. They +grew where the Happy Family went sometimes, when they were gone for +days and days after stock. They were down there now--it was down in the +breaks, always--and they couldn't round up their cattle because they +hadn't horses enough. They needed help, so they could hurry back and +slide those other shacks off their claims and into Antelope Coulee +where they had slid the others. On the whole, the Kid had a very fair +conception of the state of affairs. Claimants and contestants--those +words went over his head. But he knew perfectly well that the nesters +were the men that didn't like the Happy Family, and lived in shacks on +the way to town, and plowed big patches of prairie and had children that +went barefooted in the furrows and couldn't ride horses to save their +lives. Pilgrim kids, that didn't know what “chaps” were--he had talked +with a few when he went with Doctor Dell and Daddy Chip to see the sick +lady. + +After a while, when the Honorable Blake became the chief speaker and +leaned forward and tapped the Old Man frequently on a knee with his +finger, and used long words that carried no meaning, and said contestant +and claimant and evidence so often that he became tiresome, the Kid slid +off the porch and went away, his small face sober with deep meditations. + +He would need some grub--maybe the bunch was hungry without any +camp-wagons. The Kid had stood around in the way, many's the time, and +watched certain members of the Happy Family stuff emergency rations into +flour sacks, and afterwards tie the sack to their saddles and ride off. +He knew all about that, too. + +He hunted up a flour sack that had not had all the string pulled out of +it so it was no longer a sack but a dish-towel, and held it behind his +back while he went cautiously to the kitchen door. The Countess was +nowhere in sight--but it was just as well to make sure. The Kid went in, +took a basin off the table, held it high and deliberately dropped it +on the floor. It, made a loud bang, but it did not elicit any shrill +protest from the Countess; therefore the Countess was nowhere around. +The Kid went in boldly and filled his four-sack so full it dragged on +the floor when he started off. + +At the door he went down the steps ahead of the sack, and bent his small +back from the third step and pulled the sack upon his shoulders. It +wobbled a good deal, and the Kid came near falling sidewise off the last +step before he could balance his burden. But he managed it, being +the child of his parents and having a good deal of persistence in +his makeup; and he went, by a roundabout way, to the stable with the +grub-sack bending him double. Still it was not so very heavy; it was +made bulky by about two dozen fresh-made doughnuts and a loaf of bread +and a jar of honey and a glass of wild-currant jelly and a pound or so +of raw, dried prunes which the Kid called nibblin's because he liked to +nibble at them, like a prairie dog at a grass root. + +Getting that sack tied fast to the saddle after the saddle was on +Silver's back was no easy task for a boy who is six, even though he is +large for his age. Still, being Chip's Kid and the Little Doctor's he +did it--with the help of the oats box and Silver's patient disposition. + +There were other things which the bunch always tied on their saddles; a +blanket, for instance, and a rope. The Kid made a trip to the bunk-house +and pulled a gray blanket off Ole's bed, and spent a quarter of an hour +rolling it as he had seen the boys roll blankets The oats box, with +Silver standing beside it, came in handy again. He found a discarded +rope and after much labor coiled it crudely and tied it beside the +saddle-fork. + +The Kid went to the door, stood beside it and leaned away over so that +he could peek out and not be seen Voices came from the house--the voice +of the Old Man; to be exact, high-pitched and combative. The Kid looked +up the bluff, and the trail lay empty in the afternoon sun. Still, he +did not like to take that trail. Doctor Dell might come riding down +there almost any minute. The Kid did not want to meet Doctor Dell just +right then. + +He went back, took Silver by the bridle reins and led him out of the +barn and around the corner where he could not be seen from the White +House. He thought he had better go down the creek, and out through the +wire gate and on down the creek that way. He was sure that the “breaks” + were somewhere beyond the end of the coulee, though he could not have +explained why he was sure of it. Perhaps the boys, in speaking of the +breaks, had unconsciously tilted heads in that direction. + +The Kid went quickly down along the creek through the little pasture, +leading Silver by the reins. He was terribly afraid that his mother +might ride over the top of the hill and see him and call him back. +If she did that, he would have to go, of course. Deliberate, open +disobedience had never yet occurred to the Kid as a moral possibility. +If your mother or your Daddy Chip told you to come back, you had to +come; therefore he did not want to be told to come. Doctor Dell had told +him that he could go on roundup some day--the Kid had decided that this +was the day, but that it would be foolish to mention the decision to +anyone. People had a way of disagreeing with one's decisions--especially +Doctor Dell, she always said one was too little. The Kid thought he was +getting pretty big, since he could stand on something and put the saddle +on Silver his own self, and cinch it and everything; plenty big enough +to get out and help the bunch when they needed help. + +He did not look so very big as he went trudging down alongside the +creek, stumbling now and then in the coarse grass that hid the scattered +rocks. He could not keep his head twisted around to look under Silver's +neck and watch the hill trail, and at the same time see where he was +putting his feet. And if he got on Silver now he would be seen and +recognized at the first glance which Doctor Dell would give to the +coulee when she rode over the brow of the hill. Walking beside Silver's +shoulder, on the side farthest from the bluff, he might not be seen at +all; Doctor Dell might look and think it was just a horse walking along +the creek his own self. + +The Kid was extremely anxious that he should not be seen. The bunch +needed him. Uncle Gee-gee said they needed help. The Kid thought they +would expect him to come and help with his “string”, He helped Daddy +Chip drive the horses up from the little pasture, these days; just +yesterday he had brought the whole bunch up, all by his own self, and +had driven them into the big corral alone, and Daddy Chip had stood +by the gate and watched him do it. Daddy Chip had lifted him down from +Silver's back, and had squeezed him hard, and had called him a real, old +cowpuncher. The Kid got warm all inside him when he, thought of it. + +When a turn in the narrow creek-bottom hid him completely from the ranch +buildings and the hill trail, the Kid led Silver alongside a low bank, +climbed into the saddle. Then he made Silver lope all the way to the +gate. + +He had some trouble with that gate. It was a barbed wire gate, such as +bigger men than the Kid sometimes swear over. It went down all right, +but when he came to put it up again, that was another matter. He simply +had to put it up before he could go on. You always had to shut gates +if you found them shut--that was a law of the range which the Kid had +learned so long ago he could not remember when he had learned And there +was another reason--he did not want em to know he had passed that way, +if they took a notion to call him back. So he worked and he tugged and +he grew so red in the face it looked as if he were choking. But he got +the gate up and the wire loop over the stake--though he had to hunt up +an old piece of a post to stand on, and even then had to stand on his +toes to reach the loop--since he was Chip's Kid and the Little Doctor's. + +He even remembered to scrape out the tell-tale prints of his small feet +in the bare earth there, and the prints of Silver's feet where he went +through. Yarns he had heard the Happy Family tell, in the bunk-house on +rainy days, had taught him these tricks. He was extremely thorough in +all that he did--being a good deal like his dad--and when he went the +grass, no one would have suspected that he had passed that way. + +After a while he left that winding creek-bottom and climbed a long +ridge. Then he went down hill and pretty soon he climbed another hill +that made old Silver stop and rest before he went on to the top. The +Kid stood on the top for a few minutes and stared wistfully out over +the tumbled mass of hills, and deep hollows, and hills, and hill and +hills--till he could not see where they left off. He could not see any +of the bunch; but then, he could not see any brakes growing anywhere, +either. The bunch was down in the brakes--he had heard that often enough +to get it fixed firmly in his mind. Well, when he came to where the +brakes grew--and he would know them, all right, when he saw them!--he +would find the bunch. He thought they'd be s'prised to see him ride up! +The bunch didn't know that he could drive stock all his own self, and +that he was a real, old cowpuncher now. He was a lot bigger. He didn't +have to hunt such a big rock, or such a high bank, to get on Silver now. +He thought he must be pretty near as big as Pink, any way. They would +certainly be s'prised! + +The brakes must be farther over. Maybe he would have to go over on the +other side of that biggest hill before he came to the place where they +grew. He rode unafraid down a steep, rocky slope where Silver picked his +way very, very carefully, and sometimes stopped and smelt of a ledge or +a pile of rocks, and then turned and found some other way down. + +The Kid let him choose his path--Daddy Chip had taught him to leave +the reins loose and let Silver cross ditches and rough places where he +wanted to cross. So Silver brought him safely down that hill where +even the Happy Family would have hesitated to ride unless the need was +urgent. + +He could not go right up over the next hill--there was a rock ledge that +was higher than his head when he sat on Silver. He went down a narrow +gulch--ah, an awfully narrow gulch! Sometimes he was afraid Silver +was too fat to squeeze through; but Silver always did squeeze through +somehow. And still there were no brakes growing anywhere. Just +choke-cherry trees, and service-berries, and now and then a little flat +filled with cottonwoods and willows--familiar trees and bushes that he +had known all his six years of life. + +So the Kid went on and on, over hills or around hills or down along the +side of hill. But he did not find the Happy Family, and he did not find +the brakes. He found cattle that had the Flying U brand--they had a +comfortable, homey look. One bunch he drove down a wide coulee, hazing +them out of the brush and yelling “HY-AH!” at them, just the way the +Happy Family yelled. He thought maybe these were the cattle the Happy +Family were looking for; so he drove them ahead of him and didn't let +one break back on him and he was the happiest Kid in all Montana with +these range cattle, that had the Flying U brand, galloping awkwardly +ahead of him down that big coulee. + + + +CHAPTER 16. “A RELL OLD COWPUNCHER” + +The hills began to look bigger, and kind of chilly and blue in the +deep places. The Kid wished that he could find some of the boys. He was +beginning to get hungry, and he had long ago begun to get tired. But he +was undismayed, even when he heard a coyote yap-yap-yapping up a brushy +canyon. It might be that he would have to camp out all night. The +Kid had loved those cowboy yarns where the teller--who was always the +hero--had been caught out somewhere and had been compelled to make a +“dry camp.” His favorite story of that type was the story of how Happy +Jack had lost his clothes and had to go naked through the breaks. It was +not often that he could make Happy Jack tell him that story--never when +the other boys were around. And there were other times; when Pink had +got lost, down in the breaks, and had found a cabin just--in--TIME, with +Irish sick inside and a blizzard just blowing outside, and they were mad +at each other and wouldn't talk, and all they had to eat was one weenty, +teenty snow-bird, till the yearling heifer came and Pink killed it and +they had beefsteak and got good friends again. And there were other +times, that others of the boys could tell about, and that the Kid +thought about now with pounding pulse. It was not all childish fear of +the deepening shadows that made his eyes big and round while he rode +slowly on, farther and farther into the breaks. + +He still drove the cattle before him; rather, he followed where the +cattle led. He felt very big and very proud--but he did wish he could +find the Happy Family! Somebody ought to stand guard, and he was getting +sleepy already. + +Silver stopped to drink at a little creek of clear, cold water. There +was grass, and over there was a little hollow under a rock ledge. The +sky was all purple and red, like Doctor Dell painted in pictures, and up +the coulee, where he had been a little while ago, it was looking kind +of dark. The Kid thought maybe he had better camp here till morning. He +reined Silver against a bank and slid off, and stood looking around +him at the strange hills with the huge, black boulders that looked like +houses unless you knew, and the white cliffs that looked--queer--unless +you knew they were just cliffs. + +For the first time since he started, the Kid wished guiltily that his +dad was here or--he did wish the bunch would happen along! He wondered +if they weren't camped, maybe, around that point. Maybe they would +hear him if he hollered as loud as he could, which he did, two or three +times; and quit because the hills hollered back at him and they wouldn't +stop for the longest time--it was just like people yelling at him from +behind these rocks. + +The Kid knew, of course, who they were; they were Echo-boys, and they +wouldn't hurt, and they wouldn't let you see them. They just ran away +and hollered from some other place. There was an Echo-boy lived up on +the bluff somewhere above the house. You could go down in the little +pasture and holler, and the Echo-boy would holler back The Kid was not +afraid--but there seemed to be an awful lot of Echo-boys down in these +hills. They were quiet after a minute or so, and he did not call again. + +The Kid was six, and he was big for his age; but he looked very little, +there alone in that deep coulee that was really more like a canyon--very +little and lonesome and as if he needed his Doctor Dell to take him on +her lap and rock him. It was just about the time of day when Doctor Dell +always rocked him and told him stories--about the Happy Family, maybe. +The Kid hated to be suspected of baby ways, but he loved these tunes, +when his legs were tired and his eyes wanted to go shut, and Doctor +Dell laid her cheek on his hair and called him her baby man. Nobody knew +about these times--that was most always in the bed room and the boys +couldn't hear. + +The Kid's lips quivered a little. Doctor Dell would be surprised when +he didn't show up for supper, he guessed. He turned to Silver and to his +man ways, because he did not like to think about Doctor Dell just right +now. + +“Well, old feller, I guess you want your saddle off, huh?” he quavered, +and slapped the horse upon the shoulder. He lifted the stirrup--it was +a little stock saddle, with everything just like a big saddle except +the size; Daddy Chip had had it made for the Kid in Cheyenne, last +Christmas--and began to undo the latigo, whistling self-consciously and +finding that his lips kept trying to come unpuckered all the time, +and trying to tremble just the way they did when he cried. He had no +intention of crying. + +“Gee! I always wanted to camp out and watch the stars,” he told Silver +stoutly. “Honest to gran'ma, I think this is just--simply--GREAT! I bet +them nester kids would be scared. Hunh!” + + +That helped a lot. The Kid could whistle better after that. He pulled of +the saddle, laid it down on its side so that the skirts would not bend +out of shape--oh, he had been well-taught, with the whole Happy Family +for his worshipful tutors!--and untied the rope from beside the fork. +“I'll have to anchor you to a tree, old-timer,” he told the horse +briskly. “I'd sure hate to be set afoot in this man's country!” And a +minute later--“Oh, funder! I never brought you any sugar!” + +Would you believe it, that small child of the Flying U picketed his +horse where the grass was best, and the knots he tied were the knots his +dad would have tied in his place. He unrolled his blanket and carried +it to the sheltered little nook under the ledge, and dragged the bag of +doughnuts and the jelly and honey and bread after it. He had heard about +thievish animals that will carry off bacon and flour and such. He knew +that he ought to hang his grub in a tree, but he could not reach up as +far as the fox who might try to help himself, so that was out of the +question. + +The Kid ate a doughnut while he studied the matter out for himself. “If +a coyote or a skink came pestering around ME, I'd frow rocks at him,” he +said. So when he had finished the doughnut he collected a pile of rocks. +He ate another doughnut, went over and laid himself down on his stomach +the way the boys did, and drank from the little creek. It was just a +chance that he had not come upon water tainted with alkali--but fate is +kind sometimes. + +So the Kid, trying very, very hard to act just like his Daddy Chip and +the boys, flopped the blanket vigorously this way and that in an effort +to get it straightened, flopped himself on his knees and folded the +blanket round and round him until he looked like a large, gray cocoon, +and cuddled himself under the ledge with his head on the bag of +doughnuts and his wide eyes fixed upon the first pale stars and his +mind clinging sturdily to his mission and to this first real, man-sized +adventure that had come into his small life. + +It was very big and very empty--that canyon. He lifted his yellow head +and looked to see if Silver were there, and was comforted at the sight +of his vague bulk close by, and by the steady KR-UP, KR-UP of bitten +grasses. + +“I'm a rell ole cowpuncher, all right,” he told himself bravely; but +he had to blink his eyelashes pretty fast when he said it. A “rell ole +cowpuncher” wouldn't cry! He was afraid Doctor Dell would be AWFULLY +s'prised, though... + +An unexpected sob broke loose, and another. He wasn't afraid--but... +Silver, cropping steadily at the grass which must be his only supper, +turned and came slowly toward the Kid in his search for sweeter +grass-tufts. The Kid choked off the third sob and sat up ashamed. He +tugged at the bag and made believe to Silver that his sole trouble was +with his pillow. + +“By cripes, that damn' jelly glass digs right into my ear,” he +complained aloud, to help along the deception. “You go back, +old-timer--I'm all right. I'm a--rell--ole cowpuncher; ain't I, +old-timer? We're makin' a dry-camp, just like--Happy Jack. I'm a +rell--ole--” The Kid went to sleep before he finished saying it. There +is nothing like the open air to make one sleep from dusk till dawn. The +rell ole cowpuncher forgot his little white bed in the corner of the big +bedroom. He forgot that Doctor Dell would be awfully s'prised, and that +Daddy Chip would maybe be cross--Daddy Chip was cross, sometimes. The +rell ole cowpuncher lay with his yellow curls pillowed on the bag of +doughnuts and the gray blanket wrapped tightly around him, and slept +soundly; and his lips were curved in the half smile that came often to +his sleeping place and made him look ever so much like his Daddy Chip. + + + +CHAPTER 17. “LOST CHILD” + +“Djuh find 'im?” The Old Man had limped down to the big gate and stood +there bare headed under the stars, waiting, hoping--fearing to hear the +answer. + +“Hasn't he showed up yet?” Chip and the Little Doctor rode out of the +gloom and stopped before the gate. Chip did not wait for an answer. One +question answered the other and there was no need for more. “I brought +Dell home,” he said. “She's about all in--and he's just as likely to +come back himself as we are to run across him. Silver'll bring him home, +all right. He can't be--yuh can't lose a horse. You go up to the house +and lie down, Dell. I--the Kid's all right.” + +His voice held all the tenderness of the lover, and all the +protectiveness of the husband and all the agony of a father--but Chip +managed to keep it firm and even for all that. He lifted the Little +Doctor bodily from the saddle, held her very close in his arms for a +minute, kissed her twice and pushed her gently through the gate. + +“You better stay right here,” he said authoritatively, “and rest and +look after J.G. You can't do any good riding--and you don't want to be +gone when he comes.” He reached over the gate, got hold of her arm and +pulled her towards him. “Buck up, old girl,” he whispered, and kissed +her lingeringly. “Now's the time to show the stuff you're made of. You +needn't worry one minute about that kid. He's the goods, all right. Yuh +couldn't lose him if you tried. Go up and go to bed.” + +“Go to bed!” echoed the Little Doctor and sardonically. “J.G., are you +sure he didn't say anything about going anywhere?” + +“No. He was settin' there on the porch tormenting the cat.” The Old +Man swallowed a lump. “I told him to quit. He set there a while after +that--I was talkin'' to Blake. I dunno where he went to. I was--” + +“'S that you, Dell? Did yuh find 'im?” The Countess came flapping down +the path in a faded, red kimono. “What under the shinin' sun's went with +him, do yuh s'pose? Yuh never know what a day's got up its sleeve--'n +I always said it. Man plans and God displans--the poor little tad'll be +scairt plumb to death, out all alone in the dark--” + +“Oh, for heaven's sake shut up!” cried the tortured Little Doctor, and +fled past her up the path as though she had some hope of running away +from the tormenting thoughts also. “Poor little tad, all alone in the +dark,”--the words followed her and were like sword thrusts through the +mother heart of her. Then Chip overtook her, knowing too well the hurt +which the Countess had given with her blundering anxiety. Just at the +porch he caught up with her, and she clung to him, sobbing wildly. + +“You don't want to mind what that old hen says,” he told her brusquely. +“She's got to do just so much cackling or she'd choke, I reckon. The +Kid's all right. Some of the boys have run across him by this time, most +likely, and are bringing him in. He'll be good and hungry, and the scare +will do him good.” He forced himself to speak as though the Kid had +merely fallen on the corral fence, or something like that. “You've got +to make up your mind to these things,” he argued, “if you tackle raising +a boy, Dell. Why, I'll bet I ran off and scared my folks into fits fifty +times when I was a kid.” + +“But--he's--just a baby!” sobbed the Little Doctor with her face pressed +hard against Chip's strong, comforting shoulder. + +“He's a little devil!” amended Chip fiercely. “He ought to be walloped +for scaring you like this. He's just as capable of looking after himself +as most kids twice his size. He'll get hungry and head for home--and if +he don't know the way, Silver does; so he can't--” + +“But he may have fallen and--” + +“Come, now! Haven't you got any more sense than the Countess? If you +insist of thinking up horrors to scare yourself with, I don't know +as anybody can stop you. Dell! Brace up and quit worrying. I tell +you--he's--all right!” + +That did well enough--seeing the Little Doctor did not get a look +at Chip's face, which was white and drawn, with sunken, haggard eyes +staring into the dark over her head. He kissed her hastily and told her +he must go, and that he'd hurry back as soon as he could. So he went +half running down the path and passed the Countess and the Old Man +without a word; piled onto his horse and went off up the hill road +again. + +They could not get it out of their minds that the Kid must have ridden +up on the bluff to meet his mother, had been too early to meet her--for +the Little Doctor had come home rather later than she expected to +do--and had wandered off to visit the boys, perhaps, or to meet his +Daddy Chip who was over there some where on the bench trying to figure +out a system of ditches that might logically be expected to water the +desert claims of the Happy Family--if they could get the water. + +They firmly believed that the kid had gone up on the hill, and so they +hunted for him up there. The Honorable Blake had gone to Dry Lake and +taken the train for Great Falls, before ever the Kid had been really +missed. The Old Man had not seen the Kid ride up the hill--but he +had been sitting with his chair turned away from the road, and he was +worried about other things and so might easily have missed seeing him. +The Countess had been taking a nap, and she was not expected to know +anything about his departure. And she had not looked into the doughnut +jar--indeed, she was so upset by supper time that, had she looked, she +would not have missed the doughnuts. For the same reason Ole did not +miss his blanket. Ole had not been near his bed; he was out riding and +searching and calling through the coulee and up toward the old Denson +place. + +No one dreamed that the Kid had started out with a camp-outfit--if one +might call it that--and with the intention of joining the Happy Family +in the breaks, and of helping them gather their cattle. How could they +dream that? How could they realize that a child who still liked to +be told bedtime stories and to be rocked to sleep, should harbor such +man-size thoughts and ambitions? How could they know that the Kid was +being “a rell ole cowpuncher”? + +That night the whole Happy Family, just returned from the Badlands and +warned by Chip at dusk that the Kid was missing, hunted the coulees that +bordered the benchland. A few of the nesters who had horses and could +ride them hunted also. The men who worked at the Flying U hunted, and +Chip hunted frantically. Chip just about worshipped that kid, and in +spite of his calmness and his optimism when he talked to the Little +Doctor, you can imagine the state of mind he was in. + +At sunrise they straggled in to the ranch, caught up fresh horses, +swallowed a cup of coffee and what food they could choke down and +started out again. At nine o'clock a party came out from Dry Lake, +learned that the Kid was not yet found, and went out under a captain to +comb systematically through the hills and the coulees. + +Before night all the able-bodied men in the country and some who were +not--were searching. It is astonishing how quickly a small army will +volunteer in such an emergency; and it doesn't seem to matter very much +that the country seems big and empty of people ordinarily. They come +from somewhere, when they're needed. + +The Little Doctor--oh, let us not talk about the Little Doctor. Such +agonies as she suffered go too deep for words. + +The next day after that, Chip saddled a horse and let her ride beside +him. Chip was afraid to leave her at the ranch--afraid that she would +go mad. So he let her ride--they rode together. They did not go far from +the ranch. There was always the fear that someone might bring him in +while they were gone. That fear drove them back, every hour or two. Then +another fear would drive them forth again. + +Up in another county there is a creek called Lost Child Creek. A child +was lost--or was it two children?--and men hunted and hunted and hunted, +and it was months before anything was found. Then a cowboy riding that +way found--just bones. Chip knew about that creek which is called Lost +Child. He had been there and he had heard the story, and he had seen +the--father and had shuddered--and that was long before he had known the +feeling a father has for his child. What he was deadly afraid of now +was that the Little Doctor would hear about that creek, and how it had +gotten its name. + +What he dreaded most for himself was to think of that creek. He kept +the Little Doctor beside him and away from that Job's comforter, the +Countess, and tried to keep her hope alive while the hours dragged their +leaden feet over the hearts of them all. + +A camp was hastily organized in One Man Coulee and another out beyond +Denson's place, and men went there to the camps for a little food and +a little rest, when they could hold out no longer. Chip and the Little +Doctor rode from camp to camp, intercepted every party of searchers they +glimpsed on the horizon, and came back to the ranch, hollow-eyed and +silent for the most part. They would rest an hour, perhaps. Then they +would ride out again. + +The Happy Family seemed never to think of eating, never to want sleep. +Two days--three days--four days--the days became a nightmare. Irish, +with a warrant out for his arrest, rode with the constable, perhaps--if +the search chanced to lead them together. Or with Big Medicine, whom he +had left in hot anger. H. J. Owens and these other claim-jumpers hunted +with the Happy Family and apparently gave not a thought to claims. + +Miss Allen started out on the second day and hunted through all the +coulees and gulches in the neighborhood of her claim--coulees and +gulches that had been searched frantically two or three times before. +She had no time to make whimsical speeches to Andy Green, nor he to +listen. When they met, each asked the other for news, and separated +without a thought for each other. The Kid--they must find him--they +must. + +The third day, Miss Allen put up a lunch, told her three claim partners +that she should not come back until night unless that poor child was +found, and that they need not look for her before dark and set out with +the twinkle all gone from her humorous brown eyes and her mouth very +determined. + +She met Pink and the Native Son and was struck with the change which two +days of killing anxiety had made in them. True, they had not slept for +forty-eight hours, except an hour or two after they had been forced to +stop and eat. True, they had not eaten except in snatches. But it was +not that alone which made their faces look haggard and old and haunted. +They, too, were thinking of Lost Child Creek and How it had gotten its +name. + +Miss Allen gleaned a little information from them regarding the general +whereabouts of the various searching parties. And then, having learned +that the foothills of the mountains were being searched minutely because +the Kid might have taken a notion to visit Meeker's; and that the +country around Wolf Butte was being searched, because he had once told +Big Medicine that when he got bigger and his dad would let him, he was +going over there and kill wolves to make Doctor Dell some rugs: and that +the country toward the river was being searched because the Kid always +wanted to see where the Happy Family drove the sheep to, that time +when Happy Jack got shot under the arm; that all the places the Kid had +seemed most interested in were being searched minutely--if it could be +possible to; search minutely a country the size of that! Having learned +all that, Miss Allen struck off by herself, straight down into the +Badlands where nobody seemed to have done much searching. + +The reason for that was, that the Happy Family had come out of the +breaks on the day that the Kid was lost. They had not ridden together, +but in twos and threes because they drove out several small bunches of +cattle that they had gleaned, to a common centre in One Man Coulee. They +had traveled by the most feasible routes through that rough country, and +they had seen no sign of the Kid or any other rider. + +They did not believe that he had come over that far, or even in that +direction; because a horseman would almost certainly have been sighted +by some of them in crossing a ridge somewhere. + +It never occurred to anyone that the Kid might go down Flying U Creek +and so into the breaks and the Badlands. Flying U Creek was fenced, and +the wire gate was in its place--Chip had looked down along there, the +first night, and had found the gate up just as it always was kept. Why +should he suspect that the Kid had managed to open that gate and to +close it after him? A little fellow like that? + +So the searching parties, having no clue to that one incident which +would at least have sent them in the right direction, kept to the +outlying fringe of gulches which led into the broken edge of the +benchland, and to the country west and north and south of these gulches. +At that, there was enough broken country to keep them busy for several +days, even when you consider the number of searchers. + +Miss Allen did not want to go tagging along with some party. She did +not feel as if she could do any good that way, and she wanted to do some +good. She wanted to find that poor little fellow and take him to his +mother. She had met his mother, just the day before, and had ridden with +her for several miles. The look in the Little Doctor's eyes haunted +Miss Allen until she felt sometimes as if she must scream curses to the +heavens for so torturing a mother. And that was not all; she had looked +into Chip's face, last night--and she had gone home and cried until she +could cry no more, just with the pity of it. + +She left the more open valley and rode down a long, twisting canyon +that was lined with cliffs so that it was impossible to climb out with a +horse. She was sure she could not get lost or turned around, in a place +like that, and it seemed to her as hopeful a place to search as any. +When you came to that, they all had to ride at random and trust to +luck, for there was not the faintest clue to guide them. So Miss Allen +considered that she could do no better than search all the patches of +brush in the canyon, and keep on going. + +The canyon ended abruptly in a little flat, which she crossed. She had +not seen the tracks of any horse going down, but when she was almost +across the flat she discovered tracks of cattle, and now and then +the print of a shod hoof. Miss Allen began to pride herself on her +astuteness in reading these signs. They meant that some of the Happy +Family had driven cattle this way; which meant that they would have seen +little Claude Bennett--that was the Kid's real name, which no one except +perfect strangers ever used--they would have seen the Kid or his tracks, +if he had ridden down here. + +Miss Allen, then, must look farther than this. She hesitated before +three or four feasible outlets to the little flat, and chose the one +farthest to the right. That carried her farther south, and deeper into a +maze of gulches and gorges and small, hidden valleys. She did not stop, +but she began to see that it was going to be pure chance, or the guiding +hand of a tender Providence, if one ever did find anybody in this +horrible jumble. She had never seen such a mess. She believed that poor +little tot had come down in here, after all; she could not see why, +but then you seldom did know why children took a notion to do certain +unbelievable things. Miss Allen had taught the primary grade in a city +school, and she knew a little about small boys and girls and the big +ideas they sometimes harbored. + +She rode and rode, trying to put herself mentally in the Kid's place. +Trying to pick up the thread of logical thought--children were logical +sometimes--startlingly so. + +“I wonder,” she thought suddenly, “if he started out with the idea of +hunting cattle! I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he did--living on +a cattle ranch, and probably knowing that the men were down here +somewhere.” Miss Allen, you see, came pretty close to the truth with her +guess. + +Still, that did not help her find the Kid. She saw a high, bald peak +standing up at the mouth of the gorge down which she was at that time +picking her way, and she made up her mind to climb that peak and see +if she might not find him by looking from that point of vantage. So she +rode to the foot of the pinnacle, tied her horse to a bush and began to +climb. + +Peaks like that are very deceptive in their height Miss Allen was slim +and her lungs were perfect, and she climbed steadily and as fast as +she dared. For all that it took her a long while to reach the top--much +longer than she expected. When she reached the black rock that looked, +from the bottom, like the highest point of the hill, she found that she +had not gone much more than two-thirds of the way up, and that the real +peak sloped back so that it could not be seen from below at all. + +Miss Allen was a persistent young woman. She kept climbing until she +did finally reach the highest point, and could look down into gorges +and flats and tiny basins and canyons and upon peaks and ridges and +worm-like windings, and patches of timber and patches of grass and +patches of barren earth and patches of rocks all jumbled up together--. +Miss Allen gasped from something more than the climb, and sat down upon +a rock, stricken with a sudden, overpowering weakness. “God in heaven!” + she whispered, appalled. “What a place to get lost in!” + +She sat there a while and stared dejectedly down upon that wild orgy of +the earth's upheaval which is the Badlands. She felt as though it was +sheer madness even to think of finding anybody in there. It was worse +than a mountain country, because in the mountains there is a certain +semblance of some system in the canyons and high ridges and peaks. Here +every thing--peaks, gorges, tiny valleys and all--seemed to be just +dumped down together. Peaks rose from the middle of canyons; canyons +were half the time blind pockets that ended abruptly against a cliff. + +“Oh!” she cried aloud, jumpin up and gesticulating wildly. “Baby! +Little Claude! Here! Look up this way!” She saw him, down below, on the +opposite side from where she had left her horse. + +The Kid was riding slowly up a gorge. Silver was picking his way +carefully over the rocks--they looked tiny, down there! And they were +not going toward home, by any means. They were headed directly away from +home. + +The cheeks of Miss Allen were wet while she shouted and called and waved +her hands. He was alive, anyway. Oh, if his mother could only be told +that he was alive! Oh, why weren't there telephones or something where +they were needed! If his poor mother could see him! + +Miss Allen called again, and the Kid heard her. She was sure that he +heard her, because he stopped--that pitiful, tiny speck down there on +the horse!--and she thought he looked up at her. Yes, she was sure he +heard her, and that finally he saw her; because he took off his hat and +waved it over his head--just like a man, the poor baby! + +Miss Allen considered going straight down to him, and then walking +around to where her horse was tied. She was afraid to leave him while +she went for the horse and rode around to where he was. She was afraid +she might miss him somehow the Badlands had stamped that fear deep into +her soul. + +“Wait!” she shouted, her hands cupped around her trembling lips, tears +rolling down her cheeks “Wait baby! I'm coming for you.” She hoped that +the Kid heard what she said, but she could not be sure, for she did not +hear him reply. But he did not go on at once, and she thought he would +wait. + +Miss Allen picked up her skirts away from her ankles and started running +down the steep slope. The Kid, away down below, stared up at her. She +went down a third of the way, and stopped just in time to save herself +from going over a sheer wall of rocks--stopped because a rock which she +dislodged with her foot rolled down the slope a few feet, gave a leap +into space and disappeared. + +A step at a time Miss Allen crept down to where the rock had bounced off +into nothingness, and gave one look and crouched close to the earth. +A hundred feet, it must be, straight down. After the first shock she +looked to the right and the left and saw that she must go back, and down +upon the other side. + +Away down there at the bottom, the Kid sat still on his horse and stared +up at her. And Miss Allen calling to him that she would come, started +back up to the peak. + + + +CHAPTER 18. THE LONG WAY ROUND + +Miss Allen turned to yell encouragingly to the Kid, and she saw that he +was going on slowly, his head turned to watch her. She told him to wait +where he was, and she would come around the mountain and get him and +take him home. “Do you hear me, baby?” she asked imploringly after she +had told him just what she meant to do. “Answer me, baby!” + +“I ain't a baby!” his voice came faintly shrill after a minute. “I'm a +rell ole cowpuncher.” + +Miss Allen thought that was what he said, but at the time she did not +quite understand, except his denial of being a baby; that was clear +enough. She turned to the climb, feeling that she must hurry if she +expected to get him and take him home before dark. She knew that every +minute was precious and must not be wasted. It was well after noon--she +had forgotten to eat her lunch, but her watch said it was nearly one +o'clock already. She had no idea how far she had ridden, but she thought +it must be twelve miles at least. + +She had no idea, either, how far she had run down the butte to the +cliff--until she began to climb back. Every rod or so she stopped to +rest and to look back and to call to the Kid who seemed such a tiny mite +of humanity among these huge peaks and fearsome gorges. He seemed to be +watching her very closely always when she looked she could see the pink +blur of his little upturned face. She must hurry. Oh, if she could only +send a wireless to his mother! Human inventions fell far short of the +big needs, after all, she thought as she toiled upward. + +From the top of the peak she could see the hazy outline of the Bear +Paws, and she knew just about where the Flying U Coulee lay. She +imagined that she could distinguish the line of its bluff in the far +distance. It was not so very far--but she could not get any word of +cheer across the quivering air lanes. She turned and looked wishfully +down at the Kid, a tinier speck now than before--for she had climbed +quite a distance She waved her hand to him, and her warm brown eyes held +a maternal tenderness. He waved his hat--just like a man; he must be +brave! she thought. She turned reluctantly and went hurrying down the +other side, her blood racing with the joy of having found him, and of +knowing that he was safe. + +It seemed to take a long time to climb down that peak; much longer +than she thought it would take. She looked at her watch nervously--two +o'clock, almost! She must hurry, or they would be in the dark getting +home. That did not worry her very much, However, for there would be +searching parties--she would be sure to strike one somewhere in the +hills before dark. + +She came finally down to the level--except that it was not level at all, +but a trough-shaped gulch that looked unfamiliar. Still, it was the same +one she had used as a starting point when she began to climb--of course +it was the same one. How in the world could a person get turned around +going straight up the side of a hill and straight down again in the very +same place. This was the gorge where her horse was tied, only it might +be that she was a little below the exact spot; that could happen, of +course. So Miss Allen went up the gorge until it petered out against the +face of the mountain--one might as well call it a mountain and be done +with it, for it certainly was more than a mere hill. + +It was some time before Miss Allen would admit to herself that she had +missed the gorge where she had left her horse, and that she did not know +where the gorge was, and that she did not know where she was herself. +She had gone down the mouth of the gulch before she made any admissions, +and she had seen not one solitary thing that she could remember having +ever seen before. + +Not even the peak she had climbed looked familiar from where she was. +She was not perfectly sure that it was the same peak when she looked at +it. + +Were you ever lost? It is a very peculiar sensation--the feeling that +you are adrift in a world that is strange. Miss Allen had never been +lost before in her life. If she had been, she would have been more +careful, and would have made sure that she was descending that peak by +the exact route she had followed up it, instead of just taking it for +granted that all she need do was get to the bottom. + +After an hour or two she decided to climb the peak again, get her +bearings from the top and come down more carefully. She was wild with +apprehension--though I must say it was not for her own plight but +on account of the Kid. So she climbed. And then everything looked so +different that she believed she had climbed another hill entirely. So +she went down again and turned into a gorge which seemed to lead in +the direction where she had seen the little lost boy. She followed that +quite a long way--and that one petered out like the first. + +Miss Allen found the gorges filling up with shadow, and she looked up +and saw the sky crimson and gold, and she knew then without any doubts +that she was lost. Miss Allen was a brave young woman, or she would not +have been down in that country in the first place; but just the same +she sat down with her back against a clay bank and cried because of the +eeriness and the silence, and because she was hungry and she knew she +was going to be cold before morning--but mostly because she could not +find that poor, brave little baby boy who had waved his hat when she +left him, and shouted that he was not a baby. + +In a few minutes she pulled herself together and went on; there was +nothing to be gained by sitting in one place and worrying. She walked +until it was too dark to see, and then, because she had come upon a +little, level canyon bottom--though one that was perfectly strange--she +stopped there where a high bank sheltered her from the wind that was too +cool for comfort. She called, a few times, until she was sure that the +child was not within hearing. After that she repeated poetry to keep +her mind off the loneliness and the pity of that poor baby alone like +herself. She would not think of him if she could help it. + +When she began to shiver so that her teeth chattered, she would walk up +and down before the bank until she felt warm again; then she would sit +with her back against the clay and close her eyes and try to sleep. It +was not a pleasant way in which to pass a whole night, but Miss Allen +endured it as best she could. When the sun tinged the hill-tops she got +up stiffly and dragged herself out of the canyon where she could get the +direction straight in her mind, and then set off resolutely to find the +Kid. She no longer had much thought of finding her horse, though she +missed him terribly, and wished she had the lunch that was tied to the +saddle. + +This, remember, was the fourth day since the Kid rode down through +the little pasture and stood on a piece of fence-post so that he +could fasten the gate. Men had given up hope of finding him alive and +unharmed. They searched now for his body. And then the three women +who lived with Miss Allen began to inquire about the girl, and so the +warning went out that Miss Allen was lost; and they began looking for +her also. + +Miss Allen, along towards noon of that fourth day, found a small +stream of water that was fit to drink. Beside the stream she found the +footprints of a child, and they looked quite fresh--as if they had been +made that day. She whipped up her flagging energy and went on hopefully. + +It was a long while afterwards that she met him coming down a canyon on +his horse. It must have been past three o'clock, and Miss Allen could +scarcely drag herself along. When she saw him she turned faint, and sat +down heavily on the steep-sloping bank. + +The Kid rode up and stopped beside her. His face was terribly dirty and +streaked with the marks of tears he would never acknowledge afterwards. +He seemed to be all right, though, and because of his ignorance of the +danger he had been in he did not seem to have suffered half as much as +had Miss Allen. + +“Howdy do,” he greeted her, and smiled his adorable little smile that +was like the Little Doctor's. “Are you the lady up on the hill? Do you +know where the bunch is? I'm--lookin' for the bunch.” + +Miss Allen found strength enough to stand up and put her arms around +him as he sat very straight in his little stock saddle; she hugged him +tight. + +“You poor baby!” she cried, and her eyes were blurred with tears. “You +poor little lost baby!” + +“I ain't a baby!” The Kid pulled himself free. “I'm six years old goin' +on thirty. I'm a rell ole cowpuncher. I can slap a saddle on my string +and ride like a son-a-gun. And I can put the bridle on him my own self +and everything. I--I was lookin' for the bunch. I had to make a dry-camp +and my doughnuts is smashed up and the jelly glass broke but I never +cried when a skink came. I shooed him away and I never cried once. I'm a +rell ole cowpuncher, ain't I? I ain't afraid of skinks. I frowed a rock +at him and I said, git outa here, you damn old skink or I'll knock your +block off!' You oughter seen him go! I--I sure made him hard to ketch, +by cripes!” + +Miss Allen stepped back and the twinkle came into her eyes and the +whimsical twist to her lips. She knew children. Not for the world would +she offend this manchild. + +“Well, I should say you are a real old cowpuncher!” she exclaimed +admiringly. “Now I'm afraid of skinks. I never would dare knock his +block off! And last night when I was lost and hungry and it got dark, +I--cried!” + +“Hunh!” The Kid studied her with a condescending pity. “Oh, well--you're +just a woman. Us fellers have to take care of women. Daddy Chip takes +care of Doctor Dell--I guess she'd cry if she couldn't find the bunch +and had to make dry-camp and skinks come around--but I never.” + +“Of course you never!” Miss Allen agreed emphatically, trying not to +look conscious of any tear-marks on the Kid's sunburned cheeks. “Women +are regular cry babies, aren't they? I suppose,” she added guilefully: +“I'd cry again if you rode off to find the bunch an left me down here +all alone. I've lost my horse, an I've lost my lunch, and I've lost +myself, and I'm awful afraid of skunks--skinks.” + +“Oh, I'll take care of you,” the Kid comforted. “I'll give you a +doughnut if you're hungry. I've got some left, but you'll have to pick +out the glass where the jelly broke on it.” He reined closer to the bank +and slid off and began untying the sadly depleted bag from behind +the cantle. Miss Allen offered to do it for him, and was beautifully +snubbed. The Kid may have been just a frightened, lost little boy before +he met her--but that was a secret hidden in the silences of the deep +canyons. Now he was a real old cowpuncher, and he was going to take care +of Miss Allen because men always had to take care of women. + +Miss Allen offended him deeply when she called him Claude. She was told +bluntly that he was Buck, and that he belonged to the Flying U outfit, +and was riding down here to help the bunch gather some cattle. “But I +can't find the brakes,” he admitted grudgingly. “That's where the bunch +is--down in the brakes; I can't seem to locate them brakes.” + +“Don't you think you ought to go home to your mother?” Miss Allen asked +him while he was struggling with the knot he had tied in the bag. + +“I've got to find the bunch. The bunch needs me,” said the Kid. “I--I +guess Doctor Dell is s'prised--” + +“Who's Doctor Dell? Your mother? Your mother has just about cried +herself sick, she's so lonesome without you.” + +The Kid looked at her wide-eyed. “Aw, gwan!” he retorted after a minute, +imitating Happy Jack's disbelief of any unpleasant news. “I guess you're +jest loadin' me. Daddy Chip is takin' care of her. He wouldn't let her +be lonesome.” + +The Kid got the sack open and reached an arm in to the shoulder. He +groped there for a minute and drew out a battered doughnut smeared +liberally with wild currant jelly, and gave it to Miss Allen with an +air of princely generosity and all the chivalry of all the Happy Family +rolled into one baby gesture. Miss Allen took the doughnut meekly and +did not spoil the Kid's pleasure by hugging him as she would have +liked to do. Instead she said: “Thank you, Buck of the Flying U,” quite +humbly. Then something choked Miss Allen and she turned her back upon +him abruptly. + +“I've got one, two, free, fourteen left,” said the Kid, counting them +gravely. “If I had 'membered to bring matches,” he added regretfully, +“I could have a fire and toast rabbit legs. I guess you got some glass, +didn't you? I got some and it cutted my tongue so the bleed came--but I +never cried,” he made haste to deny stoutly. “I'm a rell ole cowpuncher +now. I just cussed.” He looked at her gravely. “You can't cuss where +women can hear,” he told Miss Allen reassuringly. “Bud says--” + +“Let me see the doughnuts,” said miss Allen abruptly. “I think you ought +to let me keep the lunch. That's the woman's part. Men can't bother with +lunch--” + +“It ain't lunch, it's grub,” corrected the Kid. But he let her have the +bag, and Miss Allen looked inside. There were some dried prunes that +looked like lumps of dirty dough, and six dilapidated doughnuts in a +mess of jelly, and a small glass jar of honey. + +“I couldn't get the cover off,” the Kid explained, “'theut I busted +it, and then it would all spill like the jelly. Gee I-I wish I had a +beefsteak under my belt!” + +Miss Allen leaned over with her elbows on the bank and laughed and +laughed. Miss Allen was closer to hysterics than she had ever been in +her life. The Kid looked at her in astonishment and turned to Silver, +standing with drooping head beside the bank. Miss Allen pulled herself +together and asked him what he was going to do. + +“I'm going to LOCATE your horse,” he said, “and then I'm going to take +you home.” He looked at her disapprovingly. “I don't like you so very +much,” he added. “It ain't p'lite to laugh at a feller all the time.” + +“I won't laugh any more. I think we had better go home right away,” said +Miss Allen contritely. “You see, Buck, the bunch came home. They--they +aren't hunting cattle now. They want to find you and tell you. And your +father and mother need you awfully bad, Buck. They've been looking all +over for you, everywhere, and wishing you'd come home.” + +Buck looked wistfully up and down the canyon. His face at that moment +was not the face of a real old cowpuncher, but the sweet, dirty, +mother-hungry face of a child. “It's a far ways,” he said plaintively. +“It's a million miles, I guess I wanted to go home, but I couldn't des' +'zactly 'member--and I thought I could find the bunch, and they'd know +the trail better. Do you know the trail?” + +Miss Allen evaded that question and the Kid's wide, wistful eyes. “I +think if we start out, Buck, we can find it. We must go toward the sun, +now. That will be towards home. Shall I put you on your horse?” + +The Kid gave her a withering glance and squirmed up into the saddle with +the help of both horn and cantle and by the grace of good luck. Miss +Allen gasped while she watched him. + +The Kid looked down at her triumphantly. He frowned a little and flushed +guiltily when he remembered something. “'Scuse me,” he said. “I guess +you better ride my horse. I guess I better walk. It ain't p'lite for +ladies to walk and men ride.” + +“No, no!” Miss Allen reached up with both hands and held the Kid from +dismounting. “I'll walk, Buck. I'd rather. I--why, I wouldn't dare ride +that horse of yours. I'd be afraid he might buck me off.” She pinched +her eyebrows together and pursed up her lips in a most convincing +manner. + +“Hunh!” Scorn of her cowardice was in his tone. “Well, a course I ain't +scared to ride him.” + +So with Miss Allen walking close to the Kid's stirrup and trying her +best to keep up and to be cheerful and to remember that she must not +treat him like a little, lost boy but like a real old cowpuncher, +they started up the canyon toward the sun which hung low above a dark, +pine-covered hill. + + + +CHAPTER 19. HER NAME WAS ROSEMARY + +Andy Green came in from a twenty-hour ride through the Wolf Butte +country and learned that another disaster had followed on the heels of +the first; that miss Allen had been missing for thirty-six hours. While +he bolted what food was handiest in the camp where old Patsy cooked for +the searchers, and the horse wrangler brought up the saddle-bunch just +as though it was a roundup that held here its headquarters, he heard all +that Slim and Cal Emmett could tell him about the disappearance of Miss +Allen. + +One fact stood significantly in the foreground, and that was that Pink +and the Native Son had been the last to speak with her, so far as anyone +knew. That was it--so far as anyone knew. Andy's lips tightened. There +were many strangers riding through the country, and where there are many +strangers there is also a certain element of danger. That Miss Allen was +lost was not the greatest fear that drove Andy Green forth without sleep +and with food enough to last him a day or two. + +First he meant to hunt up Pink and Miguel--which was easy enough, since +they rode into camp exhausted and disheartened while he was saddling +a fresh horse. From them he learned the direction which Miss Allen had +taken when she left them, and he rode that way and never stopped until +he had gone down off the benchland and had left the fringe of coulees +and canyons behind. Pink and the Native Son had just come from down in +here, and they had seen no sign of either her or the Kid. Andy intended +to begin where they had left off, and comb the breaks as carefully as +it is possible for one man to do. He was beginning to think that the +Badlands held the secret of the Kid disappearance, even though they had +seen nothing of him when they came out four days ago. Had he seen Chip +he would have urged him to send all the searchers--and there were two +or three hundred by now--into the Badlands and keep them there until the +Kid was found. But he did not see Chip and had no time to hunt him up. +And having managed to evade the supervision of any captain, and to keep +clear of all parties, he meant to go alone and see if he could find a +clue, at least. + +It was down in the long canyon which Miss Allen had followed, that Andy +found hoof-prints which he recognized. The horse Miss Allen had ridden +whenever he saw her--one which she had bought somewhere north +of town--had one front foot which turned in toward the other. +“Pigeon-toed,” he would have called it. The track it left in soft soil +was unmistakable. Andy's face brightened when he saw it and knew that he +was on her trail. The rest of the way down the canyon he rode alertly, +for though he knew she might be miles from there by now, to find the +route she had taken into the Badlands was something gained. + +The flat, which Andy knew very well--having driven the bunch of cattle +whose footprints had so elated Miss Allen--he crossed uneasily. There +were so many outlets to this rich little valley. He tried several of +them, which took time; and always when he came to soft earth and saw no +track of the hoof that turned in toward the other, he would go back and +ride into another gulch. And when you are told that these were many, and +that much of the ground was rocky, and some was covered with a thick mat +of grass, you will not be surprised that when Andy finally took up her +trail in the canyon farthest to the right, it was well towards noon. He +followed her easily enough until he came to the next valley, which he +examined over and over before he found where she had left it to push +deeper into the Badlands. And it was the same experience repeated when +he came out of that gulch into another open space. + +He came into a network of gorges that would puzzle almost anyone, and +stopped to water his horse and let him feed for an hour or so. A man's +horse meant a good deal to him, down here on such a mission, and even +his anxiety could not betray him into letting his mount become too +fagged. + +After a while he mounted and rode on without having any clue to follow; +one must trust to chance, to a certain extent, in a place like this. He +had not seen any sign of the Kid, either, and the gorges were filling +with shadows that told How low the sun was sliding down the sky. At that +time he was not more than a mile or so from the canyon up which Miss +Allen was toiling afoot toward the sun; but Andy had no means of knowing +that. He went on with drooping head and eyes that stared achingly here +and there. That was the worst of his discomfort--his eyes. Lack of sleep +and the strain of looking, looking, against wind and sun, had made them +red-rimmed and bloodshot. Miss Allen's eyes were like that, and so were +the eyes of all the searchers. + +In spite of himself Andy's eyes closed now. He had not slept for two +nights, and he had been riding all that time. Before he realized it he +was asleep in the saddle, and his horse was carrying him into a gulch +that had no outlet--there were so many such!--but came up against a hill +and stopped there. The shadows deepened, and the sky above was red and +gold. + +Andy woke with a jerk, his horse having stopped because he could go no +farther. But it was not that which woke him. He listened. He would have +sworn that he had heard the shrill, anxious whinney of a horse not far +away. He turned and examined the gulch, but it was narrow and grassy and +had no possible place of concealment, and save himself and his own horse +it was empty. And it was not his own horse that whinnied--he was sure of +that. Also, he was sure that he had-not dreamed it. A horse had called +insistently. Andy knew horses too well not to know that there was +anxiety and rebellion in that call. + +He waited a minute, his heart beating heavily. He turned and +started back down the gulch, and then stopped suddenly. He heard it +again--shrill, prolonged, a call from somewhere; where, he could not +determine because of the piled masses of earth and rock that flung the +sound riotously here and there and confused him as to direction. + +Then his own horse turned his head and looked toward the left, and +answered the call. From far off the strange horse made shrill reply. +Andy got down and began climbing the left-hand ridge on the run, tired +as he was. Not many horses ranged down in here--and he did not believe, +anyway, that this was any range horse. It did not sound like Silver, +but it might be the pigeon-toed horse of Miss Allen. And if it was, then +Miss Allen would be there. He took a deep breath and went up the last +steep pitch in a spurt of speed that surprised himself. + +At the top he stood panting and searched the canyon below him. Just +across the canyon was the high peak which Miss Allen had climbed afoot. +But down below him he saw her horse circling about in a trampled place +under a young cottonwood. + +You would never accuse Andy Green of being weak, or of having unsteady +nerves, I hope. + +But it is the truth that he felt his knees give way while he looked; +and it was a minute or two before he had any voice with which to call to +her. Then he shouted, and the great hill opposite flung back the echoes +maddeningly. + +He started running down the ridge, and brought up in the canyon's bottom +near the horse. It was growing shadowy now to the top of the lower +ridges, although the sun shone faintly on the crest of the peak. The +horse whinnied and circled restively when Andy came near. Andy needed no +more than a glance to tell him that the horse had stood tied there for +twenty-four hours, at the very least. That meant.... + +Andy turned pale. He shouted, and the canyon mocked him with echoes. He +looked for her tracks. At the base of the peak he saw the print of her +riding boots; farther along, up the slope he saw the track again. Miss +Allen, then, must have climbed the peak, and he knew why she had done +so. But why had she not come down again? + +There was only one way to find out, and he took the method in the +face of his weariness. He climbed the peak also, with now and then a +footprint to guide him. He was not one of these geniuses at trailing who +could tell, by a mere footprint, what had been in Miss Allen's mind when +she had passed that way; but for all that it seemed logical that she had +gone up there to see if she could not glimpse the kid--or possibly the +way home. + +At the top he did not loiter. He saw, before he reached the height, +where Miss Allen had come down again--and he saw where she had, to avoid +a clump of boulders and a broken ledge, gone too far to one side. He +followed that way. She had descended at an angle, after that, which took +her away from the canyon. + +In Montana there is more of daylight after the sun has gone than there +is in some other places. Andy, by hurrying, managed to trail Miss Allen +to the bottom of the peak before it grew really dusky. He knew that she +had been completely lost when she reached the bottom, and had probably +wandered about at random since then. At any rate, there were no tracks +anywhere save her own, so that he felt less anxiety over her safety +than, when he had started out looking for her. + +Andy knew these breaks pretty well. He went over a rocky ridge, which +Miss Allen had not tried to cross because to her it seemed exactly in +the opposite direction from where she had started, and so he came to her +horse again. He untied the poor beast and searched for a possible trail +over the ridge to where his own horse waited; and by the time he had +found one and had forced the horse to climb to the top and then descend +into the gulch, the darkness lay heavy upon the hills. + +He picketed Miss Allen's horse with his rope', and fashioned a hobble +for his own mount. Then he ate a little of the food he carried and sat +down to rest and smoke and consider how best he could find Miss Allen +or the Kid--or both. He believed Miss Allen to be somewhere not far +away--since she was afoot, and had left her lunch tied to the saddle. +She could not travel far without food. + +After a little he climbed back up the ridge to where he had noticed a +patch of brush, and there he started a fire. Not a very large one, but +large enough to be seen for a long distance where the vision was not +blocked by intervening hills. Then he sat down beside it and waited +and listened and tended the fire. It was all that he could do for +the present, and it seemed pitifully little. If she saw the fire, he +believed that she would come; if she did not see it, there was no hope +of his finding her in the dark. Had there been fuel on the high peak, +he might have gone up there to start his fire; but that was out of the +question, since the peak was barren. + +Heavy-eyed, tired in every fibre of his being, Andy dragged up a dead +buck-bush and laid the butt of it across his blaze. Then he lay down +near it--and went to sleep as quickly as if he had been chloroformed. + +It may have been an hour after that--it may have been more. He sat up +suddenly and listened. Through the stupor of his sleep he had heard Miss +Allen call. At least, he believed he had heard her call, though he knew +he might easily have dreamed it. He knew he had been asleep, because the +fire had eaten part of the way to the branches of the bush and had died +down to smoking embers. He kicked the branch upon the coals and a blaze +shot up into the night. He stood up and walked a little distance away +from the fire so that he could see better, and stood staring down into +the canyon. + +From below he heard a faint call--he was sure of it. The wonder to him +was that he had heard it at all in his sleep. His anxiety must have been +strong enough even then to send the signal to his brain and rouse him. + +He shouted, and again he heard a faint call. It seemed to be far down +the canyon. He started running that way. + +The next time he shouted, she answered him more clearly. And farther +along he distinctly heard and recognized her voice. You may be sure he +ran, after that! + +After all, it was not so very far, to a man who is running recklessly +down hill. Before he realized how close he was he saw her standing +before him in the starlight. Andy did not stop. He kept right on running +until he could catch her in his arms; and when he had her there he held +her close and then he kissed her. That was not proper, of course--but a +man does sometimes do terribly improper things under the stress of big +emotions; Andy had been haunted by the fear that she was dead. + +Well, Miss Allen was just as improper as he was, for that matter. She +did say “Oh!” in a breathless kind of way, and then she must have known +who he was. There surely could be no other excuse for the way she clung +to him and without the faintest resistance let him kiss her. + +“Oh, I've found him!” she whispered after the first terribly +unconventional greetings were over. “I've found him, Mr. Green. I +couldn't come up to the fire, because he's asleep and I couldn't carry +him, and I wouldn't wake him unless I had to. He's just down here--I was +afraid to go very far, for fear of losing him again. Oh, Mr. Green! I--” + +“My name is Andy,” he told her. “What's your name?” + +“Mine? It's--well, it's Rosemary. Never mind now. I should think you'd +be just wild to see that poor little fellow--he's a brick, though.” + +“I've been wild,” said Andy, “over a good many things--you, for one. +Where's the Kid?” + +They went together, hand in hand--terribly silly, wasn't it?--to where +the Kid lay wrapped in the gray blanket in the shelter of a bank. Andy +struck a match and held it so that he could see the Kid face--and Miss +Allen, looking at the man whose wooing had been so abrupt, saw his mouth +tremble and his lashes glisten as he stared down while the match-blaze +lasted. + +“Poor little tad--he's sure a great Kid,” he said huskily when the match +went out. He stood up and put his arm around Miss Allen just as though +that was his habit. “And it was you that found him!” he murmured with +his face against hers. “And I've found you both, thank God.” + + + +CHAPTER 20. THE RELL OLE COWPUNCHER GOES HOME + +I don't suppose anything can equal the aplomb of a child that has always +had his own way and has developed normally. The Kid, for instance, had +been wandering in the wild places--this was the morning of the sixth +day. The whole of Northern Montana waited anxiously for news of him. The +ranch had been turned into a rendezvous for searchers. Men rode as long +as they could sit in the saddle. Women were hysterical in the affection +they lavished upon their own young. And yet, the Kid himself opened his +eyes to the sun and his mind was untroubled save where his immediate +needs were concerned. He sat up thinking of breakfast, and he spied +Andy Green humped on his knees over a heap of camp-fire coals, toasting +rabbit-hams--the joy of it--on a forked stick. Opposite him Miss Allen +crouched and held another rabbit-leg on a forked stick. The Kid sat +up as if a spring had been suddenly released, and threw off the gray +blanket. + +“Say, I want to do that too!” he cried. “Get me a stick, Andy, so I can +do it. I never did and I want to!” + +Andy grabbed him as he came up and kissed him--and the Kid wondered at +the tremble of Andy's arms. He wondered also at the unusual caress; but +it was very nice to have Andy's arms around him and Andy's cheek against +his, and of a sudden the baby of him came to the surface. + +“I want my Daddy Chip!” he whimpered, and laid his head down on Andy's +shoulder. “And I want my Doctor Dell and my--cat! She's lonesome for +me. And I forgot to take the string off her tail and maybe it ain't +comfortable any more!” + +“We're going to hit the trail, old-timer, just as soon as we get outside +of a little grub.” Andy's voice was so tender that Miss Allen gulped +back a sob of sympathy. “You take this stick and finish roasting the +meat, and then see what you think of rabbit-hams. I hear you've been a +real old cowpuncher, Buck. The way you took care of Miss Allen proves +you're the goods, all right. Not quite so close, or you'll burn it, +Buck. That's better. I'll go get another stick and roast the back.” + +The Kid, squatting on his heels by the fire, watched gravely the +rabbit-leg on the two prongs of the willow stick he held. He glanced +across at Miss Allen and smiled his Little Doctor smile. + +“He's my pal,” he announced. “I bet if I stayed we could round up all +them cattle our own selves. And I bet he can find your horse, too. +He--he's 'customed to this country. I'd a found your horse today, all +right--but I guess Andy could find him quicker. Us punchers'll take +care of you, all right.” The rabbit-leg sagged to the coals and began to +scorch, and the Kid lifted it startled and was grateful when Miss Allen +did not seem to have seen the accident. + +“I'd a killed a rabbit for you,” he explained, “only I didn't have no +gun or no matches so I couldn't. When I'm ten my Daddy Chip is going to +give me a gun. And then if you get lost I can take care of you like +Andy can. I'll be ten next week, I guess.” He turned as Andy came back +slicing off the branches of a willow the size of his thumb. + +“Say, old-timer, where's the rest of the bunch?” he inquired casually. +“Did you git your cattle rounded up?” + +“Not yet.” Andy sharpened the prongs of his stick and carefully impaled +the back of the rabbit. + +“Well, I'll help you out. But I guess I better go home first--I guess +Doctor Dell might need me, maybe.” + +“I know she does, Buck.” Andy's voice had a peculiar, shaky sound that +the Kid did not understand. “She needs you right bad. We'll hit the high +places right away quick.” + +Since Andy had gone at daybreak and brought the horses over into +this canyon, his statement was a literal one. They ate hurriedly and +started--and Miss Allen insisted that Andy was all turned around, and +that they were going in exactly the wrong direction, and blushed and +was silent when Andy, turning his face full toward her, made a kissing +motion with his lips. + +“You quit that!” the Kid commanded him sharply. “She's my girl I guess I +found her first 'fore you did, and you ain't goin' to kiss her.” + +After that there was no lovemaking but the most decorous conversation +between these two. + +Flying U Coulee lay deserted under the warm sunlight of early forenoon. +Deserted, and silent with the silence that tells where Death has stopped +with his sickle. Even the Kid seemed to feel a strangeness in the +atmosphere--a stillness that made his face sober while he looked around +the little pasture and up at the hill trail. In all the way home they +had not met anyone--but that may have been because Andy chose the way up +Flying U Creek as being shorter and therefore more desirable. + +At the lower line fence of the little pasture Andy refused to believe +the Kid's assertion of having opened and shut the gate, until the Kid +got down and proved that he could open it--the shutting process being +too slow for Andy's raw nerves. He lifted the Kid into the saddle and +shut the gate himself, and led the way up the creek at a fast trot. + +“I guess Doctor Dell will be glad to see me,” the Kid observed +wistfully. “I've been gone most a year, I guess.” + +Neither Andy nor Miss Allen made any reply to this. Their eyes were +searching the hilltop for riders, that they might signal. But there was +no one in sight anywhere. + +“Hadn't you better shout?” suggested Miss Allen. “Or would it be better +to go quietly--” + +Andy did not reply; nor did he shout. Andy, at that moment, was fighting +a dryness in his throat. He could not have called out if he had wanted +to. They rode to the stable and stopped. Andy lifted the Kid down and +set him on his two feet by the stable door while he turned to Miss +Allen. For once in his life he was at a loss. He did not know how best +to bring the Kid to the Little Doctor; How best to lighten the shock +of seeing safe and well the manchild who she thought was dead. He +hesitated. Perhaps he should have ridden on to the house with him. +Perhaps he should have fired the signal when first he came into the +coulee. Perhaps... + +The Kid himself swept aside Andy's uncertainties. Adeline, the cat, came +out of the stable and looked at them contemplatively. Adeline still had +the string tied to her tail, and a wisp of paper tied to the string. The +Kid pounced and caught her by the middle. + +“I guess I can tie knots so they stay, by cripes!” he shouted +vaingloriously. “I guess Happy Jack can't tie strings any better 'n me, +can he? Nice kitty--c'm back here, you son-a-gun!” + +Adeline had not worried over the absence of the Kid, but his hilarious +arrival seemed to worry her considerably. She went bounding up the path +to the house, and after her went the Kid, yelling epithets which were a +bit shocking for one of his age. + +So he came to the porch just when Chip and the Little Doctor reached it, +white-faced and trembling. Adeline paused to squeeze under the steps, +and the Kid catching her by the tail, dragged her back yowling. While +his astounded parents watched him unbelievingly, the Kid gripped Adeline +firmly and started up the steps. + +“I ketched the son-a-gun!” he cried jubilantly. + +“Say, I seen a skink, Daddy Chip, and I frowed a rock and knocked his +block off 'cause he was going to swipe my grub. Was you s'prised, Doctor +Dell?” + +Doctor Dell did not say. Doctor Dell was kneeling on the porch floor +with the Kid held closer in her arms than ever he held the cat, and +she was crying and laughing and kissing him all at once--though nobody +except a mother can perform that feat. + + + +CHAPTER 21. THE FIGHT GOES ON + +It is amazing how quickly life swings back to the normal after even so +harrowing an experience as had come to the Flying U. Tragedy had hovered +there a while and had turned away with a smile, and the smile was +reflected upon the faces and in the eyes of everyone upon whose souls +had fallen her shadow. The Kid was safe, and he was well, and he had +not suffered from the experience; on the contrary he spent most of his +waking hours in recounting his adventures to an admiring audience. He +was a real old cowpuncher. He had gone into the wilderness and he had +proven the stuff that was in him. He had made “dry-camp” just exactly as +well as any of the Happy Family could have done. He had slept out under +the stars rolled in a blanket--and do you think for one minute that he +would ever submit to lace-trimmed nighties again? If you do, ask the +little Doctor what the Kid said on the first night after his return, +when she essayed to robe him in spotless white and rock him, held tight +in her starved arms. Or you might ask his Daddy Chip, who hovered +pretty close to them both, his eyes betraying how his soul gave thanks. +Or--never mind, I'll tell you myself. + +The Little Doctor brought the nightie, and reached out her two eager +arms to take the kid off Chip's knees where he was perched contentedly +relating his adventures with sundry hair-raising additions born of his +imagination. The Kid was telling Daddy Chip about the skunk he saw, +and he hated to be interrupted. He looked at his Doctor Dell and at the +familiar, white garment with lace at the neck and wristbands, and he +waved his hand with a gesture of dismissal. + +“Aw, take that damn' thing away!” he told her in the tone of the real +old cowpuncher. “When I get ready to hit the bed-ground, a blanket is +all I'll need.” + +Lest you should think him less lovable than he really was, I must add +that, when Chip set him down hastily so that he himself could rush off +somewhere and laugh in secret, the Kid spread his arms with a little +chuckle and rushed straight at his Doctor Dell and gave her a real bear +hug. + +“I want to be rocked,” he told her--and was her own baby man again, +except that he absolutely refused to reconsider the nightgown. “And I +want you to tell me a story--about when Silver breaked his leg. Silver's +a good ole scout, you bet. I don't know what I'd a done 'theut Silver. +And tell about the bunch makin' a man outa straw to scare you, and the +horses runned away. I was such a far ways, Doctor Dell, and I couldn't +get back to hear them stories and I've most forgot about 'em. And tell +about Whizzer, Doctor Dell.” + +The Little Doctor rocked him and told him of the old days, and she +never again brought him his lace-trimmed nightie at bedtime. She never +mentioned his language upon the subject, either. The Little Doctor was +learning some things about her man-child, and one of them was this: When +he rode away into the Badlands and was lost, other things were lost, +and lost permanently; he was no longer her baby, for all he liked to +be rocked. He had come back to her changed, so that she studied him +amazedly while she worshipped. He had entered boldly into the life which +men live, and he would never come back entirely to the old order of +things. He would never be her baby; there would be a difference, even +while she held him in her arms and him rocked him to sleep. + +She knew that it was so, when the Kid insisted, next day, upon going +home with the bunch; with Andy, rather, who was just now the Kid's +particular hero. He had to help the bunch he said; they needed him, and +Andy needed him and Miss Allen needed him. + +“Aw, you needn't be scared, Doctor Dell,” he told her shrewdly. “I ain't +going to find them brakes any more. I'll stick with the bunch, cross my +heart, and I'll come back tonight if you're scared 'theut me. Honest to +gran'ma, I've got to go and help the bunch lick the stuffen' outa them +nesters, Doctor Dell.” + +The Little Doctor looked at him strangely, hugged him tight--and let +him go. Chip would be with them, and he would bring the Kid home safely, +and--the limitations of dooryard play no longer sufficed; her fledgling +had found what his wings were for, and the nest was too little, now. + +“We'll take care of him,” Andy promised her understandingly. “If Chip +don't come up, this afternoon, I'll bring him home myself. Don't you +worry a minute about him.” + +“I'd tell a man she needn't!” added the Kid patronizingly. + +“I suppose he's a lot safer with you boys than he is here at the +ranch--unless one of us stood over him all the time, or we tied him up,” + she told Andy gamely. “I feel like a hen trying to raise a duck! Go on, +Buck--but give mother a kiss first.” + +The Kid kissed her violently and with a haste that betrayed where his +thoughts were, in spite of the fact that never before had his mother +called him Buck. + +To her it was a supreme surrender of his babyhood--to him it was merely +his due. The Little Doctor sighed and watched him ride away beside +Andy. “Children are such self-centred little beasts!” she told J. G. +rue-fully. “I almost wish he was a girl.” + +“Ay? If he was a girl he wouldn't git lost, maybe, but some feller'd +take him away from yuh just the same. The Kid's all right. He's just the +kind you expect him to be and want him to be. You're tickled to death +because he's like he is. Doggone it, Dell, that Kid's got the real stuff +in him! He's a dead ringer fer his dad--that ought to do yuh.” + +“It does,” the Little Doctor declared. “But it does seem as if he might +be contented here with me for a little while--after such a horrible +time--” + +“It wasn't horrible to him, yuh want to recollect. Doggone it, I wish +that Blake would come back. You write to him, Dell, and tell him how +things is stacking up. He oughta be here on the ground. No tellin' what +them nesters'll build up next.” + +So the Old Man slipped back into the old channels of worry and thought, +just as life itself slips back after a stressful period. The little +Doctor sighed again and sat down to write the letter and to discuss with +the Old Man what she should say. + +There was a good deal to say. For one thing, more contests had been +filed and more shacks built upon claims belonging to the Happy Family. +She must tell Blake that. Also, Blake must help make some arrangement +whereby the Happy Family could hire an outfit to gather their stock and +the alien stock which they meant to drive back out of the Badlands. And +there was Irish, who had quietly taken to the hills again as soon as +the Kid returned. Blake was needed to look into that particular bit of +trouble and try and discover just how serious it was. The man whom Irish +had floored with a chair was apparently hovering close to death--and +there were these who emphasized the adverb and asserted that the hurt +was only apparent, but could prove nothing. + +“And you tell 'im,” directed the Old Man querulously, “that I'll stand +good for his time while he's lookin' after things for the boys. And tell +'im if he's so doggoned scared I'll buy into the game, he needn't to +show up here at the ranch at all; tell him to stay in Dry Lake if he +wants to--serve him right to stop at that hotel fer a while. But tell +him for the Lord's sake git a move on. The way it looks to me, things +is piling up on them boys till they can't hardly see over the top, and +something's got to be done. Tell 'im--here! Give me a sheet of paper and +a pencil and I'll tell him a few things myself. Chances are you'd smooth +'em out too much, gitting 'em on paper. And the things I've got to say +to Blake don't want any smoothing.” + +The things he wrote painfully with his rheumatic hand were not smoothed +for politeness' sake, and it made the Old Man feel better to get them +off his mind. He read the letter over three times, and lingered over the +most scathing sentences relishfully. He sent one of his new men to town +for the express purpose of mailing that letter, and he felt a glow of +satisfaction at actually speaking his mind upon the subject. + +Perhaps it was just as well he did not know that Blake was in Dry Lake +when the letter reached his office in Helena, and that it was forwarded +to the place whence it had started. Blake was already “getting a move +on,” and he needed no such spur as the Old Man's letter. But the letter +did the Old Man a lot of good, so that it served its purpose. + +Blake had no intention of handling the case from the Flying U porch, +for instance. He had laid his plans quite independently of the Flying U +outfit. He had no intention of letting Irish be arrested upon a trumped +up charge, and he managed to send a word of warning to that hot-headed +young man not to put himself in the way of any groping arm of the law; +it was so much simpler than arrest and preliminary trial and bail, and +all that. He had sent word to Weary to come and see him, before ever +he received the Old Man's letter, and he had placed at Weary's disposal +what funds would be needed for the immediate plans of the Happy Family. +He had attended in person to the hauling of the fence material to their +boundary line on the day he arrived and discovered by sheer accident +that the stuff was still in the warehouse of the general store. + +After he did all that, the Honorable Blake received the Old Man's +letter, read it through slowly and afterwards stroked down his Vandyke +beard and laughed quietly to himself. The letter itself was both +peremptory and profane, and commanded the Honorable Blake to do exactly +what he had already done, and what he intended to do when the time came +for the doing. + + + +CHAPTER 22. LAWFUL IMPROVEMENTS + +Florence Grace Hallman must not be counted a woman without principle or +kindness of heart or these qualities which make women beloved of men. +She was a pretty nice young woman, unless one roused her antagonism. Had +Andy Green, for instance, accepted in good faith her offer of a position +with the Syndicate, he would have found her generous and humorous and +loyal and kind. He would probably have fallen in love with her before +the summer was over, and he would never have discovered in her nature +that hardness and that ability for spiteful scheming which came to the +surface and made the whole Happy Family look upon her as an enemy. + +Florence Grace Hillman was intensely human, as well as intensely loyal +to her firm. She had liked Andy Green better than anyone--herself +included--realized. It was not altogether her vanity that was hurt when +she discovered how he had worked against her--how little her personality +had counted with him. She felt chagrined and humiliated and as though +nothing save the complete subjugation of Andy Green and the complete +thwarting of his plans could ease her own hurt. + +Deep in her heart she hoped that he would eventually want her to forgive +him his treachery. She would give him a good, hard fight--she would +show him that she was mistress of the situation. She would force him to +respect her as a foe; after that--Andy Green was human, certainly. She +trusted to her feminine intuition to say just what should transpire +after the fight; trusted to her feminine charm also to bring her +whatever she might desire. + +That was the personal side of the situation. There was also the +professional side, which urged her to do battle for the interests of her +firm. And since both the personal and the professional aspects of the +case pointed to the same general goal, it may be assumed that Florence +Grace was prepared to make a stiff fight. + +Then Andy Green proceeded to fall in love with that sharp-tongued +Rosemary Allen; and Rosemary Allen had no better taste than to let +herself be lost and finally found by Andy, and had the nerve to show +very plainly that she not only approved of his love but returned it. +After that, Florence Grace was in a condition to stop at nothing--short +of murder--that would defeat the Happy Family in their latest project. + +While all the Bear Paw country was stirred up over the lost child, +Florence Grace Hillman said it was too bad, and had they found him yet? +and went right along planting contestants upon the claims of the Happy +Family. She encouraged the building of claim-shacks and urged firmness +in holding possession of them. She visited the man whom Irish had +knocked down with a bottle of whisky, and she had a long talk with him +and with the doctor who attended him. She saw to it that the contest +notices were served promptly upon the Happy Family, and she hurried in +shipments of stock. Oh, she was very busy indeed, during the week that +was spent in hunting the Kid. When he was found, and the rumor of +an engagement between Rosemary Allen and that treacherous Andy Green +reached her, she was busier still; but since she had changed her methods +and was careful to mask her real purpose behind an air of passive +resentment, her industry became less apparent. + +The Happy Family did not pay much attention to Florence Grace Hallman +and her studied opposition. They were pretty busy attending to their own +affairs; Andy Green was not only busy but very much in love, so that +he almost forgot the existence of Florence Grace except on the rare +occasions when he met her riding over the prairie trails. + +First of all they rounded up the stock that had been scattered, and +they did not stop when they crossed Antelope Coulee with the settlers' +cattle. They bedded them there until after dark. Then they drove them +on to the valley of Dry Lake, crossed that valley on the train traveled +road and pushed the herd up on Lonesome Prairie and out as far upon the +benchland as they had time to drive them. + +They did not make much effort toward keeping it a secret. Indeed Weary +told three or four of the most indignant settlers, next day, where they +would find their cattle. But he added that the feed was pretty good back +there, and advised them to leave the stock out there for the present. + +“It isn't going to do you fellows any good to rear up on your hind legs +and make a holler,” he said calmly. “We haven't hurt your cattle. We +don't want to have trouble with anybody. But we're pretty sure to have a +fine, large row with our neighbors if they don't keep on their own side +the fence.” + +That fence was growing to be more than a mere figure of speech The Happy +Family did not love the digging of post-holes and the stretching of +barbed wire; on the contrary they hated it so deeply that you could not +get a civil word out of one of them while the work went on; yet they put +in long hours at the fence-building. + +They had to take the work in shifts on account of having their own +cattle to watch day and night. Sometimes it happened that a man tamped +posts or helped stretch wire all day, and then stood guard two or three +hours on the herd at night; which was wearing on the temper. Sometimes, +because they were tired, they quarreled over small things. + +New shipments of cattle, too, kept coming to Dry Lake. Invariably these +would be driven out towards Antelope Coulee--farther if the drivers +could manage it--and would have to be driven back again with what +patience the Happy Family could muster. No one helped them among the +settlers. There was every attitude among the claim-dwellers, from open +opposition to latent antagonism. None were quite neutral--and yet the +Happy Family did not bother any save these who had filed contests to +their claims, or who took active part in the cattle driving. + +The Happy Family were not half as brutal as they might have been. In +spite of their no-trespassing signs they permitted settlers to drive +across their claims with wagons and water-barrels, to haul water from +One Man Creek when the springs and the creek in Antelope Coulee went +dry. + +They did not attempt to move the shacks of the later contestants off +their claims. Though they hated the sight of them and of the owners who +bore themselves with such provocative assurance, they grudged the time +the moving would take. Besides that the Honorable Blake had told them +that moving the shacks would accomplish no real, permanent good. Within +thirty days they must appear before the register and receiver and file +answer to the contest, and he assured them that forbearance upon their +part would serve to strengthen their case with the Commissioner. + +It goes to prove how deeply in earnest they were, that they immediately +began to practice assiduously the virtues of mildness and forbearance. +They could, he told them, postpone the filing of their answers until +close to the end of the thirty days; which would serve also to delay +the date of actual trial of the contests, and give the Happy Family more +time for their work. + +Their plans had enlarged somewhat. They talked now of fencing the whole +tract on all four sides, and of building a dam across the mouth of a +certain coulee in the foothills which drained several miles of rough +country, thereby converting the coulee into a reservoir that would +furnish water for their desert claims. It would take work, of course; +but the Happy Family; were beginning to see prosperity on the trail +ahead and nothing in the shape of hard work could stop them from coming +to hang-grips with fortune. + +Chip helped them all he could, but he had the Flying U to look after, +and that without the good team-work of the Happy Family which had kept +things moving along so smoothly. The team-work now was being used in a +different game; a losing game, one would say at first glance. + +So far the summer had been favorable to dry-farming. The more +enterprising of the settlers had some grain and planted potatoes upon +freshly broken soil, and these were growing apace. They did not know +about these scorching August winds, that might shrivel crops in a day. +They did not realize that early frosts might kill what the hot winds +spared. They became enthusiastic over dry-farming, and their resentment +toward the Happy family increased as their enthusiasm waxed strong. The +Happy Family complained to one another that you couldn't pry a nester +loose from his claim with a crowbar. + +In this manner did civilization march out and take possession of the +high prairies that lay close to the Flying U. They had a Sunday School +organized, with the meetings held in a double shack near the trail to +Dry Lake. The Happy family, riding that way, sometimes heard voices +mingled in the shrill singing of some hymn where, a year before, they +had listened to the hunting song of the coyote. + +Eighty acres to the man--with that climate and that soil they never +could make it pay; with that soil especially since it was mostly barren. +The Happy Family knew it, and could find it in their hearts to pity the +men who were putting in dollars and time and hard work there. But for +obvious reasons they did not put their pity into speech. + +They fenced their west line in record time. There was only one gate +in the whole length of it, and that was on the trail to Dry Lake. Not +content with trusting to the warning of four strands of barbed wire +stretched so tight that they hummed to the touch, they took turns in +watching it--“riding fence,” in range parlance--and in watching the +settlers' cattle. + +To H. J. Owens and his fellow contestants they paid not the slightest +attention, because the Honorable Blake had urged them personally to +ignore any and all claimants. To Florence Grace Hallman they gave no +heed, believing that she had done her worst, and that her worst was +after all pretty weak, since the contests she had caused to be filed +could not possibly be approved by the government so long as the Happy +Family continued to abide by every law and by-law and condition and +requirement in their present through-going and exemplary manner. + +You should have seen how mild-mannered and how industrious the Happy +Family were, during these three weeks which followed the excitement of +the Kid's adventuring into the wild. You would have been astonished, +and you would have made the mistake of thinking that they had changed +permanently and might be expected now to settle down with wives and +raise families and hay and cattle and potatoes, and grow beards, +perhaps, and become well-to-do ranchers. + +The Happy Family were almost convinced that they were actually leaving +excitement behind them for good and all. They might hold back +the encroaching tide of immigration from the rough land along the +river--that sounded like something exciting, to be sure. But they must +hold back the tide with legal proceedings and by pastoral pursuits, and +that promised little in the way of brisk, decisive action and strong +nerves and all these qualities which set the Happy Family somewhat apart +from their fellows. + + + +CHAPTER 23. THE WATER QUESTION AND SOME GOSSIP + +Miss Rosemary Allen rode down into One Man Coulee and boldly up to the +cabin of Andy Green, and shouted musically for him to come forth. Andy +made a hasty pass at his hair with a brush, jerked his tie straight +and came out eagerly. There was no hesitation in his manner. He went +straight up to her and reached up to pull her from the saddle, that he +might hold her in his arms and kiss her--after the manner of bold young +men who are very much in love. But Miss Rosemary Allen stopped him with +a push that was not altogether playful, and scowled at him viciously. + +“I am in a most furious mood today,” she said. “I want to scratch +somebody's eyes out! I want to say WORDS. Don't come close, or I might +pull your hair or something, James.” She called him James because that +was not his name, and because she had learned a good deal about his +past misdeeds and liked to take a sly whack at his notorious tendency to +forget the truth, by calling him Truthful James. + +“All right; that suits me fine. It's worth a lot to have you close +enough to pull hair. Where have you been all this long while?” Being +a bold young man and very much in love, he kissed her in spite of her +professed viciousness. + +“Oh, I've been to town--it hasn't been more than three days since we +met and had that terrible quarrel James. What was it about?” She frowned +down at him thoughtfully. “I'm still furious about it--whatever it is. +Do you know, Mr. Man, that I am an outlaw amongst my neighbors, and that +our happy little household, up there on the hill, is a house divided +against itself? I've put up a green burlap curtain on my southwest +corner, and bought me a smelly oil stove and I pos-i-tively refuse to +look at my neighbors or speak to them. I'm going to get some lumber and +board up that side of my house. + +“Those three cats--they get together on the other side of my curtain and +say the meanest things!” + +Andy Green had the temerity to laugh. “That sounds good to me,” he told +her unsympathetically. “Now maybe you'll come down and keep house for me +and let that pinnacle go to thunder. It's no good anyway, and I told you +so long ago. That whole eighty acres of yours wouldn't support a family +of jackrabbits month. What--” + +“And let those old hens say they drove me off? That Kate Price is +the limit. The things she said to me you wouldn't believe. And it all +started over my going with little Buck a few times to ride along your +fence when you boys were busy. I consider that I had a perfect right to +ride where I pleased. Of course they're furious anyway, because I don't +side against you boys and--and all that. When--when they found out +about--you and me, James, they said some pretty sarcastic things, but I +didn't pay any attention to that. Poor old freaks, I expected them to be +jealous, because nobody ever pays any attention to THEM. Kate Price is +the worst--she's an old maid. The others have had husbands and can act +superior. + +“Well, I didn't mind the things they said then; I took that for granted. +But a week or so ago Florence Hallman came, and she did stir things up +in great style! Since then the girls have hardly spoken to me except to +say something insulting. And Florence Grace came right out and called me +a traitor; that was before little Buck and I took to 'riding fence' as +you call it, for you boys. You imagine what they've been saying since +then!” + +“Well, what do you care? You don't have to stay with them, and you know +it. I'm just waiting--” + +“Well, but I'm no quitter, James. I'm going to hold down that claim +now if I have to wear a sixshooter!” Her eyes twinkled at that idea. +“Besides, I can stir them up now and then and get them to say things +that are useful. For instance, Florence Hallman told Kate Price about +that last trainload of cattle coming, and that they were going to cut +your fence and drive them through in the night--and I stirred dear +little Katie up so she couldn't keep still about that. And therefore--” + She reached out and gave Andy Green's ear a small tweek--“somebody found +out about it, and a lot of somebodys happened around that way and just +quietly managed to give folks a hint that there was fine grass somewhere +else. That saved a lot of horseflesh and words and work, didn't it?” + +“It sure did.” Andy smiled up at her worshipfully. “Just the same--” + +“But listen here, nice, level-headed Katiegirl has lost her temper since +then, and let out a little more that is useful knowledge to somebody. +There's one great weak point in the character of Florence Hallman; maybe +you have noticed it. She's just simply GOT to have somebody to tell +things to, and she doesn't always show the best judgment in her choice +of a confessional--” + +“I've noticed that before,” Andy Green admitted, and smiled +reminiscently. “She sure does talk too much--for a lady that has so much +up her sleeve.” + +“Yes--and she's been making a chum of Katie Price since she discovered +what an untrustworthy creature I am. I did a little favor for Irish +Mallory, James. I overheard Florence Grace talking to Kate about that +man who is supposed to be at death's door. So I made a trip to +Great Falls, if you please, and I scouted around and located the +gentleman--well, anyway, I gave that nice, sleek little lawyer of yours +a few facts that will let Irish come back to his claim.” + +“Irish has been coming back to his claim pretty regular as it is,” Andy +informed her quietly. “Did you think he was hiding out, all this time? +Why”--he laughed at her--“you talked to him yourself, one day, and +thought it was Weary. Remember when you came over with the mail? That +was Irish helping me string wire. He's been wearing Weary's hat and +clothes and cultivating a twinkle to his eyes--that's all.” + +“Why, I--well, anyway, that man they've been making a fuss over is just +as well as you are, James. They only wanted to get Irish in jail and +make a little trouble--pretty cheap warfare at that, if you want my +opinion.” + +“Oh, well--what's the odds? While they're wasting time and energy that +way, we're going right along doing what we've laid out to do. Say, do +you know I'm kinda getting stuck on this ranch proposition. If I just +had a housekeeper--” + +Miss Rosemary Allen seldom let him get beyond that point, and she +interrupted him now by wrinkling her nose at him in a manner that made +Andy Green forget altogether that he had begun a sentence upon a subject +forbidden. Later she went back to her worries; she was a very persistent +young woman. + +“I hope you boys are going to attend to that contest business right +away,” she said, with a pucker between her eyes and not much twinkle in +them. “There's something about that which I don't quite understand. +I heard Florence Hallman and Kate talking yesterday about it going by +default. Are you sure it's wise to put off filing your answers so long? +When are you supposed to appear, James?” + +“Me? On or before the twenty-oneth day of July, my dear girl. They +lumped us up and served us all on the same day--I reckon to save +shoe-leather; therefore, inasmuch as said adverse parties have got over +a week left--” + +“You'd better not take a chance, waiting till the last day in the +afternoon,” she warned him vaguely. “Maybe they think you've forgotten +the date or something--but whatever they think, I believe they're +counting on your not answering in time. I think Florence Hallman knows +they haven't any real proof against you. I know she knows it. She's +perfectly wild over the way you boys have stuck here and worked. And +from what I can gather, she hasn't been able to scrape up the weentiest +bit of evidence that the Flying U is backing you--and of course that +is the only ground they could contest your claims on. So if it comes to +trial, you'll all win; you're bound to. I told Kate Price so--and those +other old hens, yesterday, and that's what we had the row over.” + +“My money's on you, girl,” Andy told her, grinning. “How are the +wounded?” + +“The wounded? Oh, they've clubbed together this morning and are washing +hankies and collars and things, and talking about me. And they have +snouged every speck of water from the barrel--I paid my share for the +hauling, too--and the man won't come again till day after tomorrow with +more. Fifty cents a barrel, straight, he's charging now, James. And you, +boys with a great, big, long creekful of it that you can get right +in and swim in! I've come over to borrow two water-bags of it, if you +please, James I never dreamed water was so precious. Florence Hallman +ought to be made to lie on one of these dry claims she's fooled us into +taking. I really don't know, James, what's going to become of some of +these poor farmers. You knew, didn't you, that Mr. Murphy spent nearly +two hundred dollars boring a well--and now it's so strong of alkali they +daren't use a drop of it? Mr. Murphy is living right up to his name and +nationality, since then. He's away back there beyond the Sands place, +you know. He has to haul water about six miles. Believe me, James, +Florence Hallman had better keep away from Murphy! I met him as I was +coming out from town, and he called her a Jezebel!” + +“That's mild!” Andy commented dryly. “Get down, why don't you? I want +you to take a look at the inside of my shack and see how bad I need a +housekeeper--since you won't take my word for it. I hope every drop of +water leaks outa these bags before you get home. I hope old Mister falls +down and spills it. I've a good mind not to let you have any, anyway. +Maybe you could be starved and tortured into coming down here where you +belong.” + +“Maybe I couldn't. I'll get me a barrel of my own, and hire Simpson +to fill it four times a week, if you please! And I'll put a lid with a +padlock on it, so Katie dear can't rob me in the night--and I'll use a +whole quart at a time to wash dishes, and two quarts when I take a bath! +I shall,” she asserted with much emphasis, “lie in luxury, James!” + +Andy laughed and waved his hand toward One Man Creek. “That's all +right--but how would you like to have that running past your house, so +you could wake up in the night and hear it go gurgle-gurgle? Wouldn't +that be all right?” + +Rosemary Allen clasped her two gloved hands together and drew a long +breath. “I should want to run out and stop it,” she declared. “To think +of water actually running around loose in this world!! And think of us +up on that dry prairie, paying fifty cents a barrel for it--and a lot +slopped out of the barrel on the road!” She glanced down into Andy's +love-lighted eyes, and her own softened. She placed her hand on his +shoulder and shook her head at him with a tender remonstrance. + +“I know, boy--but it isn't in me to give up anything I set out to do, +any more than it is in you. You wouldn't like me half so well if I could +just drop that claim and think no more about it. I've got enough money +to commute, when the time comes, and I'll feel a lot better if I +go through with it now I've started. And--James!” She smiled at him +wistfully. “Even if it is only eighty acres, it will make good pasture, +and--it will help some, won't it?” + +After that you could not expect Andy Green to do any more badgering or +to discourage the girl. He did like her better for having grit and a +mental backbone--and he found a way of telling her so and of making the +assurance convincing enough. + +He filled her canvas water-bags and went with her to carry them, and he +cheered her much with his air-castles. Afterwards he took the team and +rustled a water-barrel and hauled her a barrel of water and gave +Kate Price a stony-eyed stare when she was caught watching him +superciliously; and in divers ways managed to make Miss Rosemary Allen +feel that she was fighting a good fight and that the odds were all in +her favor and in the favor of the Happy Family--and of Andy Green in +particular. She felt that the spite of her three very near neighbors +was really a matter to laugh over, and the spleen of Florence Hallman a +joke. + +But for all that she gave Andy Green one last warning when he climbed +up to the spring seat of the wagon and unwound the lines from the +brake-handle, ready to drive back to his own work. She went close to the +front wheel, so that eavesdroppers could not hear, and held her front +hair from blowing across her earnest, wind-tanned face while she looked +up at him. + +“Now remember, boy, do go and file your answer to those contests--all +of you!” she urged. “I don't know why--but I've a feeling some kind of +a scheme is being hatched to make you trouble on that one point. And if +you see Buck, tell him I'll ride fence with him tomorrow again. If you +realized how much I like that old cowpuncher, you'd be horribly jealous, +James.” + +“I'm jealous right now, without realizing a thing except that I've got +to go off and leave you here with a bunch of lemons,” he retorted--and +he spoke loud enough so that any eavesdroppers might hear. + + + +CHAPTER 24. THE KID IS USED FOR A PAWN IN THE GAME + +Did you ever stop to think of the tremendous moral lesson in the Bible +tale of David and Goliath? And how great, human issues are often decided +one way or the other by little things? Not all crises are passed in the +clashing of swords and the boom of cannon. It was a pebble the size of +your thumbend, remember, that slew the giant. + +In the struggle which the Happy Family was making to preserve the +shrunken range of the Flying U, and to hold back the sweeping tide of +immigration, one might logically look for some big, overwhelming element +to turn the tide one way or the other. With the Homeseekers' Syndicate +backing the natural animosity of the settlers, who had filed upon +semiarid land because the Happy Family had taken all of the tract that +was tillable, a big, open clash might be considered inevitable. + +And yet the struggle was resolving itself into the question of whether +the contest filings should be approved by the land-office, or the +filings of the Happy Family be allowed to stand as having been made in +good faith. Florence Hallman therefore, having taken upon herself the +leadership in the contest fight, must do one of two things if she would +have victory to salve the hurt to her self-esteem and to vindicate the +firm's policy in the eyes of the settlers. + +She must produce evidence of the collusion of the Flying U outfit with +the Happy Family, in the taking of the claims. Or she must connive +to prevent the filing of answers to the contest notices within the +time-limit fixed by law, so that the cases would go by default. That, +of course, was the simplest--since she had not been able to gather any +evidence of collusion that would stand in court. + +There was another element in the land struggle--that was the soil and +climate that would fight inexorably against the settlers; but with them +we have little to do, since the Happy Family had nothing to do with them +save in a purely negative way. + +A four-wire fence and a systematic patrol along the line was having its +effect upon the stock question. If the settlers drove their cattle south +until they passed the farthest corner of Flying U fence, they came plump +against Bert Rogers' barbed boundary line. West of that was his father's +place--and that stretched to the railroad right-of-way, fenced on either +side with a stock-proof barrier and hugging the Missouri all the way +to the Marias--where were other settlers. If they went north until they +passed the fence of the Happy Family, there were the Meeker holdings to +bar the way to the very foot of Old Centennial, and as far up its sides +as cattle would go. + +The Happy Family had planned wisely when they took their claims in a +long chain that stretched across the benchland north of the Flying U. +Florence Grace knew this perfectly well--but what could she prove? +The Happy Family had bought cattle of their own, and were grazing them +lawfully upon their own claims. A lawyer had assured her that there was +no evidence to be gained there. They never went near J. G. Whitmore, nor +did they make use of his wagons, his teams or his tools or his money; +instead they hired what they needed, openly and from Bert Rogers. They +had bought their cattle from the Flying U, and that was the extent of +their business relations--on the surface. And since collusion had been +the ground given for the contests, it will be easily seen what slight +hope Florence Grace and her clients must have of winning any contest +suit. Still, there was that alternative--the Happy Family had been so +eager to build that fence and gather their cattle and put them back on +the claims, and so anxious lest in their absence the settlers should +slip cattle across the dead line and into the breaks, that they had +postponed their trip to Great Falls as long as possible. The Honorable +Blake had tacitly advised them to do so; and the Happy Family never gave +a thought to their being hindered when they did get ready to attend to +it. + +But--a pebble killed Goliath. + +H. J. Owens, whose eyes were the wrong shade of blue, sat upon a rocky +hilltop which overlooked the trail from Flying U Coulee and a greater +portion of the shack-dotted benchland as well, and swept the far +horizons with his field glasses. Just down the eastern slope, where +the jutting sandstone cast a shadow, his horse stood tied to a dejected +wild-currant bush. He laid the glasses across his knees while he +refilled his pipe, and tilted his hatbrim to shield his pale blue eyes +from the sun that was sliding past midday. + +H. J. Owens looked at his watch, nevertheless, as though the position +of the sun meant nothing to him. He scowled a little, stretched a +leg straight out before him to ease it of cramp, and afterwards moved +farther along in the shade. The wind swept past with a faint whistle, +and laid the ripening grasses flat where it passed. A cloud shadow moved +slowly along the slope beneath him, and he watched the darkening of the +earth where it touched, and the sharp contrast of the sun-yellowed sea +of grass all around it. H. J. Owens looked bored and sleepy; yet he did +not leave the hilltop--nor did he go to sleep. + +Instead, he lifted the glasses, turned them toward Flying U Coulee a +half mile to the south of him, and stared long at the trail. After a few +minutes he made a gesture to lower the glasses, and then abruptly fixed +them steadily upon one spot, where the trail wound up over the crest +of the bluff. He looked for a minute, and laid the glasses down upon a +rock. + +H. J. Owens fumbled in the pocket of his coat, which he had folded and +laid beside him on the yellow gravel of the hill. He found something he +wanted, stood up, and with his back against a boulder he faced to the +southwest. He was careful about the direction. He glanced up at the sun, +squinting his eyes at the glare; he looked at what he held in his hand. + +A glitter of sun on glass showed briefly. H. J. Owens laid his palm over +it, waited while he could count ten, and took his palm away. Replaced +it, waited, and revealed the glass again with the sun glare upon it +full. He held it so for a full minute, and slid the glass back into his +pocket. + +He glanced down toward Flying U Coulee again--toward where the trail +stretched like a brown ribbon through the grass. He seemed to be in +something of a hurry now--if impatient movement meant anything--yet he +did not leave the place at once. He kept looking off there toward the +southwest--off beyond Antelope Coulee and the sparsely dotted shacks of +the settlers. + +A smudge of smoke rose thinly there, behind a hill. Unless one had been +watching the place, one would scarcely have noticed it, but H. J. Owens +saw it at once and smiled his twisted smile and went running down the +hill to where his horse was tied. He mounted and rode down to the level, +skirted the knoll and came out on the trail, down which he rode at an +easy lope until he met the Kid. + +The Kid was going to see Rosemary Allen and take a ride with her along +the new fence; but he pulled up with the air of condescension which +was his usual attitude toward “nesters,” and in response to the twisted +smile of H. J. Owens he grinned amiably. + +“Want to go on a bear-hunt with me, Buck?” began H. J. Owens with just +the right tone of comradeship, to win the undivided attention of the +Kid. + +“I was goin' to ride fence with Miss Allen,” the Kid declined +regretfully. “There ain't any bears got very close, there ain't. I guess +you musta swallered something Andy told you.” He looked at H. J. Owens +tolerantly. + +“No sir. I never talked to Andy about this.” Had he been perfectly +truthful he would have added that he had not talked with Andy about +anything whatever, but he let it go. “This is a bear den I found myself; +There's two little baby cubs, Buck, and I was wondering if you wouldn't +like to go along and get one for a pet. You could learn it to dance and +play soldier, and all kinds of stunts.” + +The Kid's eyes shone, but he was wary. This man was a nester, so it +would be just at well to be careful “Where 'bouts is it?” he therefore +demanded in a tone of doubt that would have done credit to Happy Jack. + +“Oh, down over there in the hills. It's a secret, though, till we get +them out. Some fellows are after them for themselves, Buck. They want +to--skin 'em.” + +“The mean devils!” condemned the Kid promptly. “I'd take a fall outa +them if I ketched 'em skinning any baby bear cubs while I was around.” + +H. J. Owens glanced behind him with an uneasiness not altogether +assumed. + +“Let's go down into this next gully to talk it over, Buck,” he suggested +with an air of secretiveness that fired the Kid's imagination. “They +started out to follow me, and I don't want 'em to see me talking to you, +you know.” + +The Kid went with him unsuspectingly. In all the six years of his life, +no man had ever offered him injury. Fear had not yet become associated +with those who spoke him fair. Nesters he did not consider friends +because they were not friends with his bunch. Personally he did not know +anything about enemies. This man was a nester--but he called him Buck, +and he talked very nice and friendly, and he said he knew where there +were some little baby bear cubs. The Kid had never before realized how +much he wanted a bear cub for a pet. So do our wants grow to meet our +opportunities. + +H. J. Owens led the way into a shallow draw between two low hills, +glancing often behind him and around him until they were shielded by the +higher ground. He was careful to keep where the grass was thickest and +would hold no hoofprints to betray them, but the Kid never noticed. He +was thinking how nice it would be to have a bear cub for a pet. But it +was funny that the Happy Family had never found him one, if there were +any in the country. + +He turned to put the question direct to H. J. Owens, I but that +gentleman forestalled him. + +“You wait here a minute, Buck, while I ride back on this hill a little +ways to see if those fellows are on our trail,” he said, and rode off +before the Kid could ask him the question. + +The Kid waited obediently. He saw H. J. Owens get off his horse and go +sneaking up to the brow of the hill, and take some field glasses out +of his pocket and look all around over the prairie with them. The sight +tingled the Kid's blood so that he almost forgot about the bear cub. It +was almost exactly like fighting Injuns, like Uncle Gee-gee told about +when he wasn't cross. + +In a few minutes Owens came back to the Kid, and they went on slowly, +keeping always in the low, grassy places where there would be no tracks +left to tell of their passing that way. Behind them a yellow-brown cloud +drifted sullenly with the wind. Now and then a black flake settled past +them to the ground. A peculiar, tangy smell was in the air--the smell of +burning grass. + +H. J. Owens related a long, full-detailed account of how he had been +down in the hills along the river, and had seen the old mother bear +digging ants out of a sand-hill for her cubs. + +“I know--that's jes' 'zactly the way they do!” the Kid interrupted +excitedly. “Daddy Chip seen one doing it on the Musselshell one time. He +told me 'bout it.” + +H. J. Owens glanced sidelong at the Kid's flushed face, smiled his +twisted smile and went on with his story. He had not bothered them, +he said, because he did not have any way of carrying both cubs, and he +hated to kill them. He had thought of Buck, and how he would like a pet +cub, so he had followed the bear to her den and had come away to get a +sack to carry them in, and to tell Buck about it. + +The Kid never once doubted that it was so. Whenever any of the Happy +Family found anything in the hills that was nice, they always thought +of Buck, and they always brought it to him. You would be amazed at the +number of rattlesnake rattles, and eagle's claws, and elk teeth, and +things like that, which the Kid possessed and kept carefully stowed away +in a closet kept sacred to his uses. + +“'Course you'd 'member I wanted a baby bear cub; for a pet,” he assented +gravely and with a certain satisfaction. “Is it a far ways to that +mother bear's home?” + +“Why?” H. J. Owens turned from staring at the rolling smoke cloud, and +looked at the Kid curiously. “Ain't you big enough to ride far?” + +“'Course I'm big enough” The Kid's pride was touched. “I can ride as far +as a horse can travel I bet I can ride farther and faster 'n you can, +you pilgrims” He eyed the other disdainfully. “Huh! You can't ride. When +you trot you go this way!” The Kid kicked Silver into a trot and went +bouncing along with his elbows flapping loosely in imitation of H. J. +Owens' ungraceful riding. + +“I don't want to go a far ways,” he explained when the other was again +Riding alongside, “'cause Doctor Dell would cry if I didn't come back +to supper. She cried when I was out huntin' the bunch. Doctor Dell gets +lonesome awful easy.” He looked over his shoulder uneasily. “I guess I +better go back and tell her I'm goin' to git a baby bear cub for a pet,” + he said, and reined Silver around to act upon the impulse. + +“No--don't do that, Buck.” H. J. Owens pulled his horse in front of +Silver. “It isn't far--just a little ways. And it would be fun to +surprise them at the ranch Gee! When they saw you ride up with a pet +bear cub in your arms--” H. J. Owens shook his head as though he could +not find words to express the surprise of the Kid's family. + +The Kid smiled his Little Doctor smile. “I'd tell a man!” he assented +enthusiastically. “I bet the Countess would holler when she seen it. She +scares awful easy. She's scared of a mice, even! Huh! My kitty ketched +a mice and she carried it right in her mouth and brought it into the +kitchen and let it set down on the floor a minute, and it started to run +away--the mice did. And it runned right up to the Countess, and she +jes' hollered and yelled And she got right up and stood on a chair and +hollered for Daddy Chip to come and ketch that mice. He didn't do it +though. Adeline ketched it herself. And I took it away from her and put +it in a box for a pet. I wasn't scared.” + +“She'll be scared when she sees the bear cub,” H. J. Owens declared +absent-mindedly. “I know you won't be, though. If we hurry maybe we can +watch how he digs ants for his supper. That's lots of fun, Buck.” + +“Yes--I 'member it's fun to watch baby bear cubs dig ants,” the Kid +assented earnestly, and followed willingly where H. J. Owens led the +way. + +That the way was far did not impress itself upon the Kid, beguiled with +wonderful stories of how baby bear cubs might be taught to do tricks. He +listened and believed, and invented some very wonderful tricks that he +meant to teach his baby bear cub. Not until the shadows began to fill +the gullies through which they rode did the Kid awake to the fact that +night was coming close and that they were still traveling away from home +and in a direction which was strange to him. Never in his life had he +been tricked by any one with unfriendly intent. He did not guess that he +was being tricked now. He rode away into the wild places in search of a +baby bear cub for a pet. + + + +CHAPTER 25. “LITTLE BLACK SHACK'S ALL BURNT UP” + +It is a penitentiary offense for anyone to set fire to prairie grass or +timber; and if you know the havoc which one blazing match may work upon +dry grassland when the wind is blowing free, you will not wonder at +the penalty for lighting that match with deliberate intent to set the +prairie afire. + +Within five minutes after H. J. Owens slipped the bit of mirror back +into his pocket after flashing a signal that the Kid was riding alone +upon the trail, a line of fire several rods long was creeping up out of +a grassy hollow to the hilltop beyond, whence it would go racing away +to the east and the north, growing bigger and harder to fight with every +grass tuft it fed on. + +The Happy Family were working hard that day upon the system of +irrigation by which they meant to reclaim and make really valuable +their desert claims. They happened to be, at the time when the fire +was started, six or seven miles away, wrangling over the best means of +getting their main ditch around a certain coulee without building a lot +of expensive flume. A surveyor would have been a blessing, at this point +in the undertaking; but a surveyor charged good money for his services, +and the Happy Family were trying to be very economical with money; with +time, and effort, and with words they were not so frugal. + +The fire had been burning for an hour and had spread so alarmingly +before the gusty breeze that it threatened several claim-shacks before +they noticed the telltale, brownish tint to the sunlight and smelled +other smoke than the smoke of the word-battle then waging fiercely among +them. They dropped stakes, flags and ditch-level and ran to where their +horses waited sleepily the pleasure of their masters. + +They reached the level of the benchland to see disaster swooping down +upon them like a race-horse. They did not stop then to wonder how the +fire had started, or why it had gained such headway. They raced their +horses after sacks, and after the wagon and team and water barrels with +which to fight the flames. For it was not the claim-shacks in its path +which alone were threatened. The grass that was burning meant a great +deal to the stock, and therefore to the general welfare of every settler +upon that bench, be he native or newcomer. + +Florence Grace Hallman had, upon one of her periodical visits among her +“clients,” warned them of the danger of prairie fires and urged them to +plow and burn guards around all their buildings. A few of the settlers +had done so and were comparatively safe in the face of that leaping, red +line. But there were some who had delayed--and these must fight now if +they would escape. + +The Happy Family, to a man, had delayed; rather they had not considered +that there was any immediate danger from fire; it was too early in the +season for the grass to be tinder dry, as it would become a month or six +weeks later. They were wholly unprepared for the catastrophe, so far as +any expectation of it went. But for all that they knew exactly what to +do and how to go about doing it, and they did not waste a single minute +in meeting the emergency. + +While the Kid was riding with H. J. Owens into the hills, his friends, +the bunch, were riding furiously in the opposite direction. And that +was exactly what had been planned beforehand. There was an absolute +certainty in the minds of those who planned that it would be so, +Florence Grace Hallman, for instance, knew just what would furnish +complete occupation for the minds and the hands of the Happy Family +and of every other man in that neighborhood, that afternoon. Perhaps a +claim-shack or two would go up in smoke and some grass would burn. But +when one has a stubborn disposition and is fighting for prestige and +revenge and the success of ones business, a shack or two and a few acres +of prairie grass do not count for very much. + +For the rest of that afternoon the boys of the Flying U fought side by +side with hated nesters and told the inexperienced how best to fight. +For the rest of that afternoon no one remembered the Kid, or wondered +why H. J. Owens was not there in the grimy line of fire-fighters who +slapped doggedly at the leaping flames with sacks kept wet from the +barrels of water hauled here and there as they were needed. No one had +time to call the roll and see who was missing among the settlers. No one +dreamed that this mysterious fire that had crept up out of a coulee +and spread a black, smoking blanket over the hills where it passed, was +nothing more nor lees than a diversion while a greater crime was being +committed behind their backs. + +In spite of them the fire, beaten out of existence at one point, gained +unexpected fury elsewhere and raced on. In spite of them women and +children were in actual danger of being burned to death, and rushed +weeping from flimsy shelter to find safety in the nearest barren coulee. +The sick lady whom the Little Doctor had been tending was carried out on +her bed and laid upon the blackened prairie, hysterical from the fright +she had received. The shack she had lately occupied smoked while +the tarred paper on the roof crisped and curled; and then the whole +structure burst into flames and sent blazing bits of paper and boards to +spread the fire faster. + +Fire guards which the inexperienced settlers thought safe were jumped +without any perceptible check upon the flames. The wind was just right +for the fanning of the fire. It shifted now and then erratically and +sent the yellow line leaping in new directions. Florence Grace Hallman +was in Dry Lake that day, and she did not hear until after dark how +completely her little diversion had been a success; how more than +half of her colony had been left homeless and hungry upon the charred +prairie. Florence Grace Hallman would not have relished her supper, I +fear, had the news reached her earlier in the evening. + +At Antelope Coulee the Happy Family and such of the settlers as they +could muster hastily for the fight, made a desperate stand against +the common enemy. Flying U Coulee was safe, thanks to the permanent +fire-guards which the Old Man maintained year after year as a matter +of course. But there were the claims of the Happy Family and all the +grassland east of there which must be saved. + +Men drove their work horses at a gallop after plows, and when they +had brought them they lashed the horses into a trot while they plowed +crooked furrows in the sun-baked prairie sod, just over the eastern +rim of Antelope Coulee. The Happy Family knelt here and there along the +fresh-turned sod, and started a line of fire that must beat up against +the wind until it met the flames, rushing before it. Backfiring is +always a more or less, ticklish proceeding, and they would not trust the +work to stranger. + +Every man of them took a certain stretch of furrow to watch, and ran +backward and forward with blackened, frayed sacks to beat out the +wayward flames that licked treacherously through the smallest break in +the line of fresh soil. They knew too well the danger of those little, +licking flame tongues; not one was left to live and grow and race +leaping away through the grass. + +They worked--heavens, how they worked!--and they stopped the fire there +on the rim of Antelope Coulee. Florence Grace Hallman would have been +sick with fury, had she seen that dogged line of fighters, and the +ragged hem of charred black ashes against the yellow-brown, which showed +how well those men whom she hated had fought. + +So the fire was stopped well outside the fence which marked the boundary +of the Happy Family's claims. All west of there and far to the north the +hills and the coulees lay black as far as one could see--which was to +the rim of the hills which bordered Dry Lake valley on the east. Here +and there a claim-shack stood forlorn amid the blackness. Here and there +a heap of embers still smoked and sent forth an occasional spitting of +sparks when a gust fanned the heap. Men, women and children stood about +blankly or wandered disconsolately here and there, coughing in the acrid +clouds of warm grass cinders kicked up by their own lagging feet. + +No one missed the Kid. No one dreamed that he was lost again. Chip was +with the Happy Family and did not know that the Kid had left the ranch +that afternoon. The Little Doctor had taken it for granted that he had +gone with his daddy, as he so frequently did; and with his daddy and the +whole Happy Family to look after him, she never once doubted that he was +perfectly safe, even among the fire-fighters. She supposed he would be +up on the seat beside Patsy, probably, proudly riding on the wagon that +hauled the water barrels. + +The Little Doctor had troubles of her own to occupy her mind She had +ridden hurriedly up the hill and straight to the shack of the sick +woman, when first she discovered that the prairie was afire. And she had +found the sick woman lying on a makeshift bed on the smoking, black area +that was pathetically safe now from fire because there was nothing more +to burn. + +“Little black shack's all burnt up! Everything's black now. Black hills, +black hollows, black future, black world, black hearts--everything +matches--everything's black. Sky's black, I'm black--you're +black--little black shack won't have to stand all alone any more--little +black shack's just black ashes--little black shack's all burnt up!” And +then the woman laughed shrilly, with that terrible, meaningless laughter +of hysteria. + +She was a pretty woman, and young. Her hair was that bright shade of red +that goes with a skin like thin, rose-tinted ivory. Her eyes were big +and so dark a blue that they sometimes looked black, and her mouth was +sweet and had a tired droop to match the mute pathos of her eyes. Her +husband was a coarse lout of a man who seldom spoke to her when they +were together. The Little Doctor had felt that all the tragedy of +womanhood and poverty and loneliness was synthesized in this woman with +the unusual hair and skin and eyes and expression. She had been coming +every day to see her; the woman was rather seriously ill, and needed +better care than she could get out there on the bald prairie, even with +the Little Doctor to watch over her. If she died her face would haunt +the Little Doctor always. Even if she did not die she would remain a +vivid memory. Just now even the Little Doctor's mother instinct was +submerged under her professional instincts and her woman sympathy. She +did not stop to wonder whether she was perfectly sure that the Kid was +with Chip. She took it for granted and dismissed the Kid from her mind, +and worked to save the woman. + +Yes, the little diversion of a prairie fire that would call all hands +to the westward so that the Kid might be lured away in another direction +without the mishap of being seen, proved a startling success. As a +diversion it could scarcely be improved upon--unless Florence Grace +Hallman had ordered a wholesale massacre or something like that. + + + +CHAPTER 26. ROSEMARY ALLEN DOES A SMALL SUM IN ADDITION + +Miss Rosemary Allen, having wielded a wet gunny sack until her eyes were +red and smarting and her lungs choked with cinders and her arms so tired +she could scarcely lift them, was permitted by fate to be almost the +first person who discovered that her quarter of the four-room shack +built upon the four contiguous corners of four claims, was afire in the +very middle of its roof. Miss Rosemary Allen stood still and watched it +burn, and was a trifle surprised because she felt so little regret. + +Other shacks had caught fire and burned hotly, and she had wept with +sympathy for the owners. But she did not weep when her own shack began +to crackle and show yellow, licking tongues of flame. Those three old +cats--I am using her own term, which was spiteful--would probably give +up now, and go back where they belonged. She hoped so. And for herself-- + +“By gracious, I'm glad to see that one go, anyhow!” Andy Green paused +long enough in his headlong gallop to shout to her. “I was going to +sneak up and touch it off myself, if it wouldn't start any other way. +Now you and me'll get down to cases, girl, and have a settlement. And +say!” He had started on, but he pulled up again. “The Little Doctor's +back here, somewhere. You go home with her when she goes, and stay till +I come and get you.” + +“I like your nerve!” Rosemary retorted ambiguously. + +“Sure--folks generally do. I'll tell her to stop for you. You know +she'll be glad enough to have you--and so will the Kid.” + +“Where is Buck?” Rosemary was the first person who asked that question. +“I saw him ride up on the bench just before the fire started. I was +watching for him, through the glasses--” + +“Dunno--haven't seen him. With his mother, I guess.” Andy rode on to +find Patsy and send him back down the line with the water wagon. He did +not think anything more about the Kid, though he thought a good deal +about Miss Allen. + +Now that her shack was burned, she would be easier to persuade into +giving up that practically worthless eighty. That was what filled the +mind of Andy Green to the exclusion of everything else except the fire. +He was in a hurry to deliver his message to Patsy, so that he could hunt +up the Little Doctor and speak her hospitality for the girl he meant to +marry just as soon as he could persuade her to stand with him before a +preacher. + +He found the Little Doctor still fighting a dogged battle with death for +the life of the woman who laughed wildly because her home was a heap +of smoking embers. The Little Doctor told him to send Rosemary Allen on +down to the ranch, or take her himself, and to tell the Countess to send +up her biggest medicine case immediately. She could not leave, she said, +for some time yet. She might have to stay all night--or she would if +there was any place to stay. She was half decided, she said, to have +someone take the woman in to Dry Lake right away, and up to the hospital +in Great Falls. She supposed she would have to go along. Would Andy tell +J. G. to send up some money? Clothes didn't matter--she would go the way +she was; there were plenty of clothes in the stores, she declared. And +would Andy rustle a team, right away, so they could start? If they went +at all they ought to catch the evening train. The Little Doctor was +making her decisions and her plans while she talked, as is the way with +those strong natures who can act promptly and surely in the face of an +emergency. + +By the time she had thought of having a team come right away, she had +decided that she would not wait for her medicine-case or for money. She +could get all the money she needed in Dry Lake; and she had her little +emergency case with her. Since she was going to take the woman to a +hospital, she said, there was no great need of more than she had with +her. She was a thoughtful Little Doctor. At the last minute she detained +Andy long enough to urge him to see that Miss Allen helped herself +to clothes or anything she needed; and to send a goodbye message to +Chip--in case he did not show up before she left--and a kiss to her +manchild. + +Andy was lucky. He met a man driving a good team and spring wagon, with +a barrel of water in the back. He promptly dismounted and helped the man +unload the water-barrel where it was, and sent him bumping swiftly over +the burned sod to where the Little Doctor waited. So Fate was kinder to +the Little Doctor than were those who would wring anew the mother heart +of her that their own petty schemes might succeed. She went away with +the sick woman laughing crazily because all the little black shacks +were burned and now everything was black so everything matched +nicely--nicely, thank you. She was terribly worried over the woman's +condition, and she gave herself wholly to her professional zeal and +never dreamed that her manchild was at that moment riding deeper and +deeper into the Badlands with a tricky devil of a man, looking for a +baby bear cub for a pet. + +Neither did Chip dream it, nor any of the Happy Family, nor even Miss +Rosemary Allen, until they rode down into Flying U Coulee at supper-time +and were met squarely by the fact that the Kid was not there. The Old +Man threw the bomb that exploded tragedy in the midst of the little +group. He heard that “Dell” had gone to take a sick woman to the +hospital in Great Falls, and would not be back for a day or so, +probably. + +“What'd she do with the Kid?” he demanded. “Take him with her?” + +Chip stared blankly at him, and turned his eyes finally to Andy's face. +Andy had not mentioned the Kid to him. + +“He wasn't with her,” Andy replied to the look. “She sent him a kiss and +word that he was to take care of Miss Allen. He must be somewhere around +here.” + +“Well, he ain't. I was looking fer him myself,” put in the Countess +sharply. “Somebody shut the cat up in the flour chest and I didn't study +much on what it was done it! If I'd a got my hands on 'im--” + +“I saw him ride up on the hill trail just before the fire started,” + volunteered Rosemary Allen. “I had my opera glasses and was looking for +him, because I like to meet him and hear him talk. He said yesterday +that he was coming to see me today. And he rode up on the hill in sight +of my claim. I saw him.” She stopped and looked from one to the other +with her eyebrows pinched together and her lips pursed. + +“Listen,” she went on hastily. “Maybe it has nothing to do with +Buck--but I saw something else that was very puzzling. I was going to +investigate, but the fire broke out immediately and put everything else +out of my mind. A man was up on that sharp-pointed knoll off east of +the trail where it leaves this coulee, and he had field glasses and +was looking for something over this way. I thought he was watching the +trail. I just caught him with the glasses by accident as I swung them +over the edge of the benchland to get the trail focused. He was watching +something--because I kept turning the glasses on him to see what he was +doing. + +“Then Buck came into sight, and I started to ride out and meet him. I +hate to leave the little mite riding alone anywhere--I'm always afraid +something may happen. But before I got on my horse I took another look +at this man on the hill. He had a mirror or something bright in his +hands. I saw it flash, just exactly as though he was signaling to +someone--over that way.” She pointed to the west. “He kept looking that +way, and then back this way; and he covered up the piece of mirror with +his hand and then took it off and let it shine a minute, and put it in +his pocket. I know he was making signals. + +“I got my horse and started to meet little Buck. He was coming along +the trail and rode into a little hollow out of sight. I kept looking and +looking toward Dry Lake--because the man looked that way, I guess. And +in a few minutes I saw the smoke of the fire--” + +“Who was that man?” Andy took a step toward her, his eyes hard and +bright in their inflamed lids. + +“The man? That Mr. Owens who jumped your south eighty.” + +“Good Lord, what fools!” He brushed past her without a look or another +word, so intent was he upon this fresh disaster. “I'm going after the +boys, Chip. You better come along and see if you can pick up the Kid's +trail where he left the road. It's too bad Florence Grace Hallman ain't +a man! I'd know better what to do if she was.” + +“Oh, do you think--?” Miss Rosemary looked at him wide-eyed. + +“Doggone it, if she's tried any of her schemes with fire and--why, +doggone it, being a woman ain't going to help her none!” The Old Man, +also, seemed to grasp the meaning of it almost as quickly as had Andy. +“Chip, you have Ole hitch up the team. I'm going to town myself, by +thunder, and see if she's going to play any of her tricks on this outfit +and git away with it! Burnt out half her doggoned colony tryin' to git +a whack at you boys! Where's my shoes? Doggone it, what yuh all standin' +round with your jaws hangin' down for? We'll see about this fire-settin' +and this--where's them shoes?” + +The Countess found his shoes, and his hat, and his second-best coat and +his driving gloves which he had not worn for more months than anyone +cared to reckon. Miss Rosemary Allen did what she could to help, and +wondered at the dominant note struck by this bald old man from the +moment when he rose stiffly from his big chair and took the initiative +so long left to others. + +While the team was being made ready the Old Man limped here and there, +collecting things he did not need and trying to remember what he must +have, and keeping the Countess moving at a flurried trot. Chip and Andy +were not yet up the bluff when the Old Man climbed painfully into the +covered buggy, took the lines and the whip and cut a circle with the +wheels on the hard-packed earth as clean and as small as Chip himself +could have done, and went whirling through the big gate and across the +creek and up the long slope beyond. He shouted to the boys and they rode +slowly until he overtook them--though their nerves were all on edge and +haste seemed to them the most important thing in the world. But habit is +strong--it was their Old Man who called to them to wait. + +“You boys wait to git out after that Owens,” he shouted when he passed +them. “If they've got the Kid, killing's too good for 'em!” The brown +team went trotting up the grade with back straightened to the pull of +the lurching buggy, and nostrils flaring wide with excitement. The Old +Man leaned sidewise and called back to the two loping after him in the +obscuring dust-cloud he left behind. + +“I'll have that woman arrested on suspicion uh setting prairie fires!” + he called. “I'll git Blake after her. You git that Owens if you have-to +haze him to hell and back! Yuh don't want to worry about the Kid, +Chip--they ain't goin' to hurt him. All they want is to keep you boys +huntin' high and low and combin' the breaks to find 'im. I see their +scheme, all right.” + + + +CHAPTER 27. “ITS AWFUL EASY TO GET LOST” + +The Kid wriggled uncomfortably in the saddle and glanced at the +narrow-browed face of H. J. Owens, who was looking this way and that at +the enfolding hills and scowling abstractedly. The Kid was only six, but +he was fairly good at reading moods and glances, having lived all his +life amongst grown-ups. + +“It's a pretty far ways to them baby bear cubs,” he remarked. “I bet +you're lost, old-timer. It's awful easy to get lost. I bet you don't +know where that mother-bear lives.” + +“You shut up!” snarled H. J. Owens. The Kid had hit uncomfortably close +to the truth. + +“You shut up your own self, you darned pilgrim.” the Kid flung back +instantly. That was the way he learned to say rude things; they were +said to him and he remembered and gave them back in full measure. + +“Say, I'll slap you if you call me that again.” H. J. Owens, because he +did not relish the task he had undertaken, and because he had lost his +bearing here in the confusion of hills and hollows and deep gullies, was +in a very bad humor. + +“You darn pilgrim, you dassent slap me. If you do the bunch'll fix you, +all right. I guess they'd just about kill you. Daddy Chip would just +knock the stuffin' outa you.” He considered something very briefly, and +then tilted his small chin so that he looked more than ever like the +Little Doctor. “I bet you was just lying all the time,” he accused. “I +bet there ain't any baby bear cubs.” + +H. J. Owens laughed disagreeably, but he did not say whether or not the +Kid was right in his conjecture. The Kid pinched his lips together and +winked very fast for a minute. Never, never in all the six years of his +life had anyone played him so shabby a trick. He knew what the laugh +meant; it meant that this man had lied to him and led him away down here +in the hills where he had promised his Doctor Dell, cross-his-heart, +that he would never go again. He eyed the man resentfully. + +“What made you lie about them baby bear cubs?” he demanded. “I didn't +want to come such a far ways.” + +“You keep quiet. I've heard about enough from you, young man. A little +more of that and you'll get something you ain't looking for.” + +“I'm a going home!” The Kid pulled Silver half around in the grassy +gulch they were following. “And I'm going to tell the bunch what you +said. I bet the bunch'll make you hard to ketch, you--you son-agun!” + +“Here! You come back here, young man!” H. J. Owens reached over and +caught Silver's bridle. “You don't go home till I let you go; see. +You're going right along with me, if anybody should ask you. And you +ain't going to talk like that either, now mind!” He turned his pale blue +eyes threateningly upon the Kid. “Not another word out of you if you +don't want a good thrashing. You come along and behave yourself or I'll +cut your ears off.” + +The Kid's eyes blazed with anger. He did not flinch while he glared back +at the man, and he did not seem to care, just at that moment, whether +he lost his ears or kept them. “You let go my horse!” he gritted. “You +wait. The bunch'll fix YOU, and fix you right. You wait!” + +H. J. Owens hesitated, tempted to lay violent hands upon the small +rebel. But he did not. He led Silver a rod or two, found it awkward, +since the way was rough and he was not much of a horseman, and in a few +minutes let the rein drop from his fingers. + +“You come on, Buck, and be a good boy--and maybe we'll find them cubs +yet,” he conciliated. “You'd die a-laughing at the way they set up and +scratch their ears when a big, black ant bites 'em, Buck. I'll show you +in a little while. And there's a funny camp down here, too, where we can +get some supper.” + +The Kid made no reply, but he rode along docilely beside H. J. Owens and +listened to the new story he told of the bears. That is, he appeared to +be listening; in reality he was struggling to solve the biggest problem +he had ever known--the problem of danger and of treachery. Poor little +tad, he did not even know the names of his troubles. He only knew that +this man had told him a lie about those baby bear cubs, and had brought +him away down here where he had been lost, and that it was getting dark +and he wanted to go home and the man was mean and would not let him go. +He did not understand why the man should be so mean--but the man was +mean to him, and he did not intend to “stand for it.” He wanted to go +home. And when the Kid really wanted to do a certain thing, he nearly +always did it, as you may have observed. + +H. J. Owens would not let him go home; therefore the Kid meant to go +anyway. Only he would have to sneak off, or run off, or something, and +hide where the man could not find him, and then go home to his Doctor +Dell and Daddy Chip, and tell them how mean this pilgrim had been to +him. And he would tell the bunch The bunch would fix him all right! The +thought cheered the Kid so that he smiled and made the man think he was +listening to his darned old bear story that was just a big lie. Think he +would listen to any story that pilgrim could tell? Huh! + +The gulches wore growing dusky now The Kid was tired, and he was hungry +and could hardly keep from crying, he was so miserable. But he was the +son of his father--he was Chip's kid; it would take a great deal more +misery and unkindness to make him cry before this pilgrim who had been +so mean to him. He rode along without saying a word. H. J. Owens did not +say anything, either. He kept scanning each jagged peak and each gloomy +canyon as they passed, and he seemed uneasy about something. The Kid +knew what it was, all right; H. J. Owens was lost. + +They came to a wide, flat-bottomed coulee with high ragged bluffs +shutting it in upon every side. The Kid dimly remembered that coulee, +because that was where Andy got down to tighten the cinch on Miss +Allen's horse, and looked up at her the way Daddy Chip looked at Doctor +Dell sometimes, and made a kiss with his lips--and got called down for +it, too. The Kid remembered. + +He looked at the man, shut his mouth tight and wheeled Silver suddenly +to the left. He leaned forward as he had always seen the Happy Family do +when they started a race, and struck Silver smartly down the rump with +the braided romal on his bridle-reins. H. J. Owens was taken off his +guard and did nothing but stare open-mouthed until the Kid was well +under way; then he shouted and galloped after him, up the little flat. + +He might as well have saved his horse's wind and his own energy. He was +no match for little Buck Bennett, who had the whole Flying U outfit to +teach him how to ride, and the spirit of his Daddy Chip and the little +Doctor combined to give him grit and initiative. H. J. Owens pounded +along to the head of the coulee, where he had seen the Kid galloping +dimly in the dusk. He turned up into the canyon that sloped invitingly +up from the level, and went on at the top speed of his horse--which was +not fast enough to boast about. + +When he had left the coulee well behind him, the Kid rode out from +behind a clump of bushes that was a mere black shadow against the coulee +wall, and turned back whence he had come. The Kid giggled a little over +the way he had fooled the pilgrim, and wished that the bunch had been +there to see him do it. He kept Silver galloping until he had reached +the other end of the level, and then he pulled him down to a walk and +let the reins drop loosely upon Silver's neck. That was what Daddy Chip +and the boys had told him he must do, next time he got lost and did not +know the way home. He must just let Silver go wherever he wanted to go, +and not try to guide him at all. Silver would go straight home; he had +the word of the whole bunch for that, and he believed it implicitly. + +Silver looked back inquiringly at his small rider, hesitated and then +swung back up the coulee. The Kid was afraid that H. J. Owens would come +back and see him and cut off his ears if he went that way--but he did +not pull Silver back and make him go some other way, for all that. If +he left him alone, Silver would take him right straight home. Daddy Chip +and the boys said so. And he would tell them how mean that man was. They +would fix him, all right! + +Halfway up the coulee Silver turned into a narrow gulch that seemed to +lead nowhere at all except into the side of a big, black-shadowed bluff. +Up on the hillside a coyote began to yap with a shrill staccato of +sounds that trailed off into a disconsolate whimper. The Kid looked +that way interestedly. He was not afraid of coyotes. They would not hurt +anyone; they were more scared than you were--the bunch had told him so. +He wished he could get a sight of him, though. He liked to see their +ears stick up and their noses stick out in a sharp point, and see them +drop their tails and go sliding away out of sight. When he was ten and +Daddy Chip gave him a gun, he would shoot coyotes and skin them his own +self. + +The coyote yapped shrilly again, and the Kid wondered what his Doctor +Dell would say when he got home. He was terribly hungry, and he was +tired and wanted to go to bed. He wished the bunch would happen +along and fix that man. His heart swelled in his chest with rage and +disappointment when he thought of those baby bear cubs that were not +anywhere at all--because the man was just lying all the time. In spite +of himself the Kid cried whimperingly to himself while he rode slowly +up the gorge which Silver had chosen to follow because the reins were +drooping low alongside his neck and he might go where he pleased. + +By and by the moon rose and lightened the hills so that they glowed +softly; and the Kid, looking sleepily around him, saw a coyote slinking +along a barren slope. He was going to shout at it and see it run, but +he thought of the man who was looking for him and glanced fearfully +over his shoulder. The moon shone full in his face and showed the +tear-streaks and the tired droop to his lips. + +The Kid thought he must be going wrong, because at the ranch the moon +came up in another place altogether. He knew about the moon. Doctor Dell +had explained to him how it just kept going round and round the world +and you saw it when it came up over the edge. That was how Santa Claus +found out if kids were good; he lived in the moon, and it went round and +round so he could look down and see if you were bad. The Kid rubbed the +tears off his cheeks with his palm, so that Santa Claus could not see +that he had been crying. After that he rode bravely, with a consciously +straight spine, because Santa Claus was looking at him all the time and +he must be a rell ole cowpuncher. + +After a long while the way grew less rough, and Silver trotted down the +easier slopes. The Kid was pretty tired now. He held on by the horn of +his saddle so Silver would not jolt him so much. He was terribly hungry, +too, and his eyes kept going shut. But Santa Claus kept looking at him +to see if he were a dead game sport, so he did not cry any more. He +wished he had some grub in a sack, but he thought he must be nearly home +now. He had come a terribly far ways since he ran away from that pilgrim +who was going to cut off his ears. + +The Kid was so sleepy, and so tired that he almost fell out of the +saddle once when Silver, who had been loping easily across a fairly +level stretch of ground, slowed abruptly to negotiate a washout +crossing. He had been thinking about those baby bear cubs digging ants +and eating them. He had almost seen them doing it; but he remembered now +that he was going home to tell the bunch how the man had lied to him and +tried to make him stay down here. The bunch would sure fix him when they +heard about that. + +He was still thinking vengefully of the punishment which the Happy +Family would surely mete out to H. J. Owens when Silver lifted his head, +looked off to the right and gave a shrill whinny. Somebody shouted, and +immediately a couple of horsemen emerged from the shadow of a hill and +galloped toward him. + +The Kid gave a cry and then laughed. It was his Daddy Chip and somebody. +He thought the other was Andy Green. He was too tired to kick Silver +in the ribs and race toward them. He waited until they came up, their +horses pounding over the uneven sod urged by the jubilance of their +riders. + +Chip rode up and lifted the Kid bodily from the saddle and held him so +tight in his arms that the Kid kicked half-heartedly with both feet, to +free himself. But he had a message for his Daddy Chip, and as soon as he +could get his breath he delivered it. + +“Daddy Chip, I just want you to kill that damn' pilgrim!” he commanded. +“There wasn't any baby bear cubs at all. He was just a-stringin' me. And +he was going to cut off my ears. He said it wasn't a far ways to where +the baby bear cubs lived with the old mother bear, and it was. I wish +you'd lick the stuffin' outa him. I'm awful hungry, Daddy Chip.” + +“We'll be home pretty quick,” Chip said in a queer, choked voice. “Who +was the man, Buck? Where is he now?” + +The Kid lifted his head sleepily from his Daddy Chip's shoulder and +pointed vaguely toward the moon. “He's the man that jumped Andy's ranch +right on the edge of One Man,” he explained. “He's back there ridin' the +rim-rocks a lookin' for me. I'd a come home before, only he wouldn't +let me come. He said he'd cut my ears off. I runned away from him, Daddy +Chip. And I cussed him a plenty for lying to me--but you needn't tell +Doctor Dell.” + +“I won't, Buck.” Chip lifted him into a more comfortable position and +held him so. While the Kid slept he talked with Andy about getting the +Happy Family on the trail of H. J. Owens. Then he rode thankfully home +with the Kid in his arms and Silver following docilely after. + + + +CHAPTER 28. AS IT TURNED OUT + +They found H. J. Owens the next forenoon wandering hopelessly lost in +the hills. Since killing him was barred, they tied his arms behind him +and turned him toward the Flying U. He was sullen, like an animal that +is trapped and will do nothing but lie flattened to the ground and glare +red-eyed at its captors. For that matter, the Happy Family themselves +were pretty sullen. They had fought fire for hours--and that is killing +work; and they had been in the saddle ever since, looking for the Kid +and for this man who rode bound in their midst. + +Weary and Irish and Pink, who had run across him in a narrow canyon, +fired pistol-shot signals to bring the others to the spot. But when the +others emerged from various points upon the scene, there was very little +said about the capture. + +In town, the Old man had been quite as eager to come close to Florence +Grace Hallman--but he was not so lucky. Florence Grace had heard the +news of the fire a good half hour before the train left for Great Falls. + +She would have preferred a train going the other way, but she decided +not to wait. She watched the sick woman put aboard the one Pullman +coach, and then she herself went into the stuffy day-coach. Florence +Grace Hallman was not in the habit of riding in day-coaches in the +night-time when there was a Pullman sleeper attached to the train. She +did not stop at Great Falls; she went on to Butte--and from there I do +not know where she went. Certainly she never came back. + +That, of course, simplified matters considerably for Florence Grace--and +for the Happy Family as well. For at the preliminary hearing of H. J. +Owens for the high crime of kidnapping, that gentleman proceeded to +unburden his soul in a way that would have horrified Florence Grace, +had she been there to hear. Remember, I told you that his eyes were the +wrong shade of blue. + +A man of whom you have never heard tried to slip out of the court room +during the unburdening process, and was stopped by Andy Green, who had +been keeping an eye on him for the simple reason that the fellow had +been much in the company of H. J. Owens during the week preceding +the fire and the luring away of the Kid. The sheriff led him off +somewhere--and so they had the man who had set the prairie afire. + +As is the habit of those who confess easily the crimes of others, H. J. +Owens professed himself as innocent as he consistently could in the face +of the Happy Family and of the Kid's loud-whispered remarks when he saw +him there. He knew absolutely nothing about the fire, he said, and had +nothing to do with the setting of it. He was two miles away at the time +it started. + +And then Miss Rosemary Allen took the witness stand and told about the +man on the hilltop and the bit of mirror that had flashed sun-signals +toward the west. + +H.J. Owens crimpled down visibly in his chair. Imagine for yourself the +trouble he would have in convincing men of his innocence after that. + +Just to satisfy your curiosity, at the trial a month later he failed +absolutely to convince the jury that he was anything but what he was--a +criminal without the strength to stand by his own friends. He was +sentenced to ten years in Deer Lodge, and the judge informed him that he +had been dealt with leniently at that, because after all he was only +a tool in the hands of the real instigator of the crime. That real +instigator, by the way, was never apprehended. + +The other man--he who had set fire to the prairie--got six years, and +cursed the judge and threatened the whole Happy Family with death when +the sentence was passed upon him--as so many guilty men do. + +To go back to that preliminary, trial: The Happy Family, when H. J. +Owens was committed safely to the county jail, along with the fire-bug, +took the next train to Great Falls with witnesses and the Honorable +Blake. They filed their answers to the contests two days before the +time-limit had expired. You may call that shaving too close the margin +of safety. But the Happy family did not worry over that--seeing there +was a margin of safety. Nor did they worry over the outcome of the +matter. With the Homeseekers' Syndicate in extremely bad repute, and +with fully half of the colonists homeless and disgusted, why should they +worry over their own ultimate success? + +They planned great things with their irrigation scheme.... I am not +going to tell any more about them just now. Some of you will complain, +and want to know a good many things that have not been told in detail. +But if I should try to satisfy you, there would be no more meetings +between you and the Happy Family--since there would be no more to tell. + +So I am not even going to tell you whether Andy succeeded in persuading +Miss Rosemary Allen to go with him to the parson. Nor whether the Happy +Family really did settle down to raise families and alfalfa and beards. +Not another thing shall you know about them now. + +You may take a look at them as they go trailing contentedly away from +the land-office, with their hats tilted at various characteristic angles +and their well-known voices mingled in more or less joyful converse, +and their toes pointed toward Central Avenue and certain liquid +refreshments. You need not worry over that bunch, surely. You may safely +leave them to meet future problems and emergencies as they have always +met them in the past--on their feet, with eyes that do not wave or +flinch, shoulder to shoulder, ready alike far grin fate or a frolic. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Flying U's Last Stand, by B. M. 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